#the spaceship next door

[genedoucette]

Those of you who prefer my novels in audio will be happy to hear that the audiobook edition of Graffiti on the Wall of the Universe is now available!

[dragons-hoard-of-fandoms]

Somehow Codename: Kids Next Door has a more realistic explanation as to how Santa can deliver presents all over the world in a single night than the actual legend or any other interpretation does.

[poebrey]

I feel like there’s an easy solution here if Kira wants to be involved in the baby’s life and she’s already been living with the O’Brien’s for five months

[stareaterau]

Chapter 1 episode 4

←Previous episode

Next episode→ soon

Index

---

Time for some new characters perhaps?

CW: description of pain

Read below↓

Or AO3

Etho is relieved to finally have a moment of peace from that incessant beeping. It’s been driving him insane from the moment he woke up, surrounded by heaps of twisted and mangled space debris. Impact crates sat all around him, filled in and covered with the – barely recognisable – remains of old battleships. With some smug satisfaction, he’d spotted what was left of countless Vindicator insignias. They were marked on their dented hulls and scattered supply crates, their paint scraped away over time. The beeping had been increasing steadily, as Etho traipsed across the sand-swept wreckage, reverberating around his head in a way that made him worried that he’d suddenly developed a strange form of tinnitus… not that he hadn’t already been developing it for years thanks to his constant exposure to loud machinery. But now – as he approaches the rusting wreckage of a massive spaceship that rests, standing like a beacon, nestled atop a mound of its mangled brethren, its form surprisingly intact save for the side of its hull, the once sturdy metal gored open – the silence is deafening. After having grown accustomed to the constant beeps, the absence of noise is almost overwhelming.

Etho hoists himself up and over the mangled opening in the ship, grateful that his gloves prove to be enough protection against the likely scalding metal. He breathes a sigh of relief as his heavy boots thud onto the dusty metal flooring inside the wreckage. The cooler air hitting him immediately. The insulated walls and dim metal halls of the ship create a welcome reprieve after the blazing heat of the desert outside. Etho is not dressed for this sun, since the dark fabric and fluffy interior of his jacket are more suitable for the chill of space. Maybe if he’d known that he’d find himself waking up in a strange desert, he’d have actually dressed for the occasion. He pulls his hood down, shaking the sand from his clothes, finally protected from the wind as it peppers the landscape outside with sand.

Etho stretches, his long limbs cracking. With a sigh, he looks around the room he climbed into. It looks like some kind of barrack. Uncomfortable uniform beds line the walls and old, musty bedding lays strewn about the room. He grimaces. Those blankets look scratchy as hell. Despite his initial disgust, Etho would probably be tempted to pick one of the beds and not get up for days if they weren’t also covered in sand that had blown in through the fissures in the ship's wall caused by its crash landing, years ago. He assumes it was years ago, at least, considering the rust and the sand that has made itself home in every possible corner.

He walks out into the corridor, brightened by long strips of broken lights stretching down the hall in either direction. Tangled and fraying wiring hangs down from the ceiling, the panelling that was meant to hide them likely thrown and forgotten somewhere during the ship's rough descent. A ship like this should have plenty of rooms that could prove far more useful than a dusty dorm room. If he’s lucky it may even have a stocked storage room. The ship's crew certainly wouldn’t have run out of rations before their unexpected demise.

Etho turns right, padding down the hallway, periodically peering through the occasional unlocked door as he passes by, each one leading into increasingly dark and dingy rooms.The corridor leads him deeper into the belly of the ship, further away from the blazing sun’s reach. The interiors sit dusty, undisturbed and utterly useless. Not a single one appears to contain anything of use to Etho unless he wants to try and sleep on some of the sandiest beds he’s ever seen. He just woke up not even an hour ago, sleeping right now might be a bit overkill… and not all that useful. He needs supplies, food, anything. A weapon of some sort would be nice too, he doesn’t trust this dump to be as empty and dead as it looks on the surface. A planet with breathable air like this would surely have some inhabitants, no matter how harsh the living conditions. Hell, a blaze would probably thrive in this heat. Their dense fur and high body temperature would protect them from the worst the desert has to offer.

The thumps of heavy boots against the grated metal echo down the corridor. Etho’s careful steps do little to lessen the noise as the rusted hull groans in response to his presence. His tail drags behind him, through the sand and dust that litters the hall, pale white scales and grey-tinged fur drawing lines on the ground as he roams the winding halls.

He comes up to a split in the path… or well, it’s not much of a split. The corridor that should veer off to the right comes to a quick end, its flooring having collapsed in on itself, broken pipes and tangled wires hanging down from the ceiling. The floor is caved in on itself, twisted metal sloping down into the pitch-black pit that is the lower floors. Etho cringes at the creaking sound of metal that echos out of the hole. He doesn’t want to think about the strain the weight of the crashed vessel is causing on its fractured hull. The last thing he wants is to be trapped in this hunk of junk if its supports give way.

Deciding he’d rather not risk catching himself on the jagged metal… or falling void-knows how far down the dark pit. Etho, instead, turns left and ventures down the more intact corridor. At least there’s far less sand this way. Although Etho suspects the damage has already been done, he’ll be finding those persistent grains for months. Years, even. The lights above flicker sporadically – or at least the few that managed to survive the years in one piece – combating the increasing darkness with their cold, dim fluorescence.

Etho pauses, reaching up to flick one of the long bulbs as it fades out, causing it to sputter back to life for just a moment before dying out once again. Etho realises with a start that the ship must still have a functioning power source somewhere, Etho realises. It might not have much life left in it if these half-dead lights are anything to go off, but it’s better than nothing. This ship might still have some useful parts lying around. Etho could try fashioning… something from the scraps. Something that could help him get off this dead planet, or at least send some kind of distress signal, with the hopes that someone, anyone is close enough to hear it.

He’ll take anything that might prove useful while he figures out where he is. It’s better than his current lack of possessions. He’d had nothing on him when he woke up, which, concerningly, was not how he’d been before. Etho never left home without at least a knife or two, preferably a gun too. He’s not stupid. The last thing he wants is to be cornered by some Vindicator grunt without any means of defending himself. He’d never hear the end of it.

But, for now, it’ll probably just be nice to have shelter with some shoddy lights. While sleeping under the stars doesn’t sound too unpleasant, sleeping on trash in a sandstorm definitely does.

Etho picks up his pace. He can at least assess the damage to the ship's redstone if he can find the engine room. Until he knows what supplies he’s working with he can’t properly plan his next move. The thought makes him shudder. Being stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no clue where he is, no memory of how he got here, and no plan sounds like, quite possibly, the worst combination. Hell, graveyard planets aren’t typically in inhabited solar systems…if he’s really that far from civilisation, he’s fucked. The sooner he can figure out a plan of action the better.

Rounding a corner, the corridor quickly comes to an end. Standing in front of him is exactly what he had been hoping for. Another doorway the door itself, thankfully, resting mostly open. Albeit disconnected from the track that would usually enable its closure. Beyond its frame, flickering lights illuminate a room lined with control panels and overturned chairs. Lights pulse faintly behind dusty buttons and screens and wires stretch across the floor, twisting over and tangling with one another. He’s found the cockpit.

Etho grins behind his mask, the slight crinkle of his eyes the only sliver of emotion displayed for the lonely wreck. He cracks his knuckles before making his way over to the closest control panel.

He pauses for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought and hands hovering over the rusted controls. He never actually checked if he’s truly alone in this place. Glancing around the room again shows no more signs of life than his first inspection. He hadn’t noticed footprints at any point in his journey so far. Void knows there’s enough sand everywhere for them to show up. He’s well and truly alone.

Giving in to curiosity, he cracks open the console, prying off the loose screen, exposing the guts of the ship inside. Looking through the rusty parts, he investigates the state they’re in, hoping that any of the individual parts can prove useful. Who knows, maybe he can get the engine up and running and get out of here… it doesn’t look like it though. Holding up a particularly rusted part, Etho scowls, tossing it onto the metal flooring behind him with a loud clang. He continues to rummage through the mechanisms of the ship, anything unusable – which proves to be most of it – getting tossed, carelessly to the side with a loud clunk.

“...Oh, what the heck?”

Etho jolts at the voice behind him. Dropping the rusted redstone comparator he had been holding, in surprise. Spinning on his heels, Etho’s eyes land on a figure standing in the doorway, their face scrunched up in a frustrated scowl. They look like some sort of glare-blaze hybrid, judging by the green feathers scattering the right side of their face and the brown markings that tint their brow and the tips of their ears. The tips of their fingers are coated in that same brown, the point where the markings merge back into their paler skin tone hidden behind a pair of padded fingerless gloves. Etho notes, however, the figure's distinct lack of a tail, his own flicking to the side subconsciously. They’re dressed in a cuffed t-shirt and baggy, padded trousers. A singular grey knee pad is strapped to their right leg, though how much that would help them if they fell onto their other knee Etho is not sure. Their deep, dark eyes lock onto Etho. Huge, pure-black pupils boaring into him.

“Uhhh-” Etho stares, dumbstruck at his unexpected visitor. He'd been so sure that he was alone here. The metal dunes outside had betrayed no signs of life. All the ships look like they’d crashed into the planet, their hulls cracked and bent from the impact. It’s unlikely that any of their passengers survived.

“Who the hell are you?” The glare furrows his brow further, pointing an accusatory finger towards Etho. “What are you doing to my ship?”

“...Your ship?”

The stranger scoffs, seemingly offended at the insinuation that this mangled spaceship isn’t clearly his. “Yes, my ship! I found it first!”

Etho rolls his eyes at the childish nature of the argument, there’s no way of knowing who had actually seen it first. It's not exactly hard to spot. The massive ship stands like a beacon atop the mounds of twisted metal, it could probably be seen for miles across the ship graveyard.

“I saw it the second I woke up here,” Etho counters, throwing out a bit more information than he’d usually feel comfortable with, testing the glare's response. They don’t react.

Their brows remain just as furrowed, eyes just as piercing. A couple of seconds pass before their mouth contorts into an annoyed snarl. A small scar cuts across their lip, a gap in their teeth replacing the fang that should rest just behind it… Huh.

Etho runs a hand down his mask. He hadn’t realised that the stranger isn’t wearing one, nor a helmet. The air here must be safe to breathe. He decides against removing it for now, though. Maybe they just hadn’t dropped dead yet.

“Yeah, me too! You’re not special!” The other replies, crossing his arms. Etho frowns, the two sides of his split jaw grinding together slightly, behind his mask, in thought. So they had woken up here too, he concludes. They’re probably just as in the dark as he is, lashing out due to the fear of being lost on some graveyard planet with no idea how they got here… Or maybe they’re just like this.

“...I’m the one in the cockpit though.”

“You’re tearing the cockpit apart!” The stranger complains, striding over to a broken comparator, one of the many engine components Etho had scattered across the cockpit floor. They pick it up and twirl it in their hand, glowering at the state of it. Rust rubbing off the metal, staining their fingertips a ruddy orange.

Their dark eyes turn back to Etho, scrutinising him with their gaze. A mischievous glint crosses their face. They give the engine piece one last spin in their hand, before tossing it right at Etho. Hitting him square in the shoulder, the rusted metal cracking as it clatters back onto the ground by Etho's feet. “Ow- Thanks…” he murmurs

“It’s not gonna fly anyway,” he adds, brushing away a spot of rust from where the metal had bounced off his padded jacket.

“I can make it work!”

“Can you?” Etho raises a brow, he’s sceptical anyone would be able to fix a ship in this much disrepair, especially not this guy. They look like they’re more likely to blow up a ship than they are to fix one. The only thing this wreck is good for is shelter and spare parts.

“YES!” the stranger argues, their face contorted into an offended scoff. “GET OUT! FIND YOUR OWN SHIP!”

Etho stands up from where he knelt, hunched over the control panel. He wipes his hands on his trousers, leaving a smear of oil and rust behind on the green fabric. "…Fine, ‘s nothin’ useful here anyway. It’s a rusty mess.”

That only seems to rile the glare up further. Their green feathers bristle, standing on end, and a slight puff of smoke spills from their mouth as they huff angrily.

“IT’S NOT A RUSTY MESS! IT’S MY SHIP!”

Etho, paying their outburst no mind, strides over to where the glare still stands, blocking the doorway with their broad frame. Etho tilts his head, as he looks them up and down, sizing up the shorter, angrier man. They just glare back up at him in response. He snorts.

“Mhm, sure,” Etho finally responds, a sarcastic drawl to his voice. He pushes past them, knocking the stranger out of the way with his shoulder. They stumble to the side, letting out an offended squawk as Etho heads back down the dark corridor of the ship. He smirks at their reaction. Void that guy is full of themself.

If they want this ship so bad they can have it, it's not worth fighting over.

Maybe if he’s quick, Etho can find another, mostly, intact ship to seek shelter in before the sun sets. Preferably one where he won’t have to share with some obnoxious blaze-glare hybrid.

The gash in the ship wall he had climbed through proves easy to find again, thanks to the way it tears through room after room. He picks a door and makes his way through what looks like the remains of a small botany nursery. The plants that had once grown here would’ve helped to generate for the ship's crew back when it was still being maintained, but now it sits in disrepair. Its foliage withered and dry from neglect, the glass of their terrariums shattered and scattered across the ground. The only sign of life this room has to offer now comes in the form of a tiny, sandy rat, no bigger than Etho’s palm, sitting in a dusty plant pot. Though, it seems mostly unbothered by the enderian's sudden appearance, the shrivelled stick of a plant that it's digging its teeth into is clearly more important. Beady eyes follow as he picks his way through the overturned interior, careful to avoid the sharp shards of glass, even if it’s unlikely it would be able to puncture his boot's thick soles.

He doesn’t even need to climb over the jagged metal this time, the whole exterior wall is ripped out from top to bottom. The gnarled, torn edges of the floor and remaining walls the only evidence such a wall ever existed in the first place. Instead, he lowers himself and jumps down, landing with a clatter on the scrap metal ground outside.

The sun still beats down on the metal mounds surrounding him, the old wrecks sizzling from the heat. The topography shifts and ripples behind the torrid air. Etho blinks and holds his hand up to shelter his eyes as the metallic landscape reflects the bright light at him from every direction. He had not missed this, the ship had been stuffy, but it was at least sheltered from the worst of the heat. Etho had better find another shelter soon, he decides. Especially as the sun has now dipped far lower in the sky than it was before. He’d rather not be wandering the wasteland at night, at least not until he can assess how safe this planet really is.

Etho readjusts his mask – breathing in dust cloud after dust cloud probably won’t be great for his lungs – before beginning his descent down the mound. His pace is slow and careful as the scrap below his feet shifts and dislodges from its capricious position. Each step sends small waves of metal debris scattering down the hill ahead of him. It’s not the quietest of descents, but Etho can’t bring it in himself to care. Not when he’s already met and fallen out with, who is likely, the only person for miles.

He takes a deep breath before continuing.

The whistle of wind rushing through the trash peaks almost disguises a building ringing in his ears, the constant note mostly fading out into the background when he pays it no heed. Shaking his head, Etho groans. He almost misses the beeping.

He really should look into what had caused that… as soon as he finds himself somewhere safe to settle for the night. It’s far too risky to stay out in the open with the sun rapidly sinking in the sky. Not while he doesn’t know what kinds of wildlife might call this place home, and going back to the security of that ship is clearly a no-go.

The hairs on the back of his on the back of his neck stand up as a staticky sensation dances across his skin. Etho furrows his brow. That’s just another reason to find shelter. The last thing he wants is to get caught out in a thunderstorm. But, as he glances at the vast, cloudless sky, it holds no sign of a coming storm

Etho reaches the bottom of the metal mound, luckily only almost losing his footing once or twice. The moment his boot meets the sandy ground the ringing solidifies into something real, something vicious and sharp. He stumbles. It feels like hands are reaching into the deepest parts of his soul and wrapping their hands around his heart.

With another step electricity surges through his body. Etho buckles over, every nerve set alight in white-hot pain. A hook is driven through his heart. Etho bites his tongue. The hands pull.

His vision turns white.

Then red.

Etho keels over. His mind struggles for coherency as he clutches his chest.

He rips his mask off, struggling for breath as a haze settles over the world. Thick and suffocating. Shrouding the landscape around him until all he can see is his own shaking hands and the shipwreck, looming above him, mockingly.

A desperate resolve washes over him.

He needs to get back. It hurts to breathe and he needs to get back.

The ship is safe. It’s walls and shelter and shade and it’s safe. And there is absolutely room for two. Despite that glare’s adamant claims.

They don't need all that space.

Etho found it too.

They can share.

It’s massive.

He can easily stay there without even running into them once.

And it hurts.

And it hurts.

And he can't think.

And the world is spinning.

And he's clambering back over the gnarled ship wall. His clothes snagging on the jagged edge. The thud of his knees, connecting hard with the floor, echoing through his bones.

Relief washes over him. The strain on his heart easing slowly as he staggers back into the welcoming shade. With a huff, he slumps down in the ship's corridor as colours aside from the ruddy hue bleed back into the world.

Etho’s not sure how long he sits there, on the hard floor of the ship corridor, gathering his breath. The cool metal of the ship wall presses against his back, grounding him as his head slowly stops spinning.

But he’s not alone as he gathers his thoughts. Movement catches his eye as, across the hall, that small rat scurries into view, its dried-up twig abandoned. Beady eyes meet his own, unblinking as Etho stills, not wanting to scare the critter away. It’s nice to have some company that won’t attack him for daring to breathe the same air… hopefully.

Its pale, sandy fur stands out in stark contrast against the dark, grey colouration of the ship. He’s caught similar vermin hiding in the dark corners of his own ship before, but they had looked different. Their ears had been shorter and stubbier, their fur dull and grey to match their surroundings. Etho’s not exactly an expert on alien fauna, but if this planet is as uninhabited as it looks then the small rodent might actually be undiscovered. He watches as it slowly relaxes and begins to clean its long whiskers with its paws. It’s kind of cute. Maybe if he captures it and makes it off this forsaken planet he’ll be able to name the species. He’ll probably name it something scary. Like taxes.

Not that aiding scientific exploration should be his priority right now. He’s more likely to cook up and eat the rodent if he actually catches it. Food will probably be scarce in this desert junkyard, and Etho is awfully fond of not starving to death… besides, he’s probably eaten worse.

“You coulda leant a hand y’know.” Great, now he’s talking to a weird rat.

He drops his head back against the wall, inhaling sharply as the impact sends a jolt of pain reverberating around his, already aching, skull. Closing his eyes, he digs the palms of his hands into them. Today is going great so far. At least the beeping still hasn’t come back, hopefully, it’s gone for good now. Etho doesn’t want to imagine trying to think with both the beeping and fuzzy disorientation from whatever the hell that was, overwhelming his brain.

The only sound is the wind outside as it whistles through the cracks marring the ship's hull. It blows roughly through the rooms that are unlucky enough to share that exterior wall, creating a dull, rhythmic thrum, slowly getting louder as it echoes through the halls and – oh, that’s footsteps, Etho realises. Great.

The glare rounds the corner, dark eyes immediately landing on Etho. A scowl crosses their face. They’re clearly just as pleased to see Etho as he is to see them. Taxes scampers off, diving through a grate in the wall, at the sight of the other figure. Etho’s never wished he could follow a rodent quite as much as he does now.

“I thought you were leaving.” They plant their hands on their hips, eyes narrowing as they scowl down at Etho.

“Mm, I tried. Didn’t go so well.” Etho frowns, tearing his eyes away from the hole the rodent had vanished into.

He takes in the glare’s appearance. They look scruffier than before. Their hair is unkempt – well, more unkempt – it falls over their face in messy strands, green and brown mixing together in a muddy tangle. The green feathers scattered across their face are puffed up and dishevelled and their breathing is heavy. What had they been doing after Etho left?

“Huh? What do you mean you ‘tried’?” They ask, making quotation marks with their fingers to emphasise their point. An incredulous tone laces their voice. “Just walk away and find your own ship. It’s not hard!”

Just to complete their point, the glare strides forward in a mock impersonation of Etho’s own pace, coming to a stop in front of the enderian. They scowl down at him, not even trying to hide their distaste. If anything they’re exaggerating it. They place their hands on their hips in, what looks to be, an authoritative manner.

Etho rolls his eyes. It’s nice to know he’s stuck in this place with someone mature. “You try if you think it’s so easy.”

A childish part of Etho, that he’s not so proud of, hopes that the same thing will happen to the glare if they leave the ship. But then again, if that… sensation was indeed a product of trying to leave the wreck, instead of just a freak incident, that might mean he’s stuck with this guy. A thought that fills Etho with dread… It would be worth it to get back at them for taunting him, though.

“To… walk out the door?” They narrow their eyes, trying to figure out just what Etho’s playing at. Ethos face betrays no ulterior motives, though. Even with his mask discarded on the ground, his expressions exposed.

Etho nods. “Mhm. Bet you can’t do it.”

“Bet I can!”

That was easy… they’re way too eager to be right.

Etho pauses to think. If the beeping stopped when he reached this ship then this is clearly where it had been leading him. Etho wouldn’t be surprised if someone had put a chip of some sort in him before abandoning him in this wasteland… it wouldn’t actually be the first time. That could explain the beeping. It might even be the reason for what he just felt too. If that is the case, the glare is probably here for the same reason. Etho’s willing to bet they’ll feel the exact same thing. He’s also willing to bet that they wouldn’t believe him if he tried to tell them.

“How about this? You get the ship to yourself if you can get, mmm, 10 yards from it- the bottom of the mound. If you can’t,” He looks the glare directly in the eye, the inky voids returning an increasingly confused stare. ”It’s mine to scavenge for parts.”

They narrow their eyes, trying to parse Ethos logic. That’s not exactly a hard ask. “You’ll… leave me and this ship alone if I… walk… down a hill.”

“Mhm,” he nods.

The glare pauses. The last thing they want is their ‘beautiful’ ship torn to pieces for parts. What’s the point in finding shelter if you don’t pick the grandest option there is, damn it. This wager is objectively the stupidest thing they’ve ever heard, there’s no feasible way to actually lose it. They smirk.

“Your loss. Easiest bet I’ve ever made! Watch and learn!”

The glare turns on his heels, marching out of the hall with purpose. The sound of their footsteps echoing, loudly down the halls of the ship.

Etho relaxes slightly as the glare disappears from view. He leans back against the wall, mind still buzzing. The cool metal grounding him in place.

He waits. Anticipation slowly building.

The faint sound of metal sliding and clattering from the glare’s heavy steps meets his ears. Etho chuckles. They’re clearly not the stealthy type.

Etho’s amusement quickly dies down as a familiar tightness settles in his chest. He grimaces and steadies himself as he braces for round two as the ringing takes hold and the world falls to red.

He really hopes this isn’t going to be a recurring condition.

A distant yelp echos through the ship – shrill and startled – as the glare concedes their bet.

Etho breathes in a sharp breath as his heart tugs on its bindings. Vindication bleeding into his mind, through the gaps of his thoughts and pain.

He should leave the ship. Meet the glare on their ascent back up the shrapnel hill.

They might need help.

No.

They’ll come to him.

Etho waits. His mind slowly returning to its usual state.

He hears them before he sees them, their angry grumbles and stomps telling Etho all he needs to know about how they’re feeling.

They storm back into the corridor. Stumbling slightly as they steady themselves with a hand on the wall.

Wild eyes lock onto Etho. A fire burns deep inside, shining brightly through their pupils like a feral animal reflecting light in the night.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”

Their face contorts in a furious expression, as even more smoke billows out of their mouth than earlier. Etho wonders how much he can get them to do that.

“Told you.” A smug expression crosses Etho’s face.

“TOLD M- WHA- HUH- WHAT THE HECK?” The glare splutters, more smoke spills out of their mouth with each rapid breath.

“Just walk away, it's not hard,” Etho taunts, doing a poor imitation of the other, smirking as their face scrunches up in annoyance.

“...I’m gonna kill you,” they spit, marching up to Etho, their fists balled stiffly at their sides,

“You can tr- ohHH ACK HEY!”

[luvt0kki]

𝟎𝟎𝟏 | 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞

She don't give a fuck about nobody

And she got her whole crew poppin'

And she bend it over like she got no back bone

🎧 six feet under - the weekend

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ s.w.m masterlist ୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ taglist ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧

001 | next

pairings : ot8 x reader, (with a focus on Mingi and Wooyoung this chapter)

wc: 7.2k ( not fully proofread yet so sorry for any mistakes 🥺)

cw: mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, clubbing, alcohol, futuristic stuff that I had to google cause it’s been years since I watched Star Wars or scifi movies, nud1ty, hints of violence, hints of crime, slow burn, eventual smut, lots of teasing, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns and y/n, fembodied reader, mentions of segss work ( mostly just stripping), hints of violence

REMINDER : my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.

a/n: this is long I know 😭 but YES, look forward to part 2! Also I would really appreciate and enjoy like your thoughts in the replies or in my ask box hehe we can fangirl together for what’s to come

The former noble turned galactic nomad sighed as he stared out at the endless darkness littered with twinkling stars that maybe was a part of another system. It wasn’t that he found his life on the spaceship boring, in fact, he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

When his childhood best friend and also former crowned prince of their home planet, Jupiter, showed up after a year of escaping and denying the future laid out for him by the King, he had to know what he was up to. He had to talk to him and hear all about the life outside their planet and without the protection of their standing, the dangers, the perils, the thrill of the unknown and more.

Wooyoung then had not believed that his best friend, glowing with the freedom he had given himself, was right there in the bustling city’s downtown market. He had thought he had hallucinated and mistook the cloaked figure to be someone else but when his feet carried him to follow him, he was able to confirm that it was indeed his best friend.

Their reunion gave Wooyoung a chance at the same freedom Yeosang had sought after and a chance at meeting the band of brothers that he found that shared the same ideals. On his own volition without even consulting the Captain of the crew that Yeosang had become a part of, he decided that he was going with his best friend. Plus, what better way to create a reputation for himself as former noble turned space pirate? He liked how that sounded.

Which leads us now to the present…

Now he was part of one of the most revered and hunted group of pirates of the galaxy. Not what he had in mind really but he liked the life. The thrill, the danger and the excitement of it all. The not being told to act a certain way nor have his whole life planned to every second.

Was he buddy buddy with a bunch of rogue, violent and defiant pirates? Yup. He was one now too and the crew were like his brothers.

Sure he’s only known them for six months but there’s only so much you could do in a ship when you travel from one planet to the next, never ever really having a permanent dock. The ship was their home, his home…and the members of this crew were friends that he felt he was fated to meet.

But he hasn’t met one person of the crew…and he didn’t know that.

“Woo. Wake up. ” A firm hand shook him by the shoulder “We just docked at Xileon.” The calm and pleasing voice of their youngest slowly being heard in his ears as he gained consciousness.

“X-Xileon?” Wooyoung muttered, brows furrowing as his eyes blinked and squinted, adjusting to the soft light coming from his open door.

“Yeah, little fun rest stop. Well fun for me,” Jongho chuckled, excited to see all the cool technology and city life Xileon offered. He’s only ever been once when he had been an apprentice. Xileon was every science, engineering and tech geeks favorite planet, other than that the bustling fun night life it offered attracted all kinds of travelers across the galaxy. “C’mon, Captain says we’re free to do what we want while he contacts one of his informants.”

“What if I want to sleep, Jongho?” Wooyoung whined, sitting up despite his words.

“I know you’re always up for a party.”

“Now where did you hear that from?”

“Yeosang.” He shrugged, getting up from the edge of Wooyoung’s bed. “Come on, everyone’s going .” He clapped the raven haired man on the back, the impact making a little ‘oof’ escape Wooyoung.

“Yeah…yeah,” Wooyoung made a face, rubbing the back of his neck as he woke up. “I’ll be there…just wait a bit. Let me freshen up.”

“Don’t make us wait too long,” Jongho’s lips pursed in a childlike way, making Wooyoung chuckle a bit. As strong and intimidating as Jongho was, he was still their youngest and had an inner child that came out now and then.

“I won’t…I don’t want an earful from you anyways,” he snickered, playfully jabbing at him.

Jongho glared at him before leaving.

Xileon was a colorful fluorescent modern, futuristic jungle of a planet. The most high tech flying vehicles and motorcycle cruisers sped by the roads and streets, the avant-garde and neo-futuristic skyscrapers and buildings glimmered during the lively evenings of *Night City*. Clubs and the grandest of parties happened every night. The pounding music, the flashing lights and glittering champagne, and the vast choices of alcoholic concoctions called many for a good time but underneath all of that, it provided many individuals a guise to have dealings of a far more less than lawful nature.

If you’re lucky, Night City’s police would turn a blind eye. Just make sure you don’t get caught or were one of the most hunted wanted individuals of the galaxy.

Luckily for ATEEZ, they were never really caught…except for that one really disappointing and poor depiction of Mingi’s profile that was being plastered in every back alley or lamp post. It was a good thing it looked nothing like him and that that day, Mingi had been wearing an oversized leather cowboy hat that casted a shadow over his eyes so the wanted poster was practically useless. All Mingi had to do was not wear that hat ever again…he grumbled about it for a bit but he had let it go eventually.

The eight men stood in line for one of the top venues to experience the night life the city offered.

While their Captain and First Mate were here to do conduct business, the rest decided to enjoy the establishment as well as make sure they were there should anything go south. But as they entered, guided by a bouncer with a metallic high tech prosthetic arm, Hongjoong dressed in an exquisite Aegean velvet suit tailored to his frame like a glove, turned to them once more to remind them that this whole affair was likely not to be any trouble.

“Don’t worry too much and try to enjoy yourselves,” he ran his fingers through his dyed azure hair before adjusting the lapels of his blazer, some tipsy club goers passing by to leave eyed their captain’s slightly exposed skin. The rest of them garnered looks as well the more they walked into the place, the music pounding and colored lights flashing. “If anything,” he tapped by his ear, earrings glimmering as they’re caught in the lights, the little communication device Jongho fashioned for them hidden behind his and their earlobes. “I’ll call you.”

“But, really, please do enjoy yourselves.” Seonghwa smiled, raven dark hair sweeping perfectly to frame his handsome face. “We rarely get days like these. Have fun.”

The newest addition to their crew grinned like a cat who got the cream, eyes looking over the dance floor with a glint of mischief and the full intent to indulge himself in pleasures he was used to having. “Don’t worry, Seonghwa. I plan to do just that.” He winked at the women who looked his way.

“Oh, he’s in his element.” Yeosang chuckled, throwing an arm over his best friend. “Don’t get into that kind of trouble, Woo.”

“It’s trouble they want anyways.”

“Were you always this cocky?” Mingi’s nose scrunched up at his friend’s obnoxiously flirty behavior.

“Don’t act like you’re not a flirt when you want to be.” Yunho teased the crew’s gunner, poking his side.

“I know I said to have fun,” Hongjoong spoke as they made their way through the spread wide and lively establishment, passing several tables, booths and private rooms. “But do behave.”

That was their last exchange with the group before Seonghwa and him continued down towards the part of the club with another set of bouncers that led to the private and premium rooms. Straight to business while the rest stood by the railings that overlooked the dance floor and bar below, eyeing what entertainment tonight had to offer each of them.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Jongho turned to San, their agent, who stayed close to them, rather protectively, almost like a bodyguard. His posture was straight yet elegant with an air of quiet and unquestionable confidence, almost making one think that he may have come from royalty.

“Places like these…” San’s cat like eyes scanned the room, processing possible exits and blind spots. “Can’t be too careful.”

“Maybe some alcohol in your system will help loosen you up.” Wooyoung came to his side, eyes on the dance floor eying for a partner for one night, the ocean of people reminding him of the days he’d sneak out his father’s manor to party with the other elites.

“He doesn’t hold his liquor well,” Jongho stated, crossing his arms over his chest, a group of what seemed to be innovators, inventors and scientists out to have a good time catching his eye as one of them boasted their interactive hologram that displayed a model of an advanced hover cycle. “I’ll be doing some mingling.” He clapped Yeosang on his back as he made his way to the group cooly while simultaneously getting a shot from a hostess passing by.

“Seems like he’s done this before. Not so baby as I thought he was,” Wooyoung hummed with narrow eyes, watching Jongho easily join the groups conversation and a random woman sizing him up flirtatiously.

“We should get a table,” Yeosang suggested.

“A booth.” San inputted. “Specifically in that corner.” He gestured with a tilt of his head to the far right corner of the dance floor below. “I can keep an eye on things there better.”

“To give Sannie some peace of mind, we should follow his request.” Yunho placed his hands on their agents broad and stiff shoulders.

“I’ll get us drinks.” Mingi decided, heading down the aesthetically pleasing steps to the bar. His tall, muscular figure was clad in a fitting white shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows topped with a vest that cinched at his waist, boasting his defined v-tapered back. Little did the people who gave him double takes knew, beneath the leg of his trousers, strapped to his ankle was a knife and at the back of the waistband was a gun.

With Yeosang’s charm, the boys were able to secure the corner table booth that was a bit further away from the dance floor, it was private and one that definitely were for VIPs. What they liked was that it was close enough to where the party was but far enough that they can speak to one another while the music drummed at a less overwhelming volume. San sat took his spot on the dark violet cushioned seat that gave him a view of all the exits and entrances and for now, since it was just the start of a long fun night, they decided to have a couple of drinks and some food while enjoying each others company and the music.

“You need to relax,” Wooyoung tutted at San, unbuttoning another button of his shirt to expose more of his honey skinned chest. “When was the last time you fucked, huh?” He asked the former assassin.

“W-what?” San stuttered, eyes growing wide and ears tinting pink at the sudden question. For such an intimidatingly handsome man, he sure flustered easily.

Yunho looked over at San with concern, the last time San had been with anyone…was before Wooyoung had joined the crew…before—

“You never really told me your type?” Wooyoung wiggled his groomed brows, relaxing in his seat as he watched people dance, bodies pressing against one another, some fitting perfectly and rolling in tandem with whomever they danced with.

Yeosang quietly observed his friends, savoring each sip of his drink and mindful of their interactions.

“I-I don’t have a type.” San murmured, reaching for a glass from the tray Mingi returned with, who settled next Yunho on the other end of the couch.

“San’s not really the sleeping around kind of person,” Mingi’s deep voice almost melded with the low hum of the bass music.

“And you are?” Wooyoung scoffed at their gunner, his newly dyed pink hair catching the eyes of those that passed by them.

“Pleasure is pleasure,” Mingi shrugged his broad shoulders, ringed fingers cradling his whiskey sour. “But,” he reached for one of the thinner silver chains around his neck. He pulled out a specific one with a pendant. “I’m a loyal man.”

San stared at the pendant, a wave of melancholy washing over him as he recalled memories of who that butterfly pendant belonged to and who it signified.

“You’ve got someone?” Wooyoung’s interest was piqued immediately, forgetting the women he had been eying across the dance floor and now staring at the pendant that Mingi displayed proudly and pressed to his lips.

His smirk was answer enough for Wooyoung.

“It must be hard for them.”

Yeosang tilted his head. “Why’d you think that?”

“Because we’re rebels, bandits/pirates? Shall I go on and list the colorful achievements of our crew? Plus,” he turned his gaze to the dance floor, locking with a pair of eyes so magnetic that even behind the intricate lace masque she wore, just a small moment had him looking for them when he lost it. “Isn’t it cruel to make her wait?”

Mingi’s reaction caught Wooyoung off guard. He scoffed with a slight amused smirk on his face, as if what Wooyoung had said was funny.

“She’s not doing all the waiting.” San spoke without thinking before Mingi could reply, his eyes transfixed on the pendant until it disappeared back beneath Mingi’s shirt. His eyes returned to observe the happenings around him.

Wooyoung wondered what San meant but he didn’t have enough time to think much of it when another round of drinks arrived.

As the night progressed, the drinks emptied were quickly refilled and Wooyoung danced, mingled and flirted like he did back in his old life. Seonghwa and Hongjoong after having met with their informants had joined them at their table, while Wooyoung and even Yeosang danced, the rest deciding to play a game of pool.

Wooyoung was not blind to the wandering eyes that were on him and his very attractive crew members. Many flirted with them but it was never more than that. His friends entertained their advances but were quick to turn them down when they asked or suggested for more.

But he didn’t worry much about it, not when he was searching for that pair of eyes he locked with earlier. Where was she? He would catch glimpses of her now and again but she was always a distance away from him, and every time he tried to head to her direction and he lost her in his peripheral, she was gone.

Was he hallucinating ? He wasn’t even that drunk.

Soft fingers brushed the nape of neck, nails scraping delightfully on his skin. He knew what that meant. Grinning and letting himself go, he turned to entertain another flirty party goer, only to meet the masked beauty he was searching for all night.

Sporting what clearly was a shoulder length pink bob wig with bangs, her eyes were hidden behind a white lace masque and she wore the most alluring Mona Lisa smile that haunted his mind since he had seen her.

Wooyoung with his experiences back in his and Yeosang’s home planet, girls like her, like you, who came to happenings like this dressed almost incognito, meant that you were here for a very good time that not even your identity can be disclosed.

He smirked and placed his hands on your waist, pleasantly surprised to feel warm skin against his palms. With how packed the dance floor was, he couldn’t really get a good look of your outfit but from what he could see, you wore a bejeweled bralette with straps that were lined with tiny crystals and brushing over his knuckles as you both swayed were long beaded shimmering strings hanging by the band.

So who were you? Some elite socialite whose reputation was too good to ruin in a scene like this? A noble like he was looking for a good time? A princess of some other planet?

“Hey,” your sultry voice, like honey to his ears. “My eyes are up here.”

Your arms hung over his shoulders, giving the handsome stranger a quick look down as if you hadn’t been observing him all night.

The buttons of his black silk dress shirt revealed his toned chest, honey skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat beneath the party lights and his pretty neck was wrapped in a matching silk black choker with the extra fabric dangling in a classy fashion.

“And mine are up here too,” he teased back and pulled you against him. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Oh?” Glossy pink lips stretched into a smirk and shimmering eyes locked with his. “And why would you be doing that?”

“Because I’ve decided,” he turned you around, his hands on your hips keeping you in place against his own as the two of you danced to the music. His lips were hot against your ear while your hand rested on the back of his neck, rolling your hips sensually. Wooyoung smirked against your ear.

You wanted him just as much as he did.

“That you’re mine for the evening.”

“Yeah?” You tilted your head slightly to give him access to your neck, your eyes falling to his group of friends by the pool table.

“Not everyone gets that privilege, baby.” He husked, brushing his soft and hot lips along the column of your neck, breathing in your addicting scent.

Wooyoung wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol and the heat of the dancing crowd that was getting him so easily riled up but something about your aura was so magnetic and intoxicating. Was it because he hasn’t slept with anyone since he left Jupiter?

“Well aren’t you arrogant.” You raked your nails through his hair, shivers going down his spine and sending pulsing heat to his crotch. “Was that supposed to flatter me?”

His eyes shut at the delicious sensation of your touch. He wanted to get you alone, heck, he would have you on the dance floor if he could. He almost forgot how good it was to fuck after months of traveling the galaxy. He wanted to fuck. He wanted you.

“Don’t lie to yourself and say you’re not.” He brushed his lips on your earlobe, his hot breath against your ear and the way his hands roamed your body felt good.

God, how did his friends put up with his cocky flirty attitude?

“Is that what you want me to do?” You rolled your hips against his, completely aware of the growing hardness pressed against your ass as he ground his hips to the music. “Lie?”

“Trust me sweetheart, there’s many things I want you to do.”

“And what are those things?” You purred whilst tugging at his hair, your voice and your gesture spurring his desire further.

He gripped your hips tighter and lowered his lips to your neck, to the spot just below your ear. He pulled you closer to his body to feel the heat of your form on his own before letting his hands roam freely again, feeling the exposed skin beneath the beaded strings that teased every spectators eyes.

“I want you,” he growled against your skin, pressing his lips just a little bit. “Legs spread apart with my head between your thighs.”

The warmth of his hot lips and the lust in his words undeniably sent heat to your core, and the image he painted with his words was so tempting. Plus, the fact that that was his response set him apart from other men. Usually the response you’d get were more about their pleasure never yours.

You hummed at the thought before turning around to face him and meet his eyes. He wore that flirtatious grin and his eyes were blown with lust. They had a look in them that you found so sexy, you couldn’t help but play a little.

“You’re very bold.”

“I’m honest.”

“And what’s an honest man such as yourself doing here?” You caressed his cheekbone with a gentleness that made Wooyoung’s heart skip a beat.

“What do you know about honest men?”

“Well for one, they don’t spend their time in a place like this.” You swayed to the beat closer to him. “Secondly, an honest man always ends up with an honest woman. I’m far from honest.”

“Then maybe we’re just two dishonest people.”

He watched your pretty lips stretch into an endearing grin, their glossiness and plumpness pulling him closer to you.

“Maybe we are.” Your sweet breath fanned over his lips, your foreheads touching, so dangerously close.

“I wonder what you taste like.” His thumbs caressed the skin of your waist.

You grazed your lips over his just a little and Wooyoung could get a little taste of cherry from the gloss you wore while you slid a hand between the two of you. Your fingertip brushed along the exposed skin of his chest then the silk of his button up shirt before they lingered at the waistband of his trousers. Before he could even think about pressing his lips on yours, you turned your cheek and leaned in his ear. Your right hand skimmed over the hardness of his crotch, making a cute little gasp escape the strikingly handsome man.

His cock twitched beneath your teasing touch.

“Like heaven,” you purred.

His forehead fell on your shoulder as he bit his lip, holding back a moan as you palmed him through his pants.

“But…” your touch left his hardened member, the loss of friction making him groan. “Not everyone gets that privilege.” You echoed his words back to him.

Before he could react, his head dizzy and spinning from both the alcohol and your hot touch, you slithered your way through the crowd.

His eyes watched the pink of your hair amongst the dancing and close proximity of people. You headed to the back, to the dark red velvet decorated motif which was below the second floor where the premium private rooms were. You nodded at the two bouncers who guarded the velvet draped entrance, who smiled back at you.

Did you work here?

Before you disappeared behind the curtains to what he assumed was the private entertainment rooms, you casted him one last glance. It was like you were telling him to follow.

Wooyoung wasn’t the type to be whipped by just anyone. He knew what was worth his time or not but with you, he wasn’t even thinking. His feet moved on their own to follow you like he was under some spell.

“Hey, I found you.”

Jongho entered his peripheral.

“Huh?”

“Captain said his informant got us a private room as a treat.” Jongho’s hand on his shoulder started to guide him through the crowd, towards the dark glowing red area.

“For what?”

“For taking care of the man who was his competition. Even though that wasn’t our intention.”

Wooyoung frowned, adjusting his pants to hide his erection. Not really how he wanted to spend the rest of his night but if Captain calls, you do not make him call twice.

“Ugh,” he ran his hands through his hair, missing and imagining your touch. “Fine.”

If he was lucky, he was going to find you…

“This is…odd.” San spoke, sat on the curved plush couch between Yeosang and Mingi of the rather compact red room with just enough space for ten people.

“Why is that?” Jongho asked, pouring himself another drink, the golden liquid in his glass like honey.

Hongjoong made himself comfortable at his spot on the left curve of the couch, legs crossed classily as his eyes stared at the empty little platform in the center of the room, the silver pole glowing cause of the mood lights..

“Isn’t entertainment like this supposed to be for one set of eyes?” San wondered out loud.

It’s not that he hasn’t ever experienced this before. He has. It’s just more private when it’s him and the performer. He never thought of doing an activity with his friends…though they have indulged in some acts on the ship when a certain someone was around.

“Yeosang and I used to do this all the time,” Wooyoung shrugged nonchalantly, making his best friend’s eyes widen at how he threw that info out so easily. “Oh c’mon, they don’t care about your Perfect Prince Yeosang reputation.”

Mingi chuckled at their interaction and Wooyoung narrowed his eyes at his friend.

“Why are you here? Aren’t you a loyal man? Now I feel even sadder for your girlfriend.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Mingi pushed his black shades up higher to shield his eyes. “I am a loyal man cause no matter what, no one can compare to her. I wouldn’t be in this room if Captain’s informant wasn’t a dickhead who will take offense if not all of us accepts his ‘treat’.”

“Also, this club has a policy of not touching the dancers unless they consent,” Seonghwa added. “We just enjoy the show the lovely lady assigned to us will put on, tip her extra and that’s it.”

“And we can’t just leave why?” San sighed, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because the informants goons will report back to him if we turn down his gift,” Yunho explained, knowing the character of that rich man all too well. “Hongjoong still needs to be on his good side til he gets information of the location of the Cromer.”

A soft knock on the door silenced them and all that could be heard now was the vibrating hum of the music that played in the room.

“Boys,” Hongjoong spoke lowly, casting them a glance. “Play nice.”

Jongho raised his glass at that, leaning back into the other end of the curved seat.

“Good evening, gentlemen.”

Wooyoung stopped breathing. No fucking way.

Too lost in his own surprise of coincidence, he wasn’t able to catch the way his crew mates interest were suddenly piqued.

With you only being the one standing, Wooyoung was able to see you in your full glory. The purple lilac bralette bedazzled with sequins cupped your breasts so perfectly and the crystal beaded strings caught the fluorescent light in a way that made you shimmer and appear like a goddess. Behind the curtain of beads, all of them could see your naked skin but compared to when Wooyoung had danced with you earlier, the silk mini skirt you wore was gone.

Feeling all their eyes on you, you smiled coyly at their Captain, stepping your foot onto the circle platform in the middle of the room, showing off the skin of your legs that were elongated by your silver heels.

“Shall I get started then?” You asked, running a finger from your ankle to the purple garter on your thigh, aware of how their eyes followed the trail of your chrome lilac painted nails.

“It’s you.” Wooyoung breathed out, eyes tracing the waistband of the sorry excuse of an underwear that matched your bralette. It was tiny and flimsy, and almost left nothing to the imagination, except for what your pussy would look like. Wooyoung wanted to know.

Yunho glanced at his friend. How did he know you?

“Oh? Well if it isn’t, Mr. Arrogant.” You gracefully stepped your whole body onto the platform, circling around the pole while playing with the little crystal studded purse you brought with you.

Your words made Jongho chuckle.

“You work here?” It was a dumb question, Wooyoung knew that.

“What does it look like?” You shrugged your shoulders cutely before throwing your tiny purse to the curved platform behind them where you could play around some more if you wanted to.

“How long have you been working here?” Hongjoong asked, taking your attention from Wooyoung.

Smiling his way, you slowly sunk to your knees and ran your hand on your left thigh where your purple lace garter was.

The man before you smirked knowing what you were silently telling him.

Hongjoong dug into the inner pocket of his blazer and in between his fingers was a 50 Zaire bill. He leaned forward and without touching your skin, slipped the bill beneath the garter.

“Three months.” You answered him, sensually getting up to lean against the pole with your arms over your head, elongating your body for their viewing pleasure.

“I like your wig.” Jongho commented, eying you with a knowing gaze.

“Thank you.”

Wooyoung watched as you moved seductively on the pole, unaware of how San became completely relaxed and excited at the same time.

“Does all of this turn you on?” Wooyoung asked, eyes raking your body and feeling his throat dry at how drawn he was to you.

“Sometimes.” You purred nonchalantly, bending over a little to show the arch of your pretty back before expertly twirling around the pole.

“Earlier…were you lying to me?” He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs as he tried to meet your gaze.

“No.” You replied, locking eyes with the man in the middle whose hair matched your wig.

He lowered his shades close to the end of his nose, his eyes locking with yours and sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’re a good dancer. I had fun.” You admitted still looking at the tall man before you even though you were addressing Wooyoung.

“Are you having fun now?” San asked, surprising Wooyoung that he was interacting with you, his cat like eyes set on you and no one else.

“Because I’m here with eight handsome men rather than the sleazy ones? Yes I’m having fun.” You stepped your heel onto the plush couch, the men making space for you as you stood between Mingi and Wooyoung, your gaze down at Mingi who looked at you with stars in his eyes while the one behind you, going crazy with desire let his eyes wander.

Placing your hand delicately on Mingi’s shoulder, you slowly bent over, giving Wooyoung and Jongho the view of the back of your legs, your ass and your clothed cunt.

“I thought there’s a no touching rule.” Yeosang spoke, feeling himself grow hot, knowing the body his seeing all too well.

“I can touch any of you while I do my business since that’s what I was paid for but none of you can touch me unless I say so. So keep your hands to yourselves unless you’re putting a bill under the garter.”

You traced your finger along the side of your thigh, knowing full well that Wooyoung was watching your every move more intently than the others.

“Are you flirting with us?” Wooyoung licked his lips, mind racing with thoughts of kissing and feeling your skin.

“Maybe.” You winked at Mingi, making him smirk.

“Are you allowed to flirt with us?” Yunho asked this time and you moved to perch yourself on the platform/back rest of the couch.

“Yes I can flirt with you,” you nodded, placing your hands on your closed knees.

Wooyoung driven by desire, took out a 100 Zaire bill from his wallet and waved it your way.

“Open your legs.”

You obliged him, opening them an inch apart, entertained by how impatient he was with your teasing behavior.

“Wider.”

A little bit more.

“Make this worth all our time, sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes at his demanding yet bratty tone, you surprised them all by spreading your legs wide, unfolding them into a flexible split on the surface you were on.

“Fuck,” San swore under his breath.

Wooyoung revealed to you another 100 bill. “Show me.”

Looking him dead in the eyes, you pulled your purple panties to the side, revealing your bare mound to their eyes. Some of them swore, some of them let out a groan and some of them just continued to look while they bite their lip. All of their reactions made you suppress an amused giggle, you kind of feel bad for them but you kept a straight face, not wanting to give Wooyoung the satisfaction of winning in the cat and mouse game you were playing.

“Oh baby,” Jongho cooed lowly, the familiarity of the pet name causing a chink in your armor.

“By the way, we can’t fuck.” You threw the rule out there, enjoying the way the handsome man you danced with was breaking at the seams.

“Why not?” Wooyoung scoffed, eyes on the pretty pink folds of your pussy.

“I’m a stripper not a whore.” You adjusted the panties back to cover you and you closed your legs, deciding to crawl to the side where Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho and Yeosang was.

“Like I told you earlier,” you could feel Wooyoung’s eyes on your ass. “Not everyone gets that privilege.”

Mingi swiped the bills from Wooyoung’s hand and handed it over to Yeosang, who nicely slips it beneath the garter. You thanked him.

“Now, Captain,” you turned to Hongjoong, who was looking at you with his signature smirk and his pretty brown eyes shimmering with amusement. “Tell me, where on earth did you find this arrogant, cocky and bratty thing?”

Wooyoung frowned at the sudden shift in your tone. The way you spoke with Hongjoong was as if you two were familiar with one another.

“Blame, Yeosang.” Hongjoong sipped his whiskey.

“He’s not as bad as you think, love.” Yeosang sweetly spoke to you, his hand moving to tuck a strand of your wig behind your ear to get a better look at you.

“He’s just a little dramatic,” Mingi inputted, tapping at his thigh and like a pet called to their master, you moved yourself to Mingi’s lap, straddling his hips.

“More dramatic than you?” You pouted cutely, running your hands through his pink hair. “So…how long did it take you all to know it was me?”

“Not long. We know your voice anywhere.” Seonghwa answered, quietly admiring you with just a small smile on his face. “But it is a big surprise to find you here out of all places.”

“Hi baby,” you couldn’t hold back your smile anymore as you cupped Mingi’s face with your hands. “Did you miss me?”

“More than you could possibly fathom.” Mingi replied, leaning in to kiss you but you leaned back.

“You can’t kiss me. Well…not here. They’re watching.” You tilted your head to where Jongho sat. “They can see us but they can’t hear us.”

“There’s CCTV on the right corner of the ceiling.” San told the group.

“W-wait. Wait a god damn fucking minute.” Wooyoung exclaimed, looking at you, settled on Mingi’s lap like you belonged there. Were you Mingi’s girl? What were you doing in a place like this? “You all know her?”

You pursed your glossed lips and turned to them, feigning hurt. “You guys didn’t tell him about me?”

“It was a topic that didn’t come up.” Yunho admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s not our fault anyways, Mingi was gatekeeping you.” Jongho added, making the big man in front of you pout, a reaction that made Wooyoung reel at the sight. It was unfamiliar to see their intimidating gunner all soft and not…scary?

“When did he join?”

“Three months after you departed on your mission. We had to make a stop at Jupiter and Wooyoung recognized Yeosang, and he followed him, and now he’s one of us.” Seonghwa answered, eying the size difference between you and Mingi.

“And none of you mentioned me?”

“Mingi was gatekeeping you.” Jongho repeated, making everyone but Wooyoung laugh. He was still trying to grasp the new information of how you were Mingi’s lover and a member of the crew???

“Sure he was.” You rolled your eyes, moving from Mingi’s lap to the round platform to continue your little show for them.

“What are you doing undercover here?” Hongjoong asked, placing another bill on the platform to keep up with appearances and you bent over sensually to pick it up.

Was Mingi okay with this? Wooyoung glanced with wide eyes at their gunner. Was he okay with all of them seeing you like this?

Mingi was watching you with desire. He was reclined so comfortably on the couch, his thighs spread apart as he bit his plump lips at the sight of you entertaining them in the sexy skimpy number you wore. Was this a kink of his? Wooyoung wondered, unable to stop the way his face scrunched at his many unanswered questions.

“Because the information Vix won’t give you, I was able to get.” You told Hongjoong with a smile, and the leaders smirk morphed into a grin. “It’s amazing how flowery words and too much alcohol was all it took. I didn’t even have to take my top off.”

“Good cause I would’ve gauged his fucking eyes out if he saw what was mine.” Mingi growled, hands closing into fists to restrain himself from holding you to him.

“Will you?” Jongho confidently suggested with smirk.

“Will I what?” You coyly smiled, acting innocent.

“Take your top off?”

“Was seeing my pussy not enough for you?”

Wooyoung couldn’t believe the conversation flowing in front of him. He was painfully hard but his confusion and shock had his mind a mess. He didn’t know what thought to entertain or what he wanted to ask.

“Nothing is ever enough when it comes to you, doll.” Mingi muttered, tilting his head a little to the side as if to get a better look at you.

“So you have what I want?” Hongjoong casually glanced at the CCTV keeping watch of all of you.

“Yes I do. The timing of everything is kind of funny. It was Vix I was supposed to be dancing for tonight,” you told them, twirling around the pole. “I was going to get rid of him for you since he’s not of use anymore then I would’ve found a way to get to Xeres since that was your next destination for a restock of supplies on the ship.”

“Well it seems destiny is always in our favor.”

“So shall I finish him off?” San asked, rolling up the sleeves of his button up.

“Will he be any trouble to us if we let him live, angel?” Seonghwa turned to you, licking his lips when you were on your knees, sitting prettily before them.

“He’s not much of a threat. We should be more worried about his boss because he asked for me after I finish with you boys.”

Seonghwa leaned over to add more bills to your garter and San’s defensive posture softened.

“Which is why I’m amazed at the timing of finding all of you here tonight.”

“Is it the first time he’s asked for you?”

They saw your eyes flicker with fear for a split second and you shook your head.

“But he scares me.”

Mingi and San’s aura darkened at your words. It took a lot for you to be scared by someone.

“He knows a lot of things he shouldn’t know. He mentioned and boasted about the Academy when I met him. I was sure then that my cover was going to be blown.”

“So what’s the plan now?”

“Well since I hacked into his data systems earlier in his penthouse just above this club and took more than I came for. At exactly 2:27 am, the club will black out and we can make our escape then through the back door here thats used usually by the dancers to get in and out quicker for shifts.”

“What did you take other than the information about where the Cromer could be?” Hongjoong called your attention while his hand raised slightly in a gesture that the rest understood except for Wooyoung.

“Jongho, can you please hand me my purse please?”

They watched as you opened the bedazzled flap of the purse and took the bills beneath your garter and stuffed them inside, giving Hongjoong a glimpse of a glowing crystal that was one of the most sought after items of the galaxy.

Hongjoong only shook his head with a smile and you decided to turn to the new crew member.

“So, Wooyoung, right?”

He was caught off guard by your sudden attention.

“It’s nice to meet you and I hope we can get along well,” you warmly smiled at him, your pretty face glowing beneath the colored lights.

“Two minutes,” San checked the time on his watch.

“Oh, fun.” You giggled, sitting on the edge of the platform.

“Can you even make a run in those?” Wooyoung glanced at your very high heels, trying to remove the image of your pretty pink pussy that you had flashed to them.

He remembered your exchange from earlier.

What do you taste like?

Like heaven.

It was against his morals to want to fuck someone that was someone else’s lover. You were Mingi’s and Wooyoung couldn’t deny the fact that he was burning with jealousy with the thought of you being touched by Mingi.

“She could kill in those,” Yeosang answered for you. “So back door?”

“End of the hall, camouflaged with the wall.”

“I missed you so much baby.” Mingi groaned getting up and placing his large hands on your waist.

“Me too. More than you know.” Your voice softened, no longer in the facade of the identity you’ve been using.

“Ten seconds.” San announced.

“I’m not gonna let you run around like this.” Mingi slid his hands to your hips, biting his lip at the tiny piece of underwear covering the heaven between your thighs.

“Here, Y/N.” Yunho handed you his blazer. “Wear that.”

“Thank you, Yuyu.”

His blazer was like a dress on you and it made you look so tiny. Wooyoung pushed his hair back, trying to ease his frustration of both lust and knowing too late about who you are. He was also a little scared of how and when Mingi will confront him later because he was flirting with you.

“Good to have you back, Y/N.” Was all Hongjoong said before the whole establishment was enveloped in darkness and the nine of you made your escape.

A small squeak came from you in the darkness because Mingi had thrown you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, and he carried you easily as you all made your exit.

When the bouncer, one of Vix’s goons, checked the room when the power came back on, he began to sweat nervously at the emptiness he was met with. He was going to be in big trouble.

Jongho hijacked a black van and used it to drive the nine of you to where the ship was docked, which was going to be a solid thirty minutes to get to.

Your soft giggles was a pleasant sound to all their ears as Mingi was all over of you in the back of the van.

“We’re glad to have our favorite girl back.” Seonghwa smiled fondly, watching as Mingi attacked your neck with kisses and his hands tickled your sides causing the very missed melodious laughter to fill the van.

The Vice Captain looked to his left to check on the members all of them well and in one piece minding their own business and checking the parameter if anyone was chasing the crew. Seonghwa spotted Wooyoung staring at you and Mingi through the tinted windows, his Adam’s apple bobbing deeply as he swallowed what he could see was envy mixed with desire.

“You okay there?” He quietly asked their new member.

“Huh? What?” Wooyoung responded as if broken out from a trance. “Oh,I- uh, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Y-yeah. Just…” he paused wondering if he could confide in Seonghwa but the handsome older man’s gentle eyes was hard to say no to. “Just shocked that’s all.” He decided to not share his deep feelings.

Seonghwa knew and could tell that Wooyoung was attracted to you, and he knew he was feeling conflicted for feeling that way especially after seeing how you and Mingi acted.

Wooyoung gave him a small smile before turning to the window again, staring at the buildings they passed by.

As Seonghwa left him with his thoughts, he wondered how he was going to break it to their newest member the true nature of the crews relationship with you. How kind of unorthodox it was….How Mingi was not your only lover but theirs as well.

taglist : @endeav0rsb1tch @eastleighsblog @scarfac3

Thank you for reading! Make sure to like and reblog hehe 💕

[ourautumn86]

bestfriends dad!joel !!

my dad’s best friend

joel miller x fem! reader

summary; you liked your dad’s best friend. and also liked to grab his attention.

cw; +18 content! minors dni!, age gap (reader is over 21), teasing, sexual tension, piv sex, unprotected piv sex (guys don’t do this and wrap it up), fingering (r receiving), tit play, hickeys, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talking, praising, praise kink, use of pet names like baby girl and princess instead of y/n, squirting…

you knew you shouldn’t feel this way about your father’s best friend. it was wrong, to look at him the way you looked at him. for fucks sake, he was years older than you. but you couldn’t help it. couldn’t help to stare at his strong big arms as he worked on his farm. or squeeze your thighs when he’d raise his voice while questioning intruders.

it was sick, this infatuation that you had over him. sick the way you moaned his name out loud at night when your dad would be out ‘till late. sick the way in which you’d wear short clothes when you knew he’d be around. walking around your house with the tiniest of pijamas on those summer nights when your father would invite him over for a drink.

since the very first day, when you had met him at your 18 years old, you had felt something shift in you. you’d never really been interested in boys as you grew up. and it wasn’t because they weren’t cute. jackson guys were cute, you’d hooked up with a few of them. but they weren’t him.

him and his chocolate brown eyes, him and his dark hair graying from the rough years on his shoulders, him and his broad shoulders and beautiful yet rare smile.

he had what every other person seemed to be lacking. he was the first person who made you blush, or had you sleepless, even the only one who had made you feel those stupid fucking butterflies. even now, years later.

it was stupid. ‘cause you were 30 years younger than him. and you knew he’d never make a move on his best friend’s daughter. who he had known since before the outbreak. —it had been a real emotional surprise to not only meet once again with his brother, but his best friend too when he had arrived at jackson 5 years ago with a little sarcastic teenager that you now adored—.

but you still prayed that he would look at you. craved it.

your father had gone away to the next town in search of supplies. it would take him the whole weekend to get back. and as always, no matter how old you’d get, he would ask joel to come and check on you. it was late afternoon when he knocked on your door. you were on a simple white sleeveless shirt and a pair of blue cotton panties. your hair was down and perfectly brushed, and you smelled like soft fruity soap.

“hi joel.” you smiled, and opened the door for him so he could enter.

“hey honey.” he smiled, and you laughed, letting him in. “how was you day? missing pops yet?”

you rolled your eyes. “you shouldn’t have come. my father is just overprotective. i’m fine on my own.” you filled up a glass of whiskey and refilled your own, passing it to joel.

he accepted it, and took a swing.

“well it’s not a problem for me. i worry too.” he shrugged and you scoffed.

“joel i’m a big girl, i can take care of myself.” you said.

“i never said you couldn’t, darling.” he smirked and you tried to hide how your cheeks slightly flushed. “what were you doing? reading?” you hummed, getting back to the sofa where you had been sitting.

“yeah. ellie lent this comic about an spaceship. it’s not bad.” joel tried not to look at your ass as you gave him your back and hummed. “how was your day?”

he shrugged. “nothing worthy to talk about.”

“saw dina and ellie today.” joel sat beside you, facing you just the slightest with his legs spread wide. “they seem to be doing good.” he chuckled.

“yeah. dina’s really nice. and ellie likes her. a lot. but they are a menace together.” he sighed and you smiled.

“and why is that?” he shook his head, grunting and you nudged him. “come on.”

“it’s just that they keep trying to set me up with someone. they say the house feels too big for just me alone.” your breath hitched in your throat at his next words. “maybe they’re right…”

“well? have you got anyone in mind then?” you inquired and he sighed.

“i do.” you heart jumped. “but it’s complicated.”

“how so?”

“ ‘cause she’s beautiful, and smart, and sweet… and young. much younger than me.” he sighed and your heart hammered against your chest. “and well… i’m on my late fifties, and i can’t compete with the boys her age.”

“joel, stop. you’re amazing, and handsome. i assure you there are a lot of women fawning over you. you should listen to them when you work on the farm on summer and it’s too hot to wear a shirt.” you bit down on your lip, looking at the exposed patch of hair on his chest that peeled through the unbuttoned buttons of his green shirt. his eyes focused on you, and his vision went fuzzy, ‘cause fuck, he could see your nipples through your little shirt. “or when you’re surrounded by the kids of the town… they are really clear about how badly they want you to give them a child.” you smirk, and take a sip on your cup. “have you ever told her that you actually like her?” you muttered and he shook his head, trying to not stare at your shiny lips. ‘cause if he did he couldn’t help but think about them around his cock. and it would be a disaster if he got hard in front of you. but he couldn’t ignore anymore the fact that you were staring at him like you’d actually love to get on your knees for him.

“well… there’s this thing…” you hummed, and tried to hide the little shake the electricity that went through body when his warm calloused and big hand fell on top of your naked thigh. “is that his father… might actually kill me.” you blushed, and you eyes shone.

“oh yeah?” you inquired, eyebrows arching, and he leaned closer, taking your cup to push them aside.

he hummed. “i guess no father would like his daughter getting fucked by their best friend.” his breath was hitting your lips, and his eyes were stuck on the alcohol wetting your bottom one.

“and where’s her father tonight?” you teased, and he smirked.

“not around to catch me kissing his daughter.” he said before his mouth was on yours, kissing you with a need and desire that had your legs trembling and your heart shaking. you moaned on his lips, opening your mouth for his tongue as your hands tangled on his hair and his hands tugged from your hips to sit you on his lap.

“joel…” you whimpered when his fingers dug on your ass, kissing your neck and thrusting you against his cock.

“fuck. been wanting to do this for so long baby… had me going insane with this tiny clothes of yours, looking so beautiful every time i come around. you’re just waiting to be fucked, aren’t you?” you nodded, whining at the feeling of his lips on your neck. one of his hands pulled from your crop top, letting your tits spill out for his mouth to latch onto. “prettiest tits i’ve ever seen.”

his free hand pushed inside your panties, fingers soaking wet.

“joel…” you moaned when he groaned.

“you’re so fucking wet baby…”

“need you please. i need you…” you whimpered.

“shhh. patience baby. need to stretch you out for my cock first.” you moaned when two of his fingers pushed inside, easily sliding in due to how soaked you were. your mouth hung open as he started to fuck you with his fingers. they were so fucking thick it almost hurt, but it hurt so good… “that’s it.” he smirked, kissing your jaw. “taking my fingers so fucking good… atta girl.” you moaned. “you liked that baby? like it when i call you my good girl?” you nodded, riding his fingers, which now thrusted against your g spot.

“joel… please…” you whimpered.

“please what, hm?”

“please fuck me, please…”

he cooed. “ i will honey, don’t worry. i’ll fuck you so good you’ll be dripping for a week.” you moaned. “gonna stretch your pussy out, princess.” you nodded as you helped him unbutton his jeans, whining when his fingers slipped out of your cunt. pre cum was dribbling out of the tip of his cock by the time it had sprung free, resting against his lower stomach, and you were aching for him to fuck you. he was big and thick, with veins on the sides and the prettiest red tip. you were drooling to have him in your mouth and choke on it. you’d dreamed about him fucking his dick down your throat so much… “why don’t you rise up your hips for me, hm princess?” he inquired you, and you quickly followed his request. “that’s it. atta girl.” you moaned when he aligned himself to your pussy, the tip gliding through your folds. “gonna let me fuck you raw, baby? cum inside of this pretty cunt of yours?” you nodded and he groaned, moaning with you when he slowly started to slide inside. your nails dug on his shoulders. ‘cause it hurt. but you didn’t want it to stop. you needed him to fuck you full and stupid. “so fucking tight.”

“fuck, joel…” you whimpered, already feeling so full even when he hadn’t finished settling himself inside.

“so good… being such a good girl for me, darling…” your back arched at the feeling of his lips on your nipples, sucking and biting on them.

by the time you had fully sat down on his cock, the tip was hitting your cervix and leaving you completely cock drunk on top of him. little moans were leaving your mouth with every one of his thrust, his hands pulling from you up and down, groaning at the incredible feeling of your wet warm walls.

“pussy so good. shit. you’re mine now, baby. best pussy i’ve ever had.” he sighed, slowly fucking into you, watching your tits bounce with every jump. “if only daddy could see you now, baby. see how his little girl is letting me fuck her in his own fucking house when he’s gone… fuck.” you moaned, your hips now harshly grinding against him in need, your mind completely gone by this point. you only could think about riding him, making his cock reach deeper and deeper inside of you, of him cumming and filling you up to the brim.

tears were brimming your eyes. “joel…” you cried, your cunt squeezing his dick at his words and making him grunt. “harder.” you begged, and he groaned against your neck. “i need it deeper.”

his grip on your hip bones was painful, but he was giving you what you had asked for.

“joel, fuuck!” your whimpers and moans were coming out slurred by the animalistic pace in which he was pistoning his cock into your cunt. you were gonna cum. you were gonna cum so hard and soon that it was embarrassing. but you couldn’t help it. “i’m gonna cum! imgonnacumimgonnacumimgonnacum!” you babbled out, panting by the time one of his hands had reached down in between your bodies to rub at your clit.

“cum for me baby. cum for me.” he grunted, sucking a hickey on your cleavage. and he didn’t have to ask twice. you screamed as you reached your high, feeling your walls spasm around his dick over and over again as you rode out the best orgasm you’ve ever had. “that’s it. fuuck. so good ,baby girl. shit. you’re gonna milk my cock dry.” you moaned, whimpering when in a quick movement he laid you on the sofa and took a hold of your legs to push them against your chest and continue fucking your brains out.

“joel!” your voice was sore and dying due to your loud moans and whines, your orgasm growing until the point where you couldn’t take it anymore and felt yourself squirting all over his cock and stomach. he moaned.

“fuck. i’m gonna cum, baby.” he grunted, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

“inside. cum inside please.” you pleaded.

“yeah? you want it inside, pretty girl? want me to fuck you full of my cum? fuck a baby into you?” you were muttering ‘yes’ over and over again, dizzy on your high, which seemed to never finish. “fuck. i’m cumming.” he grunted, with two more thrusts spilling himself inside of your tight cunt and painting your walls with his cum. you let out a pathetic moan when you felt it. wanting him to fill you over and over again.

he was whimpering and panting in your ear, fucking you both through it and later falling into your arms, leaving his dick plunged inside to make sure no drop of his cum would come out.

“i guess this means she likes me too…” he muttered against your chest and you clicked your tongue, playfully slapping him on the back and making him chuckle. you two laughed.

and maybe…, fucked a little more.

-

a/n; sorry for the waiting, hope y’all liked it! 🩵

[seat-safety-switch]

Don't you hate it in science fiction when the protagonist knows exactly how something works, right down to the theory and components? That pulls me right out of the story. I don't know how a garage door opener works, you probably don't either, so I wouldn't spend four paragraphs explaining it to a hot alien chick I just met. I'd be too busy asking her if she has Craigslist on her phone.

I can absolutely understand why authors want to do this, though. When you're writing a novel, the blank page is terrifying. You fill it with what you know, and if you've been studying "cool spaceships," it turns out that will be top of mind for a little while until you discover a Wikipedia article about a new kind of gravity. The same thing happens at parties. If you ask me about the weather, the conversation will inevitably degenerate into a discussion of exactly when you need to start looking for oversized crankshaft bearings and what kinds of semi-truck batteries are the right size to steal for use in a car. It's detail you don't need, in other words, but that I have in large quantities.

What's the solution for this? Knowing nothing at all. Studies have shown that the less you know, the happier you are. Doing these studies made the scientists involved sadder, which is basically a peer-review if you ask me. The less you know about a subject, the more easily you can let the plot take over. For instance, I don't have a really solid idea of where on the map Egypt is, but if you asked me to throw together a novel about it, it would probably be a pretty good banger until the halfway mark where they find an old Jeep that doesn't run and the next two hundred pages are a regurgitation of the Haynes manual's wiring diagram section. Come to think of it, that would be an amazing book.

So in conclusion, try to know less tomorrow than you know today. Go out there and forget a whole bunch of stuff. Head to your local public library and rub your face on the books until the ideas come back out of your brain and embed themselves inside the pages, where they belong. And then get back home, grab your 1977 Royal Sahara typewriter, which is really a rebadged Triumph-Adler, and re-lube the strike hammer elbow to get rid of that weird little squeak in the spaceb – oh no, it's happening again. I gotta get to the library.

[star-writr]

The Music Room

Another 10th Doctor x reader drabble. Requests are appreciated. You can also find this on my Ao3. Reader is gn and plays guitar. Enjoy!!

You had always been the TARDIS's favourite companion. Every-so-often, the spaceship would make a whirring noise in your presence, and if the Doctor was around he would smile and tell you: "she says you're the best person I've ever brought on board". It always made you chuckle and stroke the control panel in an attempt to return the flattery, which made the Time Lord either sarcastically ask if you two wanted to be alone, or look at you quietly with a gleam in his eye before suddenly announcing your next adventure.

As if that wasn't enough to make you see that the TARDIS had a weak spot for you, she would always find ways of comforting you when something was wrong; before you could even sigh with exasperation, you'd be distracted from your troubles by a familiar smell of blackberry pie, or by your favourite song playing faintly on a radio somewhere, or by a book dropping next to you on the cold pavement from god-knows-where.

In a similar occasion, returning in the TARDIS after almost dying as usual, the ship's hallway lighting threw you off a bit. You were just trying to reach your room, only wanting to collapse on the bed, but it was almost as if she didn't want you to, leading you in a different direction. The blinking light bulbs guided you until reaching a door; it looked exactly the same as all the others, so at first you couldn't understand what made it so special that the TARDIS wanted you to find it. As soon as you saw what was inside, however, everything else slipped off your mind.

It was a room full of instruments. There was a huge piano between some marble columns, resting on a glass pedestal; a drum set occupied a nearby corner; and, shifting your vision, you were greeted by the biggest guitar and bass collection you had ever laid eyes on. Every last one of them looked like it had been taken straight out of your dreams and into that room.

Since then, you had found yourself visiting that paradise every time you had the chance. You already knew how to play a guitar, so you usually handled those, shifting between different models. There were brands you had heard of and brands you didn't recognise, and they came in every possible colour imaginable. You were fond of all of them, especially the more extravagant ones with unusual shapes.

The Doctor was aware of how you spent most of your time on the TARDIS, and didn't have anything against it. You wouldn't lock the door or anything, so everytime the Time Lord wanted to check up on you, you'd let him. Sometimes he'd linger in the room, sit down on the floor while you attempted to read a music sheet, or he would suggest you played something so he could sing it. The Doctor wasn't very fond of or very good at singing, but it gave him an excuse to stay with you a little longer, and that was enough for him. On very rare occasions, he would also ask you to tutor him. Of course, he had picked up many guitars in his 900+ years of life, and knew perfectly well how to play, but again, he wanted to spend time with you without admitting it was for no reason other than his fondness of you. Honestly, his hearts melted every time your fingers stroke those strings, making him helplessly realize that he couldn't get away, and that he didn't want to. Therefore, he obliged to his feelings, staying by your side as long as possible. And you were more than okay with it.

With time, your bond grew stronger, making you question your feelings again and again. The music room kept almost all of your attention on each other, so to avoid feeling helpless your ritual started to take place in complete silence. Aside from monosyllabic replies to monosyllabic questions, you and the Doctor didn't talk as much as before, but it went without acknowledging, growing on you both. That habit came to a halt when the TARDIS made the first move instead of either of her passengers, tired of the mutual pining and determined to fill the silence that had grown inside the room. After all, it was a music room. It wasn't meant to be quiet.

She made sure it didn't go silent ever again by doing the only thing she could, which was locking both of you in. As soon as you realized the door wouldn't open, it startled you.

"What if there's something wrong with the TARDIS, Doctor?" you worried, while he tried to get the door open with his sonic.

The alien sighed. "The only thing wrong here is her attitude," he mumbled, "she's doing this deliberately. Let us out!"

You were confused. "How do you know? Why would she do that?"

The Doctor stopped in his tracks, putting one index finger on your lips, shushing you, and the other on his own. The TARDIS was speaking to him. A few expressions made their way onto his face, substituting each other and, once the spaceship's whirrs quieted down, shifting into a frown. The first thing he did was thank the stars that you couldn't understand the TARDIS. The second thing he did was curse everything because you didn't understand the TARDIS and he had to tell you everything himself.

"What happened? What did she say?" you whispered, his finger still on your lips. He removed it quickly and took one good look at your unaware expression.

The Doctor acknowledged the knot in his stomach and looked away, unable to keep eye contact with you. You were gorgeous to him, too gorgeous to ignore. It would've made him stutter, and he hated stuttering.

"There may or may not be something you need to know" he started.

"About what?"

"About..." about how much I want to kiss you, the Doctor thought. "...about me."

You raised an eyebrow. "And what about the TARDIS?"

"She locked us in here because she's giving me no choice but to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"The thing. About me. The thing you don't know."

"Yes, I know that. But what is it, then?"

It was one of the very rare times when the Doctor genuinely did not know what words to use, which was worrying considering how much the Doctor liked words. He got out of life threatening situations with words. He also got into those same life threatening situations with words. He liked words, he really did. He also liked you. Considering he liked both you and words, the realization of not knowing what words to use with you was like a slap on the cheek. Specifically, it was exactly like one of those slaps only mothers gave him. Specifically his companions' mothers. He remembered Martha Jones and her mother. He also remembered Donna, but not her mother, because it was Donna herself who slapped him a couple times. Maybe more that a couple. She would've probably slapped him now. "Tell them, you twat!" she would've shouted. It would have been very effective. It would've certainly got him to say something, anything, even "ouch", which would've been better than standing completely still like he was doing now. A slap, that's what he needed. "I'm a genius", he thought. Then he slapped himself.

"Doctor!" you exclaimed.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I needed that. Sorry."

You took his hands in yours. "Are you alright? Is it something bad? Do you have to tell me something bad?"

"No. Well, it depends."

You kept looking in his eyes, insistent and a bit curious.

The Doctor held his breath. "Look, the thing is I'm usually good with words. What I'm not good at is speeches. I hate speeches. Especially heat-felt speeches. I like listening to speeches, but I don't like when they come from my mouth, because before they get to my mouth they go through my brain, and my brain is too messy to actually figure out a speech without screwing it up and changing the subject too many times. And now I have to give you a speech."

You smiled, a bit amused. "And, in a few words, what is this speech about?"

"Uhm. Well. I can think of a couple things." The Doctor looked away.

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that I want to kiss you. And go out with you."

You smiled, surprised. "On a date?"

"Yeah, sure. I just need to figure out the speech first."

"The speech to ask me out on a date?"

"Yes. I just need a second."

"Go right ahead. I'll wait."

He smiled. "Thanks."

The Doctor spent more than a second with his thinking face on. Then, he realized what he just said, and looked at you with his eyebrows raised and his lips parting without making a sound. You laughed, hugging him. It didn't take long to hug you back.

"I'll go on a date with you, Doctor" you said, kissing him on the cheek and causing him to blush. "However many dates you want."

"No speech needed?" he asked, smirking.

"No speech needed" you replied.

[legerescriptor]

I saw a post the other day, about how humans are indestructible. How nothing can stop us.

Shot in the arms? The breast? Even in the lungs or the head? Nothing we can't recover from.

Acid in the eyes or even burning alive? We're not dead yet. Not dead soon.

We can recover from basically anything if we have the willpower to do so and even with way less resources and medical aid than you might think.

And that's what we seem to be to other species. On a spaceship it's always the human that willingly goes into danger zone, because they very probably will survive about anything that would kill other species immediately.

Except for when a human comes back alive but not quite so. Sometimes a human comes back and just a few days later is getting sick. Some are coughing blood and some are just slowly losing energy, always needing more sleep, until they never wake up again.

Sometimes humans survive the battlefield, but die slowly later on and no one knows why. They seemed fine. They didn't even have an injury. They just... Slowly withered away. Very very slowly. And most of the time very very painful.

The tale of the indestructible human was just that. A tale. A myth. But it kept getting repeated. It kept getting told. Because it was interesting, unbelievable, heroic.

But the truth? It was gruesome, hard to hear and even harder to tell. It was a horror story. And worst of all: It was even harder to believe than the myth.

But then there was this day. A spaceship, alone, no help could reach them. Not fast enough. Something needed fixing. But there was radiation coming off it and all of the protective gear was damaged and no longer useable since the ship crashed into a meteor only a few days prior. Nothing too bad happened. Just the storage. The storage and with it all the gear in it.

And now they needed it, noone would survive the radiation. Noone except for maybe...

They asked the humans, there were two of them on the ship, and they were indestructible, right? Surely they could go and fix it. They could save them all.

When they approached them with their request, one immediately nodded, while the other looked shocked.

"You can't go in there."

"Of course, I can."

"You will die!"

Everyone in the room looked taken aback. Surely they wouldn't die? Humans didn't die. That's what everyone said.

The human indeed shook their head.

"I'll be fine. And we will all die if no one goes in there."

"Oh, please, don't. Don't do this. Don't sacrifice yourself."

"I have to."

"I'll come with you!"

"You absolutely will not."

"But- but you need help!"

"I don't. And you know that as well as I do. Stay here. I'll go." The human stood up and went to leave.

"I'll go! Instead of you!"

"No!" Fast. Loud. Fierce. "It"ll be me." They went away.

Their friend tugged on their arm and tried to convince them to stay, but they just shook off their arm.

The captain was worried. Why were they arguing?

"Nothing will happen to them. Humans are indestructible, after all. Am I right?"

They just looked at the captain with tears in their eyes and stormed off, in the other direction as their crewmate.

A few hours later the brave human came back from their mission. It was successful. Everything was done. And without so much of a scratch at the humans body. They congratulated them, praised them. Even their human friend came back and hugged them, tightly, with still teary eyes.

The next days the humans spent a lot of time in their rooms, scarcely coming out, the one praised as their hero not eating well. They became weaker, day by day, while their friend stayed at their side, holding their hand and talking to them, even while they were asleep.

Of course, the crew worried, but they still believed, it was just exhaustion. After all, it was a difficult mission. And they saved all of their lives. They deserved the rest.

Until one day they heard sobbing. When they opened the door, they saw the human, laying on their friends body. Their still warm body, but without breath in their lungs and without a beat in their heart.

They were dead. Impossible.

Humans are indestructible.

"No!" The other human cried out loud, when they tried to take the body away. When they tried to touch them, when they tried to understand what happened. They were not injured. So why did they-

For a week, the other human didn't leave the room. Didn't talk to anyone. Didn't eat.

Everyone was worried. Would they lose them too? Was something happening to the humans? Maybe they were sick? A sickness even they couldn't survive?

But this human came back. Looking paler and older than before. But they came back alive.

Only then the captain dared to ask. "When you said, they'd die. You-"

"I meant it. It killed them. They went in, because you asked them. But it killed them."

"But I thought-"

"We are not. We never were. But they let you believe. Because they wanted to save us."

"Why didn't you tell us? We would have never let them go in there."

"I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because it was either them or me."

[untitled-tmnt-blog]

Summary of some answers from today's Q&A with Ron Corcillo!

(July 29, 2023)

Bullet points are below the cut, since it's a pretty long list! Some combine multiple answers, and they're categorized for ease of reading (obviously not every single answer is included, but I tried to get most of the ones I thought people might find interesting!)

Apocalyptic Future

The turtles were fighting side by side with Cassandra when Casey Jr was born, and Leo trained him to be a warrior. Casey Jr only has brief memories of his mother from when he was very young, and he was mostly raised by Leo.

The chips on Leo's plastron are probably battle scars.

Mikey was likely the equivalent of being in his 70's. He was powerful enough that he could unlock almost any mystic ability you could think of, but using them took a toll on him physically. The more powerful the ninpo, the more potential it has to sap your energy.

Mikey can open up portals through all of space and time (as opposed to Leo, who can mostly portal over relatively short distances), but it took him a long time to get to that level of ability.

Mikey probably grew a little taller than seen in the movie, but shrank as the use of his powers depleted him. Donnie would be slightly taller than Leo, and Raph would be at least 6'6".

The characters have obviously taken hits and lost some things from years of fighting the Krang, but Leo still does have his ninpo.

They never worked out the specifics for how Raph and Donnie died, just that they lost their lives in the war against the Krang.

Future Leo was mortally wounded in his bleeding side, and that was why he didn't go with Casey to the past.

If season 2 hadn't been cut short

The sudden declaration of Leo as leader wouldn't have happened, and was more of a joke because of how abruptly the show ended. The original plan was for the transition to be drawn out over much of season 3. Raph and Leo probably would have been co-leaders for a while, and the transfer of leadership wouldn't have caused tension since Raph would like to share the burden. There might have been some situations where Mikey or Donnie took the lead, too. Ron never saw the turtles as a group where there had to be one absolute leader.

Karai would have lived for much longer, and been training the boys in person for a number of episodes.

If there was a season 3 / plans they had for future seasons

They probably wouldn't have ever taken a dark turn with the show, but may have gotten into more of an extended plot line after the movie.

The missing sister who was Big Mama's henchperson would probably have been a very disciplined super serious ninja, to the point where she's actually funny. She was going to be named after a female artist, possibly Frida Kahlo, and the turtles would have had to win her back from Big Mama by helping her to see that she had been brainwashed as a child.

Their other missing sister was going to be trapped in another dimension for years, and might have been "a little kooky" from being there so long. The turtles would have split up to rescue their sisters, but there were no definite plans beyond that.

We would definitely see Casey Jr again. Ron would love to see a spin-off where Casey and Cassandra roam the world and fight the Krang and remnants of the Foot.

It was going to be revealed that a Krang spaceship had crashed into the back of the crying titan in the Hidden City. The ship's fuel was the source of the ooze that gives the Yokai their power, and possibly the origin of the Yokai themselves. The crashed spaceship is what drew the invasion there a thousand years ago.

Mikey's powers could have opened the door to some multiverse episodes.

We might have seen some redemption from Big Mama, but then also seen her relapse to her villainous ways.

The Rat King likely would have been the next big villain. Shredder's story is pretty resolved, so they wouldn't have gone back to him, but maybe they could have revived the dark armor. There were no existing plans for Bishop, but once the turtles became better known heroes, he could be a thorn in their side. They would have done a lot more with the Krang.

Donnie probably thinks he's much smarter than Raph, so it would have been fun to do an episode where he got to see how Raph beats him in common sense and emotional intelligence.

The turtles would probably talk to Karai's Hamato spirit when they need guidance.

Season 3 would pick up where the movie left off. They would have launched a new story right away, but the aftermath would have been in the background. We would have seen how they changed as a result of the movie events, as well as how they deal with now being in the public eye as heroes.

Miscellaneous

The 2012 series was very traditional TMNT, so a big goal of Rise was to mix things up. Making Raph the leader opened up a lot of possibilities for both Leo and Raph: Raph didn't have to be angry all the time about not being the leader, and Leo was free to be cocky and fun-loving. It was a breath of fresh air for writers who had done previous TMNT versions.

As for how the turtles take after Yoshi: Donnie got a lot of his cockiness from him, as did Leo. Mikey senses that Yoshi misses his family, and that's part of the reason he always tries to hold the family together. Raph got his courage and sense of duty from him.

For Halloween, Raph would be a kitten, Mikey would be a lion, Leo would be a rock star, and Donnie would be J. Robert Oppenheimer.

Raph's favorite music is R&B, Leo's is glam rock, Donnie's is techno, and Mikey likes boy bands.

When asked about the turtles "favorite" brothers (obviously they all love each other): Mikey is Raph's favorite. As much as Leo gives Donnie a hard time, he really likes him. Ultimately, the three younger brothers all really look up to Raph.

The turtles all had their mystic powers inherently, but they didn't know it and couldn't unlock them without a little boost. Their mystic weapons acted as a conduit.

Splinter has a lot of power that hasn't been revealed, and there's a good chance he can do anything the boys can do if he really tries (which is how he could use Leo's portals). Their powers all would have grown and expanded over time.

Ron really likes fanart of the turtles, Splinter, and April in emotional family situations, as that is the heart of the show.

They didn't really get into romance in the show, but fans are free to use their imagination.

Hueso would never admit it, but he and Leo do have a close friendship.

While Ron doesn't think the show will be brought back any time soon since Nick's focus is on Mutant Mayhem (which he thinks Rise fans will enjoy, since they seem to have a lot in common), he does think it could be brought back further down the road. The most helpful thing is fans' continued support through watching, posting, and spreading the word!

[cordeliawhohung]

In Limbo [Chapter 1]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist

| mafia!Simon x fem!Reader - mild unwanted touching |

it wasn't easy living on borrowed time

wc: 4.9k

Six years later.

Sometimes, if you squeezed your eyes shut tight enough, you could pretend you were somewhere else.

The gentle hum of the dryers around you could be confused with the electrical whirring of the tube, and you could convince yourself you were traveling outside of London. Or maybe it was a spaceship taking you to some far off planet with strange plants that glowed as you weaved between their stems and leaves. The swishing of the washers could be mistaken for the sound of roaring waves of an ocean, and you could almost feel the water lapping at your feet while a small flock of seagulls played alongside you. 

But your escapism was fleeting, and you were always brought back to the cruel reality that you were nothing but a silly girl playing with string in a laundromat. Cat’s cradle was what it was called. It was a game no one wanted to play with you as a kid, because there was always something more interesting to do than play with string. But that was fine. It taught you the most important lesson you ever learned: keep your hands moving. If your hands were still, the humming of the washer and dryers around you might get overwhelming, or the buzzing of the cheap laundromat lights could drive you insane. If your hands were still, you might have thought too much about the unmarked envelope that sat in your lap and who would be coming to pick it up. 

However, the thing was, no matter how often you moved from the soldiers bed formation to the candles formation, every now and then you would end up with a knot in the center of the design. It was supposed to be a simple move, a gentle weaving of your fingers between the strings to get to the next section, but you always ended up ruining it somehow. Hands well versed in mistakes, no amount of practicing could erase the fact that errors were intertwined with your DNA. 

The noise of London suddenly grew to a thundering roar as the laundromat door opened to allow entrance to another patron. Eyes locked onto the string in your hands, you tried not to pay attention to the fact that this man entered without any clothes to wash. Of course you could assume he was there to pick something up, but you knew better than that. His footsteps were loud and overdramatic on the tile floor as he sauntered over to you and made his home on the bench next to you despite the fact that there were plenty of open spots elsewhere. 

Oddly enough, it wasn’t this man's close proximity to you that made you uncomfortable, though it certainly wasn’t pleasant, but it was the scent of him. It only got worse as he reached his arm behind you on the bench as if the two of you were friends, and it washed over you in a suffocating wave. It was his cologne. While it smelled expensive, he used it as if it was as cheap as water, and it burned your nose so fiercely your eyes nearly began to water. 

“You’ll have to show me how to play that sometime,” he said, disregarding any formal greeting. 

As you unwound the string from your fingers, you ignored the way his hand brushed against your thighs as he grabbed the unmarked envelope out of your lap. He was always touchy like that, as if the two of you had known one another your whole lives, and though he made your skin itch, you knew better than to say anything about it. Marco, your unwanted friend, was not known for his patience. 

“Maybe some other time,” you replied, which only made him chuckle. 

While you shoved your string into the pocket of your pants, Marco got to work on opening the envelope. A small wad of cash was stashed inside, and he eagerly pulled it out before counting it by hand. You dared a glance at him while he was occupied, though you didn’t find anything new about him that you didn’t already know. His style was just as simple and flashy as usual with acid washed jeans and several unnecessary decorative chains hanging from the belt loops. There were a few new scrapes on his knuckles, but that wasn’t anything surprising either. Though you didn’t know exactly what he did in his free time, you had a pretty good idea. 

“Perfect, as usual,” he quipped as he finished counting the notes. 

Marco stood from the bench as he shoved the envelope into the pocket of his jumper, stowing away all the money you had given him. You wanted him to leave. Wanted him to walk out of there without making a fuss and leave you be with your stupid game of string, but he didn’t. He always had something more to say. 

“Hey,” he said as he stood in front of you. 

He gently kicked your foot, prompting you to look up at him, which you reluctantly complied with. Marco wasn’t a bad looking man, though you still hated making eye contact with him all the same. Really, with a sharp jawline like that and eyes the same shade of grass, he could have been a model. Instead, he got caught up in the darker side of London, and unfortunately, so had you. 

“You’ve been pretty good at making full payments,” he commented. His eyes glanced up and down at you as if he could caress you with his gaze alone, and once again you found your skin tingling. No amount of good looks could erase the fact he was filthy and slimy just like usual. “My offer is still on the table if you find yourself having trouble, though.” 

He did it on purpose. Of course he did. It was a poorly kept secret that you weren’t really good at conversing with people, and eye contact never came easy for you. So of course he made you look at him before saying that to you. Maybe he thought it was funny. Maybe he just liked the fear that blossomed in your eyes. 

“No thanks,” you said, voice small. 

Shrugging, he took a step away from you while patting his pocket. “Alright. You know where to find me when your luck runs out, babe.” 

When he turned to leave you were finally free to cast your gaze back to the tile floor, and you found the grime there significantly easier to look at than Marco. Yet it did nothing to comfort the anxiety rising in your chest. Most days that feeling gripped your heart so tightly you swore one day it wouldn’t be able to pump at all, and still, you endured. As if you had any other choice. There was no flourishing in your life. There was no moment where you were able to sit and enjoy a cup of tea without something raging in your chest or mind. Because even in your laughter, even in your good moments, all you ever did was survive. 

It wasn’t easy living on borrowed time. 

Just when you had calmed your nerves, just when you were ready to leave that wretched place, your phone began to buzz in your pocket. In the process of fishing it out of your pocket, the string you had used to play cat’s cradle tumbled out with it and plopped on the floor. It stared up at you as if to make fun of you. As if to remind you that your only comfort was a stupid piece of string. Sighing, you reached down to grab it as you looked at the caller ID on your screen. 

“Hello?” you answered as you pressed the phone to your ear. 

“Hey! I just wanted to check in to see if you still planned on coming tonight?” the chipper voice of your friend, Row, hummed through the line. 

Row was probably your closest and only friend, and even through the phone you could imagine her sweet smile and the slight tilt of her head as she spoke. You had known her since you were a kid, and she had grown to become more of your sister than anything else. She always doted on you like a sibling, called you weekly, insisted that she saw you at least monthly; sometimes it was as if she was more of your mother than anything else. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you replied with a soft chuckle. 

“Good. Do you need a ride? John should be leaving work any minute if you want him to pick you up,” Row suggested. 

“No, that’s alright,” you insisted. “I’ve got a few things I need to finish up, so I’ll just take the bus over.” 

“Alright, but if you change your mind just let me know. I’ll make him turn around if you need,” she added humorously before pausing. “What’s that sound?” 

Confused, you glanced around the area until you remembered where you were at. The simple drone of the washers and dryers were just as loud as ever, and one of the various machines had just announced their finished cycle with a lovely little chime. 

“Oh, I’m at the laundromat,” you explained simply. 

“Well, alright. I’ll let you go so you can finish your chores,” Row said with a sigh. “I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?” 

The smallest of smiles overtook your lips at her tone, and you nodded your head despite the fact she couldn’t see you. “See you in a bit.” 

When the line died, all the tension in your body seemed to melt away, but the strain in your mind only grew. All your social energy had already been expended after dealing with Marco, and you still had a dinner to go to. Usually your dinners with Row and her husband, John, were fine, but she informed you some of John’s work associates would be tagging along which meant more people to meet. Maybe you should have said no, or made up some excuse. If it had been any other day except that day, it would have been easier, but you never wanted to draw suspicion. Row could sniff out a problem like it was a bad wound. 

So you stood from that uncomfortable metal bench and slid your phone back into your pocket. The glass doors of the laundromat showed the hoards of pedestrians mingling about outside, and you found yourself swallowing at the sight. With a final glance around the area, you swiftly exited the building empty handed. It felt odd leaving a laundromat without any clothes to take home, but you never did laundry on the 25th of the month anyway. 

After a short stop by your apartment for a change of clothes, you found yourself on an uncomfortably crowded bus during the busiest time of the day. It would take you the better part of half an hour to make it to Row’s house, but that was alright with you. Despite the mass of fleshy bodies around you, all you had to do was stick your earbuds in, listen to music, and watch the scenery pass you by. It was grounding being the observer. Stuck in some sort of in between, only being able to watch, unable to be touched. It was safer that way. Usually. 

Eventually the concrete and glass buildings softened into something more colorful and natural. Golden trees waved in the chilly October breeze and you watched their leaves fall like raindrops where they covered the ground in a saffron blanket. When the bus finally reached your stop, you exited where you were greeted by the soft scent of old rain and wet leaves. That aroma continued to follow you as you walked down the cracked pavement towards Row’s house. Her and her husband were very well off and lived in a neighborhood that represented that fact well. Perfectly manicured lawns, pristine paneling, and fresh paint were the trademark features on every home you passed, which was loads different than you were used to in the city with chipped brick and peeling wallpaper. 

By the time you reached the house the sun had just started to dip below the horizon, and you could clearly make out the warm glow of the kitchen lights bleed through the sheer curtains that covered the windows. Several unfamiliar vehicles parked in an odd pile in the driveway, which consisted of rather pricey looking cars and even a motorcycle. Belonged to John’s work partners, no doubt. Even though you had showed up ten minutes early, it looked like everyone else had already arrived. Perhaps you should have taken that ride from John after all because the thought of walking into a crowded home with all eyes on you had you grimacing. But you couldn’t face him while your anxiety was still high from dealing with Marco. You would just have to grit your teeth and bear it.

After steadying yourself with a deep breath, you approached the door with as much faux confidence as you could muster before knocking. Over the years, you had gotten quite good at concealing the anxiety that often wracked your brain, and even when your thoughts got the better of you, it rarely ever showed on your face. When living with an untamable beast for so long, you had at least gotten good at yanking back on the leash. 

Moments later the door opened with a click and you were greeted by Row’s beaming smile. Boisterous laughter boomed behind her as she reached her arms out to embrace you. You fell into her hug with a slight giggle before she pulled you inside the warmth of the house. 

“I’m so glad you could make it!” she exclaimed as she led you through the entrance. “I know you’ve been really busy with work and all.” 

“I traded shifts with one of the other hostesses, so it’s not a big deal,” you politely excused. 

“Of course. God forbid they give you a proper day off,” Row chuckled. “But you came just in time! John and I just finished cooking, and the boys are all already here if you wanna grab a seat in the dining room.” 

You had been over at Row’s house plenty of times that you didn’t exactly need to be coddled anymore, and yet she still insisted on leading you through the kitchen and to where the others waited. Several dishes of food adorned the rectangular table, and it looked like the only thing that was missing was the main course which could be noted by a large, empty spot toward the center. Plates, cutlery, and glasses of water awaited at all six spots, three of which were already occupied by unfamiliar faces. 

Row made introductions simple and quick as the two of you took your seats. First, there was a man named Johnny. You vaguely recognized his voice as one of the louder ones you first heard when you entered the house, and he was just as smiley as his laughter would have you believe. A messy, flattened mohawk sat on his head, and several piercings adorned his ears with a silver glint. Then there was Kyle, a handsome man with an easy smile, he greeted you with a kind nod of his head. You couldn’t help but think about what a good complexion he had, but you opted to keep that thought to yourself. 

Then there was Riley. He was easily the largest, and frankly the most intimidating out of all of John’s other guests. Slight hints of tattoos poked out underneath his sleeves by his wrists, and there were a few faint scars on his face that lined up with the unnatural curve of his nose. There was an aura about him that you couldn’t quite place, but all you knew for sure was that when he looked at you with eyes so piercing and dark, your stomach felt odd. 

“Boys, this is Chip,” Row introduced

The ceremonious use of your nickname nearly made you cringe, and yet you kept an even face despite it. Really, you should have been used to it by that point. That name followed you around everywhere, even the cooks at work called you that. But that could most likely be attributed to the fact that they probably forgot what your name actually was. Either way, none of the men got the chance to ask you about it before John entered the dining room, ready to serve the main course. 

Dinner went just as you expected it to go. Everyone conversed around you while you kept your eyes on the food in front of you. Your reasoning for staying so quiet wasn’t because you were bad at talking, or didn’t want to participate; it was because your mind was still restless over the day's events. You would speak when someone asked you a question, or maybe give your input when prompted, but otherwise your mind always wandered back to Marco and that stupid laundromat. You could still feel his hand graze against your thigh, feel his arm around your back, still smell him. If it wasn’t looked down upon, you would have taken the string out of your pocket to distract yourself. 

The conversation was entertaining, at least. There was friendly banter between the men, inside jokes you didn’t quite understand, and several Scottish expressions from Johnny that were quickly met by Riley jokingly telling him to speak English. Even Row chipped in with her own fiery humor that left the boys poking fun at one another. Yet your attention kept returning to the large figure on your right. Perhaps it was the scars on his face that had intrigued you so much, or the small hint of tattoos that played peek-a-boo by his wrists, but there was something about him that drew you to him. So much so that you stared at him, something that he quickly caught on to. His eyes met yours for only a split moment before you quickly glanced back to your empty plate, embarrassed. 

“Price,” Johnny said just as everyone had finished their meal, “I heard you got a new pool table.” 

John wiped his mouth off on his napkin before he haphazardly tossed it onto his plate. “This your way of askin’ to play a round?” 

“Might be,” Johnny grinned. 

Chuckling, John stood from his seat and began to gather everyone’s plate, balancing them as best as he could on his forearm. “Alright. But I don’t want any of you muppets scratching up the felt, yeah?”

“Tell that to Garrick,” Johnny quipped as he nodded to the man sitting next to him. 

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Kyle mumbled. 

“What about you, Chip?” Johnny then asked. 

Surprised to hear your name, your ears perked up at the sound as you glanced at the men at the table. Clearing your throat, you offered them a sheepish smile. “Oh, I’ve never really played before.” 

“That’s alright. Riley’s a good teacher,” he insisted as he nodded to the man next to you. 

It was impossible to say no with so many eyes on you, looking at you so expectantly, hoping you would say yes. Even Row seemed a little interested in your answer, and you knew that if you denied their request she would just find some way to rope you into it anyways. You spared a glance towards Riley, who busied himself by taking a sip of his water, yet you were certain you saw his gaze flicker to you as he set his glass back on the table. 

Bashfully, you agreed, and you found yourself in the dim lighting of the garage with a pool stick in your hand. While Row and John cleaned up the mess left from dinner, Kyle set up the table where he racked all of the balls in a perfect triangle. Riley, who apparently was the master at pool, was the one invited to make the first shot. The crisp sound of the cue ball whacking against the others echoed off the dull garage walls, and the tight triangle had dispersed like buckshot across the table. 

One by one the boys took turns making their shots. Just like Johnny had teased previously, you learned Kyle really wasn’t all that great at pool, and you had to do your best to stifle your giggles at their teasing, because you knew that you would do significantly worse when your turn came around. In order to prepare yourself, you watched the others like a hawk as they took their turns. You noted hand placement, how they leaned across the table, how they eyed up their shots; all of it. 

Yet when your turn came, you didn’t feel any more confident than you had previously. You were on Riley’s team, which meant you were stripes, and your only saving grace was that the cue ball seemed perfectly lined up with one for easy pocketing. But when you attempted to position yourself everything fell out of place. The stick position felt awkward, and you couldn’t get it stable enough to make a clean shot. You were about to make a fool of yourself, you were sure of it. 

“Here,” Riley said as he leaned his cue stick against the table. 

His warmth suddenly engulfed you as he stood behind you, chest brushing against your back. It took everything in you not to boil alive under his touch as he guided your hands into position so that you could strike efficiently. Your guiding hand rested firmly against the table, and your grip on the stick was significantly more secure. Eventually everything felt more stable; everything except your mind. Riley’s close proximity had your diaphragm freezing, and you tried your best to ignore the way his breath fanned across your ear as he spoke. 

“Steady, yeah? Strike right here in the center, angle a little bit to the left,” he guided. 

Eventually his hands slid off of you and his chest was no longer at your back, but his scent still lingered. It was pleasant. There was a hint of some sort of cologne, but it wasn’t overwhelming, unlike Marco’s. There was the scent of tobacco mixed with the earthiness, though it was stale, and you noticed a slight hint of what you thought was leather. But you didn’t have the time to think about how pleasant it was, or how you could still feel the ghost of his hand on yours. Staying as steady as you could manage, you made your shot, and though it was wonky you still managed to pocket it. A series of celebratory whoops escaped the boys at your shot, and you found yourself smiling half with relief, half with triumph. Riley went for a more tame reaction, and he rested his hand on your shoulder to give it a tight squeeze. 

“Nice shot,” he murmured. 

Heat rose in your face at his touch, and you tried to swallow the warmth back into your stomach as you tapped your cue against the tip of your shoe. "All thanks to you, Riley."

For a moment, he was silent as he leaned over the table for his turn where thick fingers guided his cue along the table. Pudgy skin and muscles forced his shirt to tighten along his shoulders, and you stood there speechless as he hit his shot. He easily pocketed yet another ball before he straightened back up and turned his attention to you. His dark eyes, the ones that had caught you sneaking glances at him all night long, gave you a quick once over before he tilted his head slightly. 

"It's just Simon to you, sweetheart."

The rest of the evening went just as well as it could have. You and Simon ended up winning the game, no thanks to you, and it wasn’t long after that everyone began to pack up to leave for the night. It was strange. That buzzing heat that ignited underneath your skin after Simon helped you with your technique didn’t seem to waver at all. It was still just as strong when he left as it was when it first began to burn. Kind. Maybe that’s what it was. His touch was gentle and kind, unlike the insidiousness Marco usually tainted you with when the two of you saw one another for your monthly meetings. 

“You feeling alright?” Row asked.

The gentle hum of the car had nearly lulled you to sleep in the passenger's seat, and you found yourself humming in confusion at your friend’s question. It didn’t take long for the words to eventually register in your mind, and you nodded as you leaned back against the seat as you looked at the passing view. It had gotten well past dark by the time you were ready to go home, and Row refused to let you take the bus back to your apartment, especially with how cold it got during autumn nights. 

“Yeah, sorry. Meeting new people just gets a little exhausting for me,” you explained, though it was only half the truth. 

“I know, my sweet little introvert,” she teased. “But you seemed to get along with them alright. I don’t see much of Kyle, but he’s sweet enough. And Johnny, well, he can be a bit much most of the time, but Riley’s a good man. He’s been working for John for about six years now.” 

“Yeah, they were all very friendly,” you concurred. “Though Kyle is a bit better at pool than Johnny tried to convince me he was.” 

Your comment got Row to laugh and you found it quite contagious. Though the two of you were close, it felt like it had been eons since the two of you really got any sort of alone time together, and that realization seemed to hang heavy in the air between the two of you. After a small stretch of silence, she leaned her head to the side but still kept her eyes on the road as the car came to a stoplight. 

“What are you doing Saturday night?” she then asked. 

“Working,” you replied simply.

“Per usual,” she muttered. “What time do you get off?”

“Midnight, if I’m lucky.”

“Wanna come to the Halloween party they’re putting on at John’s club?” 

Every cell in your body screamed at the very thought of stepping foot into that place. You had been there a few times before, and each time it was because Row had practically begged you to go with her, and you learned that clubs weren’t for you before you even entered one. Even then in that car you could smell the sour alcohol and sweat, along with the blistering heat of bodies much too close to your own. 

“I don’t know…” you started, unsure of what excuse to give her. 

“Awe, come on Chip,” Row whined. “It’s been forever since we’ve had a girls night with just the two of us. Really, it’s been forever since I’ve really gotten to see you at all. You’re worrying me a little with how much you’ve been working.” 

Worry. Of course she was worried, you had given her every right to be over the last few months. Work had all but consumed your life, and it wasn’t all that rare for you to pull all-nighters in the name of getting a few extra hours on your paycheck. The last time the two of you had seen one another you had mentioned wanting to get a part time job on top of your other job, and you swore you nearly gave her a heart attack. You hadn’t exactly done anything to ease her mind since, either. 

Sighing, you looked away from the window and over to your friend just as the light turned green and she sped off through the intersection. “Can you promise me we’ll be home by one?” 

“How about one thirty?” she countered. 

You dropped your head with a sigh but hid the slight smile on your face as you glanced out at the street. “Do you promise?” 

“You have my word,” she assured. “We can even sit in the VIP section where there’s less people and better booze.”

Even though her words weren’t particularly funny, the two of you still chuckled together as if it were some inside joke. And yet, despite the laughter, some sort of odd pit formed in your stomach that not even a deep breath could vanquish. Whatever warmth you had felt tingling under your skin minutes ago vanished the very moment Row admitted she was worried about you. 

Of course she had every right to be worried about you. She was your friend, your sister, and it only made sense that she noticed the odd changes in your habits and nature. But worry often brought a second feeling with it; the want to help. Perhaps her dragging you out to her husbands club was her own weird way of helping you, but you knew there were greater lengths she was willing to go if it meant ensuring your safety and happiness. Maybe you should have embraced it. Any real friend or family member would, but the last thing you needed was someone trying to help you again. 

You knew all too well what that brought.

taglist: @datlilwrench @xxkay15xx @cutelibrariangf @talooolaaloolla @stargirl411

[sanjoongie]

Breed! Chapter 4

Unfamiliar

ღPairing: Song Mingi x Reader (f) x Choi San ღGenre: smut with no plot ღAu/Trope: alien!teez, s2l, established relationship ღWord Count: 2,452 ღWarnings: the alien version of shower sex, san loves your thighs, breast play, some verbal/physical instruction from san to mingi, breast fucking, corruption kink (m), penetrative sex with no barrier, bukake, alien colored cum, ღRated: 18+ MDNI ღSummary: In which Mingi is sent down to replace Seonghwa in the experiment but even Mingi isn't insusceptible to the temptations of the human female ღDedication~  @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland beta readers who melted after reading this, enjoy their sacrifice. @smallfrye for suggesting mingi's nickname for reader and encouraging me through this chapter ღChapter 3~ Experiment | All Chapters

You and San were cuddling post-coitus when a very tall, very intimidating new alien walked in. 

“Get up, humans. We have to start over because of you. Time to disinfect you and begin anew,” He informed you.

San pulled you close as you both stood up. “He’s…” his eyes went up and down the new alien’s body, “...big.”

“What do you mean by disinfect?” You peered up at the new alien.

He kept his eyes straight. “You were going to get refreshments but then you undid all the work Seonghwa performed so you will clean yourself and then I will resume Seonghwa’s duties.”

“And we may call you?” San put his head on your shoulder from behind you. You knew that move. He was trying to look cute

“Mingi,” The tall alien replied curtly, “Now follow me.”

You motioned for San to grab your clothes and then you followed Mingi through the alien spaceship. It was interesting to finally be removed from what was clearly some large room of observance. The stark whiteness continued in the hallways and there seemed to be no buttons or mechanics to prompt anything. And yet doors opened for Mingi. Perhaps it was a psychic thing?

“Do you read minds, perhaps?” The question came unbidden from your mouth.

Mingi sent a slanted look your way. “We do not.”

“Does the ship respond to you naturally?” You asked next.

Mingi frowned down at you. “We have inserted responder chips at birth… these questions are not in regards to the breeding mission and they will cease.”

You deflated, your naturally curious mind sad. San patted your shoulder. “All you need to know is that he’s about to fuck you, Babe.”

Mingi stiffened in front of you and then rigidly held out an arm to indicate the next room he wanted you to go in. Did he not like that word? Or his duty?

You opened your mouth to ask another question but Mingi cut you off with a sharp look. “No more questions.” He pointed to the center of the room. “Go.”

“Lowkey into you pissing this one off and see if he anger-fucks you, not gonna lie,” San whispered into your ear. 

“San, that one looks like if we piss him off anymore, he’ll just laser sword cut us in half, make an excuse to Hongjoong and they’ll go kidnap another female,” You shook your head, “No, I’m not risking that.”

San folded his arms behind his head. “Yeah, I also wouldn’t risk not being able to get fucked by him too.”

“No more speaking!” Mingi bellowed. 

With a flick of his wrist, some strange purple liquid sprayed out of a hose in the new room, covering your bodies. The spraying stopped and San looked at you with a question mark hanging over his head. You shrugged and started to rub what you assumed was soap along your body. 

San was so focused on his own body, that when he turned to ask if you could get his back, physically incapable of reaching with his arms, his eyes got a little glazed over. You were working up the purple liquid into some bubbles on your thighs. San did love your thighs. They were also very dirty from all the cum that had been dripping out of you with multiple climax’s inside of you--and San’s messy eating earlier, of course.

What didn’t escape San’s observations was that Mingi was staring--and not in the stern guard stance he had earlier. Mingi’s face had lost its hard quality and was now a little gobsmacked at you washing your body. You moved to your breasts and his mouth parted slowly. Then San had an idea.

“Babe, let me help you, you missed a spot,” San said sweetly.

You rolled your eyes. “San, if I didn’t miss a spot, the machine that sprayed--”

You gasped softly as San, softly but firmly, grasped both your breasts and rubbed his thumbs lovingly over your nipples. You whimpered at the sensitivity. 

San leaned closer to whisper, “He likes it, Babe.”

Both of your eyes slid back to the tall alien, who was currently biting down on his lip. The minute he saw the both of you looking at him, he attempted to snap back into place. “Hurry up! I’ve got a mission to complete.”

“I can help you complete it,” You chirped happily. “I just need to wash this off first.”

Mingi eyed you warily. San’s hands had thankfully moved to your waist, squeezing it encouragingly. Mingi’s wrist flicked again and another hose came out to suck off all the purple liquid. First it took care of San, who looked disappointed when it didn’t stay on his dick too long, and then it moved to you. You watched under your eyelashes when the hose got to your breasts, making them bounce with the motion of removing the liquid from you. Oddly enough, you felt pretty clean after the foreign way of ‘showering’ was finished. 

When Mingi spoke next, his voice was low and gravelly. “We should move back to the Room of Observation.”

“Wait,” You raised your hand. “You should inspect me to make sure I’m properly clean.”

San sniggered behind his hand and played it off with wiping his lips as if the machine could have possibly missed anything. 

Mingi frowned. “The ship hardly…” His words failed him as you ran your hands over your body. You even turned around, head looking over your shoulder at your ass and back. 

“Are you sure?” You turned again, cupping your breasts, looking unsure, “I don't think they're as clean as they should be.”

Mingi took a tentative step, caught between curiosity and detachment. “Perhaps I should make sure everything is in place before…”

You quickly grabbed his hand and guided it to your breast. Mingi’s face became less stoic and more open with wonder. “So soft,” he murmured under his breath. He brushed a thumb over your nipple, just like San had done before, and it puckered immediately for him.

“Ca-careful,” You whined.

Mingi’s eyes were big with worry. “It hurts?”

You swallowed, hard. Corrupting these aliens was now starting to become your kink. “You just have to be gentle. Please.”

“You could try using your mouth,” San said from behind, a shit eating grin covering his face. And sporting an obvious chubby, of course. 

“My mouth?” Mingi echoed.

“I’ll show you!” San announced cheerfully.

Mingi slid to your left side as San ambled up to your right. He cupped your breast like Mingi was and then lowered his mouth to the height of your nipple. With his eyes rolled upwards to stay locked with yours, he licked your nipple with the tip of his tongue before carefully surrounding his entire mouth around it. You whimpered again at the stimulation. And when Mingi copied him? Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. 

San popped off you. “See how she adores it? Doesn’t it make you want to do more?”

Oh, Mingi simply had no chance, caught between the two of you.

Mingi shook his head, almost as if he was struggling with a lust-filled mental fog. “I shouldn’t--”

“Don’t you want to fuck them?” San randomly suggested.

“Fuck…” Mingi looked beyond confused.

San’s expressions fought between excitement and seriousness. “Oh yeah, I love fucking her tits. You just smoosh them together and then you get all that softness surrounding your dick and it’s so good.”

Mingi looked at you next and you felt the weight of it. “You wanna fuck my tits, Mingi?” You asked softly.

Mingi nodded without truly understanding what he was agreeing to. You had a feeling that this was going to get him in trouble, like San had been for undoing Seonghwa’s ‘good work’ but you were too deep into this to stop. And you wanted to see how truly big Mingi was before he fucked you. If he fucked you. When he fucked you.

So you laid down and San looked at Mingi expectedly. Mingi discarded his robe absent-mindedly, eyes on how your boobs were pooling on your chest with the gravity change. Mingi was very hard and very big and you gasped. 

Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Is it bad?”

San threw his head back and laughed. He companionably clapped Mingi on the shoulder. “Oh no, my friend, she is very, very happy.”

Mingi sent many unsure looks at San but allowed himself to be directed so that Mingi knelt, knees on either side of your ribcage. San pushed down on Mingi’s shoulders, making Mingi straddle you. You reached for his cock, that bounced with the motion of San making Mingi sit and brought it flush with your chest. You pushed your breasts together as best as you could. You looked up expectantly at Mingi but he had his eyes closed, unable to handle even just the feeling of your breasts around his cock.

San pushed Mingi’s lower half forward, a gentle hand on the alien’s ass. Mingi made a choked noise, close to a whine as he was directed to thrust into your breasts. You could feel your chest and breasts being smeared with Mingi’s precum. 

“Just like that,” San coached Mingi in a low tone that was making your lower half even wetter than you already were from this scenario. “Isn’t my Babe good to you?”

Mingi opened his eyes, looking down his nose. “Human…” he whimpered.

You shook your head and tucked your head closer to your chest. You stuck your tongue out so you could catch the head of Mingi’s cock with it and it made him gasp. “Not ‘Human’, Mingi.”

Mingi’s face screwed up, the pleasure clearly getting to him. “Seonghwa chose--hhhhhhnnnnnn--something--ah! Ah!--pretty?”

You rewarded him with another lick to the head of his cock and he thrusted so sharply into your breasts that you had to adjust your hold on them. While you had been focusing on Mingi, San had been focusing on you. He knelt to where your legs were spread and was preparing to fuck you. It wasn’t fair if Mingi had all the fun, after all. 

“During our travels to your world, there was a wonderful comet that we came abreast of,” Mingi said tentatively. “My comet?”

You whined as San stretched you out. Mingi smiled tentatively, thinking that was a sign of your approval. “Perfect,” You said, clipped tone trying to not belay the situation behind Mingi.

“My Comet,” Mingi panted, “Can you.. Do more.. With your tongue?”

San chuckled behind Mingi and Mingi almost turned around to find where the male human had moved to before you quickly moved to catch the head of Mingi’s cock into your mouth. Instead of your tongue licking his slick head, you sucked lightly on the tip of his dick just before it receded and Mingi groaned loudly. The deep, cave-like voice made you clench and San fuck you a little bit harder.

You focused on keeping Mingi’s attention on you as San fucked you from behind. Normally, San was so aggressively verbal. You could tell he was holding back by the way his nails dug into the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. His strokes would slow down when he sensed you tightening around him. He knew better than to let you cum before you got Mingi to. But San was simply a stickler for making you cum first above all, because he just wanted you spoiled.

“I feel…hot…” Mingi blinked wearily, sweat beading his hairline. 

“Don’t stop,” You said encouragingly, “I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

Mingi followed his pleasure, thrusting his cock in between your tits until finally he came. You have a second to close your eyes before he spurted all over your face and chest. You didn’t get to see what kind of face Mingi made when he came but you did get to hear his higher pitched gasps as he experienced his first orgasm. And lucky for you, Mingi helped gather some of his cum off your face so that you could at least open your eyes. 

Meanwhile, once San heard Mingi’s noises of pleasure, it was off to the races for him. He fucked you as accurately as he could, hitting that spongey part inside of you to make the two of you cum at the same time. You cried out and San let out a grunt and Mingi looked down at you in confusion. 

This time Mingi did turn around and when he saw what San had managed to do--and he had failed at--he grew back to the angry alien he had been before. “You tricked me!” He accused.

San grumbled back, “The way I had to beg for a boob job and she gladly gave it to you.”

Mingi stood up and began to pace. “I don’t understand!”

“Mingi, it was a way to ease you into it,” You pleaded with him.

You absentmindedly wiped some of his cum from your face and that’s when you discovered that his cum was a lovely light blue color. Was each alien’s cum a different color of the rainbow?

It was like San read your mind. “Skittles, taste the rainbow,” He whispered before collapsing into giggles.

“Mingi, what’s taking so--” Hongjoong stood at the door, in complete shock at the scene before him. 

Mingi looked worried. “I can explain!”

Hongjoong folded his arms over his chest. “Explain why, what I assume is your essence, is all over the female human and not inside of her and the human male is copulating with her instead?!”

“San was demonstrating!” You attempted to jump in.

“And Mingi was mimicking it with her breasts. It’s a common practice; practically a rite of passage between two male friends,” San added, picking up what you were putting down.

Hongjoong didn’t look entirely convinced but with a disapproving ‘tsk’ and a curt, “Back to the Room of Observation--all of you.” It seemed like he wasn’t going to fight it.

Mingi’s shoulders collapsed inwards in relief. He sent another look of confusion to San then you. San helped you up, offering his t-shirt to wipe off Mingi’s cum as he put on his shorts. 

You shrugged after wiping his cum from you. “You scratch our back, we scratch yours.”

Mingi didn’t look less confused by that idiom. “Humans are weird.”

“Says the alien that just vacuumed us clean,” San muttered back.

You laughed under your breath. “Back to the Room of Observation for us I guess.”

“You think the grumpy one will let you fuck her when we get back there?” San elbowed Mingi to get his attention.

Mingi winced. “No. I think he’s done with our mistakes.”

You swallowed hard and loud… did that mean Hongjoong was next? Taglist: @hijirikaww @pyeonghongrie @flurrys-creativity @mingsolo @starlitmark @stardragongalaxy @k-pop-ology

Breed! Taglist: @tiny-apocalypse @is4b3ll3s @yourfatherlucifer @mulletjoonsupremacy @lavishloving

[jymwahuwu]

YOUR YAN! JING YUAN FAKE DATING IS *CHEF KISS💋💋*

Anywayy do you have any thought for yan! Jing yuan and yanqing's tutor reader😋😋

OH MY GOD YANQING IS FALLING BEHIND IN HIS ACADEMIC SCORE? ugh this is what u get from too much sword practice‼️ that's okay tho, daddy Jing Yuan will hire the best tutor for this best boi and the tutor is happen to be you‼️ cuz you reader are the best😍. Hmm? Why is Jing Yuan keep staring at you tho? It makes you uncomfy while teaching Yanqing how to do algebra (or any other subject I hate math smh)‼️Nah don't think to much bout it~ Jing Yuan just wanna make sure Yanqing learn diligently💪🏻 weird, but you didn't even see him bat an eye to Yanqing. Whatever it's not too concerning anyway🤷🏻‍♀️

WOHOOO GREAT YANQING'S SCORE RAISE A FEW NUMBER! GOOD JOB DEAR TUTOR. But it seems like he still struggling to understan a few topics according to Jing Yuan😰🤨 ofc you can help him, but it really is tiring to walk from ur house to his mansion💔💔 Don't worry you can sleep in Jing Yuan's mansion as long as you want‼️‼️‼️Isn't that great? Many would kill just to get his approval🥳

Hmm? How long has it been since you agree to sleep here? A month❓ Two month❓Three❓ Yanqing already on top of his class, why do he need your tutor⁉️ UHM AND WHY IS HE CALLING YOU HIS MOTHER TOO😰 WHY HE SUDDENLY SAID JING YUAN WILL MARRY YOU❓ YOU NEVER AGREE TO THIS DID YOU😰😱‼️‼️

Ofc you'll agree right? Right❓ After all, Jing Yuan doesn't quite like it when there's someone who argue with his decision☹️

TW: yandere, manipulation, forced marriage

Sorry I took so long to reply to this, your emojis are so cute! 😂 Tutor reader☺️😳 There is a lot of potential here, Jing Yuan loves you for being kind to Yanqing. You find this job ad on a job site, and it says the employer will pay for the accommodation. Reasonable salary and conditions! You applied for the job and were taken to…Xianzhou Luofu? Wait, the general's mansion? You meet the child named Yanqing who needs to be taught. You're confused about his relationship with the general - Yanqing looks more like his son than the guard. A somewhat arrogant but polite kid who is eager to prove himself.

General Jing Yuan tells you that you need to teach him [your best subject], and it would be better if you can teach him some virtues and principles. This child did not receive systematic education, and likes to practice swords, so the score is not as good as before😗 At the same time, he also noticed that you are always loving and friendly to children, and gradually attracted to you. In the past, only he and Yanqing practiced swords and played in the mansion, but now your laughter echoes on the grass. Yanqing has an attachment to you now. He even accidentally called you mom in front of him (while you were not there), Jing Yuan immediately corrected him. Yanqing lowered his head in frustration. He began to think about the possibility of you becoming his wife and Yanqing's mother.

Jing Yuan purposely does not send any spaceship to pick you up to the mansion, and you have to take public transportation for more than two hours each time to work. So, when he proposed that you could live in his mansion and said that there are many guest rooms here, you agreed. Jing Yuan arranged the softest luxurious bed (and next door to his room), gorgeous big bathtub and cosmetics. There's even a holographic walk-in closet, you just pick the clothes you want to wear and the system will arrange them for you. You feel a little disturbed, even flattered, by these treatments. You are just a child's tutor, why does the general treat you like a distinguished guest? Jing Yuan is always reassuring you, telling you that's how Xianzhou treats guests, and saying subtle, flirtatious things. You have a vague feeling of being watched while you sleep.

Unconsciously, you have lived in his mansion for more than half a year😊One day, the servants measured the dress for you and asked about the wedding menu you wanted. You were dumbfounded and carefully asked what happened? Oh hey, of course it's yours! You are going to marry the general, just relax and be the bride in Xianzhou.

[theetherealbloom]

WHERE DO WE GO NOW? - CH. 2 | 14th Doctor

Chapter Two: All Our Best Years Are Behind

Summary: With the TARDIS out of control, you three end up stranded on a spaceship. Unbeknownst to you all, you're not the only one on board.

Pairing: 14th Doctor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt-to-Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Possible Plot Holes, Vague Background, Aliens, Mild Horror, Violence, Past Trauma, Depression, Anxiety, Timey-Wimey Stuff, Star-Crossed Lovers, Second Chance, Character Death, Mention of Su!c!de, 

Word Count: 11.7k

A/N: Tbh, this chapter took a while for me to write because of all the holiday shopping I needed to do tehe! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter and as you know I thrive for feedback, reblogs and comments. Thank you for all the love you've given so far to this series and I can't wait to start writing the next chapter because I have a bunch of ideas swirling around in my mind hehe. Also, please note that English isn't my first language, please forgive me for any grammatical errors or wrong spelling etc. Love you loads!

Song: anything (demo) by Dodie

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

ENGLAND, 1666 — MORNING

The TARDIS collides with an unknown object, sending you and Donna tumbling through the room. Donna clings to the railing for stability, but you, unfortunately, lose your balance. As you teeter on the edge of falling, the Doctor swiftly intervenes, grabbing your waist and pulling you close. Your bodies collide in the chaotic scenario as flames and sparks whirl around the console.

The Doctor gently cradles your head with one hand, conducting a swift but thorough assessment for any injuries. Satisfied with the examination, he presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. With a determined look, he retrieves a piece of the console, swiftly making his way to the TARDIS doors. His focus shifts to triangulating your current location and time, a sense of urgency evident in his movements.

You, the Doctor and Donna pop your head out the TARDIS and you can see a bright blue clear morning sky and it seems that you have crashed into an apple tree. You look down to see a man holding an apple while looking up at the three of you in disbelief.

The Doctor, with a quirky smile, introduces you and Donna to the stranger he's just encountered. His charm radiates as he explains, "Oh! Sorry, we’re just slightly out of control. This is my fiancée, Stargazer. My friend, Donna..." He playfully gestures towards Donna, who greets the stranger with a friendly grin, "This is Donna. Donna Noble."

"Hi!" Donna chimes in cheerfully.

The Doctor, ever the quick thinker, continues, "Just dropped some coffee into the console." Donna interjects with a light-hearted assurance, "But don’t worry. He’s got a time machine, which means he can blame me for all eternity."

Ignoring Donna's quip, the Doctor turns to the perplexed man and earnestly asks, "I just need to triangulate. Could you tell me what year this is?"

The man, clearly taken aback, responds, "It’s 1666."

You and the Doctor exchange puzzled glances, your lips puckering in unison as you simultaneously warn the stranger, "Oh! Stay away from London."

The Doctor proceeds to input the year into a device, then has a sudden realization, exclaiming, "Wait a minute. Apple tree. Apple. Man holding an apple in 1666. Are you Sir Isaac Newton?"

"Sir Isaac?" to which the man reveals himself as the renowned figure who discovered gravity.

The Doctor, correcting his error, teases, "Oh! Not yet. Spoilers."

Donna, injecting some humor, remarks, "Have you got the controls set to famous or what?"

The Doctor, with a hint of exasperation, retorts, "If I had controls. Thank you."

Donna playfully engages Isaac Newton, saying, "But it's got to be said, Mr. Isaac Newton, that you, above all others, can appreciate—"

The Doctor interjects with a cautionary, "Oh, no, don't."

Undeterred, Donna persists, "You can appreciate—" and you join in, emphasizing, "Really, really don't." Donna groans and urges, "Oh, come on!"

Turning back to a bewildered Isaac Newton, she asserts, "You can appreciate—" and in unison, the three of you declare, "the gravity of the situation."

A loud bang and fire erupt from behind the three of you, prompting a swift turn to witness the chaotic scene inside the TARDIS. The Doctor hastily tells Isaac Newton, “Oh! Sorry, gotta go. Bye!” You and Donna join in, adding your farewells, “Bye!”

UNKNOWN SPACESHIP — ???

As the TARDIS crash lands, Donna steps out of the TARDIS, beginning to say, “I am never ever—”

After hastily evaluating the impending disaster at the TARDIS console, you and the Doctor realize it's on the verge of erupting in flames. The Doctor seizes your wrist and swiftly ushers you outside, shouting to Donna, "Out of the way!"

Both you and the Doctor hit the ground, Donna in tow, as flames erupt from the TARDIS doors. Strangely, the U.S. Air Force song plays in the background with audible lyrics:

"Here they come

Zooming to meet our thunder

At ‘em, boys, give ‘em the gun"

Lying on the floor, the TARDIS abruptly slams its doors shut, bringing an unexpected end to the song. The three of you are panting on the floor in shock and confusion plastered on your face.

As you three pull yourself up and stand, Donna asks in disbelief and unsureness, “Is it… Is it all right? Is it broken? Is it knackered?”

With a frown, the Doctor strides toward the TARDIS doors and pushes them open. "Uh..."

Ducking your head from underneath his shoulder, you peer inside to assess the damage. The hiss of fire and creaking of objects reach your ears amid the billowing steam surrounding the TARDIS. Both you and the Doctor frown at the sight, and he utters a small, "Ooh."

Gently closing the TARDIS door, the Doctor grips both sides of the time machine with his hands. You take a step back, and Donna softly and sheepishly asks, "Is it bad?"

The Doctor presses his forehead against the blue doors in defeat, groaning, "It was brand-new."

Donna softly says, "Sorry."

The Doctor composes himself, taking a deep breath. He spins around and addresses Donna, saying, “Not your fault.”

“Yes, it was.” Donna responds matter-of-factly, accompanied by an awkward smile. “But can we fly? Can you fix it? Can we get back home?”

The Doctor grins, “We can do anything.” Donna laughs in delight.

The Doctor brandishes his sonic screwdriver and says, “Sonic screwdriver,” then pulls out a regular screwdriver, “and a non-sonic screwdriver.”

You and Donna share a laugh, and you playfully point out, “I think a non-sonic screwdriver is just called a screwdriver.”

The Doctor nods, giving you an adorable smile, “Thank you, love.”

“But if I can just reconfigure…” The Doctor starts as he fiddles with the keyhole of the TARDIS, “'Cause this old box can regenerate itself if I can just click it into gear.”

“Am I going mad, or did the TARDIS play ‘Wild Blue Yonder’?” Donna asks both you and the Doctor. He frowns and furrows his brows, “Yeah, it did, didn’t it?”

“What for?” Donna asks, and you reply, “I wonder.”

“We sang that in the choir in primary school. We’d have a little concert every Christmas, but gramps complained. He said, ‘You shouldn’t be teaching children that.’ It sounds all jaunty and fun, but it’s not. It’s the military going to war.” Donna shares as you stand next to her.

“Yeah. It’s the Air Force. The words are ‘wild blue yonder,’ which means the TARDIS played us a war song.” The Doctor frowns in contemplation but then manages to remove a portion of the keyhole. He inserts the end of his sonic screwdriver into the keyhole and clicks a button. The sonic emits a sound as the Doctor continues, “There, now... it can rebuild.”

The Doctor leaves the sonic screwdriver inserted as it continues to hum. The three of you take a few steps back as you hear the TARDIS clattering inside, shifting gears. The Doctor makes a face as he says, “Ooh. Okay? Yes?”

The TARDIS suddenly groans, and you three lean a little backward. Donna then asks, “Is it working?”

“Think so. Strange.” The Doctor comments. After a few seconds, the light atop the police box lights up blue and emits a small ding. The Doctor smiles and clasps his hands together, “There you go! Mending, mending, mending. Give it a bit of time.”

The Doctor then looks around the space you had landed, bends his knees up and down as he says, “So, now. I wonder where we are. Feels like a spaceship? Yeah?”

Donna concurs, “Yeah.”

The Doctor remarks, “Flight.”

Donna then adds, “Spaceship.”

The Doctor scrunches his nose as he shrugs, “Let’s just see.” He moves to what seems to be a door and presses the button on the side, leaving you and Donna to follow him.

“Wow! Nice!” The Doctor remarks as you enter the large, long corridor of the spaceship. Multiple shapes and sizes of grey panels surround the interior walls, while large mechanical beams hold the roof, leaving you in awe of the immense size of the entire spacecraft.

“Big!” Donna comments as she looks around, and The Doctor adds, “Very big!”

“I’d hate to be the cleaner,” Donna says as she gazes up at the high ceilings.

You then spot something in the distance, a small, white figure standing still. Squinting your eyes, you try to make out its shape and say, “Is that—”

The Doctor begins to wave his hand in the air, yelling, “Hello! We just landed. By accident. I hope that’s okay.”

There’s no response from whatever is at the end of the long corridor. Donna leans a little closer and asks, “Is that a person or a thing?”

The Doctor can’t help himself as he looks at the two of you, his tone suggesting, “We could take a look.”

Donna scoffs and points out, “Or we could stay here, wait for the TARDIS to mend itself so I can get back home. My family is waiting for me.”

The Doctor makes a face as he hums and points with his thumb, “Mmm?”

You shake your head while looking up, knowing his curiosity will always win. Eventually, Donna relents, “Yeah, all right.”

The Doctor smiles and shoves a hand down his pocket as he takes your hand in his, and the three of you walk down the massive, long corridor. Donna begins to say “Still, wherever we are, could be worse. We’ve got air. We’ve got lights. We’ve got mavity.”

You and the Doctor glance at each other before nodding along with Donna. Both of you hum and agree, “Yeah.”

“Was it me, or was Isaac Newton hot?” Donna says, and you grin wildly as you nod your head in agreement, saying, “Oh, thank the stars someone said it! 'Cause, yes, he was very hot.”

“He was, wasn’t he? He was so hot.” The Doctor said before realizing, “Oh, is that who I am now?”

You give the Doctor a reassuring squeeze as Donna says to the Doctor, “Well, it was never that far from the surface, mate. I always thought—” She’s cut off by the sudden sound of the TARDIS engine whirring, and the three of you race back to where you had landed to see it disappear.

The Doctor exclaims in panic, “No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!”

“But— What?” Donna says as she takes a small step back in disbelief. You're by the Doctor’s side as your mouth slightly opens in shock, feeling a tightness in your chest of uncertainty.

“You’ll get it back though?” Donna asks, “Doctor, you can get it back.”

The Doctor has wide eyes and a mouth agape as he doesn’t reply. Donna steps in front of the two of you, saying, “Doctor, you can get the TARDIS back, can’t you? Use the sonic.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows dip in the middle, a visible annoyance and frustration as he replies, “It was in the keyhole.”

Donna’s eyes widen, and she stammers as she tries to gather solutions to the problem you three were in. She says, “But you can whistle. You could snap your fingers. You could summon it. Just use that stupid head of yours and get it back.”

The Doctor gives her a look as he grits his teeth in slight rage, and Donna shakes her head at him, pointing a finger as she says, “Oh, don’t you look at me like that. It’s your fault.”

To which you and the Doctor give her a more pointed look, and Donna continues on, “I said, ‘Let’s stay here’. But you two had to wander off.”

You raise your voice as you say, “You wandered with us!”

Donna retaliates with her voice high-pitched, “Oh, like I could stop you both!”

The Doctor adds fuel to the fire, his voice raising, “You spilled the coffee—” He stops himself, not liking where all the blaming and pointing fingers were going. To him, there was no point, so he threw his hands in the air as he turned around, saying, “No.”

The Doctor places both hands on his hips as you let out a deep sigh through your nose as you cover both your eyes with the palms of your hands, rubbing them out in frustration. 

Donna fiddles with the lapels of her coat as she nods and agrees with a soft note, saying, “No.”

The Doctor briefly raises both of his hands in surrender as he softly says, “Sorry.” To which you also add your own, “Sorry, Donna.”

Donna steps back, and her voice shakes as she says, “No. Okay. Fine.” Then you see panic seep through Donna. She begins to pant, her eyes slightly water and rim her eyes, and her lower lip begins to tremble. “Oh— Oh, my God. Where are we?”

You and the Doctor move towards her the moment her lower lip begins to tremble, and Donna has an outstretched hand, trying not to let you two get close, but it’s no use. The Doctor grabs her hand and gives it a small kiss in reassurance. Then you hold on to grab her other hand in support as she whimpers, and she sniffles out, “Rose is waiting.”

The Doctor looks directly into Donna’s shining blue eyes as he says, “I will get you home.” Donna shakes her head, “How?”

The Doctor is serious as he says, “There is one hope. A mechanism on board the TARDIS called the HADS. Hostile Action Displacement System.” He then lets go of Donna’s hand and continues, “If the TARDIS is in danger, it goes away.”

“Goes where?” Donna asks.

“Anywhere. And it only comes back when the danger is gone. I turned it off years ago. I mean, I’d never land anywhere. Once spent three years with the Stargazer in orbit, and I thought, ‘Oh, mmm, turn off the HADS’, but if the TARDIS is rebuilding itself, maybe it clicked back on.” The Doctor explains, and Donna realizes, “But that means we’ve landed in the middle of hostile action.”

To which the Doctor replies with a somber tone, “Yeah.”

In moments like these, you remain silent, your mind kicking into overdrive as it gathers as much information as possible, desperately searching for a solution to the chaotic situation around you.

“There’s something on this ship that’s so bad the TARDIS ran away?” Donna asks, a slight quiver in her voice. The Doctor stammers, “Y-yes.”

Donna takes a moment before declaring, “Then… we go and kick its arse!” She moves to slam the palm of her hand on the button on the wall that opens the door and strides down the corridor with determination. You and the Doctor exchange a look before trailing after her.

“She was very put out. Mrs Bean,” Donna says as the three of you stroll down the long spaceship corridor. The Doctor, intrigued, asks, “Mrs Bean?” Your hand is in his, swaying with the movement of your bodies as you walk. He never wants to let you go again, now that he has you back.

Donna recounts her memory, “Head of the choir. She said, ‘It’s not a war song. It’s jolly.’ That’s what she said, ‘It is jolly.’”

After a brief moment of silence, you turn to Donna with a silly expression, “Mrs Bean?” The three of you burst into laughter at the absurdity of the last name, wondering just how unlucky someone must be to carry a vegetable as their surname for the rest of their life.

“Fenslaw.”

An automated voice echoes through the speakers of the spaceship, causing the pillars and panels to click and clatter as they shift and move around you three. You, the Doctor, and Donna stand still in concern, watching as everything unfolds before settling back into place.

“What was that?” Donna asks with narrowed eyes.

The Doctor frowns as he tries to understand, “Like circuits moving. Or it’s reconfiguring to become…”

“But what was that word? Fenslaw. What’s that mean?” Donna asks.

The Doctor shrugs, “I don’t know. The TARDIS translates, but now it’s gone.”

“No, the TARDIS translates for me. I thought you knew twenty-seven million languages.” Donna points out.

“I know fifty-seven billion two hundred and five, but not this one.” The Doctor says matter-of-factly, and you roll your eyes at his subtle brag. Then he tilts his head slightly, “Unless it’s Mr Fenslaw saying his name?”

Donna shakes her head, “It wasn’t that.”

The Doctor nods and agrees as he parrots back, “It wasn’t that.”

Donna turns and places her hands in the pockets of her coat, jutting her chin out in the direction where the unknown species or object stands from a distance and says, “Jimbo didn’t move. What is that?”

The Doctor begins, “Oh, wait a minute. If I’m right…” Then he steps on a button on the floor with his grey converse, and a mechanism hisses before popping up a small orange hovering transport vehicle. Donna chuckles in amusement as she moves to sit in the passenger seat on the far end.

The Doctor gives you a cheeky grin and exaggerates his accent as he says to the two of you, “Your car, milady.”

“Thank you, Parker.” Donna says with her own exaggerated accent. You sit in between them as the Doctor drives.

After a few meters of driving, the object comes into view, and you say with realization, “Oh, it’s a robot.”

The Doctor pulls the vehicle to a halt, and you three exit the cart as you stand in front of the white, round, and old robot. The Doctor then says, “Hello, Jimbo. Can you talk?” The robot doesn’t move or make a single beep, and the Doctor continues to try to talk to it as he bends down to its height, “You got basic communications, Fenslaw? Fenslaw. No?” He moves an inch closer as he slowly speaks to it, “Fenslaw.”

With no response, the Doctor resorts to knocking on the white metal of the robot’s head, and a hollow echo sounds out. The Doctor waddles a little backward as he continues to ask, “Have you got controllers listening? Hello, I’m the Doctor, this is my soon-to-be-wife the Stargazer,” you interject him by saying, “Haven’t agreed to anything, yet.” He ignores it and continues with introductions, “This is Donna. We need help. We need to—”

He’s cut off as the Doctor takes a slow and mechanical step forward, causing the three of you to jump and take a step back. “Is that it?” Donna asks, wondering if there’s more to it than the robot.

“One step at a time.” The Doctor says, and Donna spirals, “What is it? Maybe it’s an invader. Maybe that’s the hostile action.”

Then you look around the robot, observing it, before remarking, “I think it’s just old. See, look at the rust.”

“It’s primitive if you don’t mind me saying so, Jimbo. Someone got a very old robot out of storage to walk very slowly down a very long corridor.” The Doctor says before taking a long inhale, “Why?”

“Maybe… time slowed down.” Donna guesses and you and the Doctor shake your heads. You then say, “No. We’d feel it in our bones.”

The Doctor points at the robot while saying, “Stay there, Jimbo. No sudden moves.” He then tilts his head back on the cart, “Onwards?” You and Donna hum before following the Doctor back to the cart.

Donna lifts her hand and tells the Doctor, “Uh, I’ve got it.” As you climb into the cart, Donna says, “Allons— as the idiots say— –y!”

She steps on the gas, and the car moves forward, zooming along the corridor. Eventually, you reach the end of the corridor, revealing a door. The three of you move to the door, which slides open.

The door behind you slides down shut as the Doctor calls out, “Hello? Is anyone home?”

With no response, the three of you push forward. The entire room glows in cool blue light, leading you to the front of the ship where you find an empty captain’s chair and two monitors attached to the front.

“Well, definitely a spaceship,” Donna comments as she steps forward to look out the large window in the front, continuing, “If that’s space.”

The Doctor hops into the pilot’s chair, saying, “We’ve got a chair. That’s a good sign. It’s a life form with a bum.” He presses one of the switches on the control panel, adding, “If I can translate their basic one to ten, I can find out where we are. And when. And why.”

Putting on his glasses, the Doctor reads out the screen, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Now I can read the base codes. So, life signs?” After pressing a few buttons, the computer whizzes and chirps, and the Doctor frowns, “None. Just an empty chair.”

“Where have they all gone?” Donna asks, leaning forward, and you feel something shiver up your spine, as if you’re being watched around the corner.

The Doctor hums, “The spaceship seems to have powered down. Basic functions ticking over.” Then something catches your eye, and you point out on the monitor, “Oh. Someone opened an airlock door three years ago. And then it closed.”

“What for?” Donna asks with wide eyes and continues, “This whole ship has been empty for three years?”

“Don’t know,” the Doctor mumbles as he reads the symbols on the screen. Then he realizes and says, “Those numbers are lenses. There’s a camera.” As you lean a little closer to see what the Doctor is saying, you feel him tug you closer and suddenly let you sit in his lap, your entire body flooding with warmth.

You squirm in his lap and playfully smack his shoulder as he lets out a yelp, “Ow!”

You look at Donna apologetically, and she gives you a knowing smile, not letting the display of affection affect her. She hasn’t seen the Doctor this happy in ages.

The Doctor flips a few switches while explaining, “Like a drone. We can see where we are.” As the drone activates, you see what it’s seeing on the screen in front of you, and the Doctor chuckles in excitement, tightening his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he mumbles, “Well, it’s definitely a spaceship.”

Donna asks, “What kind of spaceship?”

“Don’t know,” the Doctor replies honestly. Then the drone appears from the front of the ship, shining a bright flashlight in your direction. The Doctor moves his head to the side and uses a hand to wave, “Ah! Hello!” which you see on the monitor to your left.

“But if we’re in space, there are no stars,” Donna points out and then asks, “Where are the stars?”

“We could be inside a dust cloud or a mavity well, or—” The Doctor pauses suddenly as he reads the screen to his right, “Oh.”

“What?” Donna asks with concern in her voice, and the Doctor shakes his head, “No, it’s fine. The ship is lost. It fell through a wormhole.”

“Ending up where?” Donna inquires, and you frown as you try to translate the rest of the symbols. The Doctor sighs, “I’m sorry, Donna. The TARDIS was out of control. It’s taken us…”

“To the edge of the universe,” you say, finishing the Doctor’s sentence. The drone moves away, and Donna takes a step forward toward the glass, where a void of pitch black is on the other side.

“So, what’s out there?” Donna asks with a subtle shift in her tone, a little scared. The Doctor taps your hip to stand, which you do, and the two of you follow Donna to look at the view of the edge. The Doctor removes his glasses and pockets them as he begins to say, “Well, that’s difficult… for you because if the universe is everything, then the concept of everything having an edge is, mmm, kind of impossible. But that’s the language of 21st-century Earth, and you don’t know anything yet.” The Doctor pauses and adds, “Not being rude. You just don’t. When you discover Camboolian Flat Mathematics, you’ll discover it’s possible.”

“What?” Donna asks softly, and the Doctor replies, “That. The nothing. At the edge of creation. Absolute nothingness.”

Donna then says, “But starlight travels. You can stand in my garden and look at the light from stars a billion miles away. So, where’s the light?”

You nod to the corner and say, “Over there. It just hasn’t reached us yet.” You then point and explain, “If we flew in that direction, it would take a hundred trillion years to reach your house.”

You see Donna’s eyes glaze over and water, “That’s my family. Over there.”

The Doctor comments, “I’ve never been this far out.” He then places a hand on the glass, “To stand here like this.” He begins to softly say, “Physically. Unprotected. Right on the edge.” He then places his other hand on the glass and leans forward to observe the empty void. Absent of stars and light. He continues, “No one ever has. Not ever. Till us. And this ship.”

“And an airlock that opened three years ago. And closed,” Donna says, and the Doctor pushes himself off the glass and inhales, “Yeah.”

Suddenly, a loud metal clang reverberates throughout the ship, causing the three of you to whip your heads around to see the source of the noise. You rush out of the pilot’s room, and the door slides up and opens, revealing nothing.

“Must’ve been just settling,” the Doctor says, and Donna looks around skeptically, “You said no signs of life. Are you absolutely certain?”

“Coliss.”

The deep automated voice echoes, and you watch as the hexagonal panels and large pillars begin to flip and switch, clicking and clattering before coming to a stop.

“It said fenslaw and coliss. Like a list. Or a solicitors. Or a countdown. Or instructions.”

“Or a warning,” Donna adds.

The Doctor’s brows furrow, and he puffs out his cheeks. “Slow warning,” he says as he turns around back inside the pilot’s area with you two following him.

“I think this way,” the Doctor says, spinning to the far right end of the room before entering a different section and saying happily, “Yes! Base plate repetition filaments.” He pats both of the drawers that glow a bright orange before pulling a drawer while letting out a small gasp, “Huh.”

He then pulls one of the filaments out, and it creates a squelching sound as he does, vocalizing, “If we move one up…” It drips out goo as he inspects it, and Donna asks, “Is that stuff dangerous?”

“No. I don’t think so,” the Doctor says. He moves to sniff it before sticking his tongue out on the filament, licking the goo, and you and Donna make gagging noises as you groan in disgust.

Then the Doctor shakes his head, “No.”

As he goes to put the filament back, he begins to gag and groan, clutching on your arm and you and Donna begin to panic. “Doctor! What—” You begin to say but then he suddenly stops and stands straight, “No.”

You and Donna whack him on the arm in annoyance with his little joke. He pulls the top drawer and, placing the filament on top, he says, “Clip it into the fold back. Can you do that? Take all the rectangles, move them up there.” The Doctor asks Donna, and she replies, “What does that do?”

The Doctor then explains, “The ship's on neutral for some reason. It’s just idling. We need to get it back on full power.”

He then grabs your hand and begins to drag you away from the room, and Donna calls out, “Well, don’t leave me on my own.” The Doctor spins around with you in his grip as he says, “Donna, there is no one else on board this ship.”

Donna retorts with, “Hostile action, remember?”

As if on cue, a metal clang thumps and creates an echo throughout the room, and Donna asks, “And what’s that?”

The Doctor shakes his head, “A noise.” Donna scrunches her face as she sarcastically replies, “Oh, well, you’re very helpful.”

The Doctor takes a step back with you, and Donna says, “Go on then. And hurry back. You little streak!”

“I need to find the spindle. That’s not like wool. It’s a water pivot.” The Doctor says, and you look back at the Captain’s chair. You tell him, “I’ll try and see if I can access any of the logs.”

The Doctor nods, and you walk off to sit in the pilot’s seat. You hear the Doctor exclaim at the end of the hallway, “That’s it! Can you still hear me?”

You hear Donna yell out, “No,” as you let out a little hum of acknowledgment.

“Good. Good. Won’t be long.” The Doctor says from the spindle room, and you tap the monitor, trying to understand each symbol to see if you can find out what happened during all those years this ship was lost.

You exhale in frustration, conceding defeat in your attempt to access the logs. Slouching back into the chair, you cross your arms, and a visible puff of warm air escapes your mouth with each breath. A slight shiver courses through you, prompting a tighter embrace of your own body, as you curl into a small ball. Surveying the vast empty void at the edge of the universe, there's a profound absence of light, sound, or anything discernible.

Donna enters your field of vision, and you inquire, "You alright? It suddenly got colder." She responds with a nonchalant, "Yeah, 'm fine."

"Already done with the filaments?" you ask incredulously, and Donna hums in affirmation, "Yeah."

Raising your eyebrows, you nod, "Alright then." Donna moves to stand with her back to you, gazing into the abyss. After a brief silence, she asks with a tone void of emotion, "Did you ever miss it?"

"Miss what?" you seek clarification.

"Running away with the Doctor?" She clarifies, and you lean your head back, looking up at the ceiling as you hum in contemplation. Eventually, you settle on, "I did, sometimes... The thrill, the chase, all the excitement... because I often thought to myself, 'What would I give for another run with the Doctor?' or even just to catch a glimpse of him. Then as the years went on when I..." You release a deep breath before continuing, "I realized I didn't miss any of that... I just... I missed him."

"But I couldn't... even the thought of my desires versus the entire universe collapsing. I just— I never thought I would ever see him again." You say and Donna lets you continue, “Now he’s back and… it all feels so surreal. And I fear that there’s going to be a price to pay.”

"My arms are too long," Donna suddenly declares, and you frown, "I don't think so."

"No, seriously, look!" Donna insists, and you divert your gaze from the ceiling to see her facing you. Your eyes widen as her arms appear unusually long and huge in front of you. You jump out of your seat, taking a step back, "What—"

"Star! Star, are you there?" you hear the Doctor call from behind you, and you shout, "Yeah! What about Donna? Is she there?"

Turning around, you rush to the middle of the room to find the Doctor. Donna does the same, and you both clutch each other as you watch the three duplicates move toward you. Fear laces Donna's voice as she asks, "What are they?"

“They’re us,” the Doctor says, and Donna denies it, not wanting to believe as she says, “They’re not us.”

You watch as your clones walk into the room. The Doctor's double says with zero emotion, “The notion of shape is strange.”

Your doppelganger remarks, “It limits. It is limiting.” As it waddles from the other room where Donna once was, a consuming fear sets in. “It limits. Limits everything,” you hear the Donna clone say as it walks forward. The Doctor tries the friendly approach, “Whatever shape you want to take, that’s fine. You can do whatever you want. I just want to say it’s very nice to meet you. I’m the Doctor, this is the Stargazer, and this is Donna.”

Donna chimes in, “So are they.”

As the unknown creatures move a step closer, you three take a step back to the door that leads out to the corridor. The Doctor raises his voice, “If you can just get those bodies to calm down, we can talk. That’ll be nice, don’t you think?”

“They’re looking at us like food,” Donna says, and the fake Doctor says, “Food is interesting. Because once I sort out the arms…” You watch as it stretches back to a normal size, and then it continues, “then I have a problem with the jaw.” The creature-like-Doctor’s jaw stretches down to the floor, and the three of you are wide-eyed in shock, confusion, and fear before it clicks back into place.

“It’s the knees. How many knees?” The other-Donna asks, and your non-Doctor replies, “Two.”

“Two in total, or two in each leg?” The non-Donna asks, and you hear the sound of cracking as it adjusts its knees.

The three of you take a few steps back, and the door behind you opens. The Doctor asks, “Where did you come from? You’re not part of the ship, are you? Did you come from outside?”

“We came from the nothing,” your doppelganger says as it twitches and resets her wrists while stepping forward. “We are No-things,” the Not-Doctor says, and the Not-Donna adds, “But you. You are not nothing.”

The Doctor replies, “Oh, I think you’ll find we’re quite something.” The three of you hastily jump into the transport cart, the Doctor seizing the driver's seat while you and Donna squeeze into the passenger seat as the No-Things pursue you.

Then, a menacing growl echoes from behind. You and Donna glance back to witness the No-Things crawling on all fours, steadily growing larger. Donna exclaims, “Oh, my God, they’re growing!”

“Come on!” The Doctor urges, stepping on the gas and shifting gears. Donna raises her voice, “Go faster!”

“I know!” The Doctor responds, and you feel a slight tug on the back of the cart. Turning around, you see the Not-Doctor gripping it as he crawls. You and Donna grab tools from the back as the redhead declares, “No, you don’t!”

You two start to strike the Not-Doctor's hand, and your Doctor announces, “I can’t control it!”

“You stupid big hand!” Donna yells out in anger, and it eventually releases its grip on the cart, flinging you and Donna forward. The Doctor shouts, “No, no, no, no, no, no!” The cart crashes into a hydraulic pillar but manages to regain control, only for the Not-Donna to throw its hand at the side of the cart, causing you to spin out of control.

The Doctor rips out the steering wheel, and Donna screams as the spinning comes to a halt. You watch as the three No-Things expand and become entangled in each other’s limbs, hissing and growling at you three. The engine sputters as you sit there in shock. Donna then asks uncertainly, “What are they?”

Exiting the vehicle, the cart's frame falls apart, causing a loud clatter. You turn around to see the Doctor approaching the chaotic mess in front of you, and you groan, “Oh, no, don’t!”

“We’ve got to see,” the Doctor says, walking a little forward. The metal groans under the weight of the twisted limbs and squished faces. The Doctor mumbles, “It’s strange enough my face coming back, but not this big.”

“The airlock door three years ago. That’s when they got in,” Donna states with a nod, and the Doctor adds, “No-things. No control of shape. No concept of shape or size.”

“How can they get bigger? ‘Cause you only get a certain amount of mass, don’t you? Shaun used to complain about that watching Venom films. He said, ‘Where’s the extra mass come from?’”

You then recall the chill you felt as you sat in the pilot’s chair, pointing out, “It got colder.”

Donna agrees, nodding as she announces, “Oh, yeah, it got colder for me.”

Glancing back at the No-things, you conclude, “Heat into mass.”

The Doctor builds on that, saying rapidly, “But they’re not just physical copies. They’ve got our thoughts, too. That other Star, she mentioned Gallifrey and Mars.”

“The other Stargazer said, ‘Wilf’,” Donna remembers, pointing to your copy.

“The Not-Donna asked me if I missed all the adventures with the Doctor,” you add with disbelief.

“So they’ve got our memories,” the Doctor concludes, and Donna shudders, “Okay. So they’re copies with memories and mass, but what I don’t get is why do they hate us?”

Suddenly, one of the hands drops onto the metal floor, causing a loud thump, and the three of you jump back, letting out yelps. Donna looks at it with a concerned tone as she says, “That’s my hand.”

The metal begins to creak, and you look around as the Doctor points out, “They’re getting free. We should reason with them. Try to make peace. Welcome them to our side of the universe.”

The No-things roar in anger and disgust, and you flinch. The Doctor takes a step back and remarks, “Maybe later.”

As the three of you turn to run, the Doctor points out the three hexagon panels with steps on them, exclaiming, “I know, I know. Ladder. Do you think? Maybe up there?” You see a small exit hexagon, and Donna shrugs, “Let’s go!”

The Doctor climbs first, leading the way as you and Donna follow him up. But you hear the familiar automated voice resonate throughout the speakers of the ship, “Brate.”

The Doctor groans, “Oh, not now!” The triangle panels begin to flip, and you feel each hexagon shape slide opposite sides. You hear Donna exclaim, “Doctor! Star!”

“It’s okay. I’m right here!” the Doctor says right before the panel flips inwards, and he’s out of view. You watch as Donna slides down from the ladder and into a different area of the ship. Your hexagon moves upwards and flips inwards, flinging you into the interior of the spacecraft. You let out a yelp as you land on your bum, and suddenly the three of you are separated.

Fatigue etches lines of frustration across your face as you wearily rub your eyes with both hands. With a sigh, you push yourself upright, casting a glance down the dimly lit corridor. The soft hum of glowing pipelines provides the only illumination as you traverse the hallway, the occasional hiss of escaping air and steam accompanying your footsteps. Abruptly, a door slams shut behind you, prompting a swift turn of your head. Shaking off the interruption, you continue walking forward in the eerie silence of the spaceship's metallic passageway.

You discover a ladder and descend, the metallic clangs echoing in the confined space. Moving forward, the whirring of systems shutting down and rebooting accompanies your steps. The flickering lights above cast erratic shadows, and as you exhale, your breath materializes in the cold atmosphere.

Finally, you reach a door, stepping out just as the Doctor emerges simultaneously. A moment of uncertainty hangs between you two.

You cautiously take a step back, asking, “Are you—”

The Doctor interjects, “Is it—” A shared pause ensues, and you murmur, “But it got cold.”

“I know I’m me,” you assert with narrowed eyes, and the Doctor affirms, “Well, so am I.”

Frustration flickers across your face as you lick your lips. The Doctor initiates, “Tell me, how did we meet?”

“When?” you inquire.

“The first time we met, how did we meet?” the Doctor specifies.

"At the Academy. What was the color of the sky back on Gallifrey?" you respond, then throw a question back at him.

“Orange sky and trees with silver leaves. That reflected the morning sunlight, making it look like the forests were on fire. You and I would have picnics outside of the Capitol when we didn’t want to show up for class… your eyes would shine like starlight, and I… I knew then that I loved you.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and your bottom lip trembles as you say, “You didn’t say it then.”

“I can say it now,” the Doctor pleads.

You purse your lips, feeling a wavering resolve, and shake your head, “You also hated me back then.” The Doctor shakes his head, attempting to step forward, but you take two steps back, edging closer to the door. “After what I had done. When you found out who I was and where I came from. A rift in time. A supposed observer who interfered with fixed points in time when I had to save everyone. I had to save… you.”

The Doctor begins, “You and I both know it wasn’t your fault. After the Rift, the Time War, and Mars…”

You shake your head, swallowing down your guilt as you take in the way he looks at you. It wasn't him, but the weight of the past bears down on you. Another step back, and this time the Not-Doctor grimaces and says mockingly, “You and your sad backstory. ‘Oh, woe is me! I started an entire war! I altered a fixed point in time! Boo hoo! I should have died.’ Blah, blah, blah. No wonder the Doctor left you on Earth! You are annoying to be with. And you are right about one thing, you should have died! Why didn’t you die? Hmm?”

Gritting your teeth, you head out the door and slam the button shut, running down the corridor. The echoes of harsh words linger in the cold metallic passage. Exhausted, you eventually stop to catch your breath. Sliding down one of the walls, you can't contain the streams of tears flowing down your cheeks. Quiet sobs escape, and you cup your mouth with your hand, trying to muffle the sound, the weight of emotions overwhelming you in the dimly lit corridor.

Taking a deep breath, you try to settle yourself down, a skill you've honed over years of navigating the guilt within. You've learned not to be ashamed of your survival. You did what you had to do, continuously clawing your way out of the ache, cutting through the pain to the bone. It was never going to be pretty, but deep down, you know it will always be worth it.

You bury your head in between your curled-up knees, seeking solace as you take another breath and sniffle. Suddenly, loud banging echoes from a few meters down the hall, and amidst the clamor, you recognize the voice shouting. The Doctor's frustration is palpable as the grunting and banging continue. You remain still, waiting in the silence that follows. When the noise subsides, the Doctor notices you. He comes to a stop, and as he meets your tear-stained gaze and red-rimmed eyes, you say nothing.

Anger seems to cloud the Doctor's expression, evidence of the harsh words exchanged with the Not-You or Not-Donna. Yet, his demeanor softens as he kneels to your level, whispering, "Is it you?"

Weakly, you mumble, "I think you know."

He draws you close, his arms enveloping you, and his warmth provides a comforting embrace. Placing your head on his chest, you admit, "I should have known the it was the Not-Doctor I was speaking to, but I—"

The Doctor shushes you, planting a gentle kiss on the side of your head. "I was tricked too. I'm here now, love. Wasn't your fault." Gently rocking the both of you back and forth, he eventually stands up, offering a hand for you to take and pull yourself up. Moving through the hallway, this time, he doesn't let go.

“Gilvane.”

You find another door, and upon entering, you are met with the peculiar sight of your doppelgangers and potentially the real Donna. As you and the Doctor survey the two sets of clones – one set of you and the other Donna not holding hands – the two Donnas exchange uncertain glances. One Donna breaks the tension with a comment, "I’ve gotta say, this is the biggest nightmare of my life, but… I look quite good."

"I can’t argue," the other Donna adds. The Not-Doctor then points at your Doctor, demanding, “I want to talk to you. You Not-Doctor. I know you’re a fake. I know for a fact. So I want to know why you’re doing this.”

Your Doctor frowns, “That’s what I was gonna say!”

“You should have been faster. ‘Cause that’s me, isn’t it. Fast. Am I fast? Do I talk fast? Yes.” The Not-Doctor rattles off rapidly. Your Doctor retorts, “But you’re a copy of me! You’re only fast because I am.”

“You seriously want to marry this one?” The Not-You asks, and you nonchalantly reply, “Of course you’d know. Spent almost my entire life with him, might as well.”

“Oh, well, I can’t follow any of this. And that is proof. ‘Cause let’s not pretend. I’m the stupid one,” the other Donna interjects, prompting the Doctor to squeeze your hand as he questions, “You think you’re stupid?”

The other Donna replies, “Of course I do.”

“That’s very Donna,” your Doctor says, and the Not-Doctor chimes in, “That’s so Donna. That’s my Donna.”

“Except Donna does not think she’s stupid,” you point out, and the two Donnas say, “Oh, but I do.”

You shake your head, “No. Donna thinks she’s stupid, and sometimes she thinks she’s brilliant. She thinks both. Because that’s the astonishing thing about people from her planet. They can believe two completely different things at exactly the same time.”

After a moment, Donna looks at the both of you with your intertwined hands, grinning, “Brainbox and Stargirl!”

“Earthgirl!” You and the Doctor say in unison as the three of you reunite, sharing a group hug. Suddenly, the sound of cracking fills the air as the No-things begin to stretch. The Doctor swiftly whips out a salt shaker, exclaiming, “But salt! You can’t cross salt. In our universe, it is said that vampires, demons, and ghosts cannot cross a single line of salt until they’ve counted every single grain.” He starts drawing a line of salt in front of you before lifting the shaker up, “You’ve got no choice!”

“But that’s a superstition,” the Not-Doctor says, and your doppelganger adds, “Doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“It’s a superstition, and it’s true. Two things at once,” the Doctor asserts, and the Not-Doctor attempts to call him out, “You’re lying.”

Challenging him, the Doctor exclaims, “Then walk towards me. Come on. Stop copying and make your own minds up. Cross the line!”

The Not-Donna glances at your Donna and says, “She doesn’t believe him.”

“But you said I’m stupid,” Donna points out, to which the Not-Donna retorts, “And also brilliant.”

Your Donna sneers at her copy, “Then which one is it, Donna? Cross the line. Or count.”

As if the Not-Donna couldn’t help herself, like an impulse, she gets on her knees and begins to count each grain of salt, mumbling numbers as she does. Now all that stands is the Not-Doctor and the Not-Stargazer who stands there staring at the three of you.

“So tell me. What do you want?” The Doctor asks, to which the Not-Doctor responds, “You tell us.”

“It didn’t get cold this time.” You point out, and Donna agrees, “No, it didn’t, did it?”

“Which means you’re acclimatizing. Your arms are a bit too long. Your mouths are a bit too wide. But are you stabilizing?” The Doctor inquires, and Donna adds, “Like they’re becoming us properly.”

“I just wonder why.” Your Doctor says aloud, and the Not-Stargazer singsongs, “Why?”

Donna realizes something as she says, “Because the TARDIS will come back for us. They know that. So if they become completely us, the TARDIS will come back for them.”

“Is that what you want? Escape?” The Doctor asks with his hands in his pockets. Suddenly the tone of the Not-Doctor shifts and explains, “We drifted here. In the lack of light. Passing no-time.”

Your copy continues, “But we would feel it. From so far away. Your noisy, boiling universe.”

“We want to travel there. To play your vicious games and win.” The Not-Doctor says with a grave tone.

You frown as you say, “If you existed here with no shape, no form, no purpose, then what’s made you so bad?”

The Not-Stargazer replied with eyes devoid of emotion, “The things we felt, they shaped us. Carrying across the dark. We could hear your lives of war. And blood and fury and hate. They made us like this.”

“We are more than that.” Donna spits out, and the Not-Donna says, “Love letters don’t travel very far. And neither do your lies.” She then blows the line of salt away, and you three step backward as your clones begin to have sharp teeth as they hiss and growl at you.

You feel your back against the wall, and suddenly the automated voice can be heard once more, “Stond.”

The lights flicker as the panel behind you begins to flip you three around, clicking and clattering, and Donna remarks, “That’s lucky.”

But the panel flips you back to where you were, and Donna whispers, “Or not.”

“Run?” The Doctor asks, and you and Donna agree, “Run!”

You sprint through the corridor, timing it perfectly as one of the doors manages to stall them before you re-enter the captain's area. The Doctor gestures a hand and says, “Come on!”

After pressing a few switches, a glass panel slides down from above, dividing you three from the No-things. As they stare at you three, Donna asks, “Why? I don’t understand why. What are they scaring us for?”

“Problem is, ten minutes ago they’d have ripped that door off its hinges. Now they’re just standing there. Locking into shape. Almost complete,” the Doctor comments, and Donna presses, “Yes, but if you just listen to my question, thank you very much. Why are they making us so scared? If they wanna copy us, why don’t they just sit in a corner and do it? Why terrorize us?”

The Doctor’s face lights up and says, “That’s a very good question.”

“Yes. I’m brilliant.” Donna says while bouncing on her tip toes.

“Why provoke us? Unless… that’s how it’s done. The more scared we are, the more blood pumps. Hypothalamus. Adrenaline. We think faster and faster and faster.” The Doctor says as the pieces begin to click.

“It makes us easy to copy.” You remark, and the Doctor takes a step towards the glass as he says, “Goosebumps, like braille. You’re reading us. Is that right?”

“Well, what do we do? How do we stop ‘em? Stop being scared?” Donna asks urgently, and the Doctor says, “Like the ship all ticking over in neutral. Donna, stop thinking.”

Donna laughs nervously, “Well, that’s easy for me. What about you two?”

You look at the Doctor as you pull your lips to the side, “Took up meditation for a bit, so the only one with that problem is him.”

The Doctor takes a deep breath and says, “Just calm. Just cool.”

“Yeah, I’m calm.” Donna says with a deep inhale, and the Doctor comments, “Even calmer.”

“Well, you do it too.” Donna says, and the Doctor exclaims back, “I am!”

Donna grits her teeth, “Mmm. Stop rattling me!”

“Will you two just shut up!” You say.

The Doctor softly says, “Slow. Slow heartbeat. If we’re slow, they can’t read us.”

“Okay.” Donna says, and the Doctor replies, “Good. Shhh.”

After a few moments of complete silence, Donna asks, “For how long?” And the Doctor replies, “Uh, there’s a flaw in the plan.”

The Not-Doctor decides to bait him by asking, “How can you not think on a ship full of questions? Why the empty chair?”

Not-Stargazer adds on and asks, “Why do the walls keep moving?”

Not-Doctor asks, “What are the words in the air?”

Not-Donna asks again, “Why did the airlock open and close three years ago?”

You and Donna say simultaneously, “Don’t.”

Your Doctor begins to protest, “But—”

Both of you are firm as you say, “Don’t. Stop it.”

Then a sudden loud metal clang rings out once more, and the Not-Doctor asks, “And what is that?”

“Doctor, stop thinking.” You warn but eventually the Doctor relents and groans as he says, “Let me think. Let me think.”

The No-things begin to chant creepily, “Think! Think! Think! Think!”

The Doctor moves to a few switches and buttons on the wall and begins to press and pull each of them as he says, “What is making that noise?”

The rooftop panel whirs as it slides open, revealing a glass roof, and the three of you look up, and the Doctor says, “There.”

You watch as a creature in a spacesuit floats in space with no helmet, the skull of what once was. You frown, and the metal hook clangs as it thumps against the glass. “The Captain of the ship.” You say somberly, and the Doctor adds, “Circling round and round forever. Caught in the gravity field.”

“Caught in the what?” Donna asks, and you quickly clarify, “Mavity field.”

“But why? Did they throw him out? Her out. Them out.” Donna says with a breathy voice, and the Doctor says, “Her. I wonder. Why is the captain outside? Why is she in a spacesuit with no helmet?” He turns around to face the No-things and catches their expressions, he says, “And why don’t you know?”

The Doctor moves closer to the glass as he looks at the Not-Doctor; he growls as he says, “I know that face. I know my expressions very, very well, and you don’t know. The captain did something you don’t understand, but what?” The No-things begin to say, “Tell us! Tell us! What did she do? What did the Captain do? What did she do?”

You move to stand next to the Doctor as he says, “They don’t know. They really don’t know. The questions aren’t a test. They need the answers. We’re all stuck in a system because of the Captain.” He groans as he jumps up and asks, “What did she do?”

Donna shakes her head and points out, “Well, if they want the answers, don’t tell ‘em!”

“You know what my head’s like, Donna, once I start having ideas.” The Doctor explains, and the Not-Doctor interjects, “Then I have ideas. So the captain…” Not-Donna looks at him and finishes, “Tried to stop us. But how?”

“Wait a minute.” Donna begins, “If they don’t know why the Captain’s outside… The airlock door three years ago wasn’t them coming in. That was her going out. She killed herself.”

“But what for?” The No-things ask in unison from behind the glass.

The Not-Doctor says, “She hid her thoughts.” And the Not-Stargazer explains, “So we couldn’t see.”

You watch as the Doctor’s expression turns to understanding, the final bits of information making sense in his head. His mouth opens in a silent gasp as he exclaims loudly, “Maximised automatic brain function! Oh! Well done, Captain. Because she knew. Even with a lost ship, if you were found one day, if you three ever reached the universe, you’d run riot across the stars!”

Your eyes widen in realization, adding, “And you were already becoming copies of the captain. You’d have owned this spaceship. If you’d copied her perfectly, you could’ve flown the ship home and started your war!”

The Doctor points out, “So, she ended her life to hide whatever it is she left behind. Because when she died, you hadn’t completed her. So you lost everything she knew. Gone.”

The lights flicker as clicking and clattering sound throughout the ship, and Donna asks, “What is that?”

The Doctor runs around animatedly, beginning to explain, “That captain, calm as a Zen master, set in motion to stop those three. And she took her own life so they couldn’t work out what she’d done.”

The Not-Doctor grins, “But you’re working it out right now.”

The Doctor shakes his head as he denies it, “No, I’m not. Mm-mmm.”

The Not-Stargazer smiles as she tilts her head, “Yes, you are, and so is she. Therefore, so am I.”

You bite your lip and try to calm your racing thoughts, standing next to Donna for support. Then you hear the Not-Doctor begin to say, “It’s all about slow. We don’t understand the slow, so the captain set out to slowly stop us. So the ship is slow. The robot is slow. The words are slow. Is that it?”

You see the Doctor holding it in as he bounces out the energy, and he shakes his head, “Nope.”

The Not-Doctor continues, “The words move the walls, so the ship is slowly reconfiguring to become a very slow…” The Doctor finishes the sentence for everyone, “Bomb.”

“What?” Donna asks with a high-pitched tone, and the Not-Doctor explains rapidly, “The captain set the self-destruct slowly so the words are a very slow… countdown.”

The Doctor groans out in frustration as he throws his arms up in the air, “I said so! I said countdown straight away! It’s that simple.” He sighs, “I translated the numbers. I’d never heard them out loud! ‘Fenslaw, coliss, brate,’ means ten, nine, eight.”

The Not-Doctor turns to the Not-Donna and says, “The robot.” The three of them move to the door that leads to the long hallway, and as it opens, the Doctor flicks a switch to lock it.

The Not-Doctor glares at you, “We’re as clever as you now. That robot won’t stop us!” It begins to flick a few buttons and switches by the nearby control panel next to the door. You and the Doctor move about the area, flicking switches to try to override the system they were trying to break.

Donna quickly asks you two, “So, what’s the robot?” And you reply, “The robot is the trigger. A primitive mechanical brain that those two couldn’t read, taking three long years to walk a very long corridor with one slow instruction.”

“Kaboom.” The Doctor finishes as he twists a few knobs before pressing a button, and Donna says, “Countdown. What number are we on?”

“Ratico. That’s five.” The Doctor says as he slams his palm on the button, closing the door once more, “It’s been counting down for years, but the TARDIS brought us here just in time for the final sequence! We can’t let them reach that robot. There’s only one way we can stop them.”

You move about to flick a few more switches and rapidly slam your palm against a few more buttons as the Not-Doctor, Not-Donna, and Not-Stargazer begin to rip out different wires. “What’s that?” Donna asks, and you hear the Doctor say, “I’m sorry, Donna. But the countdown needs to speed up.” The Doctor then slams his palm on the button, and an alarm begins to sound along with the automatic voice, “Vandeen.”

Donna begins to panic as she yelps, “That’s number four!”

“We know!” You and the Doctor say, and Donna shrieks, “But we’re still on board!” To which you both reply in unison once more, “We know!”

But then the No-things manage to get the door open, you hear the Not-Doctor say, “Stop that robot!” To which your Doctor says as he presses a button that lifts the glass divider, “Don’t stop that robot!”

“Could the robot just wait!” Donna says as she runs after both of you.

“Blinss.”

“That’s three!” Donna says as she pushes her legs faster to try and catch up to you. Suddenly, the Not-Stargazer turns around and hisses at the Doctor, throwing herself on him to try to stop him, but he shoves her aside only for her to attack you.

Donna slows down a moment as you wrestle with your double, and you yell to Donna, “Keep going!” The redhead nods and keeps running, following the Doctor. You manage to get the upper hand as you maneuver your weight and lock your knees to her waist, saying, “For some odd reason, this is going to be theraputic.”

You smack her across the face, tumbling off the No-thing, and proceed to run after the Doctor and Donna.

“Sensill.”

“That’s two!” Donna announces from in front of you as you feel your lungs expand and deflate while running after them. But then, you're taken down by the Not-Stargazer from behind, and you shout out in pain as you roll on the floor with her.

As you wrestle yourself to the ground, you hear the TARDIS whizzing as it floats down, playing the song Wild Blue Yonder. The lyrics and the music echo, “Off we go into the wild blue yonder. Climbing high into the sun.”

The Doctor snatches his sonic screwdriver from the keyhole and steps into the TARDIS with Donna climbing inside, pushing it forward with his foot like a scooter towards you and your double. As the Doctor and the TARDIS are in front of you, you hear the automated voice echo, “One.”

The Doctor's voice reverberates, urgent and probing, “What was my nickname at the Academy?”

“Theta Sigma.” The simultaneous reply from both you and the Not-Stargazer hangs in the air. The Doctor scrutinizes both of you, his keen eyes flickering between your faces. His next question pierces the tension, “What happened on Trenzalore?”

“Nine hundred years of battle and that’s where you were buried,” The Not-Stargazer asserts confidently, a sense of triumph coloring her words. However, your gaze remains distant, memories of Trenzalore flooding your mind, and you avert your eyes from the Doctor's penetrating gaze. He swiftly ushers you into the TARDIS, slamming the door shut.

As the flames engulf the three No-things, their screams echo in the air. The TARDIS whooshes away, leaving behind the burning remnants. The three of you huddle on the floor inside the time machine, wrapped in a comforting embrace.

THE TARDIS — SPACE

After the intense ordeal with the No-things, a collective decision is made to refresh and rejuvenate. In the soothing confines of the TARDIS, you find a moment to cleanse yourself from the recent events. The warm water cascades over you in the shower, washing away the remnants of the unsettling encounter. Drying your hair, you change into a fresh set of clothes, embracing the renewal that accompanies the change.

Exiting the room, you traverse the winding corridors of the TARDIS, making your way to the control room. The Doctor, having already cleaned himself up, is engrossed in the myriad buttons and switches that adorn the console. As you approach, he turns, a warm smile gracing his features, “Hello, love.”

With a hum, you encircle your arms around his waist, and he reciprocates by wrapping his arms around you. A tender exchange of glances unfolds as you gaze up at him. Offering a small smile, you inquire, “How did you know it was me?”

“You could never bring yourself to talk about what happened that day. Not once after that, you never mentioned it again,” he replies. Pressing your forehead against his chest, you take a deep breath, absorbing his freshly cleaned scent.

“I know you were the one who saved me and brought me to Earth after the Time War,” you admit. He furrows his brow, “How did you figure that out?”

Sighing, you recount, “The No-thing appeared as you when we got separated and said some really hurtful things... but he also mentioned you were the one who brought me to Earth. You saved me. All those years ago…”

The Doctor exhales before planting a gentle kiss on the top of your head, “You saved me. It was only fair.”

“I love you,” you declare, feeling his smile against your forehead. “I love you too.”

"She'd almost completed you," the Doctor shared, his gaze fixed on Donna as she joined them at the console. "The other Donna was a 99.9% copy. Except I thought, 'What's wrong?' Turned out her wrist had an extra 0.06 millimeters. Obvious, really."

Donna, hands resting on the controls while you expertly pilot the TARDIS, quipped, "The devil's in the details," and the Doctor agreed with a nod, "Yeah, isn't it just?"

After a brief pause, he mused, "Oh, I keep thinking, 'I wish I hadn't done that thing with the salt.'"

Donna shook her head, dismissing it, "What, the bad luck thing? That was just a lie."

"Normally. Except I invoked a superstition at the edge of the universe, where the walls are thin and all things are possible," the Doctor explained with a slightly shaken tone. "I just got this feeling."

“What?” Donna inquired, and the Doctor, after a momentary space-out, shook it off, saying, “Which is gone. Fine. Good. Onwards.”

The Doctor moved to pilot alongside you, adjusting knobs as he continued, “So anyway. I was wondering, she said on the spaceship— That other Donna had your memory. She could remember us as the DoctorDonna. So she could see my life and my mind and my thoughts for the past fifteen years. All the time we’ve been apart, she could remember it. Can you?”

Donna blinked, contemplating, and replied, “No. It’s too much. It’s like looking into a furnace. But I suppose she had a great, big, outer-space brain. She could make sense of it.”

The Doctor nodded thoughtfully, “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Why?” Donna probed, and the Doctor mumbled, “Just wondering.”

“What did she see?” Donna persisted, and the Doctor, puffing out his cheeks, evasively said, “Ooh. Things.”

“Like what?”

The Doctor remained silent, prompting Donna to push further, “Come on. Where have you been since I last saw you? What’s happened?” Attempting to shrug it off, he nonchalantly said, “Oh, you know, the usual. Robots, chases, waterfalls.”

Donna mockingly nodded, “Oh, okay,” before giving him a scrutinizing look and asking, “But what really happened?”

The Doctor's expression turned sad and tired as he admitted, “A lot.”

Donna nodded in understanding, then turned to her friend and asked, “You okay?”

The Doctor, opting for candor, grasps your hand, affirming, “I will be.”

“When?” Donna inquires, tilting her head, and the Doctor responds, “A million years.”

The TARDIS emits a pleasant ding, signifying your arrival as it materializes. The Doctor, wearing a contented smile, notes, “Ah. There we are, back home.”

Donna strides towards the TARDIS doors, commenting, “You timed that to get out of awkward conversations.” She then rushes down the bridge, calling out, “Where are they? Where’s the family?”

As you prepare to step out, the Doctor playfully pulls you back, encircling your waist with his arms, prompting a delighted squeal, “Doctor!”

“Wait, I have a present for you,” he announces, positioning you by the console. With a gentle push, a concealed compartment reveals a new sonic screwdriver—silver and gold with an ergonomically designed handle. Overwhelmed with excitement, you bounce up and down, unable to contain your joy. Seizing the Doctor's face, you plant a passionate kiss on his lips, and in that moment, the Doctor melts into the warmth of the affectionate embrace.

“My own sonic screwdriver. Thank you.” You say to him as he gives you a grin, “Consider it as a wedding present.”

You lightly smack his chest and say, “I expect a proper proposal, Doctor.”

He kisses your cheek, “Of, course dear.”

CAMDEN MARKET, LONDON — MORNING, 2023

Intertwining your hands, you and the Doctor emerge from the TARDIS, greeted by Donna and Wilf. Donna beams triumphantly, exclaiming, “I said so!”

Wilf gasps, hand covering his mouth in shock, while the Doctor grins, “Wilfred Mott. Oh, now I feel better.” Wilfred erupts in delighted laughter as you and the Doctor approach him, enveloping him in a warm hug. The Doctor affirms, “Now, nothing is wrong. Nothing in the whole wide world.”

Stepping back, the Doctor smiles broadly, addressing Wilf, “Hello, my old soldier.”

“I never thought I’d see you two again after all these years. Oh, the Doctor, that lovely face. It’s like springtime,” Wilf chuckles, and the Doctor nods to Donna, remarking, “And Donna’s got her memory back.”

“Without dying, which I recommend,” Donna adds with a smile. However, you hear distant sirens, not giving them much thought. Wilf grins, “Yeah, well, I knew it. I never lost faith. I said, ‘He won’t let us down. He’ll come back and save us.’”

Both you and the Doctor frown, and he questions, “Save us from what?”

Donna asks anxiously, “And where’s the family? Where’s Rose? Are they all right?”

Wilf reassures Donna with animated gestures, “Yeah, they’re fine. They’re safe. I’ve told them to bunker down, and I’ll keep watch. I said, ‘You save yourselves.’”

Your eyebrows knit in concern as you ask, “Why? Is there something wrong?”

Right on cue, the food truck in the background erupts in flames, people shouting and screaming, chaos ensuing. More people join in the madness, hitting each other, and the Doctor queries, “What’s going on?”

The tumult intensifies, with people shouting and cursing, and Donna implores, “What is it? What’s happening?”

Wilf attempts to explain, “It’s everybody. It’s everything. They’re all going mad. Listen, you’ve got to do something, Doctor! The whole world’s coming to an end!”

As an airplane approaches, its engines emitting smoke, people scream and clamour. The plane crashes in the distance, prompting the Doctor to swiftly move Wilf's wheelchair to the front of the TARDIS, shouting, “Quickly!”

Taking cover, the four of you shield yourselves from the ensuing blast, and amidst the chaos, you can't help but wonder if the kiss was somehow connected to this impending disaster.

TAGLIST:

@awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @matthew-lilards @a-dash-of-cinnamon @imthedoctorlove @scoliobean @allophonicmess @mirkwoodshewolf @jaziona92 @melloww-akira @crowleythesexydemon @pedrettilov3r

[sweetenerobert]

𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐕𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

DAY TWO OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

tattoo artist!tommy miller × male reader

genre: sisters boyfriend tommy, childhood friends to lovers, explicit, no outbreak au, minors DNI

prompt: taboo au + “do you like when i touch you like this? i can keep going if you want me to."

summary: your sister’s boyfriend catches you reading smut in the kitchen and sees if you want to make your own smutty chapter

warnings: strong language, homophobic sister, cheating, mention of an age gap, face fucking, unprotected P in A, choking, spanking, dirty talk, pet names, creampies, fingering, spitting

word count: 7.4k

a/n: thanks to @morallyinept for listening to me rant about this, love you 🤍

It was your twenty-second birthday, and to say you were excited was an understatement. You’ve been looking forward to this day for a few days, why? You were getting your first tattoo ever. Your two best friends, Kevin and Eli, made you an appointment — already paid for.

You’d also discovered that your sister was planning for everyone to meet her boyfriend on the night of your birthday party. Your sister, Sasha, tends to steal your thunder — a handful of times. Once, when you were five, and she was seven, you made a Lego spaceship, and she had made an even bigger spaceship — with popsicle sticks.

That one time when you were thirteen, and you had gotten a cross-country award, and she was fifteen and had gotten a giant volleyball trophy. But this day didn't bring you down as much as you wouldn't let it.

After pulling up to the tattoo parlor, your excitement almost exploded through the roof. You’d gone through Pinterest last night like a rich person going through a Gucci store — overzealous. Making so many decisions, you were conflicted between three options.

The smell of a mint air freshener hits your nostrils first rather than anything else. The lights weren't so bright that they hurt your eyes, more or less made you have to cover for a second. Next, you saw the big flashbooks sitting on the small coffee table. But something else caught your eye — more importantly, someone.

His hair was slicked back — stopped by his neck. His neck was covered with tattoos, and his arms were covered with tattoos. He had a septum piercing, and his ears were stretched — having a small gauge in its place. His shirt was tight. You could see his pecs bulging underneath. The man was glancing down at his phone as the bell from the door didn't get his attention. As Kevin let go of the door, the bell rang, the man brought his head up, and a smile was on his face.

“Hey, sorry. Didn't notice you guys were standin’ there.”

His Texan accent was thick. It sent shivers down your spine hearing it.

“It’s fine,” You dismiss. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine, a lil tired, but good,” Tommy smiles. Tommy gets up from his seat, walks around the counter, and walks before you, Eli, and Kevin.

“So, who's the lucky sumobitch to get a tattoo?”

You smile and raise your hand as Eli wraps his arm around your shoulder. “This boy, he’s twenty-two.”

“He’s not a little boy no more,” Tommy smirks.

“He is not, he’s been wanting a tattoo since forever,” Kevin smirks.

“How come you’ve never gotten one before?” Tommy crosses his arms.

You shrug. “Never really had the time, and when I did. I would always forget about it.

"Well. This is your first step into becoming a man," Tommy smirks.

"Isn't that what your father says during puberty?"

"Yes, but this is also an important milestone in a young man's life, and I'm more than happy to start that."

You rub your hands in impatience, more than feeling anxious. You were ready and excited for this day to continue and drag slowly. You didn't want it to end anytime soon.

"Let's get this show on the road," You exclaim.

"That's the spirit. Since this has already been taken care of, you can come with me,” Tommy states, walking.

You eagerly follow Tommy, standing behind him; you can't help but admire his back muscles in his tight shirt; the way it hugs his back does something to you. His pants hug his ass to be firm and cup his buns perfectly. You shouldn't feel this way ─ especially on your birthday. You appreciated Tommy's distraction, but you wanted to keep your head focused on this day. So you snap your head back to look up at Tommy's neck.

You look up at Tommy, making the distraction harder to contain. Your thoughts travel from clean to smutty when you think about how your hands would look tangled in his hair, your nails clawing his back as he thrusts his cock deep in you.

You had to shake your head to eliminate those dirty thoughts you were thinking about. You and Tommy arrived in a small room with a hydraulics chair in the middle of it, a TV mounted on the wall, and a desk arranged with a bunch of equipment you didn't know except the tattoo gun resting.

You looked nervous as Tommy turned around to look at you; you were rubbing your hands slowly, glancing around the room, and biting your lip. "You fine?" Tommy questions.

You snap out of your thoughts and look at Tommy. "Oh, yeah. I was just thinking about something, and it distracted me," You dismissed.

Tommy crossed his arms with a smirk on his face. "What were you thinkin' about?"

"You fucking the shit out of me and calling me a good boy," You thought.

"A birthday present I've wanted for a while," You spoke. It wasn't a total lie. You've been wanting a book for quite a while but never had the time to try and find it.

"What's the book titled?" Tommy nodded. You couldn't tell if he was trying to catch you in a lie or if he was genuinely interested in the book.

"Sweet Dandelion by Micalea Smeltzer," You smirked. "Why are you interested in a book anyway?"

Tommy chuckles, "What? I don't seem the type to read?"

You shrug your shoulders. "No?" You question.

"You'd be right; my girlfriend said I should buy a gift for her brother, and the suggestion she gave me: books. Importantly, romance books," Tommy explained.

"Of course, he has a girlfriend that puts my horny mind at ease," You thought.

"It is a romance book, more on the forbidden side."

"He might like it. I have impeccable taste in books," You comment.

“Is this a special occasion or something?”

“It's his birthday today, and I wanted to give him somethin’ out of the kindness of my heart,” Tommy shrugged.

“Aw, that's sweet. Even if you don’t know that person.”

“I just want everyone to like me, y’know. I don't want to make a fool of myself,” Tommy admits.

“You won't, just be yourself. I met you five minutes ago, and you seem cool.”

Tommy smiles. "Yeah, I bet. Anyways, you have a design in mind?"

"Oh," You exclaim. "Yeah, gimme a second." You pull your phone out of your pocket. Scrolling through the choices in your camera roll, you pick the option you decided on last night and show it to Tommy.

He strokes his beard and nods his head. "Got it, sit down. Do you need anything to drink?" Tommy asks.

"Water's fine," You state.

You sit in the hydraulics chair, watching Tommy leave the room. You have a smile plastered on your face in excitement. Your hands kept patting your thigh into a rhythmic beat, waiting for Tommy.

As you slowly glance your head around the room, Tommy walks in the room holding a water bottle in his veiny hands.

"Here ya' go, songbird.”

"Songbird? That's a new one," You smirk.

"Your friends made the mistake of telling me one of your favorite hobbies," Tommy smiles.

"Remind me to slap them later," You breathe.

Tommy's laugh made you smile and caused heat to rise to your cheeks. Grabbing black latex gloves and slipping them on his hands with a snap. "You ready to get this show on the road, butterfly?"

"Yeah," You smiled. "I'm ready.

It had been a few hours since you got your tattoo, and you couldn’t stop staring at it. Likewise with your family, but more looks of questioning and disgust from your sister. Kevin and Eli were excited about how your tattoo looked.

You were sitting in the dining room — at the dinner table, your mom had made your favorite dishes for your birthday, and your mouth was watering as you waited for Sasha's boyfriend. You were eager to stuff your face with all the food in front of you. You were bouncing your leg to think about anything else to distract you from the air scents whiffing to your nose.

"Does it itch?"

You turn your head to look at your mom to hear her question. "Yeah, I mean the ointment the guy gave me is working, but the urge to itch it is high now," You admitted.

"I still can't believe you still got a tattoo," Sasha stated.

"I'm twenty-two now, and I barely drink. So, a tattoo was a better option to play it safe on my birthday."

"What if you get an infection?" Sasha questioned.

You shrug. "I'll deal with that when that road comes into view."

"You're insane."

"We've established that already, sweetheart," You smirk.

"Now, now, Sasha," Your dad started. "He's an adult, and even adults need help on occasion. Son, if anything happens, let us know. And we'll help."

Your dad grabs your shoulder in a comforting way ─ knowing how intense his daughter can be.

"He's right, honey. If anything happens, let us know," Your mom smiled.

You smiled at your mom and dad's comforting tones. You and Sasha tended to be at each other's throats at times, her usually breaking your spirits. Your parents dreaded it whenever you two argued. At times, you both could say and resent each other and not speak to each other for days ─ your longest time? A week.

Your dad glanced at the watch on his wrist. "Sasha, where is this boy at? Your brother and I are starving, and this food is going to waste."

"Daddy," Sasha starts, grabbing her phone from her jeans pocket. "He said that he ─ oh he's here," Sasha smiled, getting up from her seat.

You, Eli and Kevin turn your head as the three of you hear a loud engine roaring outside. "How much you want to bet, he's got a tiny dick?" Eli questioned. You and Kevin both snickered. Glancing at the door, Sasha's standing outside cheerfully like a child seeing the ice cream truck.

Your mind had drifted back to the tattoo artist. You wondered if you were ever going to see him again. You missed his smile; his tattoos were intriguing, and you wished you had studied them more as you were in his chair. You also yearned to know what his name was. Eli and Kevin forgot who his name was when you asked them when you left. Tapping your finger on the table, waiting for Sasha to return, you hear the door open, and Sasha starts talking. “Everyone! I want everyone to meet my boyfriend,” Sasha starts. A person begins to walk in as Sasha talks; You, Kevin, and Eli are wide-eyed to see who's coming in.

It was the same guy who did your tattoo hours ago. He walked in, a beaming smile on his face, wearing a leather jacket and a wrapped gift in his hand. Wearing the same jeans you admired him in prior, you bit your lip to calm yourself down.

“His name is Tommy, and he’s a tattoo artist,” Sasha smirked.

You were too stunned even to acknowledge your sister's statement. You knew who Tommy was hours prior. The same man you fantasized about, who did your tattoo hours ago, is dating your sister.

“It's nice to meet everyone,” Tommy smirks.

“His name is Tommy?” Kevin asks.

“I forgot about that,” Eli admits.

“Of all guys, Sasha could’ve dated. It had to be him,” You whined.

“Hey, dummy. Come and get your present,” Sasha’s voice snapped you out of a weird, one-sided conversation with your friends.

You reluctantly get up from your seat and walk towards Tommy. A look of shock and confusion appeared on his face. You anxiously rub the back of your neck.

“Songbird? Sasha’s your sister?” Tommy questions.

“Songbird?” Sasha questions.

“Oh, that reminds me,” You turn to look at Eli and Kevin. “I’m going to hit you both.”

“C’mon, we were looking at ideas for your birthday, and karaoke came up,” Eli starts.

“We both know how much you love to sing, and maybe we found one, and we could go to it after dinner?”

“I’ll revoke the slap for now,” You nod, turning back to look at Tommy with a smirk, indicating he was nervous. “I hope you like it,” Tommy states, handing you the gift.

You take the gift from his hand and glance down at it in your palms. You don't remember when someone wrapped a birthday gift for you. You appreciated Kevin and Eli’s gifts, the tattoo mainly, but in the past, you’ve never gotten a hand-wrapped present before.

You appreciated that Tommy took the time out of his day to hand-wrap you a gift.

You glance at everyone staring at you in anticipation.

“You guys want me to open this now?” You question.

“Yes,” Everyone except Tommy spoke, making you jump out of your skin. You reluctantly open the gift-wrapping paper and rip away at the material as you feel the object's hardness underneath. Take the paper entirely off and see what’s in your hand.

A book you have been looking for a long time. Sweet Dandelion in your hand. The same feeling of being overzealous you had a day ago was rising back up again.

“Holy God, where did you find this?” You ask.

“I went to three different stores to find this book, and I had to gift-wrap it as soon as I got home. That's why I’m late, by the way. Sorry about that.”

“This is amazing. I forgot that I even talked about this with you.”

“You really shouldn't have gone through all this trouble,” You suggested,

Tommy waved his hand. “Like I told you, I wanted my girlfriend's family to like me, and I think I got bonus points for her younger brother.”

You were smiling from ear to ear as you wrapped your arms around Tommy’s neck in an embrace. He was tall, so it felt like hugging a tall stuffed animal. Tommy wrapped his arms around your back and patted your back. As your face sat in the crook of his neck, you felt Deja vu — like you’ve done this before — with Tommy.

You back up from Tommy’s hug, the leather of his jacket making a weird sound as you back up. You look at Tommy with a confused look as he gives you an awkward smile. “Thanks,” You manage to breathe out.

“No problem, it was no trouble at all,” Tommy dismissed.

“Sorry to interrupt, whatever that was. May you three sit down so we can enjoy this delicious food,” Your dad exclaims.

“Please? I’ve been hungry since,” Tommy smiles.

“Well, come on, then. Sit down, everyone,” Your mom waves at the trio standing up.

You, Sasha, and Tommy take your seats, where Tommy sits next to Sasha — near your father. A grin arose on your face as you could tell that Tommy was metaphorically shitting his pants.

━━━

Minutes ago, after dinner had ended, you were standing on your porch, arms crossed, watching Kevin and Eli admire Tommy’s car — a 2016 Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat, and watching your father and Tommy talking about the car. You couldn’t help but think about Tommy halfway through dinner. That feeling felt so surreal, and yet you yearned for it again.

“Mom and Dad seem to like Tommy,” Sasha states.

You nearly jump out of your skin hearing your sister.

“Oh! You jump. “What?”

“I said, Mom and Dad seem to like Tommy. How do you feel about him?”

“Oh,” You breathe. “Tommy’s cool and funny. I see why you like him.”

Sasha nodded. “Are you guys leaving soon?”

“Yeah. Would you like to join us?” You question.

“God, no! I don't know how you do that karaoke shit.”

“It's fun — especially when in a group. Do you think Tommy would want to join?”

Sasha turned her head to look at you with disgust written on her face. You could feel her gaze on you, and you turned your head. Whenever you see this look on her face, it usually sends chills down your spine and back — the type of chills that you want to hide from your older sister.

“Do you have a crush on Tommy or something?” Sasha interrogated.

“What? No! I can’t,” You spat.

“Good. It would be best if you stayed away from Tommy. I can tell you make him uncomfortable.”

“How do I make him uncomfortable?” You question.

“With that little hug, you have him inside earlier. You didn't stop staring at him at the table.”

“Our dad often interrogated him. I was interested in the questions and how Tommy would answer,” You spoke.

“So that must mean you’re interested in him,” Sasha retorted

“What? No what is your—”

Sasha turned her whole to stare at her younger brother with such anger that made your stomach churn with how intense her stare marked your soul.

“Stay away from my boyfriend, and we won't have any issues,” Sasha growled and retreated inside the house.

Sasha always tended to assume that you liked her new boyfriends when, in reality, you wanted nothing to do with them. But Tommy could be a different story. You weren't sure how you felt about him. You knew the Southern was attractive, but he’s dating your high-maintenance sister, and you would try your best to stay away from him. No matter how much his “bad boy image” would distract you.

Glancing back at your two best friends, they’re conversing with Tommy while you notice your dad walking up the stairs to the porch. “Have fun, son. Stay safe,” Your dad nodded. You smiled and nodded as your dad’s hands make contact with your shoulder — comforting you.

Your dad walks into the house. You see Eli and Kevin walk to Eli’s car — the conversation with Tommy seems to have ended. You reflectively walk to the back of Eli’s car — hand on the handle, but you yearn for that feeling with Tommy again that you did the unthinkable despite your sister's protests earlier.

“Hey, Tommy!” You exclaimed. Jogging towards the Southern, Tommy turns around to face you. As you are in front of him, jogging to him makes you receive that same feeling you received hours ago — that deja vu crawling from your stomach to your throat. Now, you were sure you must have known Tommy before.

“What’s up, Songbird?” Tommy asks.

His voice sent a chill down your soft cock. You wished how it would sound from behind hearing his voice.

“It was nice getting to know you, and thank you for the book. I hope to see you more around,” You smiled.

Tommy's smile could light up a room; hell, he could bring the sun back up from its dusk state.

“I would like that,” Tommy nodded.

As Tommy started to walk away, you had another question arise from your throat. “Hey!” Tommy turned to look at you. “One more question, and then I’ll let you go home.”

Tommy chuckles. “You can bother me anytime.”

“Before you permanently drew on my skin, do you think we have met before?”

His pupils glanced up at the dusk scenic sky, drew his lips in a frown, and shook his hand. “Can’t seem to think of any time, any reason?”

“Nah, it's nothing important,” You waved. “See you, Tommy.”

“See ya’, Songbird.”

You smile as you walk away from Tommy. That nickname would keep making you feel specific ways you shouldn't be feeling.

The days Tommy had come over the house felt countless. You’ve seen him more times than Eli and Kevin. After work, you only want to lounge in your bed and forget about being an adult. But then you see Tommy’s car in the driveway, and you are scared to enter cause the idea of hearing your sister's moans makes your skin crawl, and you feel physically ill.

But the times when you heard them, you wanted to crawl into a hole and be buried alive. Tommy usually would have to sneak in the house, but you would rarely listen to what happens when the two were together, and you were grateful for that. However, sometimes, you couldn't sleep, and you hated the sounds your sister would make.

But the grunts, praising, and degrading that Tommy would spit out made you feel a certain way you would hate to tell anyone. Sometimes your cock would twitch hearing Tommy’s voice, having to bite your lips to stifle your moans.

This was one of the rare nights where you couldn't sleep, and you didn't feel like wasting time lying in your bed. You would hate to admit it, but the book Tommy gave you was your favorite thing to read. You were reading in the kitchen, sitting in the high chair — feet dangling near the floor, book in hand.

It was a quiet night. Mom, Dad, and Sasha were sleeping, but you knew Tommy was over the house. You heard his car coming up the driveway. However, you didn't hear anything from Sasha’s room — which you were grateful for. You couldn't tell if you blanked out the sounds or if nothing was happening.

Too involved in the book you were reading, you didn't hear Tommy behind you — your back towards the opening he walked through. You were too concentrated on the book even to notice Tommy. It was only until Tommy's tall stature towered over you — his head over your shoulder.

“Whatcha’ reading?” Tommy asks.

“Jesus!” You exclaim, clutching your chest.

Tommy retracts his head from colliding with yours.

“Sorry. I scared ya’. Can I open your fridge?”

You turn half of your body to look at Tommy in confusion. “It’s insane that you are one of the only people who’s asked me that?”

“Really?” Tommy interrogated.

You nodded. “It's the southern charm of Tommy Miller that all the ladies love,” Tommy smiled.

You chuckle. “Help yourself — also, don't let my sister hear you say that other girls love that southern charm — she can be a bit possessive/intense.”

“Is she?” Tommy asks, grabbing the milk carton.

You scoff. “I’ve lived with her my whole life. I understand her intensity.”

Tommy chuckles, shaking the carton. “Hey, another question —”

“You can drink the milk from the carton if it's empty.”

Tommy looks overzealous with joy as he opens the cardboard container and brings it to his lips.

Your eyes slowly traveled to his neck as you watched him gulp down the milk. Eyes slowly trail down his bare chest as your mouth goes dry. You swear Tommy is drinking the milk slower than a baby does; Tommy’s chest and abdomen were covered in abstract, colorful tattoos, and you saw them as you yearned to trail your fingertips all over his tattoos.

Your eyes glance at his V-line, and you would hate to admit how much it turns you on that Tommy’s so defined in his muscles. Eyes glanced down even lower to Tommy’s hardened cock —

You snapped your body forward toward your book to avoid any eye contact with hard, throbbing appendages.

You hear a satisfied sigh escape Tommy’s lips and a light thud as the carton made contact with the counter.

Tommy’s interest peaked as he saw you back in the same position he saw you in a minute ago—the heat from his broad chest inches away from your back. You could feel how close Tommy was without having to look back. His head was hovering over your shoulder once again silently reading, but you weren't paying attention to him. You were trying to drown him out.

“Cock?” Tommy asks.

You nearly jump out of your skin again, but you contain yourself, and you slam the hardcover book shut. Tommy backs up and turns your entire body to see him — crossing your arms.

“What are you reading, songbird?”

“Nothing!” You shrugged. “Just the book you gave me.”

“Are you sure it's nothing?” Tommy questions, mimicking your pose.

“Yeah, why would it be something?”

Tommy brings his hand up from him, crossing his arms, and points at you, but you can't tell what he’s pointing to, so you glance down at yourself and then you see it.

Your dick was hard in your underwear. You wanted to die right then and there. You couldn't believe your sister's boyfriend just saw your hard dick. You quickly leave your crossing-arms position and cover your hardened cock.

“Oh, shush! Yours is hard, too,” You spat.

You wished you kept that you had seen his hard dick. Tommy glances down and shakes his head to the side.

“Wouldcha’ look at that, your right. But I didn't get this from reading dirty words in a book.”

“It's called smut,” You clarify. You wanted to die. You didn't have to mention what it is to Tommy.

“Anywho, I got it because your sister —”

“Barfing now.”

“She left me hangin’. Now I gotta deal with this,” Tommy complained.

“It does look painful.” You muttered. “Shit, sorry, my mouth moves faster than my mind thinks.”

“It's all good.” Tommy waved. “What’s smut?”

The heat rose to your cheeks as you heard Tommy’s question. “You don't know what smut is?”

Tommy’s lips made a thin line as he shook his head.

You took a deep breath before answering his questions.

“It's two book characters essentially fucking, and you're just reading.”

“S’ you're a voyeur?” Tommy asks, taking a step closer to you.

You chuckle. “No! You're getting it from a character perspective, so you're living in their head — in a weird way.”

“Does that turn you on?”

“What do you mean?”

Tommy’s closer now; your knees were touching his naval, his cock throbbing under your upper calf — under your knees.

“I mean, that you could easily be the character in any book, getting fucked out of your brains, screamin’ someone’s name — markin’ your territory with those nails, clawin’ their back. Beggin’ for more of their cock deep inside you.” Tommy whispered.

Your throat goes dry as well as your breaths start to get slower. Your sister's boyfriend was inches — centimeters away from you, and it was driving you crazy. You wanted to feel his lips on yours; would they be soft, rough, dry, or damp? You wanted to know.

"I- I, uh, a little. I try to imagine that's actually me," You swallowed.

Tommy grabs your wrists and moves your hands away from covering your cock. You and Tommy both look at your throbbing member. A wet spot of pre cum leaked through the cotton material and watched your cock throb under Tommy's grip.

Tommy lets go of your wrists and slides his hands up your upper thighs and each side of your waistband. "May I?' Tommy asks. You reluctantly nod. Tommy hooks his fingers and slides your underwear slowly down. "Lift your hips for me, songbird." You listen to Tommy's soft command and lift your hips as he slides your underwear to your ankles.

Your cock aching to be touched, begging to cum; you watch it throb in anticipation as you wait for Tommy's next move. "Do you like it when I touch you like this? I can keep goin' if you want me to," Tommy growls. You nod as Tommy's hands slowly drift from your calves to your thighs. His forehead resting on yours, your noses intertwine with each other. "We don't have to play pretend, songbird. Do what you want ever since I permanently inked your pretty skin."

You slowly place your lips on top of Tommy's as you both enter a passionate and hungry kiss. You wrap your arms around Tommy's neck as he spreads your legs with his hands. You could feel his throbbing cock — through his boxers on yours. His veiny hands make their way to your inner thighs while you can feel Tommy's tongue lick your bottom lip for access into your mouth. You part your lips so Tommy can slip his tongue in your mouth, exploring any way he can get closer to you.

Your hand slips down Tommy's shoulder and chest — feeling his hard nipple and slipping your hand down under his underwear. Stroking his cock toward you you suddenly have this rush of adrenaline. You needed Tommy — more than you would like to admit.

You shoved Tommy away from you, his back colliding with the refrigerator, a look of shock spread across his face. You stand up, walking towards him, your cock still hard as a rock. "I'm now getting a vivid idea of me on my knees in front of you, and you fucking my face — I don't remember that in any I've read, but we could always make our own," You smirk.

Tommy returns your smirk with one of his own. "Whatever you want me to do, songbird."

You kneel on your knees as you watch Tommy slide his boxers down. His cock springs out and hits you in the nose; you chuckle in retaliation. You wrap your lips around the tip of Tommy's cock, and you slowly go towards the base of his cock. Tommy throws his head back as you start to suck his cock. He grabbed your face and started thrusting his hips towards you.

You could feel the tip of his cock punch you in the throat wih each thrust, this feeling was intoxicating and you loved every second.

"Damn, songbird. So fuckin' better than your sister," Tommy growled.

Your pupiles look up at Tommy bearing his teeth and his hands grip your hair and his thrusts become faster, more beastlike. Tommy was enjoying himself more than he should admit. His girlfriend's little brother taking his cock so well, Tommy's knowing he's older and his songbird being twenty-two, he loved the age gap between you two.

Hearing each slurp, gag, and noise come from you, Tommy could have his warm cum shoot down your throat right now. Retracting his cock from your mouth, Tommy grabs your chin and looks you in the eyes. Seeing your saliva drool from your mouth to your chin, your tears down your cheeks — it was a sight for Tommy he found amazing.

"Open your mouth," Tommy commanded.

You complied with his commands and you parted your lips away from each other. Tommy had positioned his face away from yours and spit in your mouth. Before you could think, Tommy's lips smashed onto yours — gripping your throat lightly. “Get up, songbird.”

You get up, and Tommy turns you around, — forcing you to lean on the table where the book’s spine is in your field of view. You could feel Tommy’s cock bounce off your ass. Your sister would murder you if you knew how badly you wanted her boyfriend’s cock inside you.

You could feel his cock press up against your ass, but you felt it back up from you. You hear Tommy spit again, and you don't think anything from it until you feel the tip of Tommy’s cock slowly slide in. You suck in a deep breath.

“S’ fuckin’ tight, baby,” Tommy growled.

You could feel Tommy’s cock stretch you out, slowly, painfully enjoying every inch inside you. Tommy’s hips had a mind of their own as his thrust started slow, but his thighs clapped against your ass.

Tommy’s slow thrusts became more and more intense, but you loved every second of it. With each clap, your moans kept escaping your lips, and Tommy’s cock slipped out of you as you moved forward.

“Ah! Easy,” You breathed.

“Shut up, songbird,” Tommy grunts, smacking your ass — you moan in retaliation. Tommy slides his cock in between your ass cheeks — teasing you. “You want this dick... right, songbird?”

“You want to feel your sister’s boyfriend to shove his cock deep inside you?”

“Yes, Fuck yes, Tommy,” You whine.

Tommy adjusts himself — sliding his cock inside you, but he doesn't go slow. His thrusts were fast, and you were trying to contain your moans from everyone hearing them. Tommy had gripped his hands on your waist tightly, and he was enjoying the sounds escaping your lips. You were clenching your teeth together tightly to keep your moans from escaping your lips, but your whimpers were another thing you tried to contain — but they slipped through your teeth like smoke.

“Baby, those sounds, make my cock twitch like crazy,” Tommy grunted.

“Fuck— shit, Tommy. You’re gonna break me,” You whined.

“That’s the plan, songbird. I want your family to hear how well I treat you. My cock —thrust— buried deep —thrust— inside your tight ass.” Tommy leans closer to you, his lips inches away from your ear.

“I would love to see the look on your sister's face when she sees me fuckin’ your brains out,” Tommy grunted.

The tone of his voice made your spine have knife-like chills crawling up and down all over your back.

With a firm hand-made contact with your bare ass, you moan as a reflex. Another smack came across your ass, another, and another, and another. You became a moaning bullhorn — bearing your teeth, you lay your forehead on your forearm as you feel each thrust rock the kitchen table.

Tommy wrapped his hand in the front of your throat and pulled you to the side of his head.

“Let’s have some real fun, songbird,” Tommy growled. “Get on the fuckin’ floor.”

Tommy slipped his cock out of you, and you went on your knees and then on your back, laid on the floor. The cold sensation of the floor made contact with your cotton-covered back. Tommy crawls on top of you, lifts your legs, and gazes down at your hole. “Look at that, baby. I bet you're still so fuckin’ tight.”

Tommy’s adjust’s his cock — holding your leg and sliding his cock inside you, you fight the urge to scream right there. “Damn, songbird. No music to my ears?”

“That’s soon, Tommy,” You whined.

Tommy’s lips coincide with yours to make a passionate kiss. Tommy’s thrust becomes so addicting and unique that you don't want him to stop — even if anyone saw the two of you making sweet heaven.

“I remember you,” Tommy confesses.

“What?”

“You asked me If we’ve met before — I lied. I knew you a long time ago,” Tommy groaned, placing his hands on both sides of your head

“Really?” You ask.

“Remember Clark?”

Even with Tommy’s dick pumping fast and hard inside, you forced yourself to think about your old friend who moved away when you were in first grade and he was in fifth grade. You two were close and did everything together after school was over. The both of you could take over the world someday, but like all great things, they end because Clark moved away with out telling you.

He stopped coming to the park after school, no phone calls or anything, just pure silence.

“Are you Clark?” You question.

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded.

“You lied about your name? Didn't you? Why?”

“Because my name sounded like — damn baby, your tight— like a baby. I hated my name. I didn't know any better,” Tommy states.

“But, I wouldn't have — Oh god, yes, Tommy — made fun of you,”

“I know that, oh songbird. I wanted to tell you right before I left, but it was too late; you have no idea how much I missed you.”

“When I saw you enter my tattoo shop, I wanted to hug you. When I saw you in this house, Everything connected.”

You snap your eyes shut and bear your teeth.

“I have my songbird in my arms again,” Tommy breathed.

You were on the brink of crying; all these emotions of sadness you were feeling were intensified by Tommy’s cock pumping inside you.

“Songbird?”

“Yeah,” You squeaked.

“I love you so much. I needed to say that — I’ve wanted to say that ever since your birthday,” Tommy breathed. Tears started to roll down the side of your face as a smile broke out on your face. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset up—”

“No, it's fine, I’m happy. Too happy, I start crying,” You smile.

“Really?” Tommy breathed.

“Do you love me too?”

“How about this? You keep fucking my brains out. I’ll let you know how I feel. I can feel your cock twitch inside me. I can feel you about to cum.”

“Baby, I’m so fuckin’ close. I’m gonna get you pregnant.”

Tommy’s thrusts become more animalistic, hot, and intense. It felt like a scene from one of your many books. You loved this, your old childhood friend making you feel this way and enjoying the moment with him. Another memory you both will share.

You wrap your hands around Tommy’s broad back, scratching your nails on his back, you feel the warmth of Tommy's body as you are about to cum. “Damn, Tommy. I’m about to cum.”

“Cum f’me baby,” it sounded like a command more than a statement. Your cock throbs, and you exclaim a moan as stings of cum hit your shirt.

“Fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum in my childhood best friend!” Tommy exclaimed, bearing his teeth. As Tommy’s hips keep going back and forth into you, looking into your eyes, his cum shoots inside you; Tommy steadies himself inches away from your face. You could feel Tommy slip his cock out of you, your hole dripping with his cum.

“How was the ending of this chapter?” Tommy pants.

“Pretty good,” You smiled. Tommy smiles back at you and kisses your lips softly and gently; as he backs up, you look into his eyes. “I love you too.” Tommy’s smile brightened up the whole room. You loved your childhood best friend, and you couldn't ask for anyone better.

“Don’t expect me to call you Clark now,” You insisted.

“I don't; I expect you to call me daddy, now.”

You pushed his face away from yours as your cock twitched, and he landed next to you — leaning on his arm. You're an ass,” You laughed. Tommy’s smile made butterflies flutter in your stomach as he trailed his finger near your nipple.

“Would you be okay with goin’ somewhere with me? Where we could finish our book series.”

You snicker. “Where? ‘Cause I don't want anyone to hear me moan my sister’s boyfriend's name.” Tommy sits up and stands up, outstretching his arm. You take his gesture and lift yourself from the now-warm floor.

“Let’s get cleaned up, and I’ll tell you later.”

“Okay,” You chuckle. “Are we taking sepreate showers?”

Tommy scoffs. “Oh hell, no. But I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

You scoff. “Yeah, I find that hard to believe.”