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amazingmaeve · 8 months

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learning to fight | prologue

daryl dixon x hannah rhee (oc)

series summary: hannah rhee never expected for the whole world to go to shit. i mean she was still learning in life she was still growing and trying to get through art school (something that it took years for her to decide to do), then the dead started to rise and hannah truly sees how hard she has to fight to survive. while trying to keep her little brother, glenn, and herself alive she comes across people that she will soon to see as her own family, one will worm it’s way into her fractured heart.

chapter summary: as hannah and glenn go about their normal lives, with him going to his job delivering pizzas and hannah going to college while working at a bar at night to help with bills and food. but as soon as the two meet up in their shared apartment everything goes to hell.

warnings: angst (also some fluff), gore, death (not reader), mentions of domestic violence (basically just them talking about it) canon typical violence, swearing, mentions of alcohol

word count: 3.8k

authors note: I’m so excited to write this and am so ready to write the rest of the series because I love this show! If anyone has any tips on writing Daryl and Ricks accents pls give some! Also if anyone wants to be tagged just comment it!

series masterlist

HANNAH RHEE let out an exasperated sigh as she entered the apartment she shared with her little brother, Glenn. This was just not her day, first she got to her classes late that day and then to top it off the project she did for this one class got a D. It was safe to say Hannah was almost at her wits end with college.

She couldn’t just drop out though, art was something she was really passionate about, plus it took some time for her to find out this was something she was really eager to do. Even though she was 29, that didn’t deter her from going to an art school. Even though her parents would argue that it wouldn’t make her much money in life, she always reassured them that she would be fine. She had everything under control.

But as it turns out she didn’t have everything under control, as school was kicking her in the ass. Maybe it was just a bad day that she had to get over. Reminding herself that it was a hot, horrible day doesn’t mean it has to stay like that.

Letting out a groan she dropped her bag on the couch, letting it fall next to Glenn who was just watching some T.V and looking at her with a concerned look on his face. He was worried, because Hannah never let anything get to her and if she was this frustrated something had to have happened. She never came to him with her problems because she never wanted to put pressure onto Glenn who would drop everything to help her.

“Hey what’s wrong,” Glenn questioned out of worry as he stood up and followed her to the tiny kitchen. She got out a cool water bottle and took a big gulp.

“Nothing just a bad day at school that’s all,” Hannah mumbled, picking at the water bottle wrapper. “Didn’t think that art school would be this tough to get through, but maybe it's a good thing to challenge me,” She commented.

“Well college is always going to be a tough thing, that’s why I never went, too much money wasted on school that would do nothing to actually help you later in life,” Glenn explained to Hannah who gave him a deadpanned look.

“Gee thanks for the vote of confidence Glenn,” Hannah sarcastically says, crossing her arms around her chest.

“Not that you won’t be successful, I mean I’ve seen the stuff you create and they’re amazing, I was just saying for me and most of the country,” Glenn stumbled out as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Don’t worry I get what you’re saying, I just can’t quit on this, this is something I have to do or I’m just going to be a failure at life,” Hannah says explaining her worries as her shoulders tense due to the stressful situation.

“Well hey you could be delivering pizzas to people who can’t even tip well,” Glenn gives her two thumbs up and she gives a small smile.

“Come on Glenn I know you’re going to achieve some great things in life, it may just take you some time to figure it out like I did,” Hannah tries to reassure him as she scratches at her arms.

“Let’s hope it’s sooner than later because I don’t wanna be 30 and still delivering pizzas, maybe I can be the manager,” Glenn jokes.

“Hey! I’m 29, not 30,” Hannah defends as she puts her hand up to her chest and feigns being offended.

“Literally the same thing,” Glenn laughs and Hannah lightly punches his arm.

“Ha, ha,” Hannah says with a wide grin on her face and she can’t help but feel the frustration leave her body as her and

Glenn joke around. He always knew how to help her feel better, even though he was younger than her, he always felt like the more mature one. “Don’t you have to go to said job soon,” She asks as she fans herself with a piece of paper that was on the counter.

“Hmm day off remember,” Glenn says, grabbing a can of coke out of the fridge.

“I have to go to the bar later tonight, I have the night shift today,” Hannah says as she walks to sit on the couch and opens a bag of chips and starts to indulge in eating.

“Oh I forgot to tell you, Will left you a message, asking where you were going to be tonight,” Glenn says as his tone turns to disgust.

“Ugh,” Hannah says, leaning her head on the back of the couch and staring at the ceiling. Anger starts to course through her body, but something else creeps in. Fear.

Will was her ex who she had an extremely toxic relationship with. It ranged from him cheating on her with his ex to arguments where he made her feel like shit which led to him shoving and hitting her on some occasions. Whenever that happened Hannah didn’t know what to feel, it just felt numb. She knows what she should feel though. Anger.

Hannah never thought she would be in an abusive relationship, she thought if it did though, she would defend herself or just pick up and leave him but unfortunately that didn’t happen. Everytime that happened, the next day he would be extremely sweet to her and would even get her gifts that he knew she would like.

Even though she knew she should be doing it, she went back to him.

Soon enough he kept making her feel like she deserved it, that she shouldn’t be making him angry and he wouldn’t have resorted to that. What’s worse than that, is that she believed it, she believed every word he said and felt like she deserved it.

Glenn, who had an inkling that this was happening, confronted her one night after she came home with a cut on her forehead and a bruised eye and lip. He needed to get her out of this relationship, to remind her that this asshole shouldn’t even be around anymore.

That night was filled with denial, tears, yelling and most of all, that numbness.

“You don’t deserve to be treated like this Han, this guy is manipulating you, look at you, this is not love,” Glenn says with desperation filing his voice.

“It wasn’t like that, it was an accident,” Hannah murmured as her lip began to quiver as tears filled her eyes. She kept her arms around her stomach as she looked at the ground.

“This wasn’t an accident! You don’t accidentally hit someone, when you’re angry, this was not an accident. An accident is breaking a glass and accidentally cutting yourself. None of this is an accident, it’s abuse,” Glenn says in disbelief as he stared at his older sister. His heart pounded in his chest. His sweet older sister, who helped him with anything going on in his life, his older sister who comforted him and bandaged him up after he fell off his bike, his older sister who let him cry against her shoulder after his first break up. He felt anger coursing through his veins at the thought of someone hurting Hannah, but now it's 10 times worse.

“Listen he loves me, he just-,” Hannah lets the words stumble out of her mouth with a quiver. But Glenn interrupted her.

“Hannah listen to me,” Glenn sternly says walking up to her and his touch much softer than his tone as he grabs her arm and lifts it up so she could see it. “This is not love. You don’t hurt people you love, you’re not supposed to fear the ones you love and you’re definitely not supposed to do this.” Glenn states as Hannah lets her eyes roam over her arm, which was covered in bruises, all in different colors, some that happened weeks ago.

Biting her lip, she closes her eyes as the tears finally begin to fall, Glenn brings her into his arms as she’s shaking and sobbing as the reality of her situation begins to become more and more clear to her. This was abuse. She was being abused.

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” Glenn whispers as he kisses her forehead.

Hannah would be forever grateful for what Glenn did for her. He stood by her side no matter what, helping her get out of this horrible mindset. Helping her when Will showed up to their apartment a few days later and Glenn just slammed the door in his face. This happened a few times more and with even threats of a restraining order he never stopped until Hannah actually had to get a restraining order against him

She was healing from this whole situation, but her days continued and she felt herself getting happier and happier. She had friends and a family who had been with her every step of the way. Glenn most of all.

“Isn’t this against the restraining order,” Hannah expressed as she took a drink of her water.

“I don’t know, I just told him to fuck off and never call again, or we’ll do something worse than a restraining order,” Glenn says with venom in his voice and Hannah nodded.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, because it's already been a huge headache, more will just be a full blown migraine,” Hannah grumbled.

Glenn nodded in agreement and took a sip of his coke as he looked up at the T.V. Hannah was about to ask him what he wanted from dinner when this loud alarm started to come from the T.V and she looked up and found that the show wasn’t airing anymore, it was the news, and there was a warning in capital letters at the bottom.

“What the hell,” Glenn whispered in confusion as they both stared at the television. Hannah's heart raced wondering what was going on and she shook her head and just watched the statement.

“This is not a drill. Everyone evacuate the state, grab the necessary items and get out of the state. The dead are rising. If you see anyone has been bitten or is dead run and don’t look back. This is not a drill. This is a serious situation, get out as fast as you can. Don’t try to talk to them, they will kill you or infect you. Please be safe and don’t forget-,” The newscaster stated but was cut off, as the T.V went to complete static.

Hannah and Glenn looked at each other in shock, and Hannah didn’t know if this was some cruel prank. What were they supposed to do if it wasn’t.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Hannah questioned, not to Glenn just thinking out loud.

“I don’t know, maybe we should try to get out of the state,” Glenn says as he stands up to go and look out of the window. Hannah watches as his posture goes stiff. “Hannah come here,” He says whispering.

Hannah rushes up to go and stand besides Glenn. She gasped when she saw people running out and around the dead walking after them. She saw one of them on the ground biting into a person's neck as they chewed through the flesh. She gulped as she shared a concerned look with Glenn.

“Pack your things, we have to get out of here before those things get to us,” Hannah orders him and he nods to go and pack a few things as Hannah was about to go to her own room but a scream came from out in the hall.

Biting her lip, she goes to the kitchen to grab a kitchen knife just in case. Looking through the peephole she couldn’t see anything and in the back of her mind she knew she was stupid to go out and look for the mysterious noise. But her decision making was blurred at the moment as the only thing in her head was keep Glenn safe.

Slowly opening the door she looked into the hall and towards the right and saw nothing and heard nothing but silence. Looking towards the left she saw one of those things kneeling down and eating one of her neighbors, Clarence. A deaf guy, who she’s had multiple conversations with and even learned sign language. A good guy who she’s helped with groceries multiple times. She gasped and put her hand on her mouth, so she couldn’t make much noise.

But it was too late. The thing lifted its head up as soon as the door opened. It looked disgusting, it was rotting and it didn’t even look like it was a human. It didn’t even have an arm. Once it heard her the thing got up and slowly started making its way towards her. It was growling from hunger as she stood in shock. This couldn’t be happening she thought as the thing limped its way over to her.

Once it reached her she finally snapped out of it, she pushed it away but it didn’t stop there and it made its way back towards her again. She raised the knife above her head and stuck it into it’s chest but it didn’t seem to matter to the thing. It just got back up. She whimpered as she stabbed it again and again but it didn’t seem to work. She tried to take off to the apartment but the thing grabbed her hair and pulled her back, she pushed it back again and fell to the ground and she was about to get up but it crawled on top of her. Hannah tried not to scream so she wouldn’t alert anymore of them but as it kept trying to bite and scratch she noticed she dropped her knife.

“Dammit,” Hannah cursed as its snapping teeth tried to bite any part of her. Fear was running through her body as the thing was trying to eat her.

Seeing the knife against the wall, she looked back at the thing and to the knife. Using one of her hands to keep the thing away from her, and using the other arm stretching it, she groaned and finally grasped the knife.

Grasping the knife tightly into her hand she reached up and stabbed it into the sides of its skull. She gasps as blood poured onto her face and the thing finally fell on top of her, seemingly finally dead.

Hannah groand out of disgust as she pushed it off her and took the knife out of its skull and even struggled with it. Before she could even calm down she heard groans coming from the stairs and stood up abruptly as she felt blood on her face and chest.

“Shit,” Hannah cursed quietly as she kept her knife in her hand. They definitely couldn’t make it out of the front of the building.

She rushed towards the door and deadbolt locked it and put the chain on even. Running towards the kitchen she grabbed one of the chairs and pushed it up against the door handle to make sure it would stick and stay put as long as it could. Putting her head against the door she could hear the dead moving. Pushing aside her fear she looked through the peephole and let out a gasp in horror as at least 20 of them walking down the hall.

Hannah leaned against the wall as she felt terror crawl its way up her body. Once she felt like she could stand, she did albeit a little shaky.

Putting the knife on the table she let out a shaky breath and tried to think back on what just happened. Running her fingers through her blood soaked hair, she took deep breaths in and out and finally calmed down. Well as calm as you can get.

“Hannah what happened,” Glenn says as he rushed out with a bag and looked at her in horror as he saw her face covered in the blood of the dead. Hannah put her finger to her lips and shushed him not wanting to alert anymore of them.

“We can’t get out through the front, so I went out to the hall and found one of those… things and killed it but I heard more, they were making their way up the stairs and I looked out the peephole and there were like 20 of them,” Hannah explained as her voice shaked alone with her hands. She didn’t know what to do.

“Okay. Okay.” Glenn repeated his words as fear dawned over him. Then an idea popped into his head. “The fire escaped,” He whispered. “We can try to make our way towards the car and get out of here,” He says.

“Great idea, let me just get a few things and we’ll be on our way,” Hannah says fastly and he nods and takes a seat on the arm of the couch trying to calm his nerves.

Slowly opening her bedroom door, so she wouldn't alert the dead. Rushing in once it was open she grabbed a bag and put a couple shirts, shorts, pants and a few dresses she loved. She knew it was a lot of clothes but at that moment she didn’t care. She was just rushing. Putting her sketchbook and pencils alongside her close, she also grabbed a few books and a flashlight just in case. Grabbing her jean jacket she tied it around her waist and was about to make her way out of the room when she noticed something in the corner of her room.

A bow and arrow. She remembers the day she got the thing, it was when she turned 18 and finally got her first paycheck and wanted to buy something cool. So when she saw a purple and black bow and some wooden arrows she got it.

Running towards it she grabbed it and put the thing that held the arrows around her shoulders and grasped the bow.

Making her way into the living room she grabbed the knife as well. Glenn gave her a look, similar to the one he had when they were joking in the kitchen.

“Why’d I know you were gonna grab that thing,” Glenn lets out a tiny chuckle.

“Oh come on I can finally put this thing to use,” Hannah joked and looked around for the keys. Hearing a jingle she looked up and saw that Glenn had them. “Thank god that almost gave me a heart attack,” she whispers.

“Come on let’s go,” Glenn whispered and they made their way towards the fire escape.

Climbing down the stairs, Hannah looked down and felt her stomach drop as she saw one of those things walking down besides the wall. Her and Glenn made their way towards the bottom of the stairs, where they only had to make a few steps down the ladder and a small jump.

“Let me do this, I already did this,” Hannah whispered to Glenn, not wanting him to get hurt. She needed to protect him no matter what.

“What! No,” Glenn exclaimed quietly, he didn’t want his older sister to die. Not after everything they went through together.

“Glenn, I’m doing this, I have to protect you just like you protected me against Will, so I’m doing this,” Hannah sternly says and moves down the ladder, putting an end to the conversation.

Once she dropped to the ground the thing turned around once it heard and started to lumber its way towards, wanting to eat her flesh. Now she knew that getting it in its brain was the way to kill them. It should be a bit easier to do this. Certainly not the easiest but at least she knew how to kill the fuckers.

She grabbed it’s shoulders as Glenn was making his way down ladders ignoring her previous sentiments. The thing was growling and trying to take a bite out of her neck and she raised the knife and stuck it deep into its skull, killing it.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Glenn warned her, pointing his finger at her and she raised her eyebrows at him.

“I’m your older sister I should be saying that to you,” Hannah smirks and he rolls his eyes fighting to let a smile grace his lips. “Let’s get to the car and get the hell out of here,” She says as they run down the back of the building to the front. There were some of the dead there but they were too busy focusing on their next meal, which led them to running towards her car.

Slamming the door shut, Glenn jumps when one of them starts to bang against the window.

“Give me the keys,” Hannah snaps and he does so with shaky hands. She whispered a small yes as the car started without a fight and they made their way down the roads as the dead tried to follow them.

“Sorry for snapping,” Hannah apologizes, she didn’t mean to snap but under these circumstances it was kinda hard not to get a bit stressed.

“No I get it, these things are horrible and I have no idea what we’re going to do,” Glenn admits.

“Well you’re not alone,” Hannah says trying to reassure them as they made their way to the highway, hoping it would lead them out.

But to her dismay, they were caught up in a traffic jam. She would say the sun setting was kind of beautiful but she just could think about those things at this moment. Glenn rested his head back trying to relax as Hannah kept tapping her finger against the steering wheel.

Noticing some people getting out of the cars she tapped Glenn’s shoulder.

“Hm,” Glenn hums.

“Maybe we should see what everyone is doing,” Hannah says as she notices them talking.

“I’ll stay here to keep an eye on our stuff,” Glenn says, a little confused and didn’t know if he wanted her to go out there again but he didn’t have it in him to argue at the moment. Leaving her stuff in the car she walked up to the group of people.

“Do any of you have any idea what’s going on,” Hannah questions and sees a woman with a kid, both dark hair, with a guy who had dark hair as well.

“No we just heard the new saying to evacuate,” The woman says, her voice shaking a bit. “Are you okay,” She says worried, seeing the blood on her.

“Don’t worry it’s not mine, it’s one of those things,” Hannah tried to reassure the woman. “I’m Hannah,” She says, reaching her hand out and the woman takes it, shaking it.

“I’m Lori, my son Carl, and my friend Shane,” Lori says introducing herself.

“This is so crazy,” Hannah murmurs to herself and looks back at the car to make sure Glenns okay. He gives her two thumbs up.

“You’re tellin’ me we were tryna get out of the state but as you see it’s not goin’ well,” Shane says with a little laugh.

People were honking their horns as if that would help them and not draw the dead to come towards them.

“God people are so fucking stupid.”

#daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon #the walking dead x y/n #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x you #the walking dead smut #glenn rhee #glenn rhee x reader #the walking dead

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funishment-time · 1 month

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Alright. Now that I know the questions, and forgive me if these have been asked before, 16, 19 (for Miu), and of course, our good pal, 17

whee hee hee!!!

16. Do you have any ideas for a Danganronpa murder? Share!

the series is lacking a good murder-suicide or Lover's Suicide. (i mean as an individual case/trial. you could argue that all of DR1 is a murder-suicide or Lover's Suicide)

beyond that, a high-temperature complete burning-to-death that results in ashes and little Evidence, or withholding important Medication that keeps a character alive, would both be Interesting

17. List five headcanons for your favorite characters!

special edition!! wee woo wee woo! for this one i will list 5 SFW ship headcanons, but if you're not into these Ships (or Shipping in general), i have 5 regular headcanons here too. double the value!

skip these if you don't like Ship dynamics:

KAEDE x. MIU: Kaede insists on being the little spoon, which flusters Miu for all eternity

FUYUHIKO x PEKO: they never have kids, but they do have a hundred thousand fluffy Creaturas of various sorts. dogs and cats and rabbits and chinchillas and maybe even a herd of Alpacas roaming their great Yakuza estate. "no one's gonna fuckin' take us seriously," Fuyuhiko always says, but he's smiling because his wife is

SAKURA x HINA: after scientific evidence shows that naps have a positive effect on the human body and its growth (see DR1's School Mode), Sakura tries to get Hina to take short naps with her daily. like, 20 minutes tops. unfortunately, this rarely Works, because no one taught Hina how to sit still for longer than a half-second, but it does give them cuddle time on a busy day

FUKAWA SYSTEM x KOMARU: neither of the Fukawas ever stop lusting over Byakuya. it's just that Komaru is their wife, the love of their life, their girl, their beloved. their crush on Byakuya ends up being more, uh, purely NSFW in nature. in the end, though, the Fukawa system would rather be with Komaru, because she's Domesticity, she's Love, she's Healing, even if she won't turn them into her own personal livestock or whatever it was Toko wanted in UDG (i black out during those scenes). anyway, Komaru perfectly understands this, and really doesn't feel Threatened by it at all, because it's not like Byakuya is ever going to give the Fukawa system what they want

MAHIRU x HIYOKO: after her growth spurt, Hiyoko gets intense stretch-marks, which knocks her self esteem down a peg. thankfully, Mahiru loves her terrible banana-headed gee eff Just As Much

and now for the regular headcanons:

Nekomaru is generally asexual. he's never felt shame in it, as it allows him to Focus on his athletes better in an increasingly competitive world

in a non-despair AU, Kokichi ends up on the student council every year, inexplicably, as Treasurer. no one notices when he's lifting money from HPA because no one notices when Jin Kirigiri is doing it, either

Ibuki has been the first kiss of many-a girl at HPA

in her own way, Junko felt threatened when Mukuro was pretending to be her, both in DR1 and in Zero. this factored into Junko kebabing her, but also into Junko's obsession with putting her down in Extremely Childish Ways, as well as her insistence that Mukuro was Gross and Nasty and Could Never Be Her!!! at the end of DR1. by the Despair Twins' HPA days, Junko was too far gone to ever deal with it or admit it, but so much of her final despair centered around her identity and her sister. she may not have gone full Killing Game if not for Mukuro

Sakura has dislocated bones, sometimes during a match, and then immediately popped them right back into place without hesitation or pause. this only makes local Lesbians more in love

BONUS: the Warriors of Hope do heal in their own way as they grow, but they always have a hard time patching up the wound named "Big Sis Junko." on a fairly Objective level, she did nothing but good for them and took them out of a Bad Situation when no one else did. so: while the WoH become as content as they can be as adults, they also have an exceedingly difficult journey understanding Junko as a Very Bad Person Actually

19. What kind of fantasy creature would you make Miu?

Miu is most definitely a goblin. gross, loud-mouthed little thing tinkering and tonkering, but extremely Lovable

#danganronpa #miu iruma #sakura ogami #junko enoshima #ibuki mioda #mukuro ikusaba #nekomaru nidai #kokichi oma #aoi asahina #kaede akamatsu #peko pekoyama #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #mahiru koizumi #hiyoko saionji #komaru naegi #toko fukawa

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princessfanonanona · 2 years

Text

“So let me get this straight,” Danny rubs his temples. He floats just out of range of the rather…jumpy creatures.

Sam can be heard over the comms cackling.

“This is where Tucker runs off to every month?”

Somewhere above him, Valerie chokes on a cough that devolves into wheezing.

“Fucking-”

One of the creatures gets a high enough leap to snap at his foot.

“Furry Conventions?!”

“That's insulting!” Ellie yells from her spot cuddled amongst the werewolves, “And ‘weres’ is also derogatory so don’t use that either.”

Sam has devolved into gasping for air.

“Oh- no-” Valerie gasps between wheezing laughter, “Wait hold on- I can’t- this is too good-!”

Danny facepalms.

“Wait, Ellie,” Sam audibly swallows her laughter down to speak. “Please be serious, why do you know about this?”

“Well, I ran into a pack on my travels and kinda just stuck around?” Ellie shrugs, before rolling over to hug the wolf she was using as a pillow. He- she (???) turns their big head to nuzzle the top of Ellie’s head.

“Oh Ancients,” Danny scrubs his face with his hands.

“You know,” Valerie says, faux serious and absolutely smirking behind her mask, as she drifts closer to Danny. “You always did want a dog.”

Sam breaks into a new bout of cackles.

Danny groans, a noise that just emanates from his entire being.

“You know,” Ellie peers up at them, “Really gives a new meaning to ‘man’s best friend’.”

“I hate all of you,” he grumbles, “So much. You’re all the worst.”

The werewolf with Tucker’s hat makes a leap at Valerie. He misses by a mile and lands in a heap.

Valerie leans over to observe him for a moment, “It’s comforting to know he’s still as clumsy even without the wolfitude.”

The one they assume to be Tucker grumbles in whuffing noises. Shaking his head, he loses the hat as he shifts further.

Skin rippling, bone crunching, he drops onto paws a very tall actual wolf in his place.

"Well that was simultaneously disgusting and kinda cool…wait. Can he hear me?"

Tucker lifts his head to bark.

An actual, domesticated dog, type of bark.

"That means yes."

"Gee thanks Ellie," Valerie rolls her eyes hard enough, her head goes with it. "I mean, will he remember this? Or will this be like a fever dream for him?"

Ellie blinks big blue eyes up at Valerie.

"You mean if he's fully aware of things?" One of the wolves speaks up from the edge of the group. She stands proud, partially shifted and looking a lot like Wulf. "Then yes."

Valerie facepalms.

"Uh, hi," Danny offers a small wave, floating closer to her. "Sorry to interrupt your…gathering."

"Despite how we may look, I assure you that we have existed long before the mere concept of furries did."

Danny's cheeks darken, "Sorry, I was just surprised."

The wolf hums, or the equivalent of the noise, her shift making it more of a deep rumble. "Ellie has said much about her cousin and his friends."

“Good things I hope?” Valerie asks flying over to join them.

She offers nothing more than a wolfish grin.

“With you two flying so high, you’re making the pack restless,” a new wolf says.

Danny turns to her and blinks.

He rubs his eyes and stares with a gaping mouth.

“Honestly, Danny, I know you have better manners than that,” the wolf laughs.

“Mrs. Foley?!”

She laughs, a great roaring laughter with her wolfish muzzle tipped back.

“Oh. My. God.” Valerie whispers. Sam has returned to cackling over the comms.

“Samantha, dear, you know it’s rude to laugh at someone,” Angela Foley chides with good nature.

“Wait, you can hear me?” Sam asks over the comms.

“Clear as day,” the first wolf woman says.

“Well, that’s some super hearing,” Valerie says, turning partially to Danny, “Can you hear that well?”

Danny shakes his head.

“Now will you two come down and stop bothering the pack?”

Danny and Valerie look at each other before dropping onto the grass.

“Wait,” Danny blinks, a thought finally catching up to him. He goes bug eyed at Angela, a hand pointing dramatically at her.

She arches a furry brow back at him.

Tucker takes this moment to leap at Danny, a mouthful of sharp fangs biting his extended wrist and tugging him off his feet.

Half of the pack howls with laughter as Tucker drags Danny around the clearing by his wrist. The other half too busy sniffing at Valerie.

“Tucker! Stop! This is serious!” Danny half yells, half whines.

“Ah, I see,” the first wolf says, putting a hand to her snout.

“See what?” Valerie asks, moving backwards closer to the only seemingly sane people in the clearing.

“I was just telling Blythe that it was strange Danny always got so hurt,” Angela starts.

The first wolf, Blythe, gestures at the scene of the boys running around the clearing, Ellie leaving her wolf pillow to join the chase.

“This explains it pretty well. He just forgets, doesn't he?”

A soft slap is heard over the comms, presumably Sam face paling, as she groans.

Valerie watches the scene for a moment. “Yeah okay, that tracks.”

#danny phantom #phantasyphest2022 #day 3: urban fantasy #werewolf tucker #crack fic #nona writes #i am aware i am late but technically!!! speaking!!!! this was written i just failed to post it #sorry

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dcwnthercbbithcle · 4 months

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plots please for doe!! if you need ideas/explanations for FNAF stuff feel free to approach me ♥

send me “plots please” and I’ll respond with 3 (or more) interesting plots / relationships / connections I can think of for our muses! | ACCEPTING

OPAAAAAAL, I am gripping you in my hand like a squeaky toy (affectionate) as you know I am so so rusty when it comes to fnaf lore BUT LIKE, for you?? Anything!! I will go all in! No questions asked!!

Also for any mutuals reading: Jane Doe, Jean Doe, or Doe as I call her (and she prefers) is a new OC of mine, she's a DBD survivor and you WILL be hearing more about her in the weeks to come! Haha I'm just being a perfectionist about her carrd right now!

PLOTS

HUMAN AU!! I know this is a little bit of a cop out when it comes to FNAF and not going full into the lore, but hear me out!!

So, let me set the stage: it's a human AU and the setting is still FNAF security breach-centric, with the big exception that the Glamrocks are human and the headlining performers for the Fazbear Mega Pizza Plex, but more than that just general pop stars. Think Jem and the Holograms mixed with something far more grounded, like the Vengaboys and Bee-Gees

Now I'm not entirely sure what your take on an AU taking this angle would be, but this is more set dressing and can EASILY be altered per your canon verses! (there's also still murder going on and fans of the band are getting picked off, but that's neither here nor there ashdagshd)

EITHER WAY, Doe and Bonnie meet after Doe applies for a job as a makeup artist, after the nomadic lifestyle the job offered spoke to her anxiety and paranoia over staying in one place and the bright, flashy and gaudy style of 80s glam rock spoke to her in a way that nothing else could. It was perfectly tailored for her and after getting the job, she excels in the wardrobe department for Bonnie, becoming a good friend in the process!

It's more domestic with far less dives into the more generalized horror and tragedy Doe and FNAF are used to, but I think it would be neat!! Both for the silliness of the weirdos being silly together and the chance to explore Doe and Bonnie in such wildly different verses!! Could Doe open up about why she feels like she needs to be on the run? Do they look into the disappearances in their fanbase? Or is it more harmless fun with Doe cheering Bonnie on as he tries his hand at going all the way with crush and coworker??

PRE-SECURITY BREACH!! Back to our regularly scheduled programming, no pun intended, for this verse I really can see a far more FNAF story centric AU.

Let me give you the run down, Bonnie is still a fully fledged member of the cast, alongside Monty, Roxy, Freddy & Chica, and with this in mind, the demand for skilled electronic engineers and programmers at Fazbear Entertainment Incorporated is steady and unrelenting. After all, the animatronics are the main draw, they're the logos and icons, there won't be a show without them and thus they need to remain in top order with people they can trust and who have.

So, this in mind, while working towards her Bachelor's in Electrical Engineering, Doe picks up a job at the Pizzaplex as a member of the cast responsible for the upkeep of the Glamrock Animatronics as well as the automated cast robots. Her and Bonnie meet in that way and they quickly get to striking up a working friendship mirroring the typical dynamic of babysitter and the person being babysat!

It's relatively simple now that I actively type it out, ASDHASHDHSA but I think it would be a good way to work with both characters in Bonnie's setting while also fully incorporating Doe's backstory!!

Maybe instead of being involved in a domestic murder in a mall parking lot, she witnesses something at the Pizzaplex and we can witness Doe's decline and descent into paranoia and fear in real time? The thread potential is domestic and tragic with growing dread AND YOU KNOW THAT'S HOW I LOVE IT! Haha

WILD CARD? OKAY, this is my most wild idea yet, but let me cook, I promise!! This is still FNAF-centric, taking place either during your Main Verse, Pre-FNAF Security Breach OR during Security Breach.

Okay, so, I know that the Glamrock timeline for the second half of the games goes far less into the complete supernatural than the original games do. The murders are still going on but it's a lot less like the robots are being haunted, y'know? Well, HEAR ME OUT, what if that's not entirely true.

Cue Doe, now, as you know, Doe being dead and / or a ghost is relatively important to her character. In DBD I play with this more as the Entity propping Doe up and keeping her alive via torture magic or however the entity works. But in FNAF, what if Doe is one of the many souls ended in or around the building that now resides haunting its halls.

She could take up residence in one of the many robots in the Pizzaplex, fighting and breaking against the programming of the machine that she's in to assert herself and to scream at the world that she never left... Except far less screaming and more just, hanging around in the mind and taking over the body of the robot FNAF 1 style.

She uh... she has no idea how to actually help herself in THAT situation & Doe is NOT capable of going full murder mode against security, irregardless of programming limitations, she doesn't have it in her! Having company in the Pizzaplex is more than enough to keep her soul sated from the despair of her situation.

OR LIKE, she's just a human ghost walking around, with the potential comedy of Bonnie being able to detect her and interact with her, seeing her at first as a person left inside after hours before realizing she doesn't actually have a body to escort out and she is stuck, not loitering on purpose.

RELATIONSHIPS + CONNECTIONS

ANYTHING YOU WANT!!!! I mean, Opal, I'm gonna be honest with you, shipping Sally and Adiris with you is so much fun that I'm willing to go all in with any kind of relationship, friendship or otherwise that you could potentially see with Doe and Bonnie in any verse!! Plus like!!!! CUSTOM VERSES FOR THEM I'M SO DOWN!!!

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nosferatyou · 3 years

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Give me boyfriend Gerard or give me nothing at all.

#gerard way #give me domestic gee or give me nothing at all #domestic gee #nosferatyou draws #nosferatyou publically yearns #lord give me strength #for i cant stand here and not be dating the man

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s0ulm8s · 3 years

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boys like you (2.0)

✿ summary : alone and left in a mansion with nothing but your canvases and the dust slowly collecting on the window sills - a commission and a call from a childhood friend completely changes your life

✿ genre : hybrid au, deer!seokjin, black panther!yoongi, wolf!namjoon, great dane!hoseok, calico cat!jimin, tiger!taehyung, bunny!jungkook

✿ warnings : mentions of death, abuse, angst, maybe some mentions of assault, some fluff (let me know if i’ve missed anything)

✿ word count : 3.0K

✿ taglist : @gee-nee @narcissism-iskey @anongirl007

✿ series masterlist! | 3.0

you had spent all night examining each pack member’s file, each hybrid had vastly different personalities, likes, dislikes, etc. - and you had to admit it was a lot to take in. you had also taken the time to search online and purchase all that you thought would be necessary in helping assimilate the hybrids into your home, new beds, dressers, food, utensils, etc. even scheduling reconstruction of your estate, updating the model and calculating up floor plans to change the biggest common room in the home in order to accommodate all seven of the hybrids, incase they wished to stay together in a bedroom where they could all fit comfortably. perhaps you were way too ahead of yourself, but that inheritance money needed to go somewhere.

it was now 3 hours before your scheduled time to meet the hybrids, and possibly sign their adoption papers. that is, if all parties want to be adopted by you. you scanned their files again.

birthdate: december 4, 1992

sign: sagittarius

age: 28 years

type: white-tailed dear

role: care giver, protector

(tends to be subordinate, dominant traits)

as the oldest, kim seokjin falls into role of protector and caregiver naturally within the dynamics of his pack - trusting that there is no imminent danger. but outside of pack dynamics, he can fall into prey instincts quite quickly. this explains his dependance on wolf hybrid, kim namjoon. he shows more care- giving nature, resorting to protection in that case of the younger members more than the older predators.

seokjin enjoys spring, cooking, and familiarity. though he is quite outspoken and quick to defend, he is not the natural leader of the pack. he can be skeptical of humans, as in the wild, humans can be the deer populations top predator. he is respectful, intelligent, trustworthy, and resourceful. he is family orientated and selfless, as expected.

birthdate: march 9, 1993

sign: pisces

age: 27 years

type: black panther

role: protector

(predominantly dominant traits)

as the second in age, and an apex predator, min yoongi is a fierce protector. maybe even sometimes to a fault. he doesnt shy away from threats, especially those directed toward his pack.

he is quiet, and quite reserved. he enjoys the piano, writing, and sleep. his harsh exterior is hard to break through as those within his pack are the only ones who have managed. he is quick to action. he, along with the instinctual pattern of his panther tendencies, sports an “act first, ask later” attitude. his counterpart, great dane hybrid, jung hoseok, helps balance this.

birthdate: february 18, 1994

sign: aquarius

age: 26 years

type: great dane

role: protector

(predominantly dominant traits)

jung hoseok is the level headed protector, along with that of his successor in age, kim namjoon. as a domestic predator, he still sometimes falls into that category of protectee, but not inherently. in terms of owner, this is where his loyalty lies. where his instincts decide protection is needed most, as his pack members know how to protect themselves.

his personality is very bright, and quite bubbly. he is easy to talk to and offers sensible advice. his is found to be a bit goofy, and tends to lift the packs spirits when needed. hobbies include primarily dancing, and writing. he enjoys deep thinking.

birthdate: september 12, 1994

sign: virgo

age: 26 years

type: black timber wolf

role: protector

(predominantly dominant traits)

kim namjoon is the packs natural leader. though he isn’t the oldest, he seems to be the one they look to for answers. in terms of owners, it seems he will display what’s best for his pack while keeping his own desires hidden. but much like his descendant, the domesticated hybrid, he will still put owner first when accepted as part of said pack. he is exceptionally intelligent and wise, violence isn’t his first instinct - but it is still a prominent trait.

though he is the leader, and can sport a hard and critical exterior, he has been observed to show a quite fun and loving side. as ancestor to the domesticated hybrid, he shows immense loyalty. sporting a bond for an owner that cannot be broken once trust is established. he can be very playful, he loves to read, and write music. he enjoys stimulating conversation.

birthdate: october 13, 1995

sign: libra

age: 25 years

type: calico cat

role: protectee

(both dominant and subordinate traits)

though a predator, he is domestic, and when his instincts don’t call for action - park jimin knows he is protected by his elder counterparts. with this knowledge, he falls into the role of protectee quite effortlessly. though, he does show protector qualities when it comes to their youngest, jeon jungkook.

he is feisty and argumentative, but exceptionally loving. as a domesticated hybrid, he can be quite lazy and enjoys lots of rest but displays many burst of energy that seem to stimulate the rest of the pack. he enjoys singing, and is extremely affectionate - unafraid to show his affection for those he trusts.

sign: capricorn

birthdate: december 30, 1995

age: 25 years

type: bengal tiger

role: inconclusive

(both dominant and subordinate traits)

as an apex predator, kim taehyung should fall into category of protector. over years of observation, the hybrid is willing protect but doesn’t display it prominently. as he is just as easily protected by his elders as that of counterpart, park jimin. and much like him, he will fall to defense of youngest, jeon jungkook, quickly. but his position remains inconclusive as he displays traits of both equally. the dynamic still works with the pack seamlessly.

he can seem quiet upon first meetings, but the hybrid is quite playful and excitable - especially with his agemate and younger counterpart. he likes to protect and be protected. he is an art connoisseur and seems to always be collecting new knowledge where he can find it.

sign: virgo

birthdate: september 1, 1997

age: 23 years

type: rabbit

role: protectee

(predominantly subordinate traits, does occasionally show dominant qualities)

youngest, jeon jungkook, falls into category of protectee quite easily. as prey, and categorically falling so low on the tree, it makes sense that his predator pack members would shield him. but he also shows fervent attachment to prey, kim seokjin.

the youngest can be rather shy when it comes to those who may or may not pose a threat, the ambiguity alone is enough to trigger is prey instincts. though, within his pack, those he trusts, he is extremely impulsive and affectionate. he also enjoys music, and singing, along with drawing and creating art. he is very lovable and fun.

* all pack members have experienced past neglect, abuse, and trauma.

each file was as meticulous as you could expect it to be, giving you the rundown of their diets, habits, personalities, etc. you heart stung at the last sentence and the realization that they had been observed for years, meaning they had been in the shelter for years.

though the idea was a bit overwhelming, you had to admit reading about them felt like a little glimpse into who they were - and you were suddenly very hopeful you’d be able to adopt them all.

though that didn’t come without nerves, you skimmed over each file, realizing then that even the youngest was a year older than you. you hoped your age wouldn’t pose a problem to seeing you in the light of owner, as someone they could look to for help or protection. you wiped away the thought, saving it for when it happened instead of creating a problem that didn’t exist yet.

looking up at the clock, you decided you should get ready. putting the files away into your bag neatly, you climbed up the stairs to the room you had made you own. wearing your hair down and applying a light layer of make up, you decided you should look somewhat presentable.

you didn’t know why you were so nervous suddenly, discarding outfit after outfit before realizing you were about to be late and finally deciding on a pair of loose jeans and a fitted sage green top. you hoped you looked as friendly as possible.

finally, you made it to the shelter, letting out a heavy breath and turning your car off - you tried to ease your nerves. you greeted yeosang at the front desk once again, along with dr. park as they directed you to the “interview deck.” there you found mingi, waiting for you with a stack of papers.

“y/n!” he called happily as he wrapped you in a firm embrace and you paid him a sweet smile. seven sets of ears perked up on the other side of the door, growing anxious as the seven boys paid each other glances. their skin buzzing wildly. “they’re all inside now. knowing you, i’m sure you did extensive research... i’m confident they’ll love you.” mingi reassured, as you stayed quiet. “whenever you’re ready.” he finally spoke, moving out of the way as you finally let out the breath you were holding.

you gripped the handle before thinking fuck it, and twisting it completely, stepping inside almost silently.

you can’t say you had expected the hybrids to look the way they did as you started at them wide-eyed, the moment seeming to move in slow motion as the tingling feeling you felt the day before returned, except it was incredibly more intense.

“hi -” you tried to speak before a large body came crashing into yours, almost knocking the wind of out you as you stumbled slightly. the tall boy wrapped his long arms over you shoulders, burying his face into your neck. you could feel him smiling against you skin.

“i’m so glad you came back for us.” the small voice rang out muffled against your hot skin. heartbeat thumping rapidly, and you know they could all hear it with their heightened senses. as you scanned the group, six set of eyes watching you intently, you noticed the only pair of ears missing were those of the bunny you met the day prior

“of course i came back.” you muttered softly, returning his embrace as he exhaled into you at the contact of your arms joining around his toned waist. you can’t say you figured the bunny would be so tall and broad, he clearly worked out to maintain his figure, perhaps to make up for being prey.

“jungkookie, let her breathe.” a deep voice echoed. the tone so deep and domineering you almost shook.

“right.” the younger boy laughed, pulling away with a deep blush that matched your own. “sorry.” he breathed out.

“that’s okay...” you whispered softly. “it’s nice to finally meet you properly, jungkook.” you finish, genuinely, giving him a happy smile and watching the tension fall out of his broad shoulders.

the owner of the deeper voice had now stood and was approaching confidently. gaze trained and focused on your much smaller frame, as you looked up at him towering about you, tall and strong.

his eyes raked your figure, petite and short, even shorter than jimin - and his instincts were screaming at him to protect you and usher you even further into the room, away from any possible danger. he ignored it, for now.

you observed his ashy black ears and tail, the traits matching his shaggy hair perfectly. “you must be, namjoon.” you concurred, as he tilted his head, just like a wolf would. his gaze made you squirm a bit.

“yes, that’s me.” he nodded, gesturing toward the chair sat directly in front of the couch that seven of them were sat on. “please.” he said firmly, as you nodded. finally, taking a seat and feeling a bit more at ease. “this is seokjin, our oldest” he spoke for the group, gesturing to the broad shouldered man on the far side of the couch, closest to the door. there was an empty spot next to him from where namjoon had just stood.

his skin was fair and spotless, and his clean cut dark hair was adorned with a pair of clean antlers. his plump lips formed in a small u-shaped smile as he bid you a polite nod that you returned.

“hoseok,” he introduced next. referring now to the honey-skinned great dane hybrid. he seemed to be bursting at the seems with energy but hid it well, despite his tail wagging quickly - grey/brown ears perking upward.

“hello!” he cheered happily, taking all of his energy and focussing it on not wrapping you in a tight embrace, much like jungkook had. he could smell you so vividly, they all could.

“hi!” you giggled a bit, his ears turning toward the noise. “it’s nice to meet you.” you both beam. you think maybe he was made by the sun itself, at how much warmth and happiness he radiates.

“yoongi.” he spoke next, just as the man next to hobi swatted the great dane’s wagging tail with a small snarl. he barely tilted his head back at you, seemingly uninterested in the whole encounter.

“jimin.” he said next, sending yoongi a death glare that the panther pointedly ignored. you smiled genuinely at the panther, before looking to jimin.

“ah, yes! we met yesterday as well.” you cheer softly as jimin cracked a proud smile at your acknowledgement, leaning forward to shake your free hand and place a quick kiss to it.

“i’m glad you’re here.” jimin spoke hushed, before letting your hand go and smirking at your blush, only nodding your head to him.

“and you’ve met jungkook,” he spoke next as the bunny waved at you again, one ear flopping down, long hair falling into his eyes. you waved back and he smiled brightly.

“and then finally, taehyung.” namjoon introduced last, as you face the last hybrid. his skin was tanned and soft, and his dark hair parted down the middle in soft waves. you could see his bengal features in his eyes. he paid you a respectful smile, reaching forward to shake your hand formally.

“it’s lovely to meet you.” he said, voice just as deep as namjoon’s, laced with a low purr. you gave another small smile, face tense.

“and you, taehyung.” you replied, as his soft hand let go of your own. namjoon let out a breath and sat down in his previous place as you met all of their gaze once more, only yoongi’s was trained on the floor. they looked expectant.

“i take it mingi has told you most of it, but my name’s y/n. i own an estate off the countryside, it’s quiet there. and, to be entirely honest with you, i never saw myself adopting a hybrid in general.. let alone seven but... i want to give you a proper home, and the freedom you deserve. if you’ll let me.” you spoke softly, but loud enough for each hybrid to hear. they studied your features, and the growing heat of their skin, staring quizzically.

“if you -“ you started speaking just as namjoon did. you chuckled lightly. “go ahead.” you gesture.

“would it be alright if we asked you some questions?” namjoon asked respectful, as you immediately nod your head in approval.

“of course. anything at all.” you encourage as you met seokjin’s trained gaze.

“not to be.. abrupt or rude, but, how old are you, y/n?” seokjin asked, voice melodic and pretty.

“oh, i-i’m 22... i know i’m younger than you all, but i can confidently say i can provide for you. i had to grow up pretty quickly.” you admit, and the boy take note of that last thought. namjoon wonder’s why but chooses not to pry. fore now.

“i trust you.” seokjin spoke, ceasing your explanation as the two of you held a piercing gaze until you nodded to him - silently thanking him.

“what do you do?” hoseok asked next, leaning forward a bit and smiling. they watch your expression beam a bit at the question.

“i’m an artist! i - i work from home so i’ll be able to devote as much time to each of you as possible, if that’s what you want, of course.” you tell him happily, reflecting on your work as he takes note of every expression you make.

“an artist? kookie likes to draw a lot, too!” jimin explained, wrapping an arm around jungkook’s shoulders and ruffling his hair as the boys laughed.

“i’d love to see your work sometime.” you admit sweetly as jungkook blushes. the rest of the boys ask you basic questions abbot your life, why you’re here, all except yoongi.

the conversation dwindles quite naturally before yoongi finally speaks up, “so why would a 22 year old girl want to adopt seven hybrids? what are your intentions?” yoongi’s voice is laced with venom, his question makes you sit straight as your gazes finally meet.

the two of you stare at one another, studying the other’s gaze, trying to read them. both parties becoming inwardly frustrated when they fail.

though hoseok gives yoongi’s thigh a squeeze in quiet warning, he also looks at you expectantly. along with the five other boys. you take in a deep breath.

“just like you, i have to gain your trust just as much as you have to gain mine. if you give me a chance, let me get to know you and in turn get to know me - i think i can give you what the seven of you need. a home... a safe haven... i want to be that for you, if you’ll let me. i’ve been blessed with the resources to do so. my heart aches at the thought of the seven of you being here for so long, and there is no string of words that i can say to even begin to ease the burden of what you’ve been through, but i want to try. i want to understand. and i want the seven of you... if you want me, too.” you answered honestly, voice lower as you start at the floor, rolling your hands together.

you finally look back up at yoongi whose dark gaze has now softened. previous potentials who had even considered meeting all seven of the hybrids would give up on them at yoongi’s harsh tone and hot attitude - using it as an excuse to decline their adoption. but you didn’t. you met his words with sincerity and kindness, and it’s not something any of them had experienced. and the fact that you hadn’t given up yet, spoke wonders to the seven of them.

they all shared a knowing glance, “okay... we want you, too.” namjoon finally spoke, as you broke into a happy smile.

✿ author’s note : thank you so much for all the love on the first part so far, I really wasn’t expecting it. i’m posting part one and two tonight as to get the story rolling and will hopefully have part three out tomorrow night! i can’t have a set schedule as my work and school schedules fluctuate but i’ll be as consistent as possible as i’m just as invested! thank you!

#hybrid au #hybrid bts #ot7 #bts ot7 #ot7 bts #poly au #poly bts #soulmate au #bts #bts imagines #bts smut #smut #bts drabble

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babymetaldoll · 3 years

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Danger Days - Chapter eight: "You don't own me"

Word count: 8,6K

Summary: Joey is back and finally reunited with Matthew. Gubler is, by the way, crazy jealous about Mikey.

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, penetrative sex, cursing, jealousy.

A/N: Is Matthew right to be so jealous? ... I'm guessing the answer is yes.

Masterlist

::: November 6th, 2010:::

The show was over, sweat dripping down Gerard’s face. He could still listen to the crowd yelling as he walked out of the stage and over the dressing room. He was tired, it was the last date of the leg of the tour, and he felt ready for a good break from being on the road.

Frank grabbed a bottle of water and drank almost half of it. Joey looked at him with a funny stare.

- “Shit! You were fucking dehydrated!”

- “And you failed in your crusade to keep me moisturized”- the drummer burst out laughing and hugged him friendly

- “I can’t believe you remember that!!”

- “You never forget a girl who promised to moisturize you”- the guitarist kissed her cheek, both of them were pretty sweated, but neither of them seemed to care.

- “Fuck Jersey, I’m gonna miss you. I’m not gonna listen to your weird, kinky jokes in a whole month.”

- “Bug, you are so gonna get my calls, so many calls!!”- Joey laughed and let him go.

She was honestly gonna miss him. Though she had managed to stop flirting and staring at him like she knew she had done, their friendship continued to grow, and they were closer than ever. Gerard hated it, but there was nothing he could do about it.

- "Come on!"- Ray argued, overhearing the conversation- "It’s just one month! And you better enjoy it, ‘cos starting February, you are not getting rid of us."

- "And you are not getting rid of me these days either"- Mikey quickly added, and Joey stuck her tongue out to him.

- "That I already knew, bróðir!"

- "It was a good show"- Gerard said out of the blue, and everybody looked at him.

- "Yeah"- they all answered and sat for a while. Ray took off his shirt and looked for a clean one in his bag. Joey quickly ran over and tapped on his pectorals.

- "I’ve seen these a hundred times already, and I still can’t get over the fact you’ve got better tits than I do!"- Ray burst out laughing as Gerard turned around not to see that scene.

In the latest days, he had had to swallow all his jealousy in a slightly successful attempt to stay a little further away from Joey. But staring at her being so close and friendly with everybody was making shit harder for Way. It was a good thing they had a month’s break. Maybe that would help to cool off his head from that crush.

- "So, dinner?"- Frank asked as he took off his shirt too to change into a dry one.

- "First a shower, then dinner and then… to the airport?"- Joey looked at her wristwatch- "Why are we flying at three in the morning?"

- "‘Cos it was the only flight available"- Ray quickly answered and cut the girl a smile- "But it gives us time to shower, eat dinner and get chocolates in the duty-free."

- "You had me at “shower,” then you said chocolates, and you made it perfect"- she answered and grabbed a shirt from her bag. It was the same every time. Gerard would get all excited about the possibility of her taking off her shirt right there with them, but she would always lock in the bathroom for a quick change.

- "Bummer!!"- Frank yelled as soon as Joey closed the bathroom door behind her back- "One day, we are gonna get a shitty venue without a bathroom or whatever, and you are gonna have to show us your bra!!"

- "Never!!"- Joey yelled, laughing from the bathroom. Frank laughed too and sighed. He made it sound like a joke, but he was dead serious about it. He still had a crush on the girl, though he had managed to keep it under control.

Dinner was nice. The band ate at the hotel and left for the airport. Gerard was excited to think maybe if he had a seat with Joey again, but no, he didn’t. Instead, she was alone with a stranger the whole flight to Munich. She didn’t really mind though, she would enjoy the little time alone she got after being most of her time locked in a bus with the band. It was fun, but it could get to be a little too much. And though she wasn’t really a woman with many female friends, she needed a more women-friendly environment for a while. Maybe not having Mikey farting most of the day was going to be nice. Or Frank burping. Or Gerard staring at her. Shit, Gerard staring at her was the worst, ‘cos it made her feel awkward. She needed to get away from him for a while.

The flight from Munich to New York was too long to be true. Luckily, the whole band was too tired to be awake most of the time. They got into the plane and fell asleep right away. Frank looked at Ray sitting next to him and punched his shoulder, forcing him to take out his headphones, pause his movie, and looked at his friend.

- "What?"

- "What are you doing?"- Iero asked and grinned.

- "Fuck you, Frank"- and the boy just laughed.

- "I wanted to know if Christa is picking you up or if you need a ride home. Jamia is coming with the girls to the airport."

- "Thanks, but Christa is coming for me, and my plan is to stay awake to get this jetlag straight."

- "Yeah"- Frank smiled and elbowed his friend- "Sure thing, the jetlag... "- Ray blushed and smacked his friend’s head.

- "I don’t appreciate you talking about me and my wife private life."

- "I didn’t say a thing."

- "Shut up!"- Joey and Mikey said at the same time, sitting right behind the other guys.

- "Stop speaking at the same time. It’s disturbing"- Frank agued and turned around to look at them.

- "Be glad you only have a half-hour left with us then"- Mikey quickly answered and wrapped an arm around Joey’s neck.

- "I’m so sorry for Gerard. He is stuck with you for another six hours."

- "He has been stuck with me his whole life. He is going to have to bear with it"- Mikey said, chuckling.

Needless to say, Gerard didn’t really have a problem with being with Joey for another couple of hours.

The goodbye was slightly sad. And a little awkward. Frank and Ray insisted on introducing Joey to their wives. And considering they had a whole hour to kill before boarding their next flight, the drummer agreed.

It was so weird meeting Jamia, but it also helped her kill the little crush she had on Frank.

Jamia was gorgeous, and the babies - Cherry and Lily- were the cutest. Frank changed completely as soon as he was with them. He turned into a dad and stopped being the annoying teenager Joey had spent two weeks with.

- "It’s so great to finally meet you"- Jamia said as she shook the drummer’s hand with a huge smile.

- "Me too! Frank has talked so much about you I feel like I’ve known you for years now"- which was totally the truth. In the last days, Frank had gotten so excited to go home, he wouldn’t stop talking about his life in Jersey.

- "I am so sorry"- Jamia said as they all sat down in a Starbuck.

- "What for?"

- "Anything my husband has done to make you uncomfortable, like farting, and burping, and being gross"- Joey burst out laughing and turned to her friend.

- "Jersey, your wife is an angel. She is a keeper"- and the guitarist smiled, proud.

- "I know, I don’t know how she can bear with me."

- "Probably ‘cos she had your babies"- Joey grinned, and Frank stuck out her tongue to her. Gerard and Mikey sipped their coffee in silence- "Too bad dad had to go so quickly. I wanted to meet Christa better."

- "You’ll have another chance, Bug"- Mikey smiled at her and sighed. He didn’t really want to go back home. It meant facing the inevitable: his divorce.

Joey and Jamia chatted for a long while. Mrs. Iero needed to know what she was dealing with. And mostly if she was going to get a chance to meet Matthew. By the end of their coffee, Jamia felt much more calmed to know the drummer, and Joey felt so much better to feel Mrs. Iero didn’t hate her. It really scared her to think any of the wives of her colleagues could think something wrong about her, except for Lynz. She didn’t scare her… it panicked her. If she only knew what she wanted to do to her husband.

Frank hugged Joey tight, keeping a safe emotional distance thanks to the proximity of his wife and his real-life in Jersey. He also hugged Mikey and Gerard and promised to call soon. Then, the Way brothers and Joey walked to the domestic terminal and looked for their gate. They got there just when they had started boarding.

- "Seems like we are all sitting together"- Gerard said, taking a look at their boarding passes.

- "Awww, my last six hours with you"- Joey quickly answered and smiled.

- "Stop saying that. You really aren’t getting rid of me these days"- the youngest Way said with a funny smile.

- "Next week I’m flying to Seattle for a few days, you are gonna have to learn to live without me, Mikey Way"- Joey quickly answered and kept walking with him to the gate.

- "Damn it! What am I supposed to do those days?"

- "Go torture Gerard for a change"- she replied and looked at Gee, who was staring back at her. But instead of saying anything about his brother, the singer asked.

- "Are you going to see your parents?"

- "Yes! Mom is forcing me to go and pretty much making me feel guilty for “abandon them” for my job."

- "Wow, that sounds harsh"- Mikey raised an eyebrow- "Can I go with you?"

- "No, Mikey. Matthew is coming along, and he is actually going to meet my parents, which is a huge deal for me."

- "Why?"

- "My parents have never met one of my boyfriends"- Joey confessed and passed her boarding pass to the crew by the gate of their flight.

- "Never?"- Gerard was surprised- "Why?"

-"I’ve never had a serious boyfriend."

- "Again, never?"- Gerard was surprised, and so was Mikey.

- "Yeah. I’m not really a people person, and I don’t usually date a lot, so… that’s it"- Joey cut them a fake smile and started walking to the plane, followed by her friends.

- "I can’t believe you are not a people person. That’s really bullshit"- Mikey argued but met Joey’s serious face.

- "I am, and that’s it."

By the tone of her voice, the two guys knew she wasn’t joking about it. So neither of them kept asking questions and remained quiet until they all sat down. The girl was sitting in the middle of the two guys, which made the three of them very happy. At least she knew she could talk to Gerard not feeling awkward ‘cos Mikey was right there to join the conversation too. Well, that if she made it to speak to Gerard, considering they both had been ignoring each other basically the whole week.

But it was a good flight. The three of them kept sleeping most of the time, watched a movie. Joey kept reading her book, Gerard borrowed it for a while, and Mikey kept reading the comics he had gotten in the airport. A typical trip for the three of them.

Matthew was waiting for Joey outside her gate. And as soon as she saw him, she ran to him and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around him and feeling his hands holding her tight.

- "Akumu"- she managed to whisper, rubbing her lips against him, refusing to stop the kiss.

- "My Yami"- he said and smiled, to keep on kissing her- "I missed you so much!"

- "I missed you more."

- "Please, never leave again."

- "I’m here now, and I love you so."

- "I love you so much."

Joey couldn’t stop kissing her boyfriend, and he refused to let her go, though people kept staring at them. One of which was Gerard Way.

- "Come on, kids! get a room"- Mikey said and tapped on Matthew’s back- "And be respectful of my sister in public places. Come on! she is a lady!"

- "Go away, bróðir"- Joey managed to say, still rubbing her lips against Matthew’s

- "You little rebel, hey man"- all the interruption forced the couple to stop their lovely reunion.

- "Hey"- Matthew shook Mikey’s and Gerard’s hands. The youngest Way smiled friendly, but his older brother couldn’t even fake it. He really hated Gubler.

- "Hello"- was the only thing he managed to say.

- "How was your trip?"- Gubler asked and smiled at the guys, now wrapping an arm around Joey and kissing her temple several times.

Gerard hated Matthew more and more with every second that passed. The singer had only managed to kiss her once on the forehead. This guy could kiss her whole body and probably have already. And most probably, he was going to do it again in the following hours. The whole idea made him jealous as hell.

- "Wait, how did you get here?"- Joey asked him and looked around- "You are not boarding a plane now, are you?"

- "No, Yami. I just… managed to ask for permission to get here for you and only for you"- Gerard wanted to smash Gubler’s head against the nearest wall. Joey pouted and kissed her boyfriend for what seemed to be a thousand times.

- "I love you"- she whispered and smiled.

- "Somebody’s gonna get laid!!"- Mikey joked as the couple kept on making out- "Ok, ok, come on, let’s go get our bags so you little love birds can… stop doing this in front of me!"

Mikey said and started walking. Gerard couldn’t agree with his brother more.

Lynz greeted her husband at the front door with the biggest kiss and the warmest hug. He kissed her back and smiled, feeling home. It felt good to have her in his arms. To have someone he loved wrapping her arms around him for a change. It had been too long since he felt that. And he didn’t want to let her go.

Mikey walked into an empty house. Alicia had taken pretty much everything. His house was filled with eco and desolation. Tears started falling down his cheeks. Tears soon became a waterfall. He sat on the floor, resting his back against the wall, howling. He hadn’t cried like that in years.

He took a look around at the empty walls. The empty room. His empty life, and realized how lonely he felt. He could fill the time on tour with his friends, with booze, with the shows. But in real life, on his daily basis, Mikey Way was ultimately and unquestionably alone. And that day, there was nothing he could do about it to face it.

Matthew could barely open the door as he refused to stop kissing his girlfriend. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, and her lips traveled from his mouth to his neck nonstop.

- "Yami... the..."

- "Fuck me right here against the door, I don’t care"- she whispered, and he groaned.

- "Don’t test me!"

The actor somehow managed to open the door, kicked the bags inside, and found the nearest couch.

- "I missed you so fucking much"- she whispered and pulled up his shirt.

- "Me most! And I needed to fuck you so badly. I hadn’t jerked off this much since I was in high school."

- "Then fuck me, Matthew Gray."

- "My plan exactly."

Joey didn’t care about the jetlag; she didn’t care about how tired she felt. She just wanted to feel her boyfriend inside of her as fast as possible 'cos fuck, she had missed him. And seeing him on top of her half-naked already made her feel as ready as she could be.

His lips played on her skin, making her shiver, as he licked and nibbled every inch of her that was possible. Joey’s hands kept moving on his skin as her eyes kept staring at him on top of her. It seemed he was hungry for her, and she wanted to be devoured.

- "Yami"- he whispered and kissed her neck as he finished taking all of her clothing off- "How much did you miss me?"

- "So much"- she moaned as his hardon rubbed her clit.

- "Show me how much you missed me"- she blushed as the two of them stayed still for a second, staring at each other. Joey slowly opened her legs and let Matthew in. Both of them groaned at the very same time as he filled her up completely.

- "Shit"- Joey bit his arm and scratched her nails on his skin.

- "So tight..."- he managed to say as he started thrusting slowly.

- "Just for you"- the girl sighed and kissed his neck

- "You feel so good, Yami."

Joey’s legs were wrapped firmly around his torso as his hand grabbed on hers, intertwining their fingers against one of the cushions of the couch. Their lips were sealed together, only parting for air every once in a while. And when they did, their eyes crushed, staring in complete silence, just moaning, just kissing, just enjoying the fact they were finally together again.

And they had never wanted each other more. It was sweet. It was passionate. It was love.

- "Please, make me cum"- Joey whispered and watched him smile.

- "Your wishes are my commands"- with those words, Matthew fastened his peace and looked at her. He propped up on his elbows, thrusting into her and hitting her g-spot with every single stroke. He wanted to kiss her, but he couldn’t stop staring at her with her eyes closed, whimpering and whispering his name.

- "You look so hot"- Gubler murmured, but she wasn’t able to answer. Instead, her moaning increased and turned into a yell filled with pleasure as she came, which was surely heard by the whole building.

- "Matthew..."- she managed to say as she caught her breath for a second.

- "I’m gonna... "- he whimpered against the skin he bit raw. His thrusts turned messier as he started losing into her, releasing himself and groaning deep into her shoulder as she kept her arms and legs around him.

- "Sorry"- he whispered and chuckled- "That was too fast."

- "I don’t care, we have time to do it again"- she answered and kissed him with a big smile.

- "I just missed you so fucking much."

- "I know, I missed you too... wanna shower with me?"

- "I wanna do everything with you"- she smiled and felt his lips on hers for a sweet kiss. She loved him. She didn’t want to forget that.

::: November 18th, 2010 :::

Matthew frowned as he walked into Joey’s apartment and saw Mikey sitting on the floor, holding a joystick. During the whole time he had dated Joey, Gubler had never met one of her friends. She didn’t have many- or any actually- and he knew it. They mainly were work buddies, or like Tucker, they lived far away. The drummer really hadn’t made friends in Los Angeles. That’s why it was so weird for him to see Mikey Way at her house now pretty much every day. Or that’s how it felt.

- "Hey Gub! Nice to see you again"- the bassist said and smiled, returning his eyes to the screen and pausing the game one second later- "Joey is getting ready for your date."

- "Hey, great… how are you?"

- "Awesome, we literally smashed Assassins Creed today"- Mikey smiled and pointed at the Playstation.

- "Sounds fun."

- "I’m ready, Akumu"- Matthew smiled and looked at Joey walking out of her room.

- "Wow"- he whispered and wide opened his eyes- "You look amazing!"

- "Thank you"- the drummer’s cheeks blushed as her boyfriend walked over and landed his hands on her hips, moving her closer to her body and rubbing his lips against hers for a moment before saying

- "Are you sure you wanna go out? We could stay here and take that dress off slowly"- and she giggled nervously at his insinuations.

- "If we go out and you look at me in the dress for a long while, you might want to take it off even more eagerly, and it might feel even better when you do it"- she murmured, looking straight into his eyes and kissed his lips.

- "Let me see you"- Mikey said and walked over, ruining the sexy moment- "Damn! You never ever dressed like that when we were on the road"- Mikey said and looked at her up and down, something that bothered Matthew very much.

Gubler was a jealous boyfriend, and Joey didn’t like that, so he always hid it. But most of the time, when a guy was too close to her, it honestly bothered him. Needless to say, the fact she was working with a band and a crew of only men, her being the only woman, hunted him day and night. But he made his best and didn’t say a thing ‘cos he wanted to support her no matter what. But Mikey was making things hard for him.

- "Stop it, bróðir!!"- she punched his arm and smiled- "What are you doing tonight?"

- "I guess I’ll stop by Gerard’s and annoy the fuck out of him."

- "Sounds like fun, say hi from me"- Joey grabbed her bag and jacket- "See you tomorrow?"

- "Yeah! I need you to come with me to Fender"- Way announced.

- "Why?"

- "They are working on a custom mustang bass for me. I designed it, and we are going to check it out."

- "Wow!"- Matthew said, surprised- "Dude, that’s great!"- but Mikey just shrugged. He was so depressed he really didn’t care.

- "I guess… anyway, I have to be there at noon."

- "On a Saturday?"- Joey frowned.

- "Yeah… I told them I couldn’t do it any other day."

- "Aren’t you being a little bitch with people just ‘cos you can?"- Joey teased him, and he smiled

- "I actually couldn’t"- Joey raised an eye and turned to her boyfriend.

- "Shall we? Mikey, lock the door when you leave"- they high-fived, and the couple left.

- "Wait… did you give him a spare key?"- Matthew asked, frowning as he realized what his girlfriend had just said.

- "Yeah, why?"- Joey didn’t seem to notice her boyfriend was serious about it.

- "‘Cos you met him last month."

- "And I’ve lived half of that time with him. I think I can trust him. He is my friend"- Joey made lights off of the whole deal, but Matthew was honestly mad.

- "I don’t like this"- he simply said and started the car.

- "Why?"

- "‘Cos I feel he is taking all of your free time."

- "That’s not true! I spend 99% of my time with you! I even go to the set with you! And I spend most nights at your house! So what is wrong with me also spending some time with my friend? Who is, by the way, the only friend I’ve got here in L.A?"

- "But... "- Matthew didn’t seem to find an argument to win that battle, or at least that could make sense to Joey.

- "But what? You don’t want me to hang out with other people?"

- "It’s not that! I just… find it weird that you work with them and go out with him and…"

- "He is my friend, Matthew!"- Joey sighed and looked straight at the road as her boyfriend kept driving. So much for a date’s mood. Gubler took a deep breath and started talking very slowly to sound calm.

- "I know he is your friend, and that’s not what bothers me…"

- "Then?"- the girl turned to her boyfriend and raised an eyebrow- "Are you jealous of Mikey?"

- "No…"- he hesitated, ashamed and even a little scared of Joey’s reaction.

- "You can’t be jealous of Mikey. He just lost his marriage. I am his friend, and he is fucking alone."

- "He has his brother and probably other friends"- Joey made a pause before answering because she felt bad talking about Gerard in front of Gubler.

- "Yeah, but he has his marriage, and I think his wife is best friends with Mikey’s ex… if Mikey didn’t want to tell him, do you think he wants to share his darkest moment with him?"

- "No, but why you?"

- "So you think he has a crush on me! What are you? Fifteen?"

- "No! That’s not what I meant!"

- "Then?"

- "I don’t know!! We’ve never been through this before! I just find it weird!"

- "So you are jealous"

- "Yes! Of course, I am!"- Matthew finally exploded- "But I trust you, so I know nothing bad will happen!"

Joey didn’t answer. She just started outside the window and counted to ten.

- "Yami?"

- "I trust you too, Akumu. And believe me, nothing is gonna happen between Mikey and me"- she whispered and felt her cheeks burning- "But please, don’t get jealous of him. He is the closest thing I’ve ever have of a brother in my entire life, and I love him very much."

The girl made her best to be calmed, she didn’t want to ruin the moment, and she made her best to understand what her boyfriend was going through. Though she hated to face that he was jealous, she could get how her boyfriend felt. It would be too cynical to tell him he had no one to be jealous of because he had no idea how she felt about Gerard. But that was completely platonic and not a threat at all.

- "So… are we ok?"- Matthew asked with a soft tone of voice and held his girlfriend’s hand.

- "We are ok, Akumu"- Joey answered and cut him a warm smile- "Are you ok with me going to Fender tomorrow with Mikey?"

- "Yes..."- he answered without hesitations.

- "Awesome ‘cos I was going to do it anyway."

Mikey lit a cigarette and looked up to the stars in the sky. He was sitting in his older brother’s backyard, drinking a beer, and basically just being there, trying not to think. Gerard was smoking next to him in silence, drawing something to kill time and sipping a diet coke from time to time.

- "So how was your day?"- he finally asked his younger brother.

- "It was good. I was with Joey the whole day"- and Gerard nearly chook- "We played video games, ordered pizza, and basically just did my favorite thing, nothing."

- "How is she?"

- "Great, she had a date night today; otherwise, I would have stayed for a slumber party with her and Gubler."

- "With him too?"

- "Yeah, he is a nice guy. He is obviously jealous as fuck, but Joey doesn’t seem to care, and neither do I actually"- Gerard chuckled

- "So he is jealous of all of us or just you?"

- "Just me… I guess it’s because we hang out a lot."

- "You do? Really?"

- "Almost every time she is not with him. We are going out tomorrow."

- "Where are you going to?"- and that was really something that caught Gerard’s attention

- "To Fender to check how’s my bass going. Wanna come along?"- the temptation was too big for Gerard to avoid.

- "Yeah, it sounds fun"- and he made his best to sound as casual as possible.

- "Great…"- Mikey took a long drag of his cigarette and stayed quiet again. Lynz walked over and cut them a short smile. Gerard’s little brother nodded but didn’t say anything.

- "I’m going out, guys,"- she announced and looked at his husband- "I’m gonna hang out with the girls"- and the girls included Mikey’s ex-wife. Everybody knew they were best friends.

- "Have fun, honey"- Gerard kissed her and smiled. Mikey waved and sighed- "Are you ok?"

- "Yeah"- he quickly answered and finished his beer- "I’m gonna take a piss."

Mikey locked himself in the bathroom and burst out crying. He was a wreck, and he didn’t want to show it, not to his brother. He didn’t need his pity. That’s why he hadn’t hung out with him so much those days. That’s why he was stuck at Joey most of her free time.

Alicia had destroyed him. Each time they talked, he ended up even more broken-hearted, more miserable. More alone. Joey had insisted on taking him to see her therapist, but he kept refusing. Instead, he had beer, or vodka, or whatever there was around. And cigarettes and the tv to numb his brain.

- "Are you excited to meet my parents?"- Joey asked Matthew as they sat in front of each other, smiling. He had taken her to her favorite Thai restaurant for dinner, and she was in heaven.

- "Scared maybe"- he whispered and blushed.

- "Why?"

- "I can’t stop thinking your dad is gonna be this tall, brawny Icelandic guy that’s gonna break every bone in my body for dating his daughter"- Joey burst out laughing and nodded.

- "That might be true, but my mom is gonna love you. And she is gonna overfeed you, so tomorrow you should eat light"- Matthew chuckled and held Joey’s hand.

- "I love you so much, Yami"- and she blushed.

- "Akamu, I think I love you more"- they stared at each other for a moment with a goofy smile, until the moment was ruined by her cell phone- "I’m sorry."

The girl whispered and looked at the screen, laughing as Matthew looked at her, not getting what was going on?

- "What is it? What’s so funny?"

- "Frank just sent me a photo. He dressed his kids like pumpkins!! Look! They are so cute!!!"- the girl gave him her phone, and he smiled, faked a smile actually. And it was so obvious, Joey locked her phone and placed it in her pocket.

- "I just… can we have a minute without someone from the band taking your attention from me?"

- "You have my undivided attention! Can you stop being jealous?"

- "Yes… I can! but it’s hard!"- Gubler sighed and calmed himself down ‘cos he knew that was a lost battle.

- "You can take my phone if you want and keep it away"- she said and gave it to him, in one of the toughest decisions she had ever made. That meant Joey was actually doing what her boyfriend wanted her to do. She hated that.

But she loved Matthew and didn’t want to have another argument that night. Matthew took it, turned it off, and placed it in his pocket, enjoying for once a minute of power in that relationship. Joey wasn’t a girl easy to handle. He loved the challenge, but sometimes it felt she was too independent of him. For him.

The sun shining on his face woke Mikey up. And it was hell. Another day, another hungover. He had fallen asleep drunk in his brother’s spare room. Not that he wanted to go home anyway, he didn’t feel like being alone. He quickly rolled in bed and looked at the time. He was late. Groaning, he looked for his phone around the room, found it in his pants, and dialed. Joey’s phone was off.

- "Fuck!"

Joey rolled on her bed and smiled. Matthew was sound and asleep next to her. She cuddled closer to him and kissed his naked skin.

- "This is what I miss the most when you are not home"- he whispered, waking up.

- "The way I wake you up?"

- "No, my arm numbed underneath your neck"- Joey chuckled and moved to free Matthew’s arm- "Thank you."

- "Sorry"

- "Don’t be. I love snuggling with you. You can numb all my limbers"- the girl giggled and kissed her boyfriend’s lips sweetly.

- "All of them?"- Matthew smiled and wrapped both arms around her.

- "Every single one of them… but right now, I have to go to work"- the girl pouted and felt him kissing her lips over and over again.

- "Who schedules a Meet and Greet on a Saturday?"

- "People who work the rest of the week and only have time on Saturday."

- "Touché"- Matthew smiled at her and kissed her lips before getting out of bed- "Meets and greets are weird"- she said and wrapped her body on the sheet as she stared at her boyfriend walking around her room naked, preparing to take a shower- "You literally just meet and greet someone."

- "Yes, that’s why the name"- he answered, chuckling.

- "Sorry, I can’t be smart if you are walking naked in my room"- the girl whispered, blushing. Matthew looked at her and offered his hand.

- "Would you be smarter if you shower with me?"

- "Nop, but I can be totally naughty."

- "That’s my girl…"

Gerard was memorizing every single street as Mikey drove to Joey’s house. He had never been there; his brother seemed to be there always. It bothered him, of course, but today it seemed to be pretty helpful actually. It had been over a week since the last time he saw her, and there was a part of him that missed her deeply. The other part of him felt guilty for missing her so much.

Mikey grabbed his phone and dialed again. Still off. Her phone was never off. What if something bad had happened to her? He dialed again. Nothing. The bassist cursed himself for not having Matthew’s number.

- "Are we close?"- Gerard asked, not looking at his brother, and never noticed he was about to freak out.

- "Yeah"

- "And… does she live with her boyfriend?"

- "No, she has a little one-bedroom apartment, he has… I think an apartment too, but Joey doesn’t want to move in with him yet"- Mikey just said it and didn’t detect his brother’s brightening eyes.

- "Why?"

- "They haven’t dated that long. She feels they aren’t there yet… there it is!"- the youngest Way pointed at an apartment complex- "I don’t see Matthew’s car here, maybe they are at his house."

Gerard frowned at that idea, feeling selfish and stupid. He had sex with his wife that week. Why couldn’t Joey have sex with her boyfriend? Easy: ‘cos Gerard wanted her to be his and only his. But that thought was killing him slowly. He didn’t know how to turn it off.

The Way brothers took the elevator to the fifth floor, walked down the aisle, and knocked on Joey’s door. Neither of them said a thing. Mikey grabbed the keys from his pocket and hesitated. He decided to knock on the door again, in case the girl was with her boyfriend.

- "What’s that?"- Gerard quickly asked, confused- "Do you have a spare key to her house?"

- "Yeah"- he simply answered, not getting his brother’s frowned face- "We exchanged keys in case of an emergency, that’s what friends do"- and Mikey rang the bell again.

- "What’s the rush?!"- the girl opened the door and wide opened her eyes as she first noticed Gerard was there, looking at her. And she was only wearing a robe. Great.

- "I’ve been calling you all day, Bug!"- Mikey hugged her, honestly worried- "I thought something had happened to you!!"

- "Oh, come on! I just… don’t have my cellphone with me"- she whispered and felt her cheeks burning as Gerard looked at her up and down- "Hey"- that was all she could say and smiled at him- "Nice to see you."

- "Nice to see you too."

- "Come in. guys. There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen. I’m gonna finish getting dressed."

- "And Matthew?"- Mikey asked, already pouring a cup of coffee for him

- "He left five minutes ago. He and the crew have a meet and greet today."

- Awesome! That means I have extra time to annoy you today"- the girl heard her friend’s voice as she walked over to her closet to get dressed.

- "Yes, but I have to come back home early to pack my bags. We are leaving for Seattle tomorrow"- she yelled back and picked her outfit. Meanwhile, Gerard wandered around, checking every little detail of the house that could tell him a little more about her. There was a drum, an electric drum, and… Mikey’s old bass?

- "Why is that here?"- he asked his brother.

- "I left it here the other day. Bug and I were practicing some songs together."

Mikey simply answered and sat on the couch, grabbed the remote control, and turned on the tv. Gerard looked at him, feeling his brother felt really at home. What else could he find? A family picture of her and her parents, some pretty artworks on the walls, and a million Playstation games.

- "Are we too late??"- the girl showed up shoeless, with wet hair and no makeup on. Just like that, Gerard’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t stop staring, and Joey felt his eyes on her the whole time making her blush. Having him at her house was too overwhelming for her. She kept trying to make light off of the fact she was embarrassed and nervous. She hadn’t seen Gerard ever since that day at the airport, and there was a part of her that had tried unsuccessfully to forget how he made her feel. It was clear that Gerard Way’s effect on her was not something you could get rid of in a few days.

- "Yeah, but you still have… fifteen minutes to get ready"- Mikey said and grinned.

- "I can make it in ten"- and so, she disappeared back into her room, to emerge eight minutes later, fully dressed and ready to go.

- "Shit! That was fast!"- Mikey said and smiled- "And you are hot enough to be a trophy wife"- Joey frowned and punched his shoulder.

- "I am a woman, not a thing to show around."

- "I was just joking."

- "You know I hate those jokes"- she made a pause and raised an eyebrow to her friend.

- "Damn! that hurt"- he argued, still rubbing the spot she smacked and stared at his friend- "Come on, you know I was joking."

- "Yes, but part of being your little sister is teaching you not to be an asshole repeating sexist jokes."

- "Fine"- Mikey turned off the tv and looked at his brother, who hadn’t said a thing in a long while- "Are you ok?"

- "Yeah… ready?"- Gerard quickly answered and looked down at his shoes, like looking for something he hadn’t actually lost.

- "Yeah, did you turn off the coffee maker?"- the girl looked at Mikey, and he didn’t move- "I’ll do it."

- "I didn’t remember Bug! Sorry!"- Joey walked to the kitchen and turned the machine off.

- "It’s ok, I would have checked it anyway"- she smiled as she walked back and opened the door- "Shall we?"

Having his own signature bass was Mikey’s dream. And for someone who was fulfilling his goal, the bassist didn’t really look happy. He checked the details, talked with the luthiers, played a little, made corrections, and set a date to see the progress in a week. But he didn’t smile at all the whole time.

- "How are you?"- Gerard whispered as he stood next to Joey at one side of the room, both of them staring at a wall filled with basses and guitars.

- "Good, you? How’s the break?"- she could almost feel her voice shaking as she talked to him. That’s how nervous he made her feel. And after so many days apart, the effect seemed to be getting worse, like a concentrated dose.

- "Good… very pleasant."

- "Are you having a nice weekend?"

- "Yes…"- he whispered and looked at her for a second- "I kinda missed you, you know? “Kinda missed you??! What the fuck was that, Gerard??! What are you?? twelve??!!”

- "Really?"- she whispered, surprised.

- "Yeah… you get used to being around people when you are touring."

- "That’s true"- Joey turned to him and smiled- "I’ve missed you too"- she whispered and looked back at the musical instruments around him.

- "You have?"

- "Sure. I haven’t talked to you since we got here. At least the other guys and I keep texting or calling each other. You vanished."

Gerard faked a smile and looked away. So it wasn’t just Mikey? all the guys talked to her daily, and he had no idea about it? Did that include Frank too?

- "Well, you haven’t texted either"- he simply replied and looked at her with a small smile.

- "You know I don’t have your number, right?"

- "What?"- Gee frowned, confused.

- "You never gave it to me… well, I never asked for it."

They looked at each other in silence, something that happened so often between them; it could be their natural behavior.

- "Would you give it to me?"- Gerard whispered, and neither of them moved.

- “That’s what scares me the most. Under other circumstances, I would give it to you,”- Joey thought and smiled, as her cheeks blushed

- "Your number"- he added and chuckled- “... Although.”

- "I know, perv. Give me your phone."

- "Hey kids!"- Mikey appeared next to them and smiled- "What are you doing?"

- "Giving your brother my number, ‘cos apparently, we weren’t friends until now."

- "Wow, that’s harsh! You didn’t ask for mine either!"- Gerard argued but chuckled.

- "Yeah, you keep saying that, but you didn’t offer it either, and Gerard Way’s number has to be something too exclusive to own."

- "Ok, you are both assholes"- Mikey ignored the whole conversation and looked at his friend- "I need you to help me, Bug"

- "What is it?"

- "I want you to help me pick up a new bass"

- "Don’t you have a hundred already?"- Joey teased him and walked with him

- "It’s not for me, it’s for you"- Joey stopped walking and frowned- "What? You need one."

- "I don’t."

- "Yes, you do, I’m gonna teach you, and I am not gonna lend you mines. They are too special."

- "Mikey…"- but he didn’t let her finish.

- "Besides, we are going to be touring so much, you are going to have to find something useful to do when we are on the bus. You can teach me drums, I can teach you bass, we are gonna be better musicians, it’s a win, win situation."

Mikey looked so excited about his idea Joey didn’t want to break the dream. Besides, it felt like he was making a project out of his whole idea, something to keep his mind entertained. And that sounded like a nice plan. Better than drinking himself to sleep most of the nights.

- "I’m not gonna convince you to change your mind, am I?"- she asked and giggled, staring at her friend’s serious face.

- "Nop"- he quickly answered, making sure the last “p” sounded loud, as it would make a statement or whatever.

- "Fine… but I’ll pay you back."

- "Oh, you are paying for it"- he quickly replied- "But not with money, I really want those drums lessons."

Gerard stared at the scene and sighed. His brother wrapped an arm around Joey’s neck as they walked to pick up her bass. He was jealous and worried at the same time. He was jealous of how close he was with her and how much he trusted her. Gee felt left aside from his problems. Joey had spent more time with his brother than him in the latest weeks. Ever since they met, actually. Why didn’t he trust his older brother anymore?

The bass they picked was a tidepool Player Jaguar Fender. Mikey carried it to his car and smiled proudly. Gerard took a Fender Rumble 15, and Joey just smiled embarrassedly.

- "You didn’t have to buy the amp"- she whispered to Gerard.

- "You can’t play bass without an amp"- he simply replied and smiled- "Besides, you can always pay me back in drum lessons too"- the girl chuckled, blushed, and looked at her friends.

- "Ok, kids, lunch is on me. You two deserve Joey’s signature menu for being this nice to me"- she grinned and got into the car.

- "And where are we going?"- Mikey sat behind the wheel and turned to her, just as Gerard, from the passenger seat

- "To my house, I am cooking you mi especialidad: bandeja paisa"- the Way brothers frowned and looked at each other- "Just come and eat like porks with me, ok?"

- "Fine"- Mikey answered and chuckled- "Are you gonna go all Latina on us?"

- "You better be sure I am."

- "I’ve never seen you like that"- Gerard said and looked at her again. She blushed and closed her eyes, embarrassed.

- "Well, I have, and it’s fucking weird!"- Mikey answered to his brother- "And when she starts mixing English, Icelandic, and Spanish… damn it!"

- "Vinsamlegast þegiðu! (Please shut up!)"- the girl shouted and hit Mikey’s shoulder- "Odio Cuando dices eso! (I hate it when you do that)"

- "See?"- the bassist turned to his friend- "It’s fucking weird."

- "Let’s take a selfie and send it to Frank and dad"- Joey said and looked for her phone in her bag. But never found it- "Oh fuck! Matthew has it"- she whispered and sighed.

Suddenly she remembered she had given it to him, and it bothered her to know she had given away some power to please a guy. Fuck, she deeply regretted doing that.

- "Let’s use my phone"- Gerard said and pointed the camera at them- "Ok, smile!!"

- "Say cheese!!"- Joey grinned, and the Way brother smiled- "Dad is gonna love that! He said he missed us too, he actually invited me to stay with him in Jersey while we rehearsed for the concert"- the girl said and looked outside the window- "I think it would be nice, I’ve never been to Jersey"- she kept talking, more to herself than to her friends.

- "You can stay with me too if you want"- Mikey said, and Gerard turned to him, scowling- "I mean, I’m gonna be home with our parents…"

- "That sounds so fucking weird, Michael James"- and Joey burst out laughing- "But though I love the idea of having a sleepover at your parents, Matthew is coming with me that weekend"- Gerard’s frown grew bigger.

- "Bug, tell me the truth"- Mikey said after a while. The radio was on, and the three of them had been basically just humming a few songs as they made their way to Joey’s house.

- "Shoot"

- "Matthew hates me, right?"

- "Why would you say that?"

- "‘Cos he looks like he hates me"

- "Of course not!"- the girl lied right away and snorted- "He is just shocked we got along so quickly."

- "Oh"- Mikey made a pause and chuckled- "So he really hates me."

- "No! I mean it!"

- "I think that’s a yes"- Gerard said to his brother and nodded.

- "Well… I guess I won’t be watching Criminal Minds anymore."

Matthew could hear Joey laughing from the hallway. She wasn’t alone. There were other voices and some music too. What the fuck was going on? He wasn’t thrilled at all ‘cos he had been calling his girlfriend the whole day and her phone was off. But this was too much for him to handle with a cold head. But he had to breathe and trust her.

- "Hey! What are you doing?"- he opened the door and glared at the Way brothers. Mikey was sitting behind Joey’s electric drum while she held a bass. Gerard was sitting on her couch, laughing. Well, not anymore, at least.

- "Akumu!! How was your day? Did you have fun meeting and greeting people?"- she quickly stood up, almost jumping and running to him, wrapping her arms around him.

- "It was ok…"- she kissed him sweetly and kept smiling- "What are you guys doing?"

- "I invited the guys for lunch, and we just stayed here playing for a while"- she simply answered.

- "I’ve been calling you the whole day, but you didn’t pick up"- Joey raised an eyebrow and looked into her boyfriend’s eyes.

- "Akumu, you’ve got my phone, remember?"- and Matthew Gray Gubler wanted to slap himself. The only thing he could do was be the nicest and sweetest, not jealous boyfriend he could be.

- "Shit!"- and Joey just nodded- "I’m so sorry!"

- "I know, so, wanna join us?"

- "Actually, I think we should go"- Gerard said and stood up- "I’ve got to pick up my wife from an event, “liar, liar pants on fire,” and Mikey has to drive me over"

Gee turned to his brother, and he nodded.

- "Yeah, and we better hurry ‘cos we are late"- he added and grabbed all his things- "I’m taking this"- he said and grabbed the bass he had left in her house- "You better practice."

- "Guys, you don’t have to run out just ‘cos I got here"- Matthew smiled- "We could hang out for a while."

- "I saved you some bandeja paisa"- Joey whispered, and her boyfriend’s smile grew bigger.

- "I love you so much."

- "Yeah, I know, I’m awesome"

- "Thank you, Matthew, but we really have to go"- Gerard shook his hand and smiled- "But Joey said you would come with us to the show in New York."

- "Yeah! I am! I feel like shit, I still can’t get to see my girl in action"- he smiled and wrapped an arm around Joey’s shoulders. She hated when he called her “his girl.” She wasn’t his, or anyone’s, as a matter of fact. That was one of the reasons why she hadn’t have a serious relationship before.

- "We’ll see you there then"- Gerard assured- "We’ll show you Jersey, Joey said she was dying to see where we hid all the mafia corpses"- and the girl chuckled

- "You keep trying to sell it for me, but dude, I’m sold!!"- Gerard laughed at Joey’s words and stared at her in silence for a few seconds until he realized Matthew was there. He didn’t want him to know or even suspect how he felt about his girlfriend.

- "Thank you for everything, guys"- the girl walked them to the door with a warm smile on her face- "You are the best!"

- "Nah"- Mikey hugged her and messed her hair pretty much at the same time- "You’ve been a great little sister. Thank you for coming along!"

- "See you when I come back from Seattle."

- "Yeah, we have to practice!"- the youngest Way shook Matthew’s hand and said goodbye. Gerard did the same, wished them a safe trip, and walked out of the apartment. He and his brother walked in silence until they reached the car.

- "Dude!"- Mikey finally said when he started the car- "That guy hates the shit out of me!"

- "He was going to kill us when he walked in! What the fuck is his problem?"

- "I don’t know!! He has to death jealous"

- "Well, so would I"- Gerard thought out loud and noticed he had to add something in case his brother would think the wrong thing, which would be actually the right thing.

- "I mean, if my girl hung out with four dudes, I barely know and travel the world with them, I would be jealous too."

- "Maybe"- Mikey gave it a little thinking and nodded- "Maybe when they are back, we could invite them out for diner or something, that way he can know us and figure out we don’t wanna bang his girlfriend."

- "Yeah, sure, that would be helpful"- Gerard Way was full of shit.

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ateezmakemeweep · 3 years

Text

richboy!yeosang (part 1)

word count: 5k

fluff, smut

(miniseries masterlist)

“if you don’t know the cranial nerves by now pretty boy, you might as well drop out.”

“fuck you! maybe my tutor just sucks and is the world’s biggest asshole!”

“maybe you’re the world’s biggest idiot and just wasting his time.”

“maybe he’s not teaching me properly because he’s an arrogant son of a bitch.”

“maybe you’re too distracted by your fiancé that you can’t even-”

a tray being slammed down on the table halts the boy’s incessant bickering, your harsh look staring between their two bodies making them point at each other immediately.

“don’t look at me like that, y/n. he started it this time! dickhead told me i should just drop out!”

“pretty boy said i’m the biggest asshole ever, baby. i think i should be the one who’s more-”

“just shut up! both of you!” you beg, plopping down in your seat next to your boyfriend and rubbing at your temples. “we’ve only been back for three weeks and you two are already like this. how could you possibly be this stressed and annoyed at each other already?”

yeosang looks at you with a smirk on his face but softness in his eyes, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he pulls you close to him.

his lips brush against your skin as they leave a chaste kiss on your temple; he’s seen you rub at your head like this far too many times during him and mingi’s tutoring sessions throughout the years.

“sorry, but i’m just trying to help him, love,” yeosang mumbles in your ear, suppressing a sigh when you feel his signature smirk against your skin. “poor guy’s in his third year of college and doesn’t know the cranial nerves.”

“i don’t know the cranial nerves. should i drop out too?” you quip, ripping yourself away from him and raising an eyebrow.

but the boy doesn’t miss a beat, sending you a smile that still sends your stomach fluttering despite his unpleasant behavior.

“please. i’ve wanted nothing more than to support you this whole time.”

a deep chuckle leaves his mouth at the disgusted sneer that crosses your face, the familiar dinging of the coffee shop door welcoming none other than yunho as his eyes roam the store.

mingi’s eyes light up immediately upon seeing the boy, a bright smile on his face that makes you bite back one of your own. yunho finally spots you three and looks at mingi with the same amount of happiness in his eyes, ruffling his now black hair and placing a peck on his cheek when he arrives at the table.

there’d been a lot of changes within the past three years, all of you moving to a different city and getting used to the changed pace of life. it was more chaotic and busy, for sure, with a lot more responsibilities than your teenage selves had had.

but almost every moment of it has been fun.

even through the cram sessions and disastrous drunken nights and fighting between mingi and yeosang, it’s been fun. exploring the city and meeting new people and doing everything you’re supposed to do when you’re young and carefree and finding yourself.

you remember college had seemed terrifying for all of you back on the beach during senior year, when you hadn’t even told your parents about yeosang or going away to school and things were still up in there for mingi and yunho.

but it ended up being the best decision of your life. living and going to school with yeosang who, at one point, you convinced yourself you hated more than anyone on this earth.

you were surprised, really, by how stable your relationship was despite the obvious rocky start. your mean, high school bully turned college boyfriend who you had a seemingly perfect relationship with.

and freshmen year had been hard, you admit. getting used to sharing a space and living together and putting up with each other’s annoying habits. but really, after those first few weeks, the years following had been nothing but bliss.

days full of studying and tests and internships that left you both beyond exhausted and ready to go home.

it was the best feeling in the world to be able to go home to someone you loved and wanted to see, yeosang more often than not surprising you with dinner set on the coffee table and a movie paused on the tv.

he had somewhat tricked you into getting your current apartment, a view far too nice and rooms far too big for just the two of you - but you couldn’t even pretend to be mad on nights when you’d lean on his shoulder and just look out the window at the city lights.

you were both now in your third year of college, only a few weeks into the first semester, which is what’s really making mingi and yeosang’s bickering already that much more concerning.

usually it’d take until studying for midterms or finals for the boys to get like this.

“what happened?” yunho’s sweet, calming voice asks, his eyes shifting from mingi to you with an obvious sense of compassion. you can only stare at the boy with a pained expression, mingi and yeosang talking and cursing over each other in the (luckily) empty coffee shop.

you have to bite back a smile at the obvious change in mingi’s demeanor now, his eyes wide and deep voice softening that makes yeosang scoff in disgust.

“oh get the fuck out of here. what happened to the mingi in high school who tried to crack my head open?” yeosang asks, taking his coffee off the tray and bringing it closer to himself. “now you’ve turned into a domesticated little bitch.”

“that’s what happens when you ask someone to marry them,” mingi bites back, yunho’s arm tightening on his shoulder so he doesn’t jump over the table. “but you wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you pussy boy? y/n’s gonna have to wait till she’s 50 and you finally grow a pair.”

“that’s funny, since you only asked yunho because you were shitfaced and he’s too damn nice to-”

“shut up!”

your squeal cuts your boyfriend off immediately, a smirk on the other boy’s faces as they watch him get reprimanded. holding back their laughter and giggles as you threaten to never ever attend another study session with both of them again.

even though what yeosang was saying did hold some truth to it.

mingi and yunho knew pretty much from the moment they met that they were gonna be together forever, something innate and deep within their souls just connected and meant to be.

but it was after one too many shots for a lightweight mingi that he popped the question to the boy, all of you out one night and thinking it was just mingi being mingi who always went on about his feelings for yunho.

but you and yeosang nearly fell on your asses when you saw him reaching in his pocket for the ring, the boy saying that he saw it a few weeks ago and just felt the overwhelmingly need to buy it.

it was cute and spontaneous and authentic in the sense that, even after all the alcohol mingi had ingested that night, it’s like yunho saying yes completely sobered him.

though you all joke today that the now dark-haired boy only said yes because he felt bad for his drunken boyfriend’s proposal.

“you know he felt bad for him,” yeosang says, his hand in yours as you guys walk back to your apartment.

it’s only a four block walk, and a much needed one, after you and yunho couldn’t take the bickering any longer.

you simply grabbed yeosang by the hand after they started up again ten minutes later and led him out of the coffee shop, your neck snapping back at mingi with squinted eyes when you heard him try to egg the boy on one last time.

“i also know that they were gonna get married anyway,” you say, craning your neck to look over at your boyfriend challengingly. “so what does it really matter?”

he stops in the middle of the sidewalk to smile down at you, his hand coming up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. there’s mirth in his eyes at your prickliness, biting down on his lip so he doesn’t ask if you need to be relieved some way in public.

“what about us?” he mumbles, snaking his hands down your body to grasp your hand. “we’re gonna get married too, right?”

you narrow your eyes at his teasing, tightening your hold on his hand just a little too tightly in a way that makes him wince.

“baby, why are you so mad today?” yeosang whines as you walk into the building, greeting the doorman with a smile as you charge toward the elevator.

the apartment building is just as ritzy as your home, tall glass windows and marble floors and the magnificent chandeliers you’ve come to learn are something the rich just love; you knew the moment you saw three hanging above the front desk that this was way out of your price range.

but you’d grown used to the lifestyle and you’ve grown close with the doorman, a sweet older gentlemen who worked there since the early 90s. he’s kept an eye on you and yeosang throughout the years and can tell, right about now, you’ve had enough of him.

he sends a smirk your way and you give him a knowing look, hearing his chuckle ring throughout the lobby.

“why am i mad? why am i mad?” you repeat, the splitting headache and irritation radiating off of you from hours of grown men bickering back and forth. you click on the elevator button repeatedly, yeosang holding back a smirk at your aggressiveness.

“maybe i’m mad because, gee, i don’t know, you and mingi are like children and never stop fighting. or maybe because even though i’m supposed to finish work for my class tomorrow, i have a splitting headache and wasn’t able to get anything done.”

the elevator doors open and you step in as the words keep pouring from you, yeosang just watching as your mouth continues to move. he’s grateful you two are the only ones in here right now, solely for the purpose of saving other people from hearing this rant.

not because right now would be the perfect moment to relax you. catch up on old times and and techniques to shut you up the way he did the last time you two were fighting in an elevator.

“and now you’re not even listening to me! i just don’t know why you have to constantly fight with him. it’s only the third week back, yeosang, and you’re already-”

your back hits the wall before you can even get the next words out, eyes flaring as you watch yeosang’s hand grip your chin. his hold is firm but gentle, the teasing that was once behind his eyes slowly transforming to something darker.

more lustful and dominating and intense.

“can you just shut up already,” he mumbles lowly, connecting your lips before you can even get a response out.

and similar to all the times you kiss, you can’t find it in yourself to push him away or not kiss back. instead, you find that the kiss ignites something in you, a passion and intensity as your hands move to curl through his hair.

he grunts against your mouth when you pull at the strands of dark hair just a little too roughly, not being able to help the smirk on your face. he grips your hips harshly in return, pushing you back harder into the wall before he pulls back and stares down at you.

his gaze is unwavering and harsh and you’re feeling something twinge in your lower stomach.

“is this what all your frustrations have been about today?” he mumbles in your ear, his hand ghosting the top of your jeans but refusing to dip in the waistband. “is it because i left you hanging this morning?”

the smirk against your skin makes you wanna scream almost more than he did this morning, edging you nonstop with his tongue and fingers for the sole purpose that he just wanted to keep you in bed all day and hear your moans of his name.

but then mingi’s fist pounding on the door 15 minutes early broke you two apart, his mouth wet and eyes hazy as he told you you guys would have to finish later.

“need i remind you those sessions were your idea,” he says, his hand ghosting between your legs and over your jeans. he smirks again when he feels heat radiating from you, chuckling in a way that makes you bite back a growled comment of your own.

“i was more than happy to eat your pussy all morning before fucking you like a good girl,” he says lowly in your ear, leaning his body into yours.

you whimper when you feel his hard cock press against you, his words and his voice and everything about him right now quickly making your mind cloud with lust.

“but you insisted i help him because he’s your best friend and i’ve helped him before. but now you’re the one mad at me?” he hums, a harsh sting on your scalp as he suddenly grips your hair and pulls your head back. “how’s that fair, baby?”

your chest is heaving and breaths are shaky, resisting the urge so badly to either curse him out or fall to your knees; luckily, you compose yourself and don’t do either.

“it’s not,” you whine, the submissive part he always brings out in you breaking through.

“i know it’s not,” he says, his eyes moving to the wall to see you’re only a few stops away from your floor. “that’s why when we get home, i’m gonna fuck your pretty mouth. do you understand me?”

you only stare at him with wide, glossy eyes before you see his jaw tick. his fingers suddenly push into your mouth, the warm wetness making his cock twitch in his pants as you have to suppress your own moan.

“i said do you understand me?”

“y-yes,” you mutter around his fingers, faintly hearing the ding of the elevator before he’s off your body and walking through the doors.

the second you’re both inside the apartment, he’s against the door and your on your knees shoving down his pants and taking him in your mouth. you look up at him as you swirl your tongue around the tip playfully, slapping his cock against your mouth before he growls at you to stop playing.

and when you don’t, just give gentle little sucks that you know are gonna bring him over the edge, he slams into your mouth causing you to gag around him.

“i told you to stop fucking playing.”

you wanna smirk at the deep growl in his voice but you can’t as his hips pick up speed and he starts fucking your mouth.

he’s always the one that seems more composed, a wise ass, teasing boyfriend in public who just lives to get under his girlfriend’s skin - but the second you’re alone, that composure is gone. within a split second, his eyes change and you’re more often than not at his mercy all night.

he’s so lost in the way your mouth feels around him, warm and wet and your tiny moans vibrating against him, that he doesn’t realize you’re mumbling words until you squeeze his thigh.

his eyes immediately flash with concern, pulling himself from your mouth when he spots your glassy ones. he bends down to meet your gaze, framing your face in his hands as he wipes at your wet, spit-covered mouth.

“you good?”

your heart softens at how fast he’s able to come out of it, switch from hard to gentle in a matter of seconds when he thinks you’re in pain or not enjoying it. but you’re enjoying it a lot, if the growing ache between your legs isn’t evident of that.

“yes,” you whine, pulling him up before you lead him over to the couch and push him down. his shirt’s the only thing on as he leans back against the couch, his eyes hazy and lustful as they wrack over your body.

“i...wanted to ride you,” you tell him quietly, stripping off your pants and soaked thong as he watches you carefully. “didn’t want you to come in my mouth.”

your stomach flutters at the smirk that crosses his mouth, his cock hard and waiting to be relieved as he leans back and you stand before him. his tongue daps at his mouth as you stand there on shaky legs, his hand reaching out to pull you into him.

you fall on his lap with a squeal before he cups your face, squeezing your cheeks together so your lips jut out.

“well are you just gonna stand there like an idiot?” he mumbles lowly in your ear, his finger sliding in you. he wants to groan at how wet and ready you are, sticking another one as he teasingly moves his fingers inside of you.

“or am i’m gonna get to fill this pretty pussy?”

he feels you clench around his fingers and it’s all he needs to remove them, throwing his head back to rest on the couch when you finally sink down on him. you immediately moan at the feeling of him in you, moving your hips against him desperately.

you think of how bothered he left you this morning, ripping orgasm after orgasm away from you for the sole purpose of him loving how pathetic you sounded. how teasing he was all the day, aggravating the shit out of you with his arguing and lingering hands.

how he’d put his hand on your thigh or knee with little regard for how frustrated you were growing throughout the day.

“should’ve known this is what you wanted,” yeosang growls lowly, his hands on your hips as a way to guide your bouncing. “you finally feel good now baby? getting off on my cock?”

words can’t even leave your mouth because of how overwhelmed you are, face falling in the crook of his neck as you whine into his skin. he feels himself close to coming so he snakes his hand between your bodies, circling your clit a few times before a loud moan leaves your mouth.

he comes just a few seconds after you, his hot release shooting inside of you and making you whine a little bit more. you can feel his cock pulsing around you as you both try to catch your breath, pulling yourself off of him before collapsing onto the couch.

you hear his soft chuckle as he takes off his shirt, wiping between your legs gently before gripping your hips. you groan tiredly as he lays back and brings you with him, your body moving against his until you’re comfortably sprawled out on top of him.

he closes his eyes as he feels your faint breathing against him, his hands gently working their way into your sweaty hair. there’s a comfortable silence in the room, the faint smell a pumpkin candle and sex in the air as you bury yourself further into him.

“how do you feel now?” he mumbles knowingly in your ear, a smirk on his lips as you pinch him in the arm.

“shut up,” you mumble into his neck, pulling back to look at him. his cheeks are flushed and eyes are soft as they look down at you, pulling at something in your chest that makes you pinch him again.

“why are you pinching me?” he chuckles, tightening his hold on you.

“because you’re mean,” you whine to him, sitting up to straddle his naked waist. “you had me frustrated all morning and just made it worse throughout the day with your shit.”

“i’m sorry, baby, i really am,” he says, though there’s nothing apologetic about his tone or face. you narrow your eyes at him before slapping his chest lightly, about to get up before he grabs you around the waist.

“wait, wait, where are you going?”

“i told you i had work to do,” you tell him, knowing your resolve to ditch the work and spend the rest of the night on the couch with him is already creeping up.

“do it later,” he asks softly, spinning you around and pulling you into him again. “i wanna lay with you and watch tv.”

you let out a huff as you look down at him, the uncharacteristic softness you were once shocked by something you always see now.

you could feel insecure or unsure about everything else in the world, your own looks or your abilities at school or if you did the right thing at work, but you’re never not confident about yeosang’s love for you.

it’s obvious in his eyes and the way he touches you, soft and sweet and full of care even though in your steamier moments, he’s rough and very reminiscent of his old, harsher self.

it’s what makes the aftercare that much more sweet, knowing this is how he is and that your wellbeing is always number one. it takes all of two-seconds for you to cave, cuddling against him as you ask what you guys are gonna eat for dinner.

it’s over a buffet of chinese food later that night, you in yeosang’s lap and him pecking your neck playfully, that you hear him mumble words into your skin.

“i wanna ask you something, baby.”

he says the words so sweetly and innocently that you can’t help but smile, scooting yourself off his lap so you can sit criss-crossed in front of him.

“what?” you chirp, white rice in hand as you shovel pieces in your mouth.

he smiles at the way you so messily eat, wiping at the corner of your mouth affectionately.

“when we were talking about mingi proposing to yunho before,” he begins, his voice uncharacteristically shy and almost hesitant. “and what mingi said about you needing to wait till you’re 50 for me to propose. is that...something you guys talked about?”

you purse your lips together so you don’t burst out laughing at his cute blabbering, cocking your head to the side as you look at him.

“are you asking if i wanna get married?”

“i’m saying we can get married right now, if you want.”

you’d laugh if his face wasn’t so deadly serious, looking at you with soft awaiting eyes like he’s waiting for to say yes so he can run out and buy a ring.

“yeosang...”

“i’m just saying, baby,” he says, cheeks the slightest pink that makes your heart soar in your chest. “i obviously wanna marry you but i was gonna wait till after we graduated. but if you wanna get the ball rolling, we can totally-”

the giggle you’ve been holding back finally bubbles out of your chest, your head thrown back and hands reaching down to hold his tightly.

“stop laughing! what the fuck!” yeosang’s deep voice whines, the giggles leaving your mouth only becoming more prominent.

“i’m sorry, you’re just so cute,” you tell him with a smile, your hand reaching out to smooth through his hair.

your squealing and your touch only makes his cheeks turn pinker, a groan leaving his mouth as he pushes you to the side playfully. you crawl back to him undeterred before placing yourself in his lap, his face covered with mock annoyance as he wraps his arms around your waist.

“you’re a little shit,” he mumbles shyly, another giggle leaving your mouth before you peck a kiss on his lips.

“i have talked to mingi about that before,” you tell him honestly, not wanting him to think you were saying anything bad or hurtful. “just how...if we were to get married, i think it’d be nice. because sometimes i feel like we already are since we like... live together and stuff.”

“and stuff?” he smirks, his heart secretly fluttering at the cute way you stutter.

he feels the same way too. coming home to you and being with you every night makes everything feel very real and serious. long gone was the couple that would fight and bicker in his pool house over issues that simple communication could’ve fix.

now you were a couple who talked things out and made sure the other always knew what they were thinking or feeling.

“yeah and stuff,” you say, poking him in the chest lightly. his deep chuckle sends butterflies through your stomach as you cuddle yourself further into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

you sigh contently when he starts tracing shapes on your back, his warmth and the gentle lull of his fingers making your eyes close. he hums against your head when he feels you relax in his hold, his lips brushing against your hair in a way that makes you smile against him.

“do you want kids?” he suddenly asks, lost in the contentment and warmth of the moment.

it’s not something you’ve ever discussed with one another simply because the topic never came up. but he remembers the day of your first kiss, before the turmoil and the fighting and the kiss itself, the way he watched you with the little girl and felt his cold heart tug in his chest.

the way you bent down to her height and smiled softly at her, picked little rocks and twigs to make the snow girl’s face that he eventually deemed ugly even though you’d given her a talk about ‘beauty being in the eye of the beholder.’

he remembers laughing and smiling and feeling warm at the interaction, even though then he claimed to not like you; he knows now the same way he knew then that that was never the case, especially not when he was watching you with that child.

“after we get married obviously,” he adds. not even needing to see him to know there’s still a pink flush on his cheeks.

“i do,” you mumble against him, your eyes closed with a smile still on your face. the question makes you happy, talk of a life with him always makes you happy. “i think you’d be a good dad. probably the mean parent but that’s okay.”

he pulls you out of his chest with a scoff, looking over your face with such a baffled expression, you can’t help but giggle.

“i’m kidding,” you tease, poking at his cheek lightly. “you’ll be like mingi by then, domesticated and sweet.”

your squeal fills the apartment when he gathers you in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he picks you up like it’s nothing and throws you back on the couch.

“am i not already domesticated?” he asks, his hands next to your head as he leans over you. you smile up at him and shrug your shoulders, his eyebrows raising playfully.

“maybe a little bit,” you giggle, watching his eyes roll that only makes you smile more. you bring your hands up to brush through his hair gently, watching his eyes close as your nails scrape his scalp. “do you want a boy or a girl?”

his eyes open upon hearing your question, roaming over your face in a way that makes your stomach flutter; you’ll never get used to the way he looks at you or the way your body responds to him.

“hmm, a girl,” he confesses lowly, a smile on his face as he thinks of you with your small child. her hair in a clip and rosy cheeks, your hair color but his eye color with a perfect mix of both your facial features.

“how many?”

he smiles as you guys start to picture your imaginary little family, picking out fake names and personalities as well as what they would be like in school. if they’re gonna be well-behaved and smart like you or a conniving, trouble-maker like him.

“all i know is mingi and yunho are probably gonna beat us, somehow,” yeosang growls lowly, his (mock) disdain for the taller pretty boy something that’s never worn out over the years.

“that’ll be good then,” you giggle, taking his hand when he stands up and extends his own. “we’ll need all the practice we can get.”

“absolutely. we’ll probably need to wait even a few years after we got married.”

because, for right now, you guys have school to focus on.

classes and internships and future careers that are waiting for both of you eagerly.

this dream is something you definitely want but, perhaps, not yet. you guys have all the time in the world, enjoying the freedom and space that comes with just living together and getting through college and the early adulthood years.

“probably,” you nod, stretching your arms above your head and squealing his name when he tickles your sides.

classes start to pick up over the next month, the weather turning colder, work becoming harder and the amount of sleep you were getting shorter. you’d only gotten a few hours each night this week, working late and hard on a group project for, both, school and work.

so you’re not surprised in the slightest when you wake up one morning feeling like death, nauseous and sweaty before your groan wakes up yeosang. the queasy feeling that rushed up your throat moments later is one you haven’t felt in a long time, not even remembering the last time you had a gross stomach virus.

yeosang held your hair back as you threw up, rubbing your back gently as you gripped the toilet seat.

“this is reminding me of when you threw up on the ski trip,” he says quietly, humor laced in his tone.

you can only find it in yourself to throw up your middle finger, collapsing against his chest and whining that you don’t feel good.

“i know, baby, i’m sorry,” he says, brushing your knotty, sleep-crazed hair back down. “you want me to stay home today?”

and that’s how you both spend the whole day in bed, you alternating between sleeping on his chest, waking up to puke and then attempting to get down water and soup with crackers.

the nausea goes away when you wake up from your third nap, still feeling tired and achey but nowhere near as bad as when you woke up.

but you’re both still grateful for the day off with one another, cuddled up under the couch with a blanket and his arms wound tightly around you. your eyes start closing again when he starts rubbing your back absentmindedly, eventually falling asleep to the sound of his soft, even breathing.

he looks down when you don’t respond to his question about the movie, smiling softly at your sleeping face before he moves back a few strands of sweaty hair.

and it’s at the moment he knows he has to be in love with you, so content and happy with the time he spent with you today, that he’s not even concerned in the slightest about getting your stomach virus.

part 2

tag list: @mirror-juliet

#what a way to start the series jfdkvkvf #the smut got raunchier than i intended #i was fr squealing jdksvksv #yeosang #yeosang fluff #yeosang smut #yeosang series #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez series #yeosang imagines #ateez imagines #yeosang scenarios #ateez scenarios

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ragingpancake · 3 years

Note

Regarding Mcshep prompts, how are you on AUs? Because Rodney and Ronon being a bog wizard and a druid, respectively, and Sheppard and Teyla on a Quest (TM) might be fun. If AUs are not your jam, perhaps the lads being extremely domestic?

AUs are 110% my jam but I have to do a bit of research on bog wizards and druids so in the meantime, here, have a bit of domesticity, McShep style! Thank you so much for the prompt!

It’s a weird thing, waking up in a place other than the place one has woken up for the last three years, four months and six days. Very weird. What’s even weirder is that perhaps it shouldn’t be quite so weird because it smells the same here, wrapped up in blankets that are bit too warm and while the obnoxiously endearing sound of snoring that he’s grown used to is missing, he knows that the other isn’t far away. Mostly because while John Sheppard has had all the military training in the world and has commanded the Atlantis expedition against space vampires and some generally shitty alien races (looking at you, Kolya) with stealth and poise, he clearly does not know his way around the kitchen. The sound of what Rodney assumes is a very heavy pot clanging to the floor, followed by an aggravated shit has the long suffering scientist climbing from the warmth of the bed and padding out into the living room, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eyes as he goes to investigate. Early mornings are not his thing, John knows that, so why he’s banging and clanging around here really escapes Rodney because he needs his sleepand--. Oh. John hasn’t noticed him yet, which is a little role reversal that Rodney never realized he’d appreciate as much as he does in the moment, but it gives him a moment to just watch, something Rodney is never content to do unless John is involved. It’s painfully, excruciating clear that John really doesn’t know what he’s doing (and Rodney doesn’t really know what John’s doing either but then, he’s never really been a master at cooking either) but his face is screwed up in intense concentration as he cracks an egg over a bowl. “Yousonofa—” he huffs and he shoves his finger into it, assumingly fishing for stray shells and now, Rodney’s curiosity is just getting the best of him. “That’s not sanitary,” he says and John jumps at the sound of it, very nearly knocking the bowl off the counter. The tips of his ears begin to pinken and he throws down a… whisk, Rodney thinks it’s called (and where did that even come from? He’s 99.967 percent certain that whisk was not here when they left for Pegasus with no idea whether or not they’d return) like maybe he’s a little embarrassed at being caught. “Mornin’ buddy,” John greets and he steps back from the bowl, glaring at it like it’s mortally offended him. “What are you doing?” “Well, I was tryin’ to cook us up a little breakfast,” he says sheepishly and for a second, Rodney McKay is dumbfounded. John Sheppard, who, you know, Rodney still can’t quite believe is into him, is standing in his kitchen in nothing but a pair of loose sleep pants and doing something as domestic as cooking breakfast. Well, trying to anyway, but Rodney supposes it’s the thought that counts. “Why?” He blurts out before he can stop himself and John looks a little hurtby that. “No, no, no. Not that I don’t appreciate it, I just… why?” “Because,” he says, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck like he does whenever he’s supremely uncomfortable, usually when talk of feelings is involved. “We’re heading back soon and it’s not like we’ll, you know, get a chance to do this there.” And not just because Atlantis unfortunately lacks a griddle (and where the hell did that come from?!) but because while they aren’t exactly notout there, no one actually asks and they certainly don’t tell. “I dunno,” John says then, shifting from one foot to the other. “It was dumb. I’ll clean up and we can just go grab--.” “No, no,” Rodney says and he steps further into the kitchen, trying very hard not to let a crooked – and perhaps victorious – grin settle on his face. “We’re two extremely intelligent men, of course, me moreso than you—” “Gee, thanks Rodney.” “—but I’m certain between the two of us, we can figure this out. Now!” He claps his hands together and surveys the mess that John currently has spread across the counter top. “Er… which is to say, where exactly… should we start?”

#prompt fic #askbox #sparrowsarus #mcshep #sga fic #fandom: sga #pairing: mcshep #john sheppard #rodney mckay #rodney is 100% the dude who will ask on their wedding day if john is sure he still likes him #and john will probably look all uncomfortable and tell rodney he was just about to ask the same #dummies #absolute dumb babies i love them #stargate atlantis #sga

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mrskurono · 3 years

Text

[7:33] toru x reader | drabble

a/n: this is for my wife @hq-girl-next-door + her love for oikawa, don’t ask where it came from it just happened word count: 0.5k tags: established relationship, domestic!Toru, fluff character(s): Toru Oikawa (hq)

Younger you might have been jealous to hear your husband’s light hearted snicker behind your back while you slept.

Loosing him to volleyball. Loosing him to other women. Loosing him to anything that wasn’t you. Loving Toru through the years was hard enough.

Like everything, hard work made it easier. Your life with Toru no exception. He was your best friend first and lover a close second. That he would never let you forget.

From fleeting kisses between practices in high school. To the exaggerated kisses you gave each other through video calls in your early twenties. When the day came for him to kiss you in front of everyone and the world. Well his charm never ceased to win you over.

Loving Toru got easier the stronger your duo became. And when your unstoppable duo became a trio? Suddenly you fell in love with him all over again. This time with competition.

Faced away. Snug in bed with the warmth of your husbands back still against your own back. You stayed still for a moment hearing the mirror image of his snicker. A higher pitched one, followed by Toru’s hushing noise.

If you’d heard him hush a girls giggle when you were younger? Perhaps you would have had a different reaction. Now you lay still and listen even closer with a smile growing on your lips.

“Dad-” clearly your daughter’s poor attempt to be quiet came from someone.

“Shh bug,” Toru hardly any quieter. Gee you wonder where she got it from, “We don’t wanna wake mommy do we?”

Your daughter’s snicker. God how she sounded just like her dad, “Dad get up with me, you said soft toast today-”

“French toast.” Toru corrected. You felt a shift in the bed behind you. He must have been laying down with her tucked on the edge of the bed with him as they whispered to one another, “It’s called french toast.”

“Ok fine but you said we could have it today so get up.”

“I said family breakfast didn’t I? I was pretty sure last time I checked mom was the family.”

“Mom can have breakfast in bed!”

“She can now can she? And who’s gonna wake her?”

“We will after it’s made!”

“Your reasoning skills are amazing, are you sure you’re not a lawyer?”

“Daaaad.”

Their exchanged went on like that. Slowly your cheeks started to hurt from smiling so hard. You could remember countless hours of pillow talk with him. Sure french toast probably came up at some point. So unsurprisingly that the apple didn’t fall very far from the tree when it came to food

Slowly you reached out. Sneaking your hand under the blanket until your palm found your husband’s hip. Giving him a gentle squeeze to let him know you were awake without announcing it. A clear indicator to let him get up. If he kept his girl waiting any longer she might not be as nice at the next negotiation.

Younger you would have certainly been jealous to be the other girl. But as your husband reached up to squeeze your hand without your daughter even noticing. You felt nothing but love when he let go to get up with his mini me. Loving him had never been easier than when there was another girl in the picture.

#oikawa tooru #oikawa torū #oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq!!#hq #hq x reader

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megabadbunny · 3 years

Text

Aural Fixation

He can’t say he’s imagined such things (because he hasn’t, would never; big dumb sexless space oaf, that’s him) but if he were to start, he might imagine that’s a sound Rose makes during arousal.

Not that he’d know. Or imagine. Because he doesn’t and he hasn’t.

(Warning: here there be smuts.)

***

CLANK.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!”

Halfway down the hall, the Doctor chuckles. “Need any help in there?”

Another clank, and he can just make out the sound of Rose swearing under her breath. “No,” she calls back.

“Really? Cos it sounds like you picked a fight with the wardrobe,” the Doctor teases, “and you’re losing.”

A loud Ka-CHUNK sounds in response. “I’m fine!” Rose insists stubbornly.

Shaking his head, the Doctor laughs. “What could you possibly be doing to cause that racket?” he asks, doubling back toward the wardrobe room.

“It’s not me, it’s this stupid busted thing,” says Rose’s voice, and the Doctor steps inside the room to see the outline of her body, silhouetted against the back of a folding-screen; from the looks of it, this stupid busted thing refers to the automatic lace-puller, attached to Rose’s silhouette by two shadow-strings. Normally cheerfully upright, the outline of the lace-puller is now slumped, wheezing a little, and yep, that’s the faintest hint of smoke rising from its vents.

The Doctor tsks. Only got a couple of centuries out of the thing. Typical rubbish Grishtal workmanship.

“Sure you don’t need help?” the Doctor asks.

“Not unless you know how to lace up a corset.”

“I’m sure I can figure it out,” he replies confidently, striding forward. “How hard can it be?”

Rose laughs. “I dunno, you might be—”

Without warning, the Doctor pushes the folding-screen aside to find Rose standing between a mirror and the auto-lacer, hair coiffed, corset half-laced and strings pulled taut, wearing nothing else but a pair of extremely anachronistic (not to mention extremely tiny) knickers. She’s staring at him over her shoulder, wide eyes growing wider, pink cheeks blooming pinker.

“—surprised,” she finishes breathlessly, and neither of them are laughing now.

Fortunately, the Doctor’s mind is a far more impressive machine than the auto-lacer, and its many many gears and cogs only falter for the briefest of moments. It’s nothing to be shocked by, after all. Rose or not, there’s nothing unusual about the display in front of him. It’s just a body. A human body. They’re all more or less the same. Skin, hair, curves. Undergarments. Surprisingly small undergarments that hide very little. Nothing to be startled about. Certainly nothing to bluster over.

“What are you wearing those for?” he blurts out, staring at the pants, and internally kicks himself.

Rose’s eyebrow piques incredulously. “You want to know why I’m wearing knickers?”

The Doctor rolls his eyes. “No, I’m saying that if you’re gonna go through the effort to put on something historically accurate like that—” he says, gesturing to the corset, “—you might as well commit to the whole kit. You know. Bloomers and such.”

“What do you know about bloomers?” Rose laughs.

“I know modern-day pants are an anachronism.”

“And I know no one’s gonna be seeing them anyway. Well, except you now, I guess. Not totally sure you count, though,” she teases, looking the Doctor up and down.

“Gee, thanks,” the Doctor says wryly, watching as Rose struggles to pull her laces free of the auto-lacer’s vicelike grip. “I was gonna offer to help you with that, but now I’m thinking maybe I’ll just leave you to it.”

“No you won’t.”

“Oh no?” asks the Doctor, leaning lazily against a coral strut.

“Nope.” Rose shoots another look at him over her shoulder when he doesn’t move. “You’re too impatient for that.”

“Nah. See, patience is a skill, a discipline, acquired over trials and tribulations over the course of time. And me? I’ve been around for a bit. In fact,” the Doctor says smugly, crossing his arms, “I’d say I’ve had bouts of patience that lasted longer than you’ve been alive.”

Rose smiles at him, her gaze soft and warm, and really, it’s almost maddening, the instant effect that look has on him, the way it makes something go all honeyed in his chest. “Do you really want to stall your adventure just because your companion got trapped by the dressing-machine?” she asks sweetly. “Cos the whole stuck-in-the-car, waiting-cos-the-missus-ain’t-ready-yet bit sounds awfully domestic.”

The Doctor glares at her. Rose smiles at him beatifically, tongue trapped in her teeth. His eyes narrow. Her smile brightens.

Dammit.

“Next time,” he says, even as he grudgingly pushes off away from the strut, “we’re going somewhere and somewhen that does not require complicated underthings.”

“Fine by me,” replies Rose, watching in the mirror as the Doctor approaches the auto-lacer, scanning it with the sonic. Official diagnosis: it is, indeed, busted. “Wouldn’t have gone for the whole historical look anyway, ‘cept I remembered that run-in with the what-d’you-call-‘ems, Henry VIII’s fashion police,” Rose continues.

Chuckling, the Doctor adjusts the setting on the sonic, loosening the auto-lacer’s joints. “Those were just constables, I’m afraid. No fashion police, just coppers getting a little carried away enforcing local sumptuary laws, drunk on an ounce of power. Typical lower-level law enforcement.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t give you or Jack any trouble.”

“All right, sexist typical lower-level law enforcement.” Pulling the laces free from the machine, he turns to Rose. “Now, if you want to talk about literal fashion police—”

He tugs on the corset-laces and Rose stumbles back into him, gasping in surprise.

“Still earning those sea legs?” teases the Doctor.

“Git,” Rose laughs, pushing away. “Give a girl some warning, first!”

“Sort of thought this would give it away,” the Doctor says brightly, giving the laces another little tug.

Rose shoots a dirty look over his shoulder.

His responding grin is perfectly innocent. “I’m only trying to help.”

“Speaking of drunk on power,” Rose mutters, but she’s smiling when she says it, so the Doctor pays it no mind. This time, when the Doctor pulls on the laces, she doesn’t stumble, just rocks back a little. Inwardly, the Doctor grins at that. Her time aboard the TARDIS has earned her some decent sea-legs, after all.

Crossing the laces over each other, the Doctor threads them through the grommets, pulling them taut again, after. He repeats the pattern, pulling the laces snug each time, until he cinches a little tighter and Rose lets out a sharp breath in response.

“All right there?” he asks.

“S’fine,” she says, but in the mirror, she looks a little winded.

“I can loosen up.”

“It’s fine,” Rose repeats, straightening up a little. “Just—sometimes it sort of pushes the air out of your lungs, is all.”

The Doctor shrugs and sets back to work. Cross, weave, thread, pull.

Rose gasps.

Glancing up again, the Doctor frowns. “There’s no use in you getting all dolled-up if you can’t breathe.”

“I can breathe just fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“I don’t want you fainting in the middle of the opera.”

“Oh, god forbid I should miss the opera,” Rose teases.

“I mean it,” he says, and he starts lacing again. “You faint, I’m not lugging your dead weight around. Not with whatever massive frock you’re undoubtedly planning to wear over this.”

“Oh whatever, just take the dress off.”

Something goes funny in the Doctor’s stomach and he yanks the laces hard. Rose’s footing slips a little and she gasps, the sound just the littlest bit strangled this time. Before the Doctor has a chance to apologize, Rose shakes her head.

“Don’t stop,” she says, and is it him, or has her voice gone just a little bit breathy?

“Might as well get it over and done with,” she adds quickly.

Fair enough. He goes back to it, cross, weave, thread, pull, cross, weave, thread, pull, and the little sound that escapes Rose doesn’t sound like a gasp, so much as a—

Well. No. It sounds exactly like a gasp. Just not the sort of gasp one typically makes while one is getting dressed. He risks another look up at the mirror and oh no, no, that’s a mistake, because Rose isn’t looking him in the eye anymore, instead she’s staring into nothing, biting her lower lip so hard it’s gone white as her chest gently heaves, soft pink blooming over her décolletage. And if the Doctor didn’t know any better, he’d think he caught just the lightest whiff of pheromones dusting the air.

It suddenly occurs to the Doctor that his offer of help might have gotten him more than he bargained for.

He should stop, he thinks, before Rose cottons on that he’s cottoned on and things get awkward. Or, would that make it worse, if he stopped, and then Rose would know for certain that he knew? They’ve already established that he doesn’t really. Know, that is. About this sort of thing. Well, no, she knows he knows, but she doesn’t know how much he knows, and she still seems fairly convinced he doesn’t know anything at all. So.

So the surest way to maintain decorum is to play dumb, right? Play dumb, spare Rose’s blushes, preserve plausible deniability. Just be an idiot. Capital plan.

He crosses and weaves and threads and pulls again and Rose lets out another strangled noise and he can’t say he’s imagined such things (because he hasn’t, would never; big dumb sexless space oaf, that’s him) but if he were to start, he might imagine that’s a sound Rose makes during arousal.

Not that he’d know. Or imagine. Because he doesn’t and he hasn’t.

And he crosses and weaves, threads and pulls and crosses and weaves, threads and pulls again and she swallows back a pant and he accidentally looks up to see her in the mirror again, eyelashes fluttering, still biting that lower lip, biting so hard he’s surprised she hasn’t drawn blood, and her cheeks and ears have gone pink to match the blush of her chest, which, coincidentally, is getting more and more difficult for the Doctor to ignore, either due to its color or its motion or the fact that her breasts bloody damn well look like they’re about to escape this godsforsaken corset any second now—

Cross, weave, thread, yank and Rose stumbles backward again with the force of it, smacking into the Doctor with a bodily thud.

“Leverage!” he announces before either of them have a chance to react, because her face in the mirror and her body pulled against his are decidedly not helping things. “Need leverage to wrap up a task like this,” he adds, dropping the laces so he can grab Rose by the arms and walk her over to the nearest coral strut, blessedly out of the mirror’s view. “It’s all about the physics, see,” he continues, placing Rose’s hands on the strut. “Right amount of leverage, right amount of force; hang on and you’ll be sorted in a tic.”

He picks up the laces and pulls them again, pulls them tight and crosses and weaves and oh, oh no, oh this is even worse somehow than before, because now instead of Rose’s whole body rocking toward him, it’s just her hips and bum, inching back and forth with every tug of the strings, offering a graphic preview of what it would look like if—

Nope. Nope. Can’t think like that won’t think like that mustn’t think like that but it’s too late to change tactics now, just got to ignore the scent and the heat and the view and the sounds and her and move as quickly as possible, wrap this up before his stupid overactive senses pick up on anything else. Rose clings to the strut as he works, biting back her gasps from the sound of it, but the Doctor can still hear her breath trying to escape, can’t help but notice the trembling in her legs. He focuses intently on the work in front of him, fingers and hands working rapidly to finish, and if the laces miss a grommet or two—well, that’s not a flustered mistake. It’s a stylistic flourish. Yeah. He can work with that.

“Done,” he announces, and he’s very pleased with how even and calm his voice sounds despite everything rioting in his head, very pleased indeed. “The chore is complete; you have been properly cinched, tucked, and flattened in all the right places. The inability to properly breathe or move is now totally yours.”

“Thanks,” Rose laughs, and the Doctor pointedly ignores how shaky the sound is, the way she gulps for air.

“Need any help with anything else?” he asks, stepping back, hands firmly lodged in pockets. “Socks? Shoes? Hat?”

“Bloomers?” she jokes, turning to face him.

“What, and undo all my hard work? Should have thought about that before you put the corset on.”

“I’ll just pull ‘em on over top.”

“Rose,” replies the Doctor, all faux-scandalized mock-sternness. “Bloomers go on before the corset. Every time traveler knows that.”

Rolling her eyes, Rose crosses back to the mirror. “Well then, next time I’ll be sure to get your input before I get dressed,” she laughs shakily.

The Doctor watches her as she puts the finishing touches on her makeup. His eyes do not wander down the line of her shoulderblades or the exaggerated curve of her waist or the slope of her hips or the completely bare stretches of her legs, but stay firmly fixed on the reflection of her face in the mirror; the idea of a pre-clothing Rose is more intriguing than it has any right to be, but the Doctor pushes that to the side. It’s easy enough, now that the risk of imminent danger has passed.

She’s fine, now. He’s fine, always. Nothing happened, not really. Anyway they’re back in safe territory, where they belong. Even if it is secretly just a little bit satisfying to realize exactly what kind of effect he can have on her, if he so chooses.

He hides a grin. Luckily he, the Doctor thinks smugly, is not so easily affected.

“Unless you’ve got any other chores for me, I’ll leave you to it,” says the Doctor, stepping back. “But don’t take it easy just cos I’m not in here anymore. We’re still sticking to a strict schedule. Chop-chop.”

“You got it,” says Rose, lining her lips with lipstick. “Oh, and Doctor?” she calls, after he’s made it a few steps away.

He stops and turns. “What’s that?”

“Would you send Jack in here?”

His brow furrows in confusion, and once again, he resolutely ignores the view laid out in front of him. “Why?” he asks.

Finishing her lipstick, Rose meets his gaze in the mirror. “In case I need help with any other chores,” she says simply.

Shocked, the Doctor grasps for any kind of witty rejoinder, or any sense of anything really, any at all. But all he can do is turn and leave, before Rose sees him gaping like some kind of slack-jawed idiot.

Nope, he thinks furiously. Not affected at all.

***

The incident is all but forgotten by the time Rose has finished getting ready (having taken her time about it, too, and demonstrating absolutely no remorse whatsoever), and by the time Jack is finished getting ready (how in all the hells did he manage to take even longer than Rose, the Doctor wonders?), the incident has left his brain entirely. Now he’s just tapping his foot impatiently, glancing down at his wristwatch every so often as Rose and Jack gush at each other about oh, how very splendid they both look.

Literally all of time and space at their disposal, and the two of them are making googly-eyes at each other instead. How did the Doctor ever allow himself to become party to this?

“You hens done clucking?” he asks when fifteen minutes have gone by, with no end in sight.

“Oh, hush,” Jack tuts. “You’re just jealous no one’s mooning over you right now.”

“I’m plenty happy outside the moonlight, thanks.”

“You’d be even happier in it,” drawls Jack, swaggering his way. “C’mon Doc, when’s the last time you got gussied-up for anything?”

The Doctor gestures to his shirt. “Changed my jumper. What more do you want?”

“A suit every once in a while couldn’t hurt,” Rose calls out.

“A long walk on the beach, dinner for three and drinks to match wouldn’t hurt my feelings, either,” says Jack with a wink.

The Doctor glares at the two of them. “Good grief. There’s just no pleasing you two, is there?”

“Nope,” replies Rose, and she and Jack both laugh. The Doctor has every intention of continuing to glower at both of them, reducing them both to duly chastened quietude, but then Rose sidles up to him, threading her arm through his.

“Ready to go?” she asks, with that stupid pretty tongue-touched grin of hers.

Suddenly it’s difficult to pretend to be irritated anymore.

Later, of course, he doesn’t have to pretend at all.

“Sure, let’s go to the opera, says Jack,” the Doctor grumbles under his breath, sonic screwdriver whirring in one hand as he cards through coat after cloak after coat after cloak with the other. “I love the nineteenth century, says Jack. No one’s gonna try to abduct me there, says Jack!”

“S’pose that’s what we get for traveling with a Time Agent,” muses Rose, who does not seem even remotely bothered that they’ve spent an hour in the cloakroom instead of watching the opera. In fact, the Doctor has a sneaking suspicion she prefers it.

“S’pose that’s what we get for traveling with Jack,” he mutters darkly.

Busy digging in the pocket of a grand overcoat (which does not have bottomless pockets as far as the Doctor is aware, but has large enough pockets anyway), Rose spares him a knowing smile. “I think that was code for Actually, I quite like the fellow, he livens up the place.”

“Wasn’t aware the place needed livening-up.”

“Oh, come off it,” Rose teases gently. “You like him. It’s okay to admit it.”

The Doctor sniffs before moving onto the next cloak. Maybe he’ll be lucky enough to find the reservation in there; maybe the thirty-eighth time’s the charm. “He’s a scoundrel,” he insists.

“And let me guess: you happen to like nice men.”

Distracted, it takes the Doctor half a second to recognize the exchange. “Quoting Star Wars will get you nowhere, you know,” he says drily.

“Wasn’t quoting Star Wars.” Rose flashes a grin his way as she pats down another coat. “That was The Empire Strikes Back.”

“Close enough.”

“Close enough? Not by a long shot!” she laughs. “It’s easily the best of the three. The best by miles.”

“And it just happens to be the one with a surplus of Harrison Ford.”

“Well yeah, that’s definitely not a drawback, but that’s not all.” Rose pulls a small card out from the coat, holds it up, and frowns. “What’s the name of the hotel again?”

“The Grosvenor.”

Rose sighs and puts the card back where she found it before moving on. “Anyway,” she says, “it’s not just Harrison Ford. The Empire Strikes Back has the best story of the lot, by far. Daring chase scenes, massive clashes between good and evil, swelling music, epic romance—”

“Ahhh,” says the Doctor knowingly, rifling through a lady’s-purse. “Of course.”

“Of course, what?”

“Of course, romance.”

Rose doesn’t look up, too busy feeling her way through a cloak’s silk lining. “What about it?”

“Just not surprising, is all. Lots of humans like romance. In fact, I’d venture to say most of you do.”

“That a bad thing?”

He shakes his head, abandoning the purse in favor of a cloak. “No, not at all. Just means you lot are entirely predictable.”

“What, and you’re not?”

“…definitely heard something,” another voice is saying, drifting into the Doctor’s field of hearing along with the sounds of bootsteps advancing ever-closer, and he recognizes both sounds as those belonging to a pair of Time Pirates—Jack’s captors. Before either he or Rose have a chance to finish their thoughts, the Doctor grabs her about the waist, yanking her deep into the cloaks and coats with him and pulling them both to the floor. Rose’s lips part for a small yelp of surprise but the Doctor clamps his hand over her mouth before it has a chance to escape, holding her firm against him. Probably she thinks he’s gone a little batty—her hearing’s not as good as his, after all, so his actions must seem completely out of the blue—but she stills once the bootsteps reach earshot, once she understands.

The Doctor has scarcely half a second to whisk Rose’s skirts safely out of view behind the heavy cloaks before the two sets of boots reach the cloakroom entrance, footfalls thudding heavy and ominous over the floor.

“You sure?” asks the other Pirate. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Rose starts to slip against the Doctor (curse her silky-satin dress, the thing’s got no bloody sense of friction) but the Doctor anchors her to him before she has a chance to slide, to make any noise. A torch-beam shines into the cloakroom, traveling over the coats and cloaks and furs; one of the intruders steps inside and the Doctor can feel Rose holding her breath, her exhales no longer hitting his hand, her ribcage no longer expanding and contracting beneath his palm. Neither of them dares to move.

The Pirate stops. Between two of the coats, the Doctor can just barely make out that the bloke is glancing around, but not really taking anything in.

With a grunt, the Pirate switches off the torch, stowing it on his belt. “Must’ve imagined it.”

“Or it was rats,” the other Pirate supplies. “This period’s full of ‘em.”

“Everything isn’t always rats, Vigge,” sighs his partner, as if this is a particular sticking-point between them. “C’mon, let’s go find the others.”

The Doctor lets out a silent sigh of relief at the sound of departing boots. It’s bloody awkward hiding like this, his arms cinched around Rose while she’s sat in his lap, neither of them able to shift to anything more comfortable. The sooner they can get up, the better. Fortunately, fading footfalls let him know the guards are leaving, and he moves to shift Rose off his lap.

A third pair of boots approaches. Rose and the Doctor both freeze.

“Seen anything?” asks the third voice.

“Nothing yet. You’re sure they’re not still in the theatre?”

“Positive,” the third voice confirms. “The box seat’s empty; that Doctor-bloke and his bird are both gone.”

One of the Pirates swears beneath his breath. “We’ll have to scour every inch of the place, then.”

Peering between the coats, the Doctor can make out the three Pirates talking, discussing how best to search the opera house. Hopefully it’ll be a brief bit of chatter, the Doctor thinks, but as the conversation wears on, it quickly becomes apparent that it’s not destined to end any time soon.

Of course, thinks the Doctor exasperatedly. Why wouldn’t they pick this exact place and moment for a nice long chat? He’s only trapped behind a couple dozen fur-and-woolen cloaks with Rose plastered up against him, Rose getting increasingly warm and undoubtedly uncomfortable in his arms, neither of them able to move to improve the situation for fear of alerting the three very-much-armed Time Pirates. Of course, why wouldn’t the universe conspire against him like this?

Granted, in terms of Rose’s rising body temperature, it probably doesn’t help that the Doctor’s wrapped so snugly around her. But at this point, he’s honestly not sure what he can do. He can’t move his hand from her waist; he’s got her skirts pinned there, pressed between her bodice and his palm, and if he moves, he risks the skirts spilling into view. At least he had the presence of mind to shift his other hand away from her mouth, give her a little more space to breathe. But he did not, it appears, have the presence of mind to pay any attention to where that hand might settle afterward, and only now does he realize that his forearm has fallen to rest very gently against her chest, fingertips ghosting against her throat.

Alarm bells start ringing faintly in his head. He can’t shift that arm too much more; they’re surrounded by cloaks and any such movement would surely draw attention either through motion or sound. The only thing he can really do is perhaps lift away from her a little bit, let his hand float awkwardly in the liminal no-man’s-land where her breath lives. No longer touching, but still ridiculously close. Of course, once again, that brings up the issue of acknowledging that something is happening, and something is awkward, and you’ve officially Drawn Attention To It, and now there it is, stewing in the mortification of being recognized. Whereas if he pretends everything is normal—which it is, he tells himself stubbornly, because skin is just skin, doesn’t matter whether parts of it are bare and soft and hers—then no awkwardness need be experienced by either party involved.

Not that he’d know about any of that. Because he doesn’t, and even if he does, he certainly doesn’t think about it, or notice it, much like he’s definitely not noticing how Rose’s breathing has gone shallow, and her heartrate has sped up, and one of her hands is clenching in her skirt. Doubtful the Pirates can hear it—like Rose and any other human, their hearing can’t rival his—but the Doctor sure as hell can. He hears her swallow, too, and, close to her as he is, he smells it again, that unmistakable tinge of pheromones, soft and musky and faintly sweet. And he can’t help but notice (can’t help it, really) that despite her shallow breaths, her chest is still rising and falling, bringing her breasts into whispering contact with the inside of his arm and the corner of his palm. If she breathed any deeper, he’d surely get a handful.

The Doctor scolds himself for thinking such things, trying fiercely to rein himself back in, but the glance of her skin against his is near-electric, the feel of her pressed against him is overwhelming, the scent of her, intoxicating. Suddenly he’s forgetting why it’s a bad thing for the two of them to be trapped in here like this, pressed tightly together like the pages of a fresh book. His eyes fall to half-mast as they trace the elegant slope of her shoulder and neck, impossibly close to his mouth, begging to be kissed. And she’d love that, wouldn’t she? Love for him to press his lips to her skin, worshipping her, marking her, claiming her. He’s so close now his lips can feel the warmth of her flesh, burning the scant air between them, or maybe that’s just the oxygen molecules buzzing with excitement, like atmosphere before a lightning strike, and her pulse beneath his fingertips is thunderous—

The heavy thud of departing footsteps abruptly informs him that the conversation outside the cloakroom has ended, and the coast will soon be clear again. The Doctor draws a deep breath, catching himself.

He almost fell. He very much wanted to. It’s been such a long time. And with Rose—

The Doctor shuts down that line of thought before it can develop any further, giving himself the mental equivalent of a sharp slap to the face. He hasn’t got any idea what to do with Rose, not really. Yes, her body is giving off a multitude of signs that seem rather obvious, but that’s just what bodies do, sometimes. Mix the close proximity, a dash of friction, a whole heaping load of chemistry, and that’s what you get. Bodies reacting the way bodies do. Not his, of course, not without his express wishes, but that’s what human bodies do. Human reactions for human people. And Rose is nothing if not human.

That’s right. He put up that barrier for a reason, that wall between him and the world, that line drawn in the sand between him and Rose. They’ve skirted that line enough today, flirted with it more than enough. It’s time for him to take responsibility, get his head out of the clouds and stop playing games. Nothing good can come of them nudging the line any further, no matter how brightly Rose smiles at him, no matter how sweet her kisses may be. Not that he’ll ever find out about that last one.

He collects his wits and draws his barriers close. “Rose,” he says quietly. “We should really—”

“Yeah,” says Rose, voice clipped as she shifts off his lap to stand upright, and the Doctor resolutely does not think about how cold he is now, without her body clasped to his. After smoothing out her skirts, Rose reaches down to help him off the floor. Grinning, the Doctor accepts.

“All right?” he asks despite himself, but Rose doesn’t answer; instead she watches him as he stands, eyes searching his. The Doctor gets the instinct impression that he’s being evaluated, somehow. Appraised.

“Rose?” he prompts, and she shakes herself.

“Oh yeah, everything’s fine,” she says, and maybe he just imagined it all, because now she sounds perfectly normal.

“Yeah?” he asks anyway.

“Yeah. You know,” she says, turning to continue her search. “Just thinking about Jack.”

“Right,” says the Doctor, feeling, strangely, as if he was just kicked in the shins. “Of course.”

It only makes sense that Rose would be thinking of Jack right now. He was just kidnapped, after all. It’s only natural he’d be on her mind. For the kidnapping, and no other reason. Certainly nothing to do with flushed skin and pumping adrenaline and soft little noises and the buzzing potential energy of bodies pressed close in tight spaces. Those things wouldn’t make Rose think of Jack at all. Not even a little bit.

Not that such a thing would bother the Doctor. Because it wouldn’t.

***

The good news is, there’s plenty of good news: they’re able to locate a reservation for the proper hotel, thereby raising no eyebrows when the Doctor and Rose show up at the front desk requesting their room key, and like so many other sentient beings in the universe (really, he’s in good company), the desk clerk is fully taken in by the psychic paper, firmly believing that the Doctor and Rose are, in fact, Mr. and Mrs. Henri Flugenstaff; additionally, locating and breaking into the Pirates’ room is easy as rewiring a quantum rotor, and the rest of the hotel floor is blessedly empty when they do so, meaning no awkward encounters with nosy guests or suspicious staff.

The bad news is, once they enter the room, Jack’s captors (and more significantly, Jack) are nowhere to be found.

“Any idea where they went?” Rose asks.

“Not yet,” murmurs the Doctor, kneeling down to better inspect the faint traces of silvery powder on the carpet, almost invisible even to his keen eye. A reading from the sonic confirms his suspicions: the powder contains traces of Retro-Oganesson and Nihonium-3. Unmistakable evidence that the Time Pirates were here; no clues regarding where they went next.

“Might as well search the room for clues, right?” asks Rose.

“Right.” The Doctor sets the sonic against the carpet, following the path of silvery powder illuminated by the screwdriver’s ghostly blue glow. It guides him across the rug, around the bed, to the fireplace poking out from the wall opposite Rose. For her part, Rose is rifling through the items left behind on the writing-desk; given the general state of disarray of the desk, and the room, it’s clear that the Pirates left in a hurry, so there’s every chance they left something important behind. The Doctor takes just a second to appreciate the view, allowing himself a soft grin at Rose poking around for clues like a blonde little Sherlock Holmes.

“I hope he’s okay,” says Rose, peering beneath the inkwell.

The Doctor blinks. “Who?”

“Jack,” Rose replies, as if the answer is obvious.

The Doctor huffs. “He’s fine. Probably sliding out of their clutches as we speak.”

Laughing at that, Rose pulls open a desk-drawer. “Yeah, you’re right. He’s probably seducing his captors right about now.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“You say that like it’s not,” Rose laughs.

The Doctor grunts noncommittally, inspecting the inside of the fireplace.

“What was that?” asks Rose.

“Oh, nothing,” the Doctor hmphs. “Just, there it is again. Humans and romance.”

At that, Rose turns to face him, her eyebrow piqued. “And just what have you got against romance, anyway? Did romance offend you somehow, today?”

“It didn’t,” the Doctor lies cheerfully.

“There’s nothing wrong with liking any of that stuff, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“Really? Cos it feels like you’re gonna launch into a lecture on silly apes and their silly feelings any minute now.”

“I never said feelings were silly.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The Doctor stops his search inside the fireplace so he can look at her. “Something on your mind, Rose?”

“No,” she replies stubbornly.

“Good,” says the Doctor, and he resumes his search.

“Just makes me glad Jack’ll be back soon.”

The Doctor’s nostrils flare and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end as something hot slithers into the pit of his belly, smoldering there. “Don’t worry, we’ll find your boyfriend soon enough,” he replies, his voice tight.

“It’s just nice to have another human on the TARDIS, is all I mean,” Rose says, and the Doctor absolutely does not notice how she didn’t correct him on the boyfriend bit. “Cos you seem to think so much human stuff is stupid, and Jack doesn’t.”

“Oh, is Jack the gold standard now?”

“When it comes to feelings? Compared to you, yeah, he is.”

“Look, do you want to find him or not?” he asks, glaring at her. “Cos if you do, I’d advise more searching, less yammering.”

If the force of his glare affects Rose, she doesn’t show it. “Someone’s moody today,” she mutters before turning back to the desk.

“Not moody, just demonstrating a wide range of all those feelings you’re so fond of.”

“All the grumpy ones, maybe. And I’m not so fond of those.”

“And I suppose Jack’s never grumpy, then,” the Doctor says conversationally. “That it? No, not perfect Jack, of course not, never. Just the perfect blend of gentleman, boyfriend, and scoundrel, him. The ideal human mate!”

Rose shakes her head. “I’m sorry, the what-now?”

“It’s fine, Rose,” the Doctor says, forcing on a grin that’s surely strained. “You don’t need to explain yourself. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. We’ll just find Jack, and then you two can run off and have your fun and your romance. All right?”

“Have my—what are you even talking about?” asks Rose, stalking up to him. “Where is all of this coming from?”

“Observation, mostly,” the Doctor says pleasantly.

“Right. I don’t know what you think you’ve observed, but—”

And suddenly both of them snap to attention at the sound of a key in the lock, the door-handle jiggling loudly in the quiet.

In the split-second that follows, the Doctor tries to think—run? Nowhere to run, they’re in a tiny hotel room; hide? But surely they’ve already been heard—but Rose’s brain must be working a little faster than his somehow, because before he’s even had a chance to react, she’s shoved him flat on the bed and she’s straddling him by the waist, ducking down to press a bruising kiss to his mouth.

The Doctor’s brain grinds to a halt.

She—they—she just—he—

He’s never had an experience where both of his hearts stopped for a good reason, before.

“Cleaning servi—oh, oh my!” gasps a voice by the door.

Rose sits back at the sound and through the fog currently short-circuiting his brain the Doctor manages to look over at the door, to see a middle-aged cleaning maid standing there, clutching her cleaning-cart and blushing furiously.

“Blimey!” she squeaks, shielding her eyes. “Begging your pardon, sir, ma’am, I thought you were out for the evening!”

“Not anymore, I’m afraid,” Rose laughs, which is just as well, because the Doctor is too busy reeling to find his voice (or even his thoughts) at the moment. At least his hands had enough sense to plant themselves on Rose’s waist so they’re not flailing about like a pair of nerve-addled bats.

“Still on the honeymoon,” Rose continues, flashing the maid a shy but winning grin. Her voice is just the littlest breathy and shaky and very convincing, so much so that even the Doctor could almost believe the two of them had just been—well.

“You know how it is,” Rose adds, coyly biting her lip.

“Aye, once upon a time I did, ma’am,” the maid chuckles. “I’ll see to it you’re not disturbed the rest of the evening.”

“Thanks,” Rose laughs breathily before pushing the Doctor back down on the bed, kissing him passionately as the maid closes the door behind her. Her lips part against his, warm and sweet and betraying just the slightest hint of moisture as—

As a loud click lets them know the door is locked once again, and then Rose immediately stops, breaking the kiss. Pulling back, she locks eyes with the Doctor, her cheeks almost as bright as the housekeeper’s. Several long seconds tick agonizingly by, marked only by the fluttering of Rose’s lashes, the gentle heaving of her chest.

Rose’s lips part, like she might say something (or like she might bend down and kiss him again, the Doctor almost hopes) but he must be looking at her with the universe’s most daft expression, mouth agape and eyes wide as saucers, because the next thing he knows, she’s lifting herself off of him, smoothing back her hair and resituating her dress.

The Doctor sits up after her, forcing himself to stop staring. What is he, some kind of idiot?

“Sorry,” Rose laughs, all traces of breathlessness gone.

“S’all right,” the Doctor’s mouth says for him; his brain is still catching up.

“Although you’ve got to admit,” Rose adds, resuming her investigation of the room as if absolutely nothing just happened, “as a diversion it was fairly effective.”

The Doctor scratches the back of his neck. “I’ve had worse.”

“And I’ve had better,” Rose teases, her tongue trapped between her teeth. “You’re a little rusty, Doctor.”

“Excuse me,” the Doctor huffs indignantly, “maybe I just need a little more advance notice than your average boy-toy.”

“Well, as an above-average boy-toy, I’m sure Jack would be happy to give you some pointers.”

And there it is again, that feeling of something hot sizzling in his chest. “And I’m sure he can go sod right off,” says the Doctor, surprising himself.

Rose shoots him a dirty look over her shoulder. “What’s gotten into you? What’s with this mood today, why are you so cross with Jack?”

“I’m not.”

“You are, you’ve been saying nasty little things about him all day.”

“I haven’t.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” says Rose, righting the frame of a crooked painting on the wall. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were acting jealous again.”

The hot feeling grows hotter. “I’ve got nothing to be jealous about,” insists the Doctor.

“’Course not,” mocks Rose. “Cos you’ve never gotten jealous about sharing me with another man, before.”

“Shouldn’t have to,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“I said I shouldn’t have to,” the Doctor says loudly.

“What? Get jealous, or share me?”

The Doctor’s fists ball at his side. Either one, he doesn’t say.

“Whatever,” scoffs Rose, as if he’d gone ahead and spoken the words aloud. “Not like it makes any difference anyway.”

The hot feeling pulses in his chest and pounds in his ears and maybe it’s because of the kiss or maybe it’s because Rose already seems to have forgotten it or maybe it’s just because of this bloody damn day but that line in the sand is growing dangerously thin, all of a sudden, and before he gives himself the chance to think better of it, the Doctor is pushing off the bed and striding towards the door, grabbing a chair so he can wedge it beneath the door-handle before he stalks over to Rose.

“What?” she mocks. “Don’t want the maid to see us having a row? That too domestic for—”

The Doctor pins her to the wall, grasping her by the chin to pull her up for a punishing kiss. She gasps against his mouth and fuck, he wants to take advantage of that opening, he really does, wants to force her mouth open so his tongue can dart inside and really properly tease her, taste her, but he settles for prolonging the kiss, offering no quarter and no mercy until Rose has to pull back, panting for breath. She looks up at him with eyes wide from shock and—and gods, he hopes that’s not fear he sees, because that would kill him, it really would.

He doesn’t want to frighten her. He just wants her to see. Wants her to know.

But there’s still that goddamn line to preserve.

Drawing back a little, the Doctor braces himself with both hands against the wall, one on either side of Rose. “Tell me to stop,” he says quietly, even as he cages her in, even as every atom in his being is screaming for her.

Jaw set, defiant once again, Rose shakes her head No.

Oh. That’s not fear in her eyes. That’s not fear at all.

Relief washes the line away like the ocean at high tide and the Doctor lets himself fall.

He leans in and kisses her again, claiming her mouth with a fierceness that leaves no room for doubt. He might worry that he’s being too rough, too soon but Rose is giving as good as she gets, yanking him in by the lapels as she deepens the kiss. Her hands slip beneath his jacket to clutch him by the shoulders, her fingernails sharp even through the fabric of his jumper. His tongue brushes her plump lower lip and it’s a heady realization, that he can taste how much she wants this, how much she wants him. It’s enough to make him dizzy but he doesn’t stop, he wants more, his tongue plunging into her mouth, and the breathy little whimper that escapes her lets the Doctor know he was right—those delightful sounds Rose made earlier in the day were definitely due to arousal. And the sweet scent lingering in the air lets him know she’s wonderfully aroused right now, almost certainly wet with it.

Because of him. No one else. Just him.

Good.

Lips still on hers, the Doctor pulls up her skirts so both hands can sneak beneath, grabbing Rose by the hips and pulling her roughly into him. He has every intention of tearing off those ridiculous little knickers of hers but then she arches into him, her hands slipping beneath his jumper and nails dragging across his stomach and her chest pressed against his, and it’s all too much and it’s not nearly enough and his hips are grinding against hers as he hardens between them.

Dimly it occurs to the Doctor that Rose does not seem nearly as shocked by all of this as he might have imagined—indeed, he’s shocked himself with this pure impetuous driving animal need—and he wonders if, on some level, Rose maneuvered things to this conclusion.

Well. He smiles against her lips. Two can play that game.

He hitches one of her legs over his waist and thrusts into her, the friction and the heat almost unbearably delicious even despite all the layers in the way, and Rose must think so, too, because she’s panting against the Doctor’s mouth, her nails scratching lines of fire down his back. She lets out another strained whimper and fuck, he’s not going to last, not even with his trousers on, not if she keeps making those needy little noises while rutting against his cock like that.

So he repositions, wedging a thigh between hers to maintain the friction she needs while one hand travels up to palm one of the breasts that’s been positively fucking begging for his touch all day long. He can just feel the peak of her nipple through her corset and dress, stiffening sharply as he circles it with his thumb, and Rose bites down on his lower lip, sending a jolt of pleasure straight down to his cock. Rose reaches for his belt buckle but the Doctor stops her, grabbing her by the wrist and pinning it back to the wall.

“Not yet,” he growls softly. “Not until I say so.”

She’s glassy-eyed with surprise but he doesn’t give her an opportunity to respond, rips down the neckline of her dress instead so he can cup and tease her bare breasts with his free hand while his other holds her wrist tight against the wall. Rose breaks their kiss, eyes pinched tight in concentration as she rides his thigh, sweat beading and glistening on her breasts and her brow, and the Doctor realizes she’s about to climax, right here, right now, just like this.

Positively brimming with pride (and isn’t that a first, in this incarnation) the Doctor presses a kiss to her jaw, tracing a line up to her ear, lips ghosting the shell of it. “Come for me, Rose,” he murmurs, his voice as husky and deep as he’s ever heard it, and she shudders. He lifts his hand to cup her cheek, his thumb teasing her swollen lower lip. “Come for me, love.”

Her teeth graze his thumb as she bites down on the cry that tries to escape her, her arms shaking and hips stuttering, her legs clenching tight against his thigh. The Doctor can feel the aftershocks ripping through her and he holds her tight, relishing the movement and heat of her body against his, the knowledge that he’s the one doing this to her, that all of this is because of him. Not Jack, not Ricky, not Adam or Jimmy or any other stupid pretty boy who might be sharp enough to fall in love with Rose but could never be good enough to deserve her. Of course, neither is he, but he’s at least clever enough to recognize that, and to do everything he can to make up for it; he may not always have the right words but his mouth can still say what his voice can’t, offering praise along with his hands and his tongue and all of him, really.

Those little men will never see Rose the way he does. The Doctor almost pities them for it.

(Only almost.)

Panting, Rose pushes a strand of sweat-slicked hair out of her face. “You, erm,” she says between breaths, flashing the Doctor a lazy blissful smile. “You gonna let me touch you, now?”

He’s still got her wrist pinned to the wall. He lets go.

“Take off your clothes, please,” he tells her.

Biting her lip, Rose obeys, pushing her torn dress down over her hips, her eyes fixed on his. She wriggles the dress past her thighs to reveal those tiny knickers of hers, completely soaked through and now thoroughly ruined. The sight and smell of those ruined knickers ignites a small flame of male satisfaction the Doctor wasn’t even aware he possessed, something he might have wrinkled his nose at once upon a time, but now, watching Rose pop open the front of her corset, peeling off the knickers after—now he rather likes the feeling, knowing that he can make Rose feel like this, that she trusts him like this. That he’s earned her trust, and this privilege.

There’s only the faintest hint of shyness from Rose once she’s naked beneath the Doctor’s gaze, but it’s enough to make his hearts swell almost uncomfortably behind his ribs, so the Doctor dips down to press his mouth to hers, softly, to kiss any lingering doubt away.

“Good girl,” he murmurs afterward, and smiles as Rose’s cheeks and ears flush pink. “Now get on the bed.”

The moment she does, the Doctor grasps her by the hips and slides her bum to the edge, pinning her down against the mattress as he presses a hungry kiss to her mouth. Impatient, Rose pushes at his jacket and he shrugs out of it, but he doesn’t make any effort to remove the rest of his clothing, his hands gliding up the insides of her thighs instead. His fingers tease her until she’s wet again, gloriously wet and gasping and clinging to him as she fucks his hand. He dips down to kiss the expanse of neck and shoulder that were tormenting him earlier and stops beneath her ear, lips caressing the soft skin there.

For a brief moment, the Doctor just breathes her in, inebriating himself on the smell of her. Then he latches on, giving her skin a good hard suck. Rose cries out, thighs clenching around his hand. Drawing back, the Doctor can see the mark he left behind, petal-pink blossoming in the shape of his mouth, and it shocks him how much he likes to see that, the visual evidence that he’s claimed her, that she’s his. He wants to taste more of her, he thinks, let his mouth explore and lick and nip and tug until she’s begging for mercy—

“Doctor,” Rose pants, but with a start he realizes she isn’t begging, she’s demanding, hooking her legs around his waist and pulling him down, into her. She rolls her hips against his aching cock and all other thoughts and plans fly right out the window as he realizes he’s bound to spontaneously combust if he doesn’t give her exactly what she wants and fuck her right now. In a second his belt is unlatched and trousers and pants shoved out of the way and he’s pushing into her with one smooth slick thrust, groaning at the hot wet clench of her muscles around him. He draws back and pushes in again, and again, and again, brow knit tight and mouth falling open because it’s good, it’s too good, it’s too much, he’s losing himself, drowning in her, and dying never felt so sublime.

“You’re mine,” he gasps, surprising himself, but Rose doesn’t look surprised at all, she just nods, glassy-eyed and breathless as he fucks her. “You’re mine,” he says again, kissing her fiercely as his hands pull her hips into his, harder, faster, more.

She nods again.

“Say it.”

“I am, I’m yours,” she chokes out, clenching around him, and his grip on her tightens. He’s hurtling toward the edge, spurred on by her words and her heat and her everything else but now there’s guilt chiming in too, because what the fuck is wrong with him, why would he say that, why would he make her say that, why would he make her do any of this, why the fuck would he allow her to give herself to him when he’s nothing but a broken wretched old man, and she deserves so much more—

“Hey,” says Rose, and his thoughts must be written across his face because suddenly her hands are cupping his jaw, forcing him to look at her. “Don’t do that,” she says between gasps. “Don’t wander off. Stay with me. Be here with me.”

His lips part but Rose doesn’t let any words out, stoppers his mouth with hers. “Just let us have this,” she pants against his lips. “Please. Please. My Doctor.”

Something in him snaps and he buries his face in her neck, muffling his cries as he empties into her. His head floods pleasantly with bliss but he’s just coherent enough to slide a hand between them, urging Rose along. Rose follows soon after, muscles convulsing around him, nipples sharp even through his jumper, and the Doctor feels a twinge of regret that he didn’t finish undressing, that he isn’t feeling her skin properly sliding against his. Rose must be feeling the same way; even as her hips stutter and slow, she’s sliding her hands back beneath his jumper, exploring every expanse of skin she can reach.

The Doctor sighs with something that feels suspiciously like contentment.

“I am, you know,” he says quietly.

She doesn’t reply; he half-wonders if she’s already fallen asleep, somehow.

“Yours,” he adds, voice soft.

Rose’s arms tighten around him in a hug, her heart fluttering against both of his.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to.

He knows.

***

Apparently Jack knows it, too.

“That dress didn’t tear itself,” the Doctor overhears him whispering to Rose after they sneak out of the Pirates’ ship. “Not to mention you smell like all the sex.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Rose replies, laughing.

“I will not! Tell me everything!”

“If you don’t behave, I will hurt you.”

“Ooh, promise?”

“I will put you in time-out,” Rose amends, mouth twitching with the effort to hold back a smile, “and I will hide the sonic so that those,” she adds, pointing to the shackles clamped over both of his wrists, “never come off again.”

Jack shoots her a sly grin. “But then how would you two ever get to use them?”

The Doctor feels a flush creeping up the back of his neck as Rose’s eyes widen, her mouth dropping open. “Pervert!” she shrieks, and Jack crows in laughter as he takes off running down the road, Rose chasing after him. It’s a good thing they’re out in the country now—they’d wake up the neighborhood, shouting and laughing and carrying on like that in the city. But eventually they settle for huddling together, arm-in-arm, as they whisper and snicker all the way back to the TARDIS.

The Doctor maintains some space, trailing a little ways after, so the humans can have their fun and their—he smiles a little—their feelings. It’s actually nice, he thinks, seeing Rose so giddy and full of joy, seeing her laugh and smile like that, even with someone else. She’s far too bright and loving and big-hearted to be kept to one person, he realizes. She deserves to share herself with whomever she wishes, not to be hoarded like gold in the fist of a grumpy old miser. Rose deserves to love freely, and to be loved freely, in return.

(They’re definitely going to make use of those shackles, though.)

***

dedicated to @galiifreyrose @yellowsuedeshoes @saecookie @aintfraidanoghosts for being such wonderful terrible influences <3 <3 <3

#ficandchips #ninerose #ninexrose #nine x rose #nine/rose #pwp #lemons #lemons everywhere #XD #jealousy #jealous!doctor #mbb fic

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tigerseye46 · 3 years

Note

Since I'm going a bit wild with angst on the LMK discord server, how do you feel about some FreeNoodles with the prompt angst #13?

*scared and excited noises for all the future angst* Hope you enjoy!

13. “We were never just friends, and you know it.” “I know it, but you deserve someone better than me.”

Pigsy nuzzles against Tang’s back, his eyes still shut and his mouth lifts up. Tang’s body shifts to face him and he greets with a “Good morning.”

“Mornin’ Tang.” The scholar beams and plants a kiss on his cheek. Pigsy opens his eyes, he fights the rising blush because gods, Tang is beautiful. He wants to kiss him but they aren’t together, not in the way Pigsy wants.

“We should get up.”

“Do we have to?”

The scholar scoffs. “Yes. We have work.”

“Tch.” He wraps his arms around Tang’s waist. “Screw work. I want to stay here with you.”

“Wow, Pigsy, are you suggesting,” his voice drops to a dramatic whisper, “suggesting that we both skip work?”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Yes, Tang. I am.”

“Wow. How irresponsible of you,” he teases. “As much as I would love that, the others might get worried.”

Pigsy lets out a sigh. “Fair point.” He gets up and groans.

Tang smiles and grabs his glasses. He puts them on and gives him another kiss on the cheek. “I’ll get ready.”

“I’ll make breakfast.”

They temporarily part ways to do their thing, Pigsy makes pancakes in the kitchen, a bunch of finished pancakes lie on a plate, he hums to himself.

Tang walks in with his usual outfit on. The pig waves at him and gestures for him to sit down, he complies and softly smiles. The scene is oddly domestic, peaceful, it feels right. The pig wants this, has always wanted this but he has no idea how Tang feels. They’re not a couple. Sure, they sleep in the same bed, kiss each other on the cheek, sometimes hold hands, live together, shop together but it’s not like that means anything, right? It’s just… friendly, that’s all it will ever be. Plus Tang is everything the pig isn’t. He’s smart like saying big words that the pig will never understand, funny and despite all his sass has a good heart. The pig is harsh, he makes no effort to deny that, he doubts he’ll be able to treat Tang right on the smallest possibility that they ever got together. There’s a part of him that knows they’re technically together but the scholar deserves better so he hides away.

As he places the plate down, he blushes at the scholar’s dazzling grin, it is blinding, beautiful, magnificent. He finds himself squeezing Tang’s hand with him returning the gesture. They do their usual small talk, the human leaving little kisses along the demon’s cheek at different points.

They hold hands as they walk out the door then separate when they’re about to cross different streets to get to their jobs. The human kisses the pig at the corner of his mouth, whispering promises to see him later at the shop. The demon’s mouth is agape and there’s a slight pink dusting on his cheeks, he wants this so bad.

“See- see you later, Tang,” he stutters out and waves.

As Tang is about to cross the street, he smiles. “See you, Pigsy!” He gives him one last wave and fades from view.

Pigsy shakes his head, he doesn’t deserve this.

He goes to work, doing the usual, answering orders, working on them, yelling at Xiaotian to pick the pace, scolding Xiaojiao when she distracts the boy, Sandy coming in with Mo to converse about old times.

Then the scholar walks in, his feet stomping at the ground and his face scrunched up. He collects a bowl off the counter and begins sipping. The pig opens his mouth when Tang shoots him down with a glare. “Don’t ask,” he grumbles.

“Alright.” His lips press together, he ponders if he should push for an answer, instead he places another bowl in front of Tang. He knows the human will open up in his own time.

The air is tense and Tang refuses to talk about any of it, only muttering curses under his breath. He leans close to the pig and leaves a small smooch on his cheek, the pig’s cheeks go pink and Tang continues grumbling. The kissing part still surprises him, it’s only a recent thing and it makes him blush every time.

He shakes his head and comments, “Y’know being grumpy is my thing, I mean not that I’m grumpy but ya always claim I am for whatever reason…”

Tang laughs and it makes a fluttering feeling appear in the pig’s chest. “You are grumpy.”

“I am not! I am nothin’ but happy.”

“Yes you are! Mr. I don’t smile.”

“I smile! Just not when you’re here.”

“Rude! I am nothing but a joy to be around.”

“More like a pain.”

“Well guess who’s sleeping on the couch then.”

Pigsy rolls his eyes and deadpans, “Oh no, not the couch. I’m absolutely terrified, Tang.”

The scholar’s glasses shine, a mischievous look appears on his face. “Good. You should be.”

They laugh and the air is cleared when Pigsy’s eyes land on Tang again, who is absolutely beautiful and breathless, he thinks ‘I don’t deserve this. Tang deserves better.’ And then his mood dims. Sooner or later, the scholar will leave him, he has no reason to stay, they’re just friends and at that moment, Pigsy decides to do something.

He (stupidly) decides to flirt with women to get his mind off Tang. The women turn him away and he gets it, he knows he’s not a catch by any means but if it will help Tang prove there’s someone better then so be it.

He hates the way Tang’s brows furrow as he watches the pig flirt with someone but he has to, the human needs to realize there is someone better and they aren’t even a couple anyway so why does it matter how it affects Tang?

It all comes to a halt one day when he’s flirting with someone in the marketplace, Tang is fuming on the sidelines like always. This person actually is interested in his advances, he’s about to throw another pickup line when he’s roughly grabbed by Tang and dragged away.

Pigsy gets a confused look on his face but makes no effort to ask. They don’t speak until they get to their apartment, the human slams the door behind him and growls.

“What were you doing?” He asks, his hands balling into fists.

“Flirtin’. Obviously.”

“Why?”

He scowls, “Because I can, Tang. I’m a grown man! I am allowed to have fun!”

“Not when it comes to this!”

“Why does it matter to you? We’re just friends.”

The hurt expression on his friend’s (and totally not boyfriend) face makes him double take. “We sleep in the same bed, Pigsy.”

“So? Lots of people do that.”

“Oh my gods. We kiss each other.”

“On the cheek.”

“We live together.”

“Lots of people live together.” He’s trying to deny it but when Tang shoves him, he yells, “What’s that for?!”

“Are you implying that I’m just some kind of one night stand?”

“No! Of course not!” The scholar growls at him and locks the door to their room. Pigsy rushes up to it and bangs his fist against it. “Tang! Come on! Answer me!” All he gets is silence.

He sighs and lays down on the couch, making sure to grab one of the spare blankets that they have nearby. Guess he’s sleeping here after all but the problem is he can’t sleep. He lies awake wondering what he did wrong.

At one point when it’s roughly 3:30 at night, Tang walks out of their room for a late night snack. He hastily sits up and stares at the scholar, opening his mouth to speak but is cut by the harsh glare and what appears to be dried tears on the scholar’s face. Pigsy makes no attempt to get off the couch, he only watches Tang get his snack and he gasps when Tang doesn’t even look at him and flips him off, stomping all the way back to their bedroom.

The human gives him the cold shoulder for the next few days, it stings every time. The others notice when the pig’s temper flares up more than usual and Tang refuses to show up to the shop so the kids make a plan.

Their plan sets in motion when Tang rushes into the storage room, the human is clearly out of breath. Pigsy gazes at him with wide eyes. The human goes up to him and cups his face, checking for any sign of injury. “Are you hurt?”

The pig’s eyes grow soft. “No. I’m not. Why did ya think I was?”

He responds with “The kids messaged me. I thought something happened to you.”

They hear a click behind them and they run to the door, their fists pound against him and they notice giggling. “Kids,” Pigsy scowls. “Open the door.”

“Sorry dad, sorry bába. Not until you talk,” MK says.

“He’s right. We don’t know why you’re upset but we want you to talk!”

“Kids, if you don’t open this door right now, you are grounded!” The footsteps get farther and farther away, Pigsy sighs and rubs his face. “Great.”

“Can’t you just break the door down?”

“Then I would have to pay to get it fixed, Tang.” Tang scoffs and rolls his eyes. “You should have texted to see if something was actually wrong.”

“Well excuse me for caring!”

“Why do ya care anyway? You’ve been mad at me for the last week!”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

“I do wonder. I don’t get why you’re so mad at me. I didn’t do anythin’!”

“Yes you did! You flirted with other people!”

“And that matters to ya?”

“Of course it does!”

“Why? We’re just friends.”

The human hisses at him. “We were never just friends, and you know it.”

He reaches a hand out to Tang who backs away. “I know it, but you deserve someone better than me.”

The scholar narrows his eyes. “What are you talking about? Better? There is no better.”

“There is, Tang. Don’t you get it? Sooner or later you’ll find someone better. Someone who actually deserves you, someone that is kind and loving, not a grumpy pig that snaps at whoever’s closest. I can’t watch as we spend time together only for ya to find someone you want more than me. I can’t bear to watch you leave but I can’t stop you either.”

“You stupid idiot.”

“Huh?”

“You’re stupid.”

“Hey!”

Tang walks up to him and grabs his face. “You’re stupid,” he repeats, “and lovely, handsome, you care too much, you let me stay with you and gods, everything just makes me love you even when you’re a complete idiot.”

“Wha-?” Tang kisses him and the pig makes a small shocked sound then gives in.

They separate and Tang tells him, “I don’t want anyone else. I want you. You might not be perfect but I don’t want perfect. I’m not perfect either.”

“Tang…”

“I’m never going to change my mind, Pigsy. You can count on that. Plus who else am I going to get noodles from?”

He rolls his eyes. “Wow. I feel so loved.”

“Good. That’s the point.”

“I’m sorry, Tang. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“It’s okay. I forgive you. Just no more flirting with anyone else, okay?”

“Okay. I… I love you.”

“I love you too. You know… I wonder when the kids will get back. We have some time to ourselves now.”

He chuckles and wraps his arms around him. “Guess we do. I love you.”

“I love you.” They kiss each other, taking breaks to tease each other in the middle of it and Tang whispering reassurances. Now Pigsy could finally say they were more than just friends.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #freenoodleshipping #pigsy monkie kid #pigsy #tang #so we sleep in the same bed and kiss each other but we're not a couple #*smacks Pigsy lightly*#I like making them oblivious #my fic

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weebsinstash · 4 years

Text

An Eye for an Eye // yandere poly EraserMic x Reader

a concept i teased a little while back and decided to make into a full story! I originally wanted to get this out on halloween, but you all see how that’s worked out :p

tags/warnings for angst, violence and physical fighting, kidnapping, abuse, manipulation, obsession, failed escape attempt, so on so forth im not even sure what all to tag at this point. this is honestly pretty long for me to be posting the whole thing on tumblr, so prepare for a long read, this bad boy sits at almost 8000 words!

------

“Food’s good tonight. Did you try something new with the sauce?”

“Oh, you noticed, huh? Yeah, I thought I’d try somethin’ different, ya know? Switch it up!”

You could applaud these two for keeping their tones so casual, if the fact didn’t make you so disgusted, that is. It takes everything you have not to cringe when you happen to glance over to meet a pair of bright green eyes looking at you filled with adoration. “What do you think, babe? Thought I’d put some of yer favorite flavors in it! Ya like it?”

Another dinner, another forced bonding session. You just give Yamada a look of muted hatred, brows furrowed, eyes narrowed, not a sound leaving your mouth as you just look back down to your meal. A few more bites, just a few more bites, and you’d go back to your room, you tell yourself. God, even just sitting here with them was like some kind of fucked-up domestic torture. They didn’t deserve to hear you speak.

Hizashi doesn’t seem to take the hint, scooting his chair closer to yours from around the small circular dining table. “Aw, don’t be that way, sugar! I’m just tryna see whatcha like, since you’ve barely been eatin’ lately!”

You scowl, muttering under your breath. “Gee, I wonder why. Such a fucking mystery.”

Just like that, it’s quiet again, nothing but the occasional clink of silverware against the ceramic plates. The blonde pouts, unsure how to reply to your hostility, taking a moment to sip from his wine, shooting his partner a look from across the table while long slender fingers drum against the hard, wooden surface almost anxiously. Shouta finally clears his throat to break the silence.

“So,” The instructor begins while you’re mid-bite. “the next time you feel like playing locksmith, you should probably reconsider.”

There’s a noticeable tensing of your posture, and you have to clear your throat as your food seems to stick in your airway. “See, I was going to get something out of our lockbox the other day,” Scarlet liquid spins around in the wineglass as Aizawa swirls it casually. “and wouldn’t you know, someone thought it would be cute to try and get in it without the key, and wound up breaking the lock.” His dark eyes narrow at you. “So? Care to explain?”

See, there was a little metal case that the two Pro Heroes kept in their bedroom, and its contents ranged from pills, knives, to keys around the house; all the sorts of things they didn’t want you to get your hands on to the point they were meticulously locked away. It had been a moment of weakness and desperation when you had tried to pick the lock with tools ranging from paperclips to some of Mic’s hair pins. You had no idea you’d broken the mechanism on accident. Fuck.

“Cat got your tongue? Nothing to say for yourself?” Aizawa sounds far from amused, and you finally let your fork clatter loudly onto your plate, pushing back from the table to stand. “Eat shit and die, you disgusting freak.” You spit. “How’s that? Wanna hear some more? How about ‘next time, I’ll be sure to get it open so I can have the pleasure of slitting your throats while you sleep’?”

“Hey, no need to be nasty!” Hizashi interjects. “See, this is why we gotta make sure you eat! You get all mean an’ shit when you’re hangry.”

The insinuation in his words infuriates you. With a swipe of your arm, you knock your plate of food clean off the table, letting it shatter into pieces on the floor, staining the tile with wet noodles and sauce. “Oh look, I’m full.” You can’t help but give a cruel grin of spite at the radio star who looked genuinely hurt. “Have fun cleaning this up, bitch. I’d rather starve to death than have to look at your ugly face while I eat.”

Shouta moves to grab your arm as you start to storm away from the table, ready to scold you, but the blonde Hero just sighs loudly, putting his face in his hands. “No, let-let ‘em go. I’m too burnt out for this tonight.” His voice sounds quiet, lacking any of its usual pep. “We can just… eat alone tonight. Again.”

You can’t help but feel a little smug at wounding the man’s spirit. If this wasn’t how they wanted this to turn out, maybe they shouldn’t have kidnapped you begin with, persuading themselves that this was the only way to keep you happy and safe. God you can’t stand them, always trying to grease your wheels with expensive gifts or fake declarations of love or mushy words of praise. They could choke. You hate them for what they’ve done to you, how they’ve twisted your emotions and your soul into this bitter, hateful mess. Is it anger or sadness or satisfaction you’re supposed to feel as you all but slam your bedroom door behind you, sinking down to the soft carpeted floor of your glorified cell? Do you even have the energy to keep making their lives miserable in payback for what they’ve done? How much longer can you keep on resisting?

You hate them for what they’ve done to you… but not as much as you hate yourself for being unable to stop them.

-----

It was one of your few respites that the two deranged kidnappers had jobs that kept them out of the house more often than not, and that meant you had more time to yourself to try and figure out how to escape. Your plans usually took place when the Heroes were away, meaning that if you had to do something a little loud or actually managed to succeed, they wouldn’t be there to stop you, with your attempts ranging from trying to force open doors and windows, even attempting to break them, which was always unsuccessful if the horrible bruises on your shoulders from throwing your weight against them was something to show for it. It seemed like your chances of ever leaving this awful house waned more by each passing day, more detailed precautions added on by your captors with each failed plan.

It’s starting to feel like you’ll never get to leave, but you’ll be damned if you stop trying. In the case of this very morning, it’ll be hard to even attempt escape on an empty stomach, and thus you drag yourself out of bed to go to the kitchen, though there’s a certain sight that halts you in your tracks after you’ve managed to make it downstairs. Present Mic is sitting on the couch in the living room typing away on his laptop, sliding off his headphones onto his shoulders once he’s noticed you. “Oh, hey baby!”

You’re frozen in your tracks, blinking as you stare at him. “…What are you still doing here?”

Hizashi frowns at the tangible disapproval in your tone. “Well, me and Shouta were goin’ back and forth about how it’s gonna take you longer to chill and hunker down if you’re not used to us, so I managed to take off for a few days! Ain’t that rad?” There’s a twinkle in those deep green eyes. “We can spend more time together! I already made ya some chow if you’re hungry!”

You’re almost speechless as your mind pulls itself back together from the surprise. “So it’s… just us today?”

“Yeah! Shouta’s chillin’ out at the school but he was gonna try and see if he could get some time off too! Might even be home early!” Hizashi replies enthusiastically, though his smile fades some. “Is… that a problem?”

You shake your head. “No, just… not used to having only one of you around.”

A lie. There’s an idea creeping into the back of your mind, spurred on by virulent anger and frustration that had been piling up over weeks. The longer the thought lingered, the more appealing it seemed, especially as you stood there looking at the stupid, wide grin of your fucking kidnapper. Hizashi takes the bait and believes your fib whole-heartedly, grinning slyly. “Awww, do you miss Shouta? I’ll be sure to tell ‘im. Hey, I got somethin’ I gotta finish real quick, and then we can do somethin’ together, k?”

The blonde turns back to working on his laptop, sliding his headphones back on. It was a crucial mistake as your sinister temptations begin to fester. Present Mic is fit, but not as adept in close combat as Eraserhead. He wouldn’t be able to cancel out your Quirk either, not that you could use it with this anti-Quirk cuff, but that could always be removed somehow later on. He’s also not as observational, or nimble, and right now, he’s not even paying attention to you.

Your fingers graze across a decorative knickknack on the living room’s side table you’re standing next to, an ornamental piece with a heavy base. With music blasting in his ears, the man doesn’t hear the light scrape as you pick it up. Your thoughts are a frantic, jumbled mess, different voices bouncing around inside your skull. Do it. Don’t do it. Hurt him. Don’t hurt him. Escape. Stay here.

Accept your fate.

Or be free.

There are tears in your eyes as you grab the little statue, heavy in your shaking hands as you draw closer to him, step by silent step, feeling like you’re about to crack under the pressure.

“Hey babe?”

He doesn’t turn around, instead slipping off one side of his headphones. “I was thinkin’, even if we can’t both get time off right now, Shou and I have a break from work before too long. We should all try and go somewhere fun when things have calmed down! Any place you wanna go? Somethin’ you’ve always wanted to do?”

Your shoulders shake, the figurine hoisted in the air as your heart twists, and you choke out a sob.

“I’m not going anywhere with you…!”

Hizashi had barely caught a glimpse before you swung, hard, his body knocked to the floor with the force of impact, laptop skittering across the hardwood. The Hero is slow, dazed as he tries to push himself up. You swing again, and he drops, unmoving, out-cold, blood beginning to taint his golden hair. For a second you stand there, looking between him and the newly-stained weapon in your hands, and you drop it to the ground. You have to move quickly; there’s no guarantee how long he’ll be out. Aizawa’s closet looks like it survived a tornado by the time you’ve found his spare capture weapons to seize in your arms, swiping an old backpack for good measure, all but tripping your own feet as you race for your life, barely managing to grab a pair of shoes from your room. Some spare clothes could come in handy in case anything got wet or torn, you figure as you haphazardly throw some things together, and if everything worked out, you would need to eat eventually as well. Good thing there were plenty of protein bars for you to swipe in the kitchen, along with a few canned goods. Each second you took to try and prepare was another moment that left you in terror, horrified that this action would be the one to bring you down.

Yamada is still out cold when you hurry back to him, the man much heavier than you anticipated as you drag him up into a chair from the dining room, making sure you use the long capture weapons to tie knots and knots and then even more knots as you bind his arms and legs to the sturdy furniture, having just barely finished tying him up as those blonde lashes signal eyes fluttering open. Fuck, thank god you managed to tie him up in time. A few minutes later and this could have all been for nothing.

“S-Songbird…” The radio star croaks out one of his favorite pet names, wincing as he gazes upon you, and then downwards when he finds he can’t move a single inch. “Whuh… whaddya even-even think you’re doin’…?”

In frantic desperation, your hands dive into his pants, searching through the pockets as the blonde immediately looks panicked. “Baby, baby, don’t…! We can work this out! Do-do you want different clothes, or-or a different house, or maybe-maybe I can—wait, stop, don’t--!” Hizashi’s voice completely cracks as you feel something deep in his jeans, and you pull it out. It’s his wallet, and as you unfold it, you find something familiar tucked away in a fold under some credit cards. You could never forget this size and shape, not ever since you committed it to memory all that time ago.

It’s the keycard to unlock the security system on the front door, and the gate surrounding the house’s walled perimeter. It’s a keycard to your freedom.

For a moment, you two make eye contact, those big emerald orbs welling up with tears. “Please don’t go. Let’s just-just talk about this…” He whimpers. “Please, I’ll do anything…. anything…!! I love you… SO much…!”

You look at him and swallow, taking a step back towards the door. Lips are wobbling, a shakiness in your every movement as you turn towards the front entrance. “Don’t! Please! I love you! You know I love you!!” Yamada begs as you swipe the keycard through the little white terminal, an LED turning green as you hear the knob beside you give a resounding click. The Hero chokes on a ragged sob, struggling so frantically in his bindings, managing to tip over the chair as you reach for the door handle to turn it. It opens, and a fresh breeze caresses your skin for the first time in months. Sparing him only a fleeting once over, making sure that he’s bound tightly, you take off. Literal screams follow you as you begin to run out the front door. The feeling of fresh air and sun on your skin is so foreign and indescribable that you want to cry even harder. You can see the gate terminal from here as you start to run down the driveway, and cries echo behind you.

“PLEASE DON’T GO!!!” It’s so loud and ear piercing, you know he’s using his Quirk. “I’M BEGGING YOU!! DON’T GO!!! DON’T GO!!! I’LL DO ANYTHING!!! ANYTHING YOU WANT!!!”

Your hands shake as you press the key card to that imposing terminal screen, and a beeping resounds. You all but faint as you witness a sight you never though you would live to see, those imposing black iron gates before you pulling open. For a second, you’re frozen, positively overwhelmed.

Then Hizashi’s words from earlier all but bring you crashing down.

Shouta’s chillin’ out at the school but he was gonna try and see if he could get some time off too! Might even be home early!

This is no time to hesitate; your life literally depends on it. You run. You run and run and run until your lungs feel like they could burst and your heart would shred from exertion. There’s too high of a risk of staying on the road where he could drive home and see you as you take off into the woods. The air feels so clear, the breeze so soothing as one foot slams on front of the other, carrying you further and further away from that awful house, your prison. Stopping isn’t something you can even consider as you sprint, muscles worn out from months of sedentary life as you tell yourself ‘this is it’.

For a while it seems like you can still hear those desperate wails, echoing through the air and over the hills, and you don’t stop moving until you can hear them no more, leaving nothing but chirping birds and the crunching of leaves under your feet. You were thankfully that the muted colors of your clothing helped you blend in with the changing leaves on the trees, much more forgiving than some of these steep inclines you had to walk up. It didn’t matter to you though; fear and adrenaline helped you keep pushing forward as you repeated encouragements to yourself over and over again. It could be hours and hours before Eraserhead came home, and even then, he would have no idea of where you went. Depending on whether or not Yamada needed to be taken to the hospital (a thought that, regrettably, makes a pit of guilt form in your stomach) that was something that could buy you even more time, if not days, even.

There’s no telling how much time has passed by the time you finally allow yourself to stop moving, if even for just a few minutes. An isolated little flower field had been tucked away within these tall imposing trees, creating a nice clearing as you couldn’t help but sit down among them. All the little wildflowers, with their pretty colors and different petal patterns, brought a tear to your eye. It was so peaceful here. It was like all of your suffering throughout this entire horrible experience was just a thing of the past. Soft grass helps cradle your body as you lie on your back, and even though dark clouds were starting to gather, the sight above was… breathtaking.

The sky… it’s so blue. You would give anything to never be taken from this sky again. It was that thought that has you pushing yourself back to your feet, even as your muscles protested and strained. Even if you were slow, any progress was still good progress. You couldn’t afford to stay in the same place for too long. Not with what was at stake. Not with who would undoubtedly eventually be chasing after you. You had to move while you still had the upper hand.

As you felt the first few drops of rain hit your skin, you couldn’t help but lament not getting to see that pure sky just a little while longer.

Those dark clouds had surely been an omen, because little more than an hour or so later, the pouring rain that had followed is absolutely unforgiving. It pelts down from the heavens leaving you drenched and cold, accentuated only by strong winds that swept down the hills and threatened to knock you over. You would be surprised if everything in your backpack wasn’t starting to get wet as well, but even if you wanted to stop, you couldn’t see any shelter. From a distance, even through the darkened skies and low lighting, you swear you see a rockwall, and with a spark of hope, you force your shoes through the cold, thick mud to approach. Even if you couldn’t find what you were looking for, it at least provided partial cover from the wind, some of the jutting stones overhead stopping some of the heavy rain as you walked along the wall. Surely, with all of these hills, this uneven ground, there must be a place where the plates of stone shift, where there must be—

There.

An opening in jagged rocks, illuminated by a bright flash of lightning. A cave? Your feet slide and sink in the mud as you can barely move forward, but the crack is wide and deep enough for you to slip inside. The relief from the wind and rain is instant, even if the stone is cold as you lay your tired body down upon it. It’s far from quiet, between the pounding rain, the water dripping down off the rocks, the thunder as loud as an explosion of dynamite.

But you’re free, and you’d take this over another night in that prison. Tomorrow, you’ll keep moving until you found some help, and then this would all be over. Your hope helps keep you warm.

—-

Darkness still coats the sky when you awake again, wet and cold, mud and scratches over your body, bags under your eyes. The rain has stopped, lightening to a drizzle, and while you would have liked to sleep a little more, the anxiety of the situation wouldn’t allow it. You can’t let them catch you.

The ground, softened and wet from the rain, makes it impossible not to leave tracks, even with you being careful not to step on any branches or walk in piles of leaves to avoid the mud. Fear beats hard inside of your chest; footprints meant you would be easier to find, footprints told exactly where you were headed, and they could lead one of them right to–

A chilling sensation stabs through you as you hear a twig break too closely behind you, and you don’t even turn around before you break into a sprint. It’s terrifying, trying to run on this slick ground, hearing someone chasing after you, knowing that they’re a Pro Hero, trained, professional, no doubt angry.

You can’t stop running; your life literally depends on it, but that frantic desperation leaves little room to pay attention to detail. A tree root in your path managed to stub your toe, sending you falling forward into the wet dirt, scrambling to stand like some terrified prey when you finally catch a look at your predator.

Some mere yards away, there he is, bags under his eyes deeper than ever before with the expression inside them manic and absolutely furious. It’s Aizawa, and the sight of him is more than enough to renew your terror.

“Get the FUCK back here!!” He all but screams after you as you take off the second you regain your senses. “If you stop now, maybe I won’t hurt you as badly!!!”

You’re fighting to breathe, sobs trying to force their way from your throat in indescribable fear. Oh fuck, oh god, this can’t be happening to you, this can’t be real–

A low hanging branch you just barely manage to duck under catches on your back pack and you shriek, thinking he’s caught you. You pull your arms out of the straps immediately, risking everything to throw a look over your shoulder and just barely dodging a grab Aizawa made for your shoulder. Horror and adrenaline aides your steps as you jerk back, back, backwards, until you’re falling. The mud slides underneath your feet and sends you tumbling down a hill, rolling in disorienting circles, your tired body brutally scratched and battered by rocks and twigs in your path until you finally lose momentum some 15 or 20 feet below.

Even through your pain, you struggle to move again. You raise your head, hardly noticing that the rain had stopped in this area, clouds parting to shed some light ahead.

It’s a road. You can see cars speeding by. There’s people. There’s help.

But you’ve barely made it to your feet before a strong grip comes down on your shoulder, and you have a mere second to cry out before a fist drives into your gut so hard it drops you to the ground. Your stomach heaves, and you can barely roll over to prop yourself up as what little contents of your stomach are vomited up onto the mud. Oh god, it hurts. Fingers dig into your shirt only to hold you up for another blow, this time straight to your jaw, letting you collapse pitifully onto the forest floor.

Shouta is panting for air, but you can’t tell if it’s from hunting you down for what must have been hours, or from what the rising sun allows you to see in better detail than before. His face and eyes are red, hair wet and disheveled, mud and leaves all over his boots with a soaking wet capture weapon clinging to his suit. Looking down at your quivering form has him grit his teeth.

“Hizashi…” Mention of the blonde’s name practically makes you wince, and your shirt is grabbed again to pull you closer to the man’s face. “He wanted to come find you, but the doctors told him to be on bed rest, on account of his concussion!” The word is all but spat into your face, and you’re struck again, this time his swing hitting the cheek opposite than the already swelling spot on your jaw. Your fingers claw into the dirt, trying to pull yourself up, to claw your way to the street, but a weight pushes down on your back in the shape of a boot, all of his strength threatening to crush your lungs.

“He trusted you, you ungrateful little shit!” His heel digs into your spine, your fingers digging into the soil with how hard you tried to crawl forward. “Even when he’s drifting in and out of consciousness in the fucking hospital, he’s asking where his sweetheart is!! He’s asking about you!!!”

There’s so much emotion in the man’s voice as your arms are painfully forced behind your back, soggy cloth slapping against your skin as it’s tied into a tight knot around your wrists, your kicking feet quickly following suit. An unforgiving hand squeezes down on the back of your neck as it hauls you to your feet, letting you see the road and all of its cats and people.

“Was this worth it?” Shouta hisses. “Get a good, looong look at it, because this is the last time you’re seeing this ever again.”

You break down into hysterics as the sun breaks over the horizon, warm and orange and beautiful. Its light feels warm on your skin, a sensation you’d forgotten in your captivity, an experience that makes you cry harder as you take on breath after breath of the fresh forest air.

Aizawa has just enough kindness, or maybe it’s cruelty, to throw you over his shoulder, letting you watch the sunrise as you’re carried further and further away from it.

----

You’re in tears the entire ride home, laying down with your face in the backseat to muffle your barely contained sobbing. There isn’t even any appreciating the heat blasting out of the A/C, not when you know all too well where you’re heading. Aches and pains still wrack your sore body, bruises forming over your skin and face, droplets of blood scabbing over your smaller injuries.

Shouta says nothing as the car pulls into the garage, wordlessly moving to untie your ankles, work off your muddy shoes, and yank you to your feet, guiding you by a grip on your arm so hard that his nails threatened to break your skin. The Hero let his hand falter on the doorknob leading inside the house before his harsh glare turns to you.

“If you so much as use a tone with him, I will break your arm.”

You have a feeling that’s more of a promise than a threat, and you try not to cry all over again as he pulls you inside, shutting the door behind him with careful, silent precision. The house is eerily quiet, lifeless, enough to hear a pin drop, and Aizawa sighs. “He must be asleep. That’s good.”

There’s not really any time to linger on that, though. Shouta is already pulling you to the bathroom, all but shoving you in. “Wait here. Don’t you dare try anything.”

You’re shut inside, left with nothing but wet dirty clothes and your own panicked thoughts before the Hero returns with towels and fresh fabrics, laying out everything on the counter before finally untying your wrists, not that you get much time to appreciate it before he’s towering over you as some sort of silent threat. “Strip,” He commands. “you’re filthy and you need a bath.”

Trembling fingers clutch at the hem of your shirt, but the look in the Hero’s eyes is intense, and finding out the consequences of refusal is something you aren’t eager to find out. You aren’t even willing to turn your back on the man to risk any sort of sneak attack while layer after soaking cold layer is peeled away from your body until you’re left vulnerable and bare. Dark eyes seem to sneak a glance at your exposed stomach, your own following his gaze to find a large bruise forming where the Pro had mercilessly slugged you, a quick peek in the mirror revealing a similar one on your jaw.

It’s not comforting when you look back to Aizawa seeing that he’s removing his own clothes as well. You’ve hardly even opened your mouth to protest when he just gives you this look, one that has your teeth all but clacking together with how quickly you shut yourself up. Water spills from a silver faucet as the man draws the bath, making sure it’s the proper temperature, warm and soothing, and the grip on your arm is as strong as ever as he tugs you towards the tub, at least giving you the dignity of stepping in by choice before he’s quickly settling in behind you. A loofah was in finger’s reach when the man just smacks your hand, taking it for himself before beginning to dutifully scrub you down, being a little harsher than necessary to remove the caked-on mud.

“Filthy,” The Hero growls under his breath. “Scratches and bruises all over… must’ve been that hill.”

There’s a certain aching in your back with every scrub of soap in that same spot a certain educator had angrily slammed his boot into your spine. “Maybe it was you…” You can’t help but mutter, to which, without warning, your head is suddenly forced under the surface of the water, pulled back up seconds later as you’re left to choke and sputter. “Shut your fucking mouth.” It’s a threatening snarl almost directly into your ear, and he’s not attempting to be gentle as fingers all but claw across your scalp to massage shampoo into your wet hair. “Shut up, just shut up; I don’t want to hear another word out of you. If it were up to me, you’d be spending the next few months in your special time-out room in the basement, pissing in a bucket while you think about what you’ve done.” A once-over to see that your hair is properly lathered up before you’re unceremoniously dunked again with a hand on your head forcing you down, fear chilling your blood as you’re held there longer than before. Apparently cruelty was the only thing in mind when you’re finally allowed to resurface, Aizawa giving his own stained skin a quick rub-down.

“But luckily for you, it isn’t my call to make.”

You’re not sure if those words comfort or terrify you, leaving you in stunned silence as Shouta finishes lathering up his hair, the bathwater starting to turn a dingy color from your bodies’ combined dirt by the time you’re pulled out, a towel all but thrown in your face. If it wasn’t already obvious the man had no patience for you right now, it’s when he’s all but giving you a friction burn when he decides you aren’t drying yourself off quickly or thoroughly enough, all but forcing your limbs through your clothes, ready to tear out your hair at the roots as he makes sure every single discoverable knot is brushed out. Guilt forms a weight in your chest when you realize this was one of Hizashi’s favorite outfits that he had bought for you, as comfortable as it was expensive, a nice colorful shirt and some form-fitting capris.

The thought strikes you as odd that Shouta rolls each pantleg into cuffs above your knees. Asking him such a pointless question as to why would surely only anger him more, though, so you keep silent.

It’s painfully obvious where you’re being pulled to next, a closed and uncomfortably recognizable door sitting before you, one that Aizawa opens gently, slowly, like it was made of glass, like one wrong move would all but bring the house down, a tenderness he hadn’t been caring to show to you. You swallow hard. This is their bedroom.

Thick drapes are drawn to block out the light flitting in from the windows, beckoning the room to a mellow, shadowed lighting. Golden lashes act as curtains for closed eyes, resting and serene as Hizashi lied within a bed so large and familiar, quietly sleeping. Each deep breath inflated his chest, the comforters of the bed gently cradling the tucked-in Pro Hero’s weary body, one that sported bandages wrapped around his head. It sounds like from beside you, Aizawa sighs, his voice dropping to a volume that even you could barely hear. “He’s out cold, we should–”

“Baby…?”

It’s a weak voice, a whispering voice, something pleading buried within it. Hizashi’s deep green eyes cracked open, sunlight locks falling as his head slowly rolls toward where you two stood. “Is that you, Shou..? You and…” The man seems to blink wearily as those eyes lock onto you like a guided missile, swallowing as he pushed himself to sit up, grunting as if it brought pain. “Is that my sweetheart…?”

He sounds so tired, trying to fight off his exhaustion as he looks to you. “Is that my pretty baby…? C-c'mere, lemme see ya…”

The choice isn’t yours to make as Aizawa’s hands are ever too present upon your back, slowly but strongly urging you forward until you’re at the blonde’s bedside, standing right beside the hurt Hero. “There’s my honey…” Hizashi seems to barely muster a laugh, his fingers reaching out to touch you, shaking and weak, curling around your wrist to pull you closer, downward, until you sat on the mattress beside him. There’s a discerning look in his eyes as a thumb swipes over your discolored, slightly swollen jaw, looking down to see how scuffed and scraped your arms were, along with certain vaguely finger-shaped bruises. “Shou… you got too rough,” The blonde lightly scolds, brows furrowing at his partner. “I told you not to take it too far.”

Aizawa averts his gaze under his husband’s scrutiny. “They… resisted. I did what I had to.”

If running away in terror was what the man considered resisting, you’d hate to think what might have happened if you tried to fight back. “Still…” Mic just clicks his tongue, petting over your soft hair. “Where didja even sleep, hon? I saw some of the weather reports while I was in the—” He cuts himself off, humming. “Yeeeeah…. so… what did you do?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, not sure if you’re even allowed to reply as the Voice Hero lets his fingers trace up your arm. “I-“ Your voice cracks. “I… found a little, um… cave where the rain couldn’t get in.”

Hizashi just sighs, wrapping his arms around you to pull you close. “My lil songbird slept out in a bunch of cold, dirty rocks…” The man gently rocks you back and forth, squeezing softly, more of a sign of his weakened strength than anything. “And food? Did you even have any grub with you?”

“…Protein bars and some soup…” You mumble, and he just shakes his head. “God, why would you try to head out like that? You know you can’t take care of yourself, not on your own. You just don’t know what’s best for you, babe.”

It’s a comment that has your hands clenching into fists, but you say nothing. The blonde’s infantilization of you, treating you like some sort of helpless idiot, is quickly helping you get over what shame you felt for bludgeoning him just the day prior. Hizashi just snuggles you closer into his chest, toned arms helping keep you in place, unwilling to let go even as you look over your shoulder to see Shouta setting down a little handled box on the bed, white and sporting a red cross; a first-aid kit.

“I have to change his bandages in a while,” The Erasure Hero explains with a vague hand gesture towards the radio star, yet you can’t shake this awkward feeling of anxiousness even as Yamada uses a hand to make you look up towards him. Green spheres look behind you cautiously, meeting with something, someone that you can’t see, and the Voice Hero seems… upset.

“Are you sure you-“

Aizawa had began to say something as the dread building up inside of you only grew, and the blonde clutches you just a little tighter as he cuts the other man off all too quickly. “Yes, I’m sure, I want ‘em here with me, so just—”

The way the radio star is suddenly so much more expressive and emotional is screaming ‘danger’, but when you try to sit up, to pull back from his embrace, he just shoves your face into his chest, nuzzling into your hair as his voice is all but a whisper.

“Sorry, hon… we’re doin’ this because we love you.”

You had barely opened your mouth to reply when there are hands on your calf, calloused and strong, a sudden, immensely strong surge of pressure against your vulnerable limb until there’s a snap, and you scream. It’s an awful, terrible shriek of agony, and Hizashi pets your hair as spit and snot trail down your chin. “I know, honey, I know,” He coos, like he was trying to soothe an animal, like he was prepared for this as you wail. “I know, it hurts, I know,”

Pins and needles drive into your very veins, and you can’t even flex your toes without suffering shooting through you like fire. Your mouth opens and closes in some vague attempt at speech that released nothing but incoherent bawling, your eyes swollen and wet as you feel nothing but awful, awful pain.

“What the fuck did you do?!” It takes everything you have to scream out, nails digging into Mic’s arms to push him away, to tear into him, to try anything to see if he would let you go, to no avail. “What did you do?! What did you do?!”

Your screams vibrate the very walls of the house, devolving into desperate cries as you feel hands on that same leg again, one that ached and throbbed and stung to the point you couldn’t even move it. “It’s for your own good,” Shouta was apparently already prepared, producing a sort of strapped brace that he secured around your leg. “Don’t struggle,” His voice shook slightly as he tried to secure the leg splint amongst your wiggling and kicking, eventually forced to grab your ankle in a way that made you sob. “I made sure it was a clean break, but we don’t want you to tear anything. Just-just let us do this for you, alright?!”

You’ve never stopped screaming for even a single moment, your throat scraping raw from the pure primal shrieks of pain, Present Mic clutching you close as he rocks back and forth, even as you frantically beat your fists into his arms and chest. “Hey, can we give ‘em the meds yet? It’s killin’ me to see our baby suffer like this.”

Shouta hesitates. “No… not yet,” His words filled you with a dread you had never fathomed experiencing. “Kitten needs to remember this. Our darling will never think twice if we don’t let this lesson sink in.”

You’re all but ready to collapse as your stomach writhes and cuddles in your gut. “What lesson?! That you’re-that you’re fucking crazy?!”

Shouta only seems to huff, disappointed. “See? My point exactly.”

There’s not a single clock, not one with hands or numbers or LEDS to even hint at how long you spend sobbing, broken and feral, thrashing around until it hurt too much to do so. You’re still choking on your own breath, lungs begging for air, your sobbing so strong and desperate that it was causing you a massive headache as you’re trembling, absolutely trembling, forced to sag against your golden-haired tormentor as you swear you can feel your consciousness fading. All that leaves your mouth are pathetic, ragged whimpers.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts it hurts IT HURTS

Apparently the two Heroes finally decided you had suffered enough as you can’t even register the needle jabbing into your leg, a painkiller that helped ease this indescribable struggling of your body. Your breaths began to even out, eyes red and swollen from crying beginning to flutter closed as you feel Hizashi shift, a scared whine leaving your mouth as you’re placed onto your back in the bed beside him. “It’s OK, sweetie, I gotcha, I gotcha,” Yamada shooshes, Aizawa helping to grab a pillow to give your now broken leg some needed elevation. “You just have yourself a nice lil nap, you feel me? No more crazy adventures where you might get seriously messed up.”

The pure hypocrisy of one of them saying that makes you want to puke, but you’re too weak to even manage that. Two pairs of lips press gentle kisses to your face as the sedative settles in your blood, dragging you under the fake peace of slumber.

-----

“Hey, you’re gettin’ better at this, Energy Saver!”

“Oh, you think? I’ve had a lot of practice.”

There’s a tray propped up over your lap, supporting a plate with a healthy serving of food that you’re barely picking at while the two men prattle on beside you, their words hardly even registering in your mind. The three of you sat around eating dinner, Hizashi healing up beside you as you try to choke down Shouta’s cooking. “Shou’s cooking is pretty good too, ain’t it babe?” The blonde chirps, looking at you with a big grin. You don’t look at him. You haven’t even spoken for the past week.

“Hey, are you still mad?” Mic pouts. “C’mon, you an’ I are getting’ to spend so much time together now! Don’t look so glum! Can I get a smile at least?”

You do nothing but weakly lift the tray off of your lap, setting it in what little space was left between you and the radio star. His concussion was mostly healed at this point, even as Aizawa still insisted that his partner stay resting to be perfectly safe. The blonde had gained most of his mobility back, his shaky balance recovering from his brief stint with blunt force trauma, but you… your leg still ached constantly, and it could be weeks, months even, before your bones had fully mended themselves back together. To even go to the bathroom, one of them had to carry you, Shouta turning in many of his saved vacation days to stay home and look after his two beloveds.

It didn’t matter to you. Life was suffering now. You’re more trapped and helpless than ever before, spending every night sleeping next to a blonde you can hardly even look at without feeling sick. Your appetite was practically nonexistent, you take no interest in the puzzle books and movies and handhelds they gift to keep you stimulated. Every day, you just sleep and stare at the wall, not speaking, not doing… anything.

A night eventually came when you couldn’t take it. Your stress-induced insomnia had woken you up again for the third time in the middle of the night, and to see that stupid, infuriating, sadistic Pro Hero sleeping beside you, Aizawa curled up in a recliner, you can’t take it. You can barely wiggle yourself to the edge of the bed with how many sleeping pills that had given you, wobbly on your own good leg as you use the night stand on your side of the bed to help pull you up, struggling to keep your breathing quiet in fear that even a single gasp may wake them. Your hands brace against the wall as you struggle to even think. If you put most of your weight in your hands, then…

For just a fraction of a second, you put your weight on your broken leg, agony tearing through your entire limb as you suck in through your teeth, desperately going back to your other foot. That had just been a single step, and you’re already in tears, and propped against a dresser several feet away were a pair of crutches Hizashi used when his medicine made him light-headed.

It wouldn’t be surprising if you had caused some sort of extra stress on your fracture by the time you actually reach the crutches, but it’s worth it. The padded bottoms combined with the soft carpet make your departure from the bedroom all but silent, everything dark and shapeless as you find yourself in the hallway. You’re not even sure what you think you’re going to accomplish, but if you could just sleep by yourself, in your own bed, for just one night, maybe, just maybe it could bring you something vaguely resembling peace. Just a little more, just further down the hall—

Too overzealous. You’re not accustomed to using crutches, and a poorly-managed pace has you tripping to the ground, crutches slipping out of your arms and one smacking loudly against the wall. Fuck, fuck, fuck! You’ll crawl if you fucking have to! You were still struggling to try and get back up, fumbling with the crutches in the dark, when you hear a voice, one that gets louder and louder and more frantic by the second, making you panic as once again, you fall. There’s the definitive click of a lightswitch as the hallway is flooded with illumination, perfectly accentuating your pitiful broken form collapsed on the floor, clutching your leg in pain. You’re being scooped up immediately, kisses peppered on your face and your neck at a pace that made your unwelcome guest all too obvious.

“Sweetie, what are you doin’ out here?! Don’t scare me like that! I woke up from snoozin’ an’ you weren’t there!” Hizashi makes sure you’re cradled as carefully as glass as he’s quick to start carting you back to bed, their bed, completely invalidating your painful progress in a matter of seconds, the light in the hallway being shut off along the way. “You gotta stop bein’ so reckless. It’s crazy shit like this that means we gotta watch you all the better, y’know?”

Even more kisses, as delusional and loving as they are smothering, desperate, and he’s sure to set you down onto the soft mattress with the utmost cautious, quick to cocoon you in warm blankets. He’s like a little kid, the way he so eagerly crawls right up beside you, throwing an arm around your middle as he tries to get comfortable again, as well as a move to make sure any more escape attempts would jostle him awake. “Don’t do that again.” He whispers quietly, careful not to wake his husband, squeezing you closer as he nuzzles his face into your neck, hot breath ghosting over sensitive skin. “Don’t try to leave me again. I won’t let you.”

You know Hizashi well enough that he doesn’t mean it as a threat; he means it as a promise. That was all it took to make sure you didn’t move again.

They don’t want you to fret, though. Even as you lie there in their bed beginning to cry in despair, they’re only doing what’s best for you. If it meant keeping you safe, away from any and all harms of this cruel world, keeping you where they could watch you, keeping you with them, then this was all worth it. Your leg would heal in time, and it was certainly nice to be able to cuddle you in your doped, sedated state. As long as you behave for them like a good little darling, you’ll see how much they really do adore you, and hopefully, you’ll never have to learn that they would easily do this again.

Again, and again, and again, as many times as it takes, however many times it takes, as long as it meant keeping you in their arms.

#such an appropriate gif. helps set the scene of him being feral levels of pissed #yandere x reader #my stuff #yandere bnha #yandere boku no hero academia #aizawa x reader #hizashi x reader #present mic x reader

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