#a little bit of experimental lighting from a fire off screen in this one too! i had fun with that!

[ghostbergara]

something from this western treasure hunting au if the spirit takes u

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44120635

you bet the spirit took me

a great fic, thank you for the suggestion!

[ahkaahshi]

so good to me [akaashi keiji x reader]

pairing: akaashi keiji x fem reader

genre: smut (18+) with a hint of fluff

warning(s): explicit sexual content, quirofilia, breath play, light dumbification, swearing, fingering, dirty talk

word count: 3.2k

overview: baking cupcakes ends up being a bit more challenging than you’d originally anticipated when you keep finding yourself distracted by your handsome boyfriend’s pretty hands.

It’s almost poetic, you think: the way your boyfriend’s fingers dance along his laptop’s keyboard. Even though he’s sending a rather heated email to a coworker who’s fallen short on his work, you can’t help but find yourself mesmerized at the sight of his long, slender digits tapping away rhythmically, only pausing every now and then to find just the right word to use to purvey his displeasure in an appropriate manner. In fact, you’re so entranced by watching the tendons in his hands shift with each movement of his fingers that you don’t even realize you’ve neglected your ingredient measuring duties until his voice interrupts you.

“Sorry, do you need the recipe again?” he asks, drawing your (e/c) gaze to his slate blue one that glows behind the screen’s reflection on his glasses.

Quickly, you shake your head and brush a strand of (h/c) hair away from your face. “We can start when you’re done. It’s okay.” The small smile that graces your features has him leaning down to peck your temple gently.

“I’ll be done in a minute.”

Pleasant tingles travel down your back at feeling his lips brush against your skin as they form the gentle reassurance he speaks. To busy yourself in a productive manner while he finishes up his email, you wander around the kitchen to fetch any bakeware you see missing from the island’s wooden countertop—including a muffin pan. A glance at the time displayed in sharp, blue lines on the stove reminds you just how much earlier in the day you should’ve started baking treats for the small gathering of former Fukuroudani team members you’d offered to host. Akaashi seems to sense your concern, since he hurries to finish his message before opening the tab with the recipe you intend to follow and washing his hands.

As the two of you set to combining and mixing ingredients according to the cupcake recipe on his screen, you find it challenging to keep your daydreams at bay and your attention on your own tasks. Each time his hands dart into your workspace for another utensil, your gaze follows them and your mind floods with thoughts that quickly become less than innocent.

Every glide of his fingers along his laptop’s trackpad makes you wish they were tracing along every inch of your body instead, setting your skin ablaze with his touch. Each time they wrap around the base of the stand mixer he’s using to agitate a bowl of creamy contents, you feel your throat tighten in anticipation as your mind conjures hazy memories of his gentle pressure around your neck. His occasional—and almost curious—grazes of the veins beneath the fair skin on his arms remind you of each time you’d decorated them with small crescents as you clutched onto him while feverishly chanting his name. Watching him work is both delightful and maddening.

And it becomes even more of a challenge to slow your racing heart when you notice his fingers dip into the bowl of frosting he’s whipped up to collect some on his fingertips. Experimentally, he tastes his creation, the thoughtful expression on his features soon easing as he gives it an approving nod. Upon noticing that your full attention is on him, he gestures towards the bowl and offers, “Try some. See if you like it.”

Your heart flutters in your chest as you suggest, “Could you get some for me? My hands are all covered in flour.”

For the record, they’re not, and your observant boyfriend knows this, but entertains you anyway. It’s almost shameful, the way your mouth begins watering when his fingers drag through the fluffy, white topping to gather another dollop on the tips, but you can’t help yourself. Not when you know just how much sweeter the sample will taste when delivered to you by his digits rather than your own. He seems to understand at least a sliver of the thoughts racing through your mind, since he utters a gentle command that brings your thighs together beneath the cover of your apron.

“Open.”

Obediently, you let your jaw slacken so he can move his fingers between your soft lips to spread the sugary frosting across your tastebuds. His unwavering gaze narrows ever so slightly when you move your face closer to his knuckle, taking the entirety of his two fingers into your mouth and dragging your tongue along the smooth expanse of his skin. That quiet groan you can barely hear rumbling in his throat is both a warning and a challenge—letting you know that you’re playing with fire but also questioning just how badly you want to get burned. Solidifying your decision of wanting to play this teasing game with him, you suck on his fingers with enough pressure to create a loud pop when you remove them from your mouth by pulling away.

Judging by the low tone in his voice when he speaks, your intentions have been made crystal clear and he’s not going to let you get away with what you’ve done. “I should’ve known, huh?” You furrow your eyebrows in slight confusion at his words, but he elaborates, “With the way you’ve been watching me since before we even started baking. So simple-minded, sometimes, aren’t you, baby?” A gentle tap against your protruding lower lip brings your attention to the fact that you’re pouting, and you quickly take it between your teeth. “Can’t even do something as easy as following a recipe for cupcake batter because you’re too busy thinking about making a mess all over my fingers. Is that right?”

Your breath hitches in your throat when his palm moves to the side of your neck, just beneath your jawbone. “Keiji,” you whimper softly, feeling unbearably hot under his touch all of a sudden. His cool thumb tracing over your warm skin hardly provides any relief, and only intensifies the temperature of the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach.

“Finish up,” he commands gently, placing his other hand on your hip to guide you back towards the bowl of ingredients you’ve yet to finish mixing. He grabs the hand mixer resting on the counter nearby that you’d taken out earlier before placing the device into the palm of your slightly quivering hand. At your hesitation, he urges, “Go on. I would hate to have to tell everyone that dessert wasn’t ready because my girlfriend was too distracted by wanting me to fuck her stupid on my fingers, of all things.”

Another pitiful whine escapes your mouth, but you turn the mixer on and place it in the bowl in front of you to complete the task you’d originally set yourself to. The sensation of his fingers ghosting along the exposed skin on your neck before making their way down to your hips and holding onto them firmly from where he stands behind you makes your core ache. His warmth against the entire backside of your body has you using every fiber of self-control to prevent yourself from abandoning your job and throwing your arms around him. However, you know that no matter how much you want him, he won’t feed into any of your desires until the contents of the bowl have been poured into the muffin pan and safely tucked away inside the warmth of the oven, so you diligently work on taking things one step at a time—since that’s all you can muster, anyway.

“Good girl,” he praises gently when you finish mixing, his breath falling on the shell of your ear, “You always work better when you’re told what to do, don’t you?” Silently, you nod. Both of you know that your intelligence is much higher than he’s currently giving you credit for, but you love the pleasure you reap from assuming the role of his dumb, little girlfriend in situations like this. Pretending as if you didn’t know better or couldn’t perform without being told what to do always gave you a bit of a thrill—which he knew all too well. He didn’t mind, since he had never been a stranger to assuming control.

“In the oven for twenty minutes. Be careful not to burn yourself, sweetheart.”

His gunmetal gaze follows your figure as you shuffle over to the oven to pull it open so you can slide the tray into its warmth. Once you’ve set it to bake for the appropriate time, you untie your apron and pull it off over your head before grabbing one of his hands and leading him towards the bedroom. However, his refusal to budge takes you by surprise, and you nearly stumble backwards when your movements are stopped.

“Keiji,” you huff, “the rest of our friends are gonna be here soon.”

In an instant that happens too quickly for you to be able to process anything, you’re being pulled towards him moments before you find your back pressed against one of the walls in the kitchen. Your (e/c) eyes are wide with shock but clouded by a thin veil of lust as you stare into his own, which you find are watching you as calmly as ever. “I know,” he states, “So why don’t we take care of things right here, then?” Though his words are phrased as a question, the intonation of his voice along with the way his hand is slowly sliding up your shirt reveal otherwise. He’s not asking.

The intensity of his gaze makes your heart pound erratically against your ribcage and draws you closer to him in spite of his strong presence keeping your back flush against the cool wall. After he brings his face down towards yours to capture your lips in a gentle kiss, it’s hard for you to keep track of everything that happens next. His fingers dancing along the expanse of bare skin from your waist to your lacy bralette beneath your shirt has you melting into his touch, and his passionate kisses are soon taking your breath away. His fingertips skimming over the dainty fabric separating them from your nipples makes you squirm and tighten your grasp around him.

“Come here,” he whispers, placing his arm around your back and guiding you into the center of the kitchen. Grabbing one of the chairs at the other side of the island, he drags it behind him so he can take a seat and beckon you to do the same. When you sit down on his lap facing him, he shakes his head and insists, “Turn around.”

With your back to him this time, you slide back onto the seat, perching between his legs. As his hands work their way up to your breasts, sliding underneath the lace so they can cup your soft, plush skin and roll your nipples between his fingers, you let out a soft moan and focus your gaze on the warm glow of the light inside the oven just a few feet away from where you’re sitting. In the faint reflection on the smooth surface of the glass, yours and Akaashi’s forms are barely visible, and you can’t help but watch as he slides one of his palms along your thighs, pausing to give them a firm squeeze every now and then.

“Please, Keiji,” you breathe, placing your hand over his and guiding it to the waistband of the lounge shorts you’re wearing, “want your fingers inside me.”

He hums, “I know you do, baby,” as he toys with the elastic before pushing it away from your hips and down your legs as far as he can reach. You hear a small chuckle bubble in his throat when you hastily rid yourself of the garment, leaving only one more layer between his long fingers and your aching core. “It’s all you’ve been thinking about. It’s all you can think about.”

You nod in agreement, desperate to do or say anything that’ll get him to move with just a bit more urgency to alleviate your discomfort. Heat spreads across your skin in a powerful wave when his other palm comes to rest on the base of your throat. His fingers slowly making their way up and around your neck, gently pulling you back against his chest while his other digits toy with the edge of your panties makes your pussy throb needily. Before you can beg for him another time, though, he’s dipping beneath the flimsy material to trail his fingertips from your already soaking entrance to your clit.

A loud moan of appreciation echoes from between your lips as Akaashi presses his to your jawline. “Take your panties off for me.” His command has your own fingers skittering down to your hips to shed the material as quickly as possible and you ignore the rush of cold air you feel between your legs at being fully exposed. The reflection in the oven’s window is too unclear for you to tell if he’s watching you the same way you’re watching yourself, but, in the bright lights of the kitchen, you can see your slick shining on his fingertips as he spreads it along your sex.

Your small whimpers and mewls begin steadily increasing in volume as he slides his index finger over your pearl in short, tantalizing strokes that leave you wanting more. And while he enjoys every sound that leaves your mouth, littering your skin with gentle kisses as encouragement, he tightens his grasp around your throat, restricting your airflow in the gentlest manner possible. It’s clear, after your countless experiences with breath play in the bedroom, that he knows exactly how much pressure to use to keep you safe and comfortable, yet make you feel restrained and excited.

As he digs his digits into the tender skin around your neck, your cries of pleasure become more labored and your chest heaves with deeper breaths. He’s careful and understanding of your body, loosening his grip slightly whenever he feels the muscles surrounding your throat straining too excessively, and tightening it again when he hears more of your desperate pleas. Safety and respect for you are always his first priorities, no matter what games you’re playing or kinks you’re experimenting with, and knowing he’ll always take care of you is what makes you melt into his arms and clutch onto him tightly as he pleasures you.

“Keiji!” Another cry of his name rolls off your tongue when he finally plunges his fingers inside of your hot core, which welcomes him with a wet squelch. Each thrust of his digits into you, edging them closer and closer to your most sensitive area has you moaning unabashedly with desire. “Faster, please!” He ignores your request and continues sliding them in and out at a controlled speed. “Please, Keiji, I wanna cum. I want you to make me cum,” you plead with an exasperated exhale.

Without warning, the hand on your neck releases so he can shove his fingers into your half-open mouth, making you squeal with surprise. “It looks like you forgot that you’re only allowed to take orders, not give them, silly girl,” he murmurs, pressing his mouth against the shell of your ear so his voice is the only thing you can hear, “Who’s in charge right now, hmm?”

With his fingers depressing your tongue and quickly filling your mouth with saliva, you slur out his name as best as you can. The proximity of his face to yours makes you hyperaware of each breath and utterance that leaves his lips, as well as the heat they send skittering across your skin.

“That’s right,” he answers, “So, be a good girl and let me make you feel good, okay? Promise I will.”

He takes a soft sigh and lack of complaints from you as a sign of you relinquishing control to him once more and pecks your temple tenderly in response. As he continues pleasuring your needy pussy with his fingers, those he has in your mouth muffle the cries you utter in response to the sensations that you’ve been craving all day. It’s not long before you notice your own saliva start trailing down his wrist, glittering in the lights above as you as it leaves a slick path along the soft ridges of his veins and tendons in its slow-moving wake. His thumb pressing against your sensitive clit as he kneads the spongy region inside of you with his index and middle fingers returns you to the moment once again, and your breathing gradually becomes more labored as you grind your hips against him, desperate for release.

Soon, a rush of euphoria overtakes your body as you finally fall apart at his fingers alone. He lightens the pressure he’s exerting on your tongue just enough for his name to be fully formed when it leaves your mouth in breathy cries, since there’s nothing he loves more than hearing it chanted like it’s the only word in your vocabulary in the heat of your orgasms. He hums with contentment into your neck, nipping gently at the skin there as he lets you use his fingers to ride out your high.

You’re barely allowed a moment of rest following your release before the timer for the oven beeps harshly, bringing you back to reality more abruptly than you would’ve liked. Slowly, you close your legs, and Akaashi keeps his hand nestled in your warmth for what feels to be a long stretch of time before pulling it away from your sensitive core. A lighthearted chuckle echoes from his mouth when he tries to move only to have you slump against him and whine with indignation.

Before he can speak, the sound of the doorbell ringing alerts both of you to the arrival of your guests, and your gaze darts to him, then to your shorts and panties strewn across the tiled floor. “Of course, they decide to be right on time today, of all days,” he growls, placing his hands on your waist to help you stand up so you can make yourself decent.

“Kou’s probably excited about the cupcakes,” you giggle as you slide the discarded clothes back up your legs while Akaashi washes his hands. Once you’re dressed, you approach your boyfriend and give him and affectionate kiss that he returns appreciatively. Another chime of the doorbell forces the two of you to pull away so that he can retrieve the cupcakes from the oven and attend to your impatient guests. “Need help with anything?”

He smiles sweetly but answers, “Not now. You can go ahead and get ready,” before giving you a gentle pat on the rear to send you off down the hall.

“Hey, Keiji?”

“Yes, my love?”

You bite your lip before suggesting, “Once everyone leaves tonight, how about I put on that cute lingerie set you got for me and wait in the bedroom for you on my knees?”

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, “I would love that.” As you prance down the hallway to the bedroom while he approaches the front door, the words you hear him add in a hushed tone make your heart flutter in your chest: “Always so good to me.”

treat me to a coffee! ⭐︎ kinktober masterlist

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen​, @devlovesramen, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin​, @kac-chowsballs​, @osamusmiya​

akaashi: @why-aminot-dead​, @lotsoffandomrecs​, @atsunakaashi​, @heyhinata​

[alpacaparkaseok]

Lost & Found - 9

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 5.1k

a/n: this chapter is based off of the song ‘Countdowns’ by Sleeping at Last. I also consider this Jimin’s song for this series! Give it a listen! (also, Sleeping at Last has been a long time favorite band of mine and they are soooo amazing)

Chapter 9. Countdowns

series masterlist

I awake with a distinct feeling of disbelief. Peering down at Elle’s sleeping form, I do my best to maneuver to the side of the bed without waking the pristine white cat. Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, it only takes a couple of seconds before yesterday’s conversation with Park Jaemin appears.

I stare and stare at the screen, scrolling through the light-hearted conversation until I arrive to a conclusion.

“I think I made a friend.” At my quiet utterance Elle stretches and looks at me lazily. “Well, besides you, I suppose.”

Elle rolls to her feet, plopping down on my lap and swishing her tail back and forth. I chew on my lip, checking the time at the top of the screen. It’s still absurdly early, chances are I won’t hear back from Jaemin for a few hours if I decide to text him now.

But, I think I made a friend.

I honestly can’t remember the last time I did that.

That fact alone proves too tempting as I run my fingers through Elle’s fur and snap a photo of her. Quickly captioning it, I send it off and jump out of bed, throwing my phone down on the comforter.

“There,” I grin at my confused cat. “That counts as my social interaction for the day, right?”

It isn’t until I’m in the shower and halfway through shaving my left leg that I realize just how much my newly formed friendship has influenced me. Not only has it granted me a rarely-won feeling of accomplishment, but it’s also spurred me to do something I never fully realized I had stopped in the first place.

For the first time in months - no, perhaps already a year? - I’m singing.

With a silly grin that is so at odds with the rush of tears to my eyes, I sing all the louder.

✂

For the first time since he saw the other half of this thread floating toward him on a phantom breeze, freshly cut, Jimin is singing.

Granted, it’s not the singing most people are used to hearing. The arena is echoing with the sounds of the members of BTS performing their various voice exercises. At first it felt a bit strange, sitting on the edge of the stage where they’ll be having their Muster is a few day’s time. Experimentally projecting his voice, wincing a little at how a few weeks without singing made it a bit difficult.

“How’re you feeling?” Yoongi plops down beside Jimin, leaning back on his hands. Jimin shrugs, looking around the arena.

“I’d forgotten how big these venues are,” he admits. “And it’s only been a few weeks since I last performed.”

Yoongi grunts in acknowledgement, looking at all the empty seats that will soon be filled with their fans. “It’s a humbling feeling, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Will we really fill this place up?”

Snorting, Yoongi gets up to his feet and holds a hand out for Jimin. “We will, I have a feeling that’ll be the least of our problems.”

Clambering to his feet as well, Yoongi’s words remind Jimin of what they have to do today. Heading toward the center of the back of the stage, they enter the loose huddle the others have formed.

The stage director, Kang Jisoo, does a quick headcount before beginning the little meeting. “Ok,” she rolls her shoulders, looking around the circle. “How’s everybody feeling?”

She’s met with an array of responses, all conveying the same meaning.

“Great. Does everyone feel confident with the different stages? Anything you feel like you need to go over before we begin the full rehearsal?” It’s quiet for a moment, but Hoseok voices what’s on everybody’s mind.

“How do you want us to move through Jiminie’s entrance and exit?”

Despite knowing that this question was coming, Jimin can’t help the spike in his heart rate. He’s itching to perform again, but there’s no way for him to anticipate everyone’s reactions when he comes out on stage. All he can do is try his best, he supposes.

The first couple of hours fly by, Jimin watching from the side for the majority of the time. It was decided that he would come on and perform with everyone for the final song, allowing for all of the members to leave at the same time as him.

When it comes time for that final song in the rehearsal, Jimin clenches his jaw while the platform rises up to the stage. Clinging to his microphone for dear life and forcing himself to look out at the empty arena instead of the red thread on his left hand, he readjusts his earpiece and allows for the music to take over.

Jimin’s eyes fall shut as he sings his part, a part of his aching heart basking in the lyrics. He doesn’t open them again until Taehyung’s deep voice is finishing out the song, and he glances around himself as though just remembering where he is.

He’s shocked when he catches Jungkook hastily drying his tears on his shirtsleeves.

“Kookie,” Jimin laughs as he rises from the stool, wandering over to the maknae. He pulls him into a hug, the other members watching with fond expressions. “You alright?”

Jungkook nods, sniffling a little more before pulling away. “Sorry hyung, I just...it’s sad.”

“The song?” Jimin asks with raised brows.

Shrugging and nodding at the same time, Jungkook looks around the empty arena as though able to see into the future when it will be filled with ARMY. “All of it.”

Kang Jisoo rushes over a moment later, her own eyes glinting a little with what might be unshed tears. “Right, after that, I would strongly advise saying goodbye and heading back to the lift.” She looks at Jungkook with a knowing expression. “It’s going to be a bit intense in here, I think. After that performance.”

“Should I have picked a different song?” Jimin asks, worried that it might prove too much for ARMY. “I just don’t think I could do a very high energy one, you know? But we could do 2! 3! Or something-”

It’s Taehyung who steps forward, throwing a comforting arm around his friend. “No. I think ARMY...I think I need to see it, actually.” He sighs. “It’ll hurt, but I think we’ll all look back and see that your performance, returning to the public eye with this song, gives hope.”

Once rehearsal is wrapped up, Jimin finds himself backstage with Jin and Jungkook. The three of them are in the process of stuffing their faces with whatever food they can find when Jin looks at Jimin quizzically.

“Have you texted Jolie at all since last night?”

Jimin’s eyes grow wide. “Er-” he swallows his food, “I forgot to charge my phone last night, it was dead this morning. I threw it on the charger once I got here. Let me find it.” He jumps up, heart beating a bit too quickly as he searches for his charged phone. This morning he’d nearly had a heart attack when he realized he’d fallen asleep with his phone in his hands instead of charging it up. When he tried to turn it on to attempt a good morning text to Jolie, he’d huffed and puffed as his poor phone refused to power up immediately.

By the time he’d rushed over here and found a charger to throw it on, he’d had to go on stage.

Now he finds it in the corner of the room, fully charged and-

“She texted me!” Jimin shouts, ripping his phone off the charger and rushing back over to Jin and Jungkook.

“She did?!” Jungkook and Jin simultaneously shout, eyes wide.

Jimin groans when he sees what time. “At like...four in the morning!”

“What did she say?” Jin urges, nudging him. Jimin unlocks his phone, immediately letting out a choked noise when he sees the adorable message.

It’s a photo of Elle, sprawled out as Jolie’s right hand (obviously not the left, which would show her severed thread), scratches her fluffy belly. Beneath the photo is a message.

Jolie (Elle): Elle’s much happier now, she says good morning!

Jolie (Elle): Oh, and she says thank you for the cuddles 😍

“Thank you for the cuddles,” Jimin squeaks out, parroting the message. Jin and Jungkook read the message over his shoulder, cooing at the adorable cat.

“What are you going to say back?” Jungkook asks, still smiling at the cute message. Jimin takes a moment to think it over, before typing out a message.

Me: Why is she so adorable??

Me: Alsoooo sorry for taking forever to respond. My phone was dead and then I forgot to take it off the charger.

He waits about sixty seconds before firing off another message.

Me: PLEASE DON’T STOP SENDING ME ADORABLE PICTURES OF ELLE THO, I SWEAR I CHERISH THEM

The others chuckle at him, knowing full well not to question him.

✂

I’ve taken a pan out of my cupboard to begin preparing dinner when my phone pings. It just so happens to go off at the same moment someone knocks on my door.

Rounding the corner to open the door, I check my phone on the way and can’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

I was worried that Jaemin wasn’t going to respond.

I mean, I did text him...fourteen hours ago? It’s already six in the evening, it’s about time he responded.

“Open up! It’s the police!”

Rolling my eyes, I yank the door open to reveal a grinning Chung-hei. “Come in, loser.”

She does just that, sniffing the air like some sort of dog. “You haven’t started cooking yet, have you?”

I shake my head. “Just about to start.” Sliding an onion across the counter, I pass her a cutting board as well. “Since you’re late, you can chop the onion.”

Grumbling something under her breath, Chung-hei takes the cutting board and stations herself before the counter. “Yeah, yeah. How’s life?”

Shrugging, I get up on my tip-toes to reach the spices that I for some reason keep on the top shelf. “Pretty good. Actually, today’s been a pretty good day.”

“Oh really?” Hei wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Why? What happened?”

Shouting triumphantly when I finally reach the spices, I grin at my oldest friend. “I think I made a friend.” Then, pausing, I smile even wider. “Actually, two.”

Christina and Jaemin.

What a great starting lineup.

Chung-hei pauses in her chopping, looking genuinely surprised. “You’re being social?”

We both laugh knowingly. She’s always been the more outgoing one out of the two of us, although I used to be just as social as she was. Over the past year or so though, I’ve definitely become more of a recluse.

Almost like I’d forgotten who I was, content to just watch life fly by outside my window. I’d completely forgotten the thrill that comes from making new friends.

“A little,” I shrug. “What about you? How are you doing?”

Chung-hei looks like she wants to ask a bit more about my newfound friends, but drops it for now. “Same old, same old. I’m busy, Namjoon is busy, but we make it work. Actually,” she sets her knife down and steps back to avoid the effects of the onion. “I wanted to come here and apologize.”

Today is definitely turning out to be an...interesting day.

“What?”

Smiling softly, Chung-hei takes the chopped half of the onion to the saucepan on the stovetop and begins sautéing it. “I was...unfair to you the other day. Well, I guess it’s been a couple of weeks now, hasn’t it? For one, I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize that I wasn’t being a very good friend-”

I stop her with a confused look. “Hei, what are you talking about?”

“When I ambushed you at the bread shop with Namjoon.”

“Oh,” I say, stepping back and watching her. “I didn’t realize I’d be getting an apology for that.”

“Well, you deserve one. I wasn’t thinking about how you were feeling, I just got so in my head, just wanting to fix everything.” She shakes her head, staring down at the pan. “The only thing I could think about was how lost Namjoon looked when he came over that night, you know, when everything went down…”

“You mean when I cut the thread.”

Chung-hei finally looks over at me, a little shocked.

“You can say it,” I continue, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “It’s not like it’s a disease or something.”

She nods slowly, returning to the task at hand. “Ok. Well, that night when...when you cut the thread, Namjoon showed up in the middle of the night. He’d just left Jimin, and he was a mess. It took him forever to calm down enough to even speak straight, let alone rest. And of course, I was horrified. So when I found out that it was my best friend who was the reason for all of that pain, pain that I can only imagine was multiplied tenfold for Jimin, I just...freaked out. Bringing Namjoon to confront you seemed to be the only option for me.”

“...but it wasn’t, right?” I ask tentatively, taking in this new information. The thought of Namjoon being such a mess that night had never crossed my mind. I’d imagined that everyone would be angry, sure. But shell-shocked? Shaken to the bone?

“No. There were - still are - so many better options. And that’s been eating me alive the past couple of weeks,” Hei admits. “I’m so sorry, Jolie. For not even taking the time to figure out if you’re ok.”

It’s the apology I didn’t know I needed.

“...do you forgive me?” I ask quietly, realizing that what I may need more than an apology is forgiveness.

Chung-hei turns around to face me, tears rolling down her face that may not be from the onions. “I- of course I do. I did, weeks ago.”

As much as I want to dissolve into my friend’s embrace and cry with her, I find myself needing to know more. In my personal search for forgiveness, I need to understand why.

“How, though?” I venture. “Why?”

Blinking, Hei pushes the onions around on the pan for a moment longer. “How? I just...I love you. Even when you’re an idiot.”

I laugh at her honest response, suddenly feeling much lighter. “Thank you?”

It would appear that Christina is right. As horribly cliché and exhausting as it sounds, that’s the first thing I’ve got to understand if I’m going to find any way out of this mess.

Love just has to always be the answer, doesn’t it?

“Attention hog,” I mutter, quietly attacking love.

“What was that?” Chung-hei asks, thankfully not hearing me above the sizzling of the stove.

“Oh, nothing.” Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I grin at the messages I have waiting for me. It looks like Jaemin slipped another message into the mix, ever the impatient one.

Me: Wowww good to know you’re still breathing

Me: Also, if that’s what it takes to get a text back within a decent amount of time...maybe there will be a shortage of Elle pictures for a while. Thanks for the idea! 😂

✂

When Jimin arrives back at the apartment that evening, he’s a little shocked to find himself walking into World War III.

Both him and Jungkook, who usually tend to share a car, freeze in the doorway as the unmistakable voices of Taehyung and Namjoon bounce off the walls. Jungkook is quick to close the door behind him, hoping that the rest of the prestigious neighborhood didn’t just hear the shouting.

“What do you mean you didn’t know what to do?!” Taehyung shouts, sounding like he’s upstairs. Jungkook and Jimin share a look, unsure of whether they should head up to break up the argument.

It’s been years since Namjoon got caught up in a screaming match with any of the members. Whatever it is, it must be serious.

Yoongi and Hobi sit on a couch in the living room, wincing at the bitter argument. Jimin and Jungkook wander over to them, hoping to find some sort of explanation.

“They came in like this,” Yoongi quietly explains, already knowing that they’d ask. “Didn’t tell us what’s going on, but they shared a car and I guess something happened.”

Before Jimin can ask anything, Namjoon’s voice interrupts him.

“What was I supposed to do, Taehyung?! Break Jimin’s heart all over again? Jolie hardly knows what she’s feeling, let alone how to pick up the pieces-”

“HE DESERVES TO KNOW!”

The entire apartment falls silent as Taehyung’s voice rips through Namjoon like a freshly sharpened knife. “He’s my best friend, and yours too, hyung.” His voice is softer now, although there’s still a barb to it. “Weren’t you the one preaching about ‘let it hurt, then let it go’? How is he ever supposed to let it go when you’ve been hiding this from him?”

“And how do you propose I tell him?” Namjoon says quietly enough that Jimin wonders if he actually heard him.

Before Jungkook can stop him, Jimin is striding up the stairs to see Taehyung standing in the doorway of Namjoon’s room, panting after his outburst. His heart is in his stomach, gut churning as he quietly walks over to his best friend’s side.

Taehyung jumps a little when Jimin appears beside him, but Jimin is immediately drawn in by the image in front of him.

Namjoon is sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. Looking absolutely devastated.

“Tell me what?”

Head popping up, Namjoon meets Jimin’s eyes with his own blood-shot ones. “You’re home,” he croaks out, his voice sounding raw after the screaming match he just went through.

From the way Taehyung huffs, Jimin can tell he’s still riled up. Placing a protective hand on his shoulder, Taehyung urges his friend forward.

“Yes…” Jimin says, looking back at Taehyung. His friend keeps his eyes trained on Namjoon, almost as though daring him to try hiding the truth. It’s a look that has Jimin shrinking back, even though he’s not on the receiving end of it. “What’s going on, hyung? You- I heard Jolie’s name.”

Sitting up straight and nodding slowly, Namjoon looks utterly defeated. “Come in, Jimin. I...I need to talk to you about something.”

“What happened?” Jimin reiterates, feeling absolutely terrified. Nobody offers him a response just yet, although Taehyung does go inside with Jimin and stands beside him as he sits down in Namjoon’s armchair. It’s clear that Taehyung isn’t going anywhere during this conversation.

After a long moment, Namjoon adjusts to face Jimin, staring down at his hands. “Just, I need you to know that I didn’t hide this from you because I don’t trust you, Chim. I do. You know that.”

He glances up at Jimin, who nods for him to continue.

“Jolie...your soulmate, she’s Chung-hei’s best friend.” He pauses, allowing Jimin to take in this new information. All he can do is blink, his mind beginning to whir with what this implies. “And, er...I met her. A couple weeks ago.”

All Namjoon receives is a blank stare as Jimin tries and fails to compute. Taehyung’s chest is still rising and falling with heavy breaths, attempting to curb his anger.

“Chung-hei was freaked out when she learned about it, and she didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to tell you, Jimin, I swear. But I didn’t want you to get your hopes up-”

“You met her?” The question stops Namjoon in his tracks, instantly feeling more regret piling up as he sees the innocent confusion on Jimin’s face.

Jimin can’t believe that he could intentionally hide this from him.

“I...yes. I did.”

Nodding slowly, as checking off one question and moving to the next, Jimin furrows his brows. “As in, you spoke to her?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t tell me.”

“...no.”

“Because you were afraid of me getting my hopes up only to get hurt again?”

“Yes. Jimin, I-”

“Is she ok?”

Jimin asks the question in a quiet tone, but Namjoon has the distinct feeling of being caught in the middle of a hurricane. Indeed, Taehyung still appears to be fuming beside his best friend, but in Jimin’s eyes is a calculated sort of calm.

It hurts, Namjoon realizes. It hurts Jimin to still care so much even after having his heart ripped out. But that’s Jimin. To stop Jimin from loving would be to stop the world from spinning.

“She’s...lost.” Namjoon replies, unsure of how exactly to explain Jolie’s predicament. “Chung-hei feels horrible though, feels like she hasn’t been a very good friend to her over the past few weeks. She’s gone over there tonight to apologize.”

Jimin nods, fiddling with one of his rings. “Will you tell me what she said to you? Tell me everything that happened?” He hesitates. “Tell me...why?”

Namjoon looks more than willing to share that information with him, even if he doesn’t quite know why either. But he pauses for a moment, frowning.

“Jimin, I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Jimin chuckles softly when Namjoon looks confused. He shrugs, gesturing to his face. “You look horrible, so I figured you felt bad.”

Both Namjoon and Taehyung snort, and then the between them dissipates as Namjoon gives him an apologetic look. Taehyung just nods, accepting the silent apology. As long as Jimin’s alright, he’ll be fine.

“Well,” Namjoon stretches a little, “she bakes bread.”

✂

The boys all filter in at some point, listening with every ounce of their attention as Namjoon relates his experience. It’s late, late enough that Jimin knows Jolie probably won’t respond to the text he sends around one in the morning, but hopefully she’ll see it when she wakes up.

Which apparently is around four in the morning each day for work.

Me: Goodnight! I promise to be better at responding from now on 😜 give Elle a kiss goodnight from me

That’s why he’s so surprised when he receives a text back, quickly followed by Namjoon’s phone going off and him accepting a call from Chung-hei.

“She’s probably calling to tell me how it went tonight,” he explains, promising to put her on speaker once he answers the phone.

Jimin nods, wide awake as he unlocks his phone.

Jolie (Elle): Woah woah woah, quit hitting on my cat. She’s taken.

He hastily sends off a reply just as Chung-hei’s voice fills the room.

Me: Ooh, touchy subject. I see that you get grumpy once it’s past your bedtime

“Hey guys! Jimin, can you hear me?”

Jimin nods before realizing that Chung-hei can’t actually see him. “Oh, yeah. How’s it going?”

“Great! I’m so sorry about keeping this from you, Jimin. Really.”

“It’s alright,” Jimin says, getting up to stretch a bit. “So...how’s Jolie?”

“Really, really well. She seemed a lot happier today. Said that she’s made some new friends.”

Jimin’s heart jumps up to his throat, realizing that he may very well be one of those friends.

“Oh.”

“That’s a big deal, though. Jolie hasn’t really gone out of her way to get to know anyone for a while. Seeing her like this was awesome.”

Jimin’s phone lights up with an incoming message, making him smile despite his worry over Jolie’s apparent anti-socialness.

Jolie (Elle): ugh don’t remind me

Jolie (Elle): I have to get up in less than three hours, pray for me 🙏

“The only thing I’m worried about is what’s gonna happen to her once you go back out into the public eye, Jimin,” Chung-hei muses, pulling Jimin’s attention away from his phone. “Jolie is going to become public enemy number one whenever people realize she’s got a cut thread.”

“Oh,” Namjoon mumbles. “I didn’t think about that.” He glances over at Jimin.

“We have to find a way to cover for her,” Jimin thinks aloud. “We’ll come up with something.”

The conversation wraps up, everyone eventually leaving Namjoon’s room as he continues chatting with Chung-hei. Jimin finds himself on the sofa in the living room, fingers hovering over his phone.

Me: I hope you’re asleep by now. Let me know how tomorrow goes for you, don’t fall asleep at work or something.

When he doesn’t receive a response back, he lets out a long sigh. Sliding his feet into his slippers, he heads outside to the balcony. Resting against the railing and looking out into the night, it doesn’t take long before Taehyung shuffles out after him.

“Hey,” he quietly greets. Jimin glances over at his friend, smiling softly.

“Hey.”

It’s quiet for a long moment, both boys taking in the beautiful night before speaking up.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Jimin chews on the question for a while beneath the twinkling stars, grateful for Taehyung’s quiet patience.

“I’m not sure,” Jimin sighs. “I feel like it’s all I ever talk about, but at the same time I don’t know how to talk about anything else.”

Taehyung hums in understanding, cracking his back before leaning up against the railing. “Should we not talk at all, then?”

Chuckling softly, Jimin nods. The silence wraps around the two of them as the night progresses, although it does little to tire Jimin out. He’s still wide awake when the clock hits three, and realizes with a start that Jolie will be waking up soon.

It’s the fact that no matter how hard he tries to hate her but can’t that has him finally opening his mouth to speak. When he does, Taehyung is alert and ready to listen.

“I wonder…” Jimin’s voice is croaky, making it sound like he just woke up. He clears his throat. “I can’t stop myself from wondering about her. She’s constantly on my mind. Especially now that I’ve seen her…” his mind immediately recalls how she looked crouching down to greet Elle, that soft smile on her face. “You know, I can’t help but wonder what’s happened to make her be so quick to cut me out of her life. That’s not normal. I mean, to be a little hesitant, sure. But to go to such lengths?”

“You’re right,” Taehyung murmurs. “What do you think it is?”

Jimin shrugs. “I’m not sure. But I’m going to find out, one way or another.”

✂

Jimin has just finished showering and getting ready for bed when he realizes that it’s already four in the morning. Groaning once he realizes that he actually has to get up and do things in a few hours time, he wonders if he should wish Jolie good morning.

Will she think he’s weird?

Needy?

“Well, I am,” Jimin admits, not shying away from the desire to reach out to his soulmate. Unlocking his phone, he squints at the screen in the darkness, typing out a quick message.

Perhaps he’s a bit tired, or maybe he’s feeling more vulnerable than usual, but he finds himself hit with a sudden wave of loneliness. Wishing, despite the early hour, that he was with Jolie at this hour of the morning. Teasing her for having to get up so early, offering to take her out to lunch while Elle slumbers at the foot of the bed.

Picture perfect.

Me: Good morning 😸 I hope you were able to get some sleep!

The response is almost instantaneous.

Jolie (Elle): did you even go to sleep?? Seriously, if I make it to work in one piece this morning, it’ll be a miracle.

Jolie (Elle): Also, awww did I just receive my first official good morning text? 😌

Taehyung and Namjoon hover outside of Jimin’s room, watching him turn into a giggling mess. They exchange looks, chuckling to themselves.

“Hey, do you have a second?” Namjoon asks quietly. Jimin nods, letting them come in. Nobody bothers to turn the light on, opting to sit in the light darkness rather than blinding themselves at this early hour.

“Hang on, let me just respond to this real quick,” Jimin mumbles, chewing in the inside of his cheek before coming up with something good enough to respond with.

Me: No, haven’t slept yet. Looks like I won’t for a while. Hmmm, looks like I should start sending more morning texts? 😉 seriously though, good luck today. Let me know how you’re holding up.

Once he’s sent off the message, he sets his phone down to face his brothers.

“What’s up?”

Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, Taehyung sitting beside him looking like he’s half-asleep.

“Well, we’re trying to figure out how to smooth everything over for Jolie once word gets out that your thread was cut.” Jimin internally winces at the mention of his thread, but shakes it off as Namjoon continues to speak. “Any ideas?”

✂

I’ve successfully made it through my shift, despite how slowly time was moving this morning. Scrubbing my hands in the big industrial sink in the back, I listen to the quiet chatter going on in the front of the store. It’s a Wednesday morning, not much is going on out there today. Chances are the shop will be empty until either the lunch rush or the end of the work day.

It’s the perfect way for me to slip out unnoticed.

I’m attempting to do just that, my apron already untied, when my boss Yuri calls out to me.

“Jolie! Really quick, before you head out, it looks like we’ve got an impromptu meeting…?” She looks at me expectantly, which has me furrowing my brow. Am I really so tired that I forgot about a meeting?

“Oh, er...ok.”

“Are we alright to have it back here?”

Again, I frown. Why is she asking me? She’s the boss. “Yeah, that’s fine I guess. Whatever works best for you.”

Yuri smiles warmly at me, although I don’t miss the way her gaze dips down to my left hand. “Great. I’ll let them know that we can chat back here.”

Them?

I shake it off, dubbing the strangeness of it all just a side effect to my exhausted state. It was great having Chung-hei over last night, but I haven’t stayed up that late in a long time-

“Hey Jolie, sorry to bombard you like this.”

I whip around at the sound of a familiar voice, eyes widening when I see Kim Namjoon standing before me. Opening my mouth to ask one of the many questions swirling around my mind, I find that no sound comes out as another tall figure steps into the room.

Coming to stand next to Namjoon, Taehyung’s residual smile from chatting with the employees in the front fades to a straight line. No smile, not an ounce of warmth crosses his sculpture-like features.

“Glad we could catch you before you head out,” Taehyung’s quiet, deep voice is nearly inaudible as he watches me from across the room.

Caught indeed.

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[coolrobotsupremacist]

A lot of adaptations of Les Mis make Valjean a little evil, a little overly violent, a teeny tiny bit sexually predatory and that's fine if that's what you're going for but it's also, let's face it, the cowards choice.

If I was in charge I would make EVERYONE evil. Or more accurately I'd reverse everyone's morality like that one episode of Star Trek TOS where Spock has a goatee.

Here's how I see it happening(not NSFW but there are references to sex, sexually predatory behaviour, child abuse, murder, child murder and ahistorical clothing):

Myriel during his time in Spain became a Master Thief, amassing a great fortune, he became a priest to avert suspicion from him. Unfortunately he made a lot of enemies who had proof of his crimes and threatened him into retirement. But hey being a bishop is pretty good too: nice salary, big house, good food. It could be worse.

One day Jean Valjean (violent criminal) who got imprisoned for twenty years after beating his nephews to death to use as firewood comes to town. He wears all black. He breaks into Myriels house and almost managed to make off with his secret stash but Myriel catches him and decides that, since he can't go on with his life of crime, Valjean should be his evil apprentice. There's an episode that's just evil My Fair Lady. Valjean was already cunning but Myriel teaches him to blend in with high society.

Meanwhile in Paris Devoted Father Tholomyès is struggling to raise his Daughter in the light of God. This is difficult because her Mother, Fantine who is a slinky red dress wearing brunette, absolutely refuses to marry him or stop sleeping with her string of other lovers. She sells his Fathers watch for gin and mocks him for loving her. She is bisexual but only so she can have on-screen threesomes. One day he wakes up and she's gone, gone with his precious Cosette. Oh, the tragedy.

Thenardier, honest inkeeper and war hero, doesn't listen to his wife when she begs him not to take that bewitching red-lipped woman's child but he'll soon wish he had.

Fantine is having the time of her life. Free of her child she wanders to M-sur-M where she gets a job by seducing her way through the(male unless it's a threesome) population of the town. She soon becomes the most powerful woman in town. Only two men don't bend to her will, the mysterious Mayor and the police inspector Javert.

Javert knows corruption runs deep in this town, he knows but he is powerless. The most he can do is give money to the exploited child workers of the Mayor's factory so they can afford medicine for the limbs that the Mayor breaks when they aren't working fast enough. The Mayor is also a bisexual but we only ever see this telegraphed with sexually predatory behaviour towards Javert.

One day Fantine almost murders a man in the street because he asked if she would donate some money to the Orphan Fund. Javert arrests her but the Mayor(who has only been referenced by other characters so far) appears to see why a legitimate arrest is being made. Gasp! It's Jean Valjean but wearing an even sexier all black outfit. There is immediately blazing sexual tension between Fantine and Valjean. They begin a violent love affair. Eventually things turn ugly: Fantine attempts to turn Valjean in for money, Valjean tries to murder Fantine and Javert tries desperately to arrest them both. It's a fun time for everyone but Javert. Eventually everything sort of turns out like in Canon with Fantine dead and Valjean in prison. Despite constantly beating her whole time she was alive Valjean claims that Fantine was the love of his life and runs off to find her daughter(he knows about Cosette because Fantine would have him read the Thenardiers letters to her so they could laugh at her stupid daughter for getting sick)

The Cosette pickup goes the same but Cosette is eating the Thenardiers out of house and home. Cosette has dead eyes and decapitates flies. Fantine hasn't sent them a single sou for Cosettes care but despite all this they still try to stop the incredibly suspicious Valjean from leaving with Cosette. For a while they succeed but then Valjean beats Thenardier with a rifle and sets their inn on fire.

Marius grew up with his Father. Georges Pontmercy won all his military awards by stealing the accomplishments of a man named Thenardier: Marius is told if he ever meets this man he is to murder him immediately in order to dispose of the final person who could contradict Pontmercy's lies. Marius says things like "With pleasure...Father!!!" Or after his Father died " We were once Barons and I swear on my Fathers grave we will be again!!". He goes to Paris to study/plan the murders of his extended family.

Les Amis de L'ABC are just fully chaotic evil, utter gremlins(Marius argues for the importance of a strong leader and order but Combeferre sneers "Order is an illusion. Chaos is a ladder") they have regular brutal fighting matches to ensure they're all worthy of being in the group. What are there political goals? We don't know but probably something scary. Loosely aligned with each other only due to their thirst for power.(weirdly I guess this makes Grantaire kind of the token "good" teammate in the same way he's kind of the token "evil" one in canon.)

Mabeuf used orphan bones as an experimental fertiliser. He's determined to catch Gavroche: they have a sort of Tom and Jerry thing going on. Mabeuf is financially stable in this but he often let's his household go hungry as he becomes more and more obsessive and greedy in his book collecting.

Marius sees Cosette in the park and falls in love with her instantly because evil has no awkward phase and Cosette became a femme fatale at 13. He vows to make her his Dark Lady Baroness. Meanwhile Cosette thinks she can use him as she uses her Father. Valjean lusts after her and Cosette ENCOURAGES it because a literal child can TOTALLY be responsible for the feelings and actions of an adult man.

Eponine is caught between the honest attentions of Montparnasse, the man her Father approves of, and the dark attraction she feels for the flared nostrils and dark secrets of Marius Pontmercy.

A complex game of murder-sex-betrayal ensues but everyone lives and ends up kind of happy apart from Thenardier who dies to send his children away to a better life in Canada and Javert who gets shoved of a bridge by Valjean. Cosette married Marius. Valjean still lives with them and they run an evil criminal Empire. Les Amis all swindled their way into positions of power.

As Cosette and Marius are out walking one day they come across a worn old Gravestone they laugh at this pauper's grave then kick it over, forever concealing the inscription: Tholomyès, devoted Father.

[theowlhouseheadcanons]

SEASON TWO - IMPRESSIONS PART 1/?

I'm alive! And yes, it might be a bit late to go nuts over the season 2's first two episodes, but I couldn't go on without spilling my impressions/opinions/theories about it! So let's go:

Separate Tides

First of all, the Owl House Crew demonstrating how much they care about each other in multiple ways, from trying to make up to one another (Luz and Lilith to Eda, Eda to Luz) or paying attention to their needs made my day already – what a way to come back with those amazing characters!

I confess I was rather touched when Eda said they are saving the money to buy the edibles for Luz;

That detail about Luz's diet in the Islands caught my attention, making me wonder about all the possible experimentations they had to go through to figure out what Luz could/was down to eating besides from Gus' P&G; (I'll write about it later!)

THAT'S ROUGH BUDDY REFERENCE - it's such a nice little touch they gave but it had me flipping!

I don't know what surprises me more: Lilith bounding with Hooty ~a dynamic I never knew I needed until now~ or the fact that Eda is quite "fine" living with Lilith, who cursed her? She makes jokes about it, which I think is the "Eda way" to digest the awkwardness that comes with this situation, but I confess I was expecting this level of "commodity" to come a bit later. But in other hand, the most difficult days might have happened through the past week, which wasn't shown on screen. So by the time the episode starts, they are past the most tense moments, which might or might not be shown/mentioned later;

Plus, the fact that both sisters are glad with the reunion (even with the costs it had) is an advantage, as there's a mutual effort to strengthen their relationship;

And yes, I'm more than delighted to see that both sisters never stopped caring about each other even after all these years, as Lilith's main goal has always been to lure Eda into the Emperor's coven to cure her;

As we've seen, the former Emperor's headmaster's pride is thick like a brick, and something tells me her arc will very likely revolve around her adjusting her "solo" manners to fit within the Owl House dynamics – which is positive, either in terms of aiding her weakened magic and providing the mental health she much needs; ~Lilith is way too precious in this season, she even have nicknames with Hooty now!~

Besides, the episode's main message is that it is not necessary to do things alone to prove your worth or "pay" for some debt, as asking for help doesn't make you less – actually, it is smarter to count on others you love! It saves a lot of drama! ~And unnecessary deaths~

Also, I'd like to point out that at the first minutes in the ep Luz says "maybe it would be better if I never came here" and at the end, Eda brushes it off by saying that her life is way better with her around ~that warms my heart and confirms that Eda has officially adopted Luz, I love it~

Luz is refining her glyph magic skills each day, which just reinforces the dedicated and creative person she is. I love how she's able to apply it not just in combat situations, but for everyday chores too! The Boiling Islands is a harsh place to live, but Luz is mastering it with excellence! It's a delight to watch, specially if we take into account that Luz is constantly growing with each new shenanigan in a way she wouldn't be able to if she was still home, or at that summer camp;

Hooty once again proved to be a diligent house demon, with way more power and resistance than he let it show; Also, apparently he can move around tunnels, and his length is rather…. Expansive? He seems to be able to survey not only the whereabouts of the Owl House, but a great area in the forest… unless Eda has always lived close to an area full of fire bees but it wasn't worth mentioning in the past ¯\_(ツ)_/¯; ~imagine the guard and spying possibilities Hooty's tunnels can make!~

About the Golden Guard boy, I have some questions. If he's a teenager, then which school does he goes? Or does he receives an special education from Emperor's staff? He's good at "following orders", but is that all he really does?

Also, he comments "none of you can you real magic" which means he does not recognize any kind of magic that does not come from a bile sack; and thus bias probably extends to the whole Emperor's coven;

Apart from that, there was something really curious about his staff:

Besides from not having a Palisman, it glows with that reddish blast whenever It's used, and even the sounds it makes are different from other witch's staffs;

Instead of drawing circles, he keeps manipulating amounts of mass around himself, levitating and molding them accordingly to his will;

He created that sword out of a strange substance, something like a red goo conjured through the staff; Does that means he has the power to materialize things by molding them with that generic mass? How does that work? Is it even natural? My guess is that no, as I believe Belos magic is not as "organic" as other the one from other covens we've seen;

At last, I just love the parallel they made with Eda at the end, drawing the light glyphs on the floor just like Luz did in the first season;

That was it for the first episode! I once again apologize for my delay, but I hope you enjoy! Any opinions?

Also, I'll be posting about the second ep soon!

[bts-hyperfixation]

Little Sparks Light Fires

You and Jin rarely fought. That’s why this had been so weird. It started with something so small too. You’d come home from work shattered, just to find he wasn’t home from practice yet. It wasn’t unusual for you to beat your husband home, but today you’d be hoping he would be in. After such a long day all you wanted was to be tucked safe in his arms. You couldn’t remember the last time you guys had had a chance to just talk about bad days and funny stories. You dumped your bag by the door, kicked your shoes in either direction, and grabbed the first snack you could get your hands on; then you settled down on the plush sofa to watch some mindless drivel on the tv.

You had fallen asleep by the time Jin came through the door. You missed when he tripped over your abandoned bag, and you hadn’t heard the dramatic huff he gave when he saw your shoes scattered. All tell-tale signs that he had also had a rough day. What should’ve happened was a shitty take away meal and a good nights sleep, but for some reason you never got that far. The final straw for Jin’s waning patience had been the snacks littering the floor that had fallen from your lap when you passed out.

“Y/N-ah why is everything such a mess?” you open your eyes at the sound of your husband’s voice, turning to face him with a sleepy smile.

“Jinny, your home.” You stretch out and move to embrace him, stopping when you see the look on his face. “What’s wrong?” you ask, pushing down your own bad day in favour of listening to his.

“You know I’ve had a long day and I just wanted to come home and go to sleep but look at all the mess you’ve made.” He gestures around you at the easily cleanable mess. You glance around you and shrug.

“Okay, I’m gonna clear it up its just I had a long day too an—”

“GAH you always say you have a long day, and it’s always a mess. Just once I’d like to come home and not have to trail around after you, please.” This sparks your anger. He was just as messy as you were, if not more so and this wasn’t even that bad. Blame it on lack of sleep or frayed nerves but you bit back at his words with a little more force than necessary. The argument spiralled from then, stupid little jabs at one another, too many to keep track of. All you know is by the end of it you walk away, tears in your eyes, and slam your bedroom door shut behind you.

Its around an hour later when you hear him snooping outside the door. You take a deep breath, releasing the remaining emotions before calling out to him.

“Are you gonna keep pacing outside the door? Or do you want to come in and tell me what’s really wrong?” Jin sheepishly pokes his head around the door frame, checking for signs that you’re still mad at him. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees the smile tugging at the corner of your lips. You couldn’t stay mad at him if you tried.

“Jagi…” he draws out the affection, crawling across the bed before collapsing into your lap. “Jagi I’m sorry, I don’t know why I was so mean. It was a long day, and I haven’t seen you properly in so long. Do you still love me?” you gaze into the puppy dogs eyes he is shooting up at you and make it look like you’re going to lean down and kiss him before you flick him on the nose instead. He scrunches his nose in response, his face going from pleading to mock annoyance.

“YAHHH I try to apologise and this is what I get. Abuse from the Maknaes all day, abuse from my wife all night. Why does no one love me?!” he flops dramatically off your lap and onto the duvet besides you. You hold back your giggles as you straddle him.

“I’m so sorry Jinny” you plant kisses all over his face, playing along. “How can I make it better, how can I make you forget about those mean little boys?” you take the kisses further, trailing along his jawline and down his neck, biting in particularly sensitive areas.

“And you, don’t forget you were mean too.” he holds back a moan as you bite down hard as punishment for his words. “Okay, okay I’m sorry.” His window screen wiper laugh makes an appearance as you jab him in the ribs for calling you mean. Your heart melts completely at the sound. His infectious laugh is one of the things that made you fall in love with him. But now wasn’t the time for it. You return your lips to his, silencing him immediately. His arms wrap around you and pull you close, taking all the air in your lungs with them. He always had a way of leaving you breathless.

You break away from him and shuffle down his body, taking his sweatpants with you. You trail your hands back up his now bare legs, squeezing when you reach his delectable thighs. Your mouth is a breath away from his boxer clad cock when you next speak.

“So… tell me my love, how can I make it better?” your voice sounds too innocent for the teasing you are currently taking part in. You blow on the damp patch caused by precum in his underwear and he shivers at the temperature change.

“Take me in your mouth jagi, want to see you claim me.” You oblige immediately pulling him lose from the fabric confines and licking his tip. You run your tongue around the head, teasing him just a little more. He watches intently and you never lose eye contact as you slide his dick down your throat. You see his abdomen tighten as he whines.

“It’s been so long baby, just like that.” His hand comes down to wrap in your hair, guiding but not forcing. You let your jaw go slack and hollow your cheeks as you accommodate him. You have to supress a gag or two on the way down but its worth it when he lets out the most insane lewd noises. You swallow around him and the hand in your hair pulls harder signalling he’s close. You drag yourself away, feeling suddenly empty.

He draws you back up to him. You kiss again as he plays with the hem of your shirt. Cold fingers drag up your sides as he brings the t-shirt over your head, the sensation makes you shiver. He makes short work of your bra as you fumble with the fly on your shorts. All you want now is to be riding him. Arguments and sleep forgotten. You slip out of your shorts and throw them across the room. You straddle his lap and plant your hands firmly on his chest under his shirt. He lines himself up to your dripping entrance and you slide down slowly, nails digging into his perfect pecs the further down you get. One of his hands grips at your hip in a similar fashion, creating half moon marks on your skin. The other has found its way to your clit rubbing it in the way he knows drives you crazy.

Soon you’ve adjusted to his size. You grind down experimentally, causing him to release yet another delicious whine. You taunt him with slow pumps and figure of eights with your hips. Soon he can’t take it anymore, choosing to torture you in return. His ministrations on your clit quicken, making it hard for you to concentrate. The coil in your stomach is pulling tighter and tighter. You’re moaning like a bitch in heat, desperate to reach your end.

As soon as he feels you release, he flips you, driving into you hard and fast. His own orgasm not far off but determined to overstimulate you before he came. You were crying by the time he decides you had enough. He slows his thrusts. His orgasm hits you a little too hard and you yelp as he buries himself deep inside of you. He stills for a while, recovering as he softens inside of you.

“It feels like it’s been forever since we’ve done this Jagi.” His eyes are starting to droop as he falls on to the pillows beside you, cuddling you close to him. You think about it and realise just how long it had been.

“Nearly two months…” you’re both shocked at the revelation but it makes sense, comeback had kept Jin busy and you wanted to give him space.

“Well that explains the fight, sexual tension can make you do crazy things” he kisses your forehead and wraps you up tighter in his arms.

Masterlist

[mayihavethisdanse]

Stress Response

Waypoint Echo, 2288

We are left alone, without excuse. That is what I mean when I say that man is condemned to be free. Condemned, because he did not create himself, yet is nevertheless at liberty, and from the moment that he is thrown into this world he is responsible for everything he does.

Jean-Paul Sartre, “Existentialism is a Humanism” (1946) 

"Ready, Paladin?" 

“Just about.” 

Danse shielded his eyes and squinted through the half-light. These clouds would probably send a radstorm somewhere else in the Commonwealth, but this close to the Glowing Sea, the drizzle had the opposite effect. The terrain was irradiated to hell, of course, but the rain actually seemed to keep the rads at bay. Slightly.

It wouldn't last, but that was one reason they wore Power Armor.

"Equipment's good to go. We should be at the site by noon," he tossed off in the sergeant's direction. "If you don't hear from us by nightfall, assume something's wrong. Air support might be—what is it, Haylen?"

"Orders for you, Paladin."

"What? From the Prydwen?"

"Yes, sir. Here."

Haylen tapped at the terminal and then stood back, letting Danse take her place to bend his neck down at the dim screen. It was a pain to use these things in armor, but at least the message was brief. A terse order to remain on site and see the munitions safely back to headquarters. Which meant…

Maxson knows.

It was the only thing Danse could think. The orders would have been unremarkable except for the explicit and unambiguous instruction that he return alone. Something was wrong. A reassignment? A reprimand?

He tried to keep his face neutral despite the hot flush of humiliation. Knight Williams stood across the outpost and it seemed there was still some mercy left in the wasteland, because her headlamp illuminated the woods in the opposite direction. Her armor glinted dully, a sheen of radioactive rain still clinging to the steel, but for once Danse's thoughts weren't on the possibility of rust.

Yes. It had to be about Cecily Williams. Maxson must have suspected Danse was getting too attached to his knight. Or he'd determined that Danse's priorities were out of order, just as he'd warned him against at the outset of this experimental partnership. Either way, Danse wasn't looking forward to explaining himself.

It would still be better than letting Williams take the blame for his own folly. The Elder had always been suspicious of her motives. But Maxson didn't know her the way Danse did. And he couldn't know that nothing else had happened between the two of them.

Honestly, Danse was a little offended that anyone would think it might have. He might have been quietly enamored of one of his soldiers, yes, but he was first and foremost a Brotherhood paladin. He'd die before he jeopardized the mission. And—it stung to think, but he suspected it was true—it might be for the best if he and Williams went to separate teams. He thought he was in control of his feelings, but he was hardly objective. If there was a risk of favoritism impairing his decisions in the field...

Damn. He'd have to face the music.

But there was no time for distractions. Their objective was of the utmost importance and he'd chosen their time of departure carefully. There was another hour before sunrise, and Danse wanted to be well into the Glowing Sea by then.

He stepped away from the terminal and snapped on his helmet.

"Ready now?" called Williams a second time from her spot at the perimeter, her voice filtered through the respirator.

"Ready," he asserted as he strode to her side. It might be the last time they set out on a mission together, but he'd be damned if he gave her any hint of that. She didn't need any more distractions.

"Good luck out there, you two," said Haylen. "Don't come back as ghouls, okay?"

"We've got it, Haylen. See you."

A final chorus of Ad Victoriam all around, and they were off.

(Continued under the cut. Also on AO3.)

The trek through the Glowing Sea was less miserable than their first had been. It wasn't scorchingly hot, for one thing, and they'd left the bulk of their gear at the outpost. A lighter burden let them move faster. If the maps were accurate, they were a few hours' hike from their destination.

"Less miserable" was still pretty damn miserable, however. Williams led the way and Danse turned frequently to check their backs. The rain impeded visibility and soaked through the gaps in their armor. He kept his headlamp on.

The edge of the Glowing Sea reminded him more of the Capital Wasteland than anywhere else in the Commonwealth. In a way, the outskirts were worse than the crater itself. That might as well have been an alien landscape or the site of some natural disaster. It held few reminders of anything to do with mankind, but here… as they passed a church, then a battered Red Rocket and an isolated bit of highway, there was no escaping the thought that humanity had brought this hell down on itself. His furiously clicking Geiger was a constant reminder of the rads they were subjecting themselves to. The Power Armor offered decent shielding, but this terrain really wasn't fit for human travelers.

Even if certain other things seemed to thrive. Danse caught a glimpse of a familiar and ominous shadow on the horizon—or what passed for the horizon when visibility was so poor. It was probably only a few dozen yards away.

"I don't think we're alone," he told his partner over his helmet radio, reaching for his rifle and searching the cliffs for movement even as he switched off his headlamp. "Reduce illumination levels."

"What is it?”

"Deathclaw. Seven o'clock. Might be stalking us."

She dropped into a crouch and swore. "We should detour."

"No. I don't want to get too far off course." Forget the wildlife, the terrain and the radiation would do them in. "If we get into trouble out here, that'll be it."

The knight let out a puff of laughter. "A deathclaw doesn't count as 'trouble'?"

"Just advance cautiously. Don’t engage if we can avoid it.” He checked the terrain again, assessing the threat, before turning back to Williams. "Let's move out."

In the dim light, she was just a silhouette in Power Armor. "All right, Paladin. Watch my back."

"Roger that."

The sun was rising around them, but the only real sign of it was the brighter glow of the fog. The two of them kept down and moved at a slower pace than before. Danse's nerves hummed with uncomfortable and competing desires to either flee or face the threat outright. He hated creeping along like a radroach.

As they advanced, an old radio tower emerged slowly from the fog ahead. He tracked their progress against its position, still monitoring their surroundings, until Williams dropped into a low crouch four paces ahead. Then she held up her arm in a signal he knew.

Danse reached for his rifle.

Fire and maneuver. Williams stayed in place, Danse looped around, and luck was on their side today because it was only a few minutes later that they stood over the body of a Deathclaw. The thing was glowing with radiation; it sent his Geiger into a new frenzy.

"We can't stay here," Williams said.

"No."

They moved away from the corpse and continued on south. Really, they couldn't reach the site soon enough for peace of mind. Danse's heart rate was still faster than it ought to have been, and it wasn't just the excitement of combat. This place set him on edge. It was... haunting. It was impossible to ignore the grimness of it as he scanned their surroundings.

Hard to imagine that Williams had seen the bomb drop. Hell, half the time he forgot where she'd come from. She was so sure of herself, so steady in the face of the world's horrors, that it put him to shame.

Danse glanced back at his partner. He couldn't see her face behind the helmet, but he could hear her when she said, "We're getting close."

"It's right there." He pointed ahead to a series of shadowy shapes through the fog. Broken towers, radioactive pools—and a large, blank pyramid behind them. That was their destination.

They skirted the radioactive pools and paused, staring in unison at a pair of abandoned bomb crates lying out in the open.

After a long moment, Williams started and checked her six. "Excuse my lapse in attention, Paladin."

"It's all right." It was his fault as much as hers, anyway. "Let me try to reach Haylen."

But as he'd expected, there was too much interference on the main Brotherhood frequency. Only an occasional gurgle broke the static.

Danse shook his head. "No go."

"Oh, well. It was worth a shot."

He looked back one last time when they reached the door.

The weather conditions had worsened significantly. A distant bolt of lightning lit up half the sky and whether it was his imagination or his laser rifle, he could have sworn he smelled the ozone even through his respirator.

"Let's swap positions," he said. "I'll take point."

She laughed a little wryly. "After you, Danse."

This facility had definitely been more than a disposal site. He said as much to Williams.

“Launch silo,” she repeated dully, leaning over the edge of the railing and peering down into the darkness. “Fantastic.”

"All right. Let's see what's down there."

The light was dim inside the silo, and the air was stale and almost immobile. Even through the filters of his helmet it was oppressive. That he was not imagining. But even the stale air was preferable to the stench that filled his lungs whenever they caught an updraft: standing water and dry rot, ferals and whatever rancid prey they'd dragged in from the Sea.

"Ugh," said Williams over her suit's radio as they passed a picked-over carcass of the latter. "This is disgusting."

"I'm in full agreement with you there, soldier."

He couldn't see her face, but he could hear the smile in her voice as she said, "We never go anywhere that isn't."

"There's always the Prydwen."

"The Prydwen is disgusting, too. We don't all have our own private quarters like some people. Have you forgotten how rank it gets in the barracks?"

"No," he said dryly. The distinct odor caused by too many feet in close quarters with insufficient ventilation was a common observation of new recruits. And old ones. "It's almost as bad as the mess hall."

"Was that... a joke? Paladin, I'm ashamed of you."

Before Danse could respond, a pale shadow flickered in the corner of his eye—

"We got ferals!" he shouted.

The site was full of ferals, in fact. They mowed through them diligently as they descended further into the structure. It was unpleasant work, but not difficult from their position, and the two of them worked well as a team. Battlefield cohesion had never been a problem with her.

With the premises cleared, they removed their helmets. Her face was averted, but she seemed to be holding up all right. Cecily Williams really did make a natural soldier. And she'd learned in the field: she searched the bodies of the ghouls with a professional detachment that she hadn't quite had when she joined the Brotherhood.

"Anything of interest?" he called as she crouched to inspect a corpse.

She looked back up at him, and for all his good intentions it was a struggle not to stare; it wasn't normally his way, but he was only human. She really was beautiful, despite—maybe because of—the scars that streaked down her face and twisted her lip, or the faint bruises that lingered nearly a year after her injuries. She just looked like… home.

Which was a preposterous thought. They were on a mission and home was where he'd be sending her shortly. It wasn’t for Danse to question Maxson’s decisions.

"Nothing," she said with remarkable good cheer. "Unless you're interested in a toothbrush or an extremely outdated newspaper."

"I think we can pass."

"Seems like these people were settled in here for the long haul, doesn’t it?"

Whatever preparations they'd made hadn't helped them survive the apogee of human arrogance. Danse shrugged off the observation as he and Williams made their way further back through the tunnels. The underground complex was a maze, but he thought they were heading back the way they’d come, away from the pyramid and toward the silent towers. At one point Knight Williams clambered through a hacked-out hole in the wall. He followed a moment later.

"Something like a control room down the hall," she said in a low voice. "And I see a blast door. I think we found the place."

"Outstanding."

Danse paced a few feet away. It was unexpectedly difficult to look directly at her.

"You should return to the airport immediately, Williams. I'll remain on watch until the vertibirds arrive."

He forced his eyes back to find her staring at him in apparent disbelief.

"You want me to go back on my own?"

"Without that deathclaw, the route we took should be clear. I know you can handle yourself out there. Here."

Williams stared at the assortment of supplies—extra stimpaks, RadAway, water—he held out to her. "That's ridiculous. Why don't I wait with you?"

He couldn't think about the dangers. Orders were orders. "I don't have a choice."

"But—"

"Dismissed, Knight."

She stared at him for another half a second. Then she nodded, collected his supplies, and turned to go. The heavy steps of her Power Armor echoed through the empty silo, followed by the distant bell of an elevator.

And then there was nothing but the clicking of his Geiger counter to keep Danse company.

That and a stockpile of nukes.

He swallowed the faint pang of distaste and directed his thoughts to the greater good. Overwhelming force was the most efficient way to secure the Commonwealth and ensure the long-term survival of its people. Liberty Prime would give the Brotherhood the upper hand against the Institute—and then some. That was all that mattered.

It would take a while for the message to be relayed. He kept his rifle at the ready, just in case; they'd dealt with the ferals, but there was still that cultist and his robot in the control room. Cecily had pacified the lunatic for now, but God only knew if he'd stay calm. And it was critically important to keep those bombs in Brotherhood hands.

He kept his safety off, too. Just in case.

An hour passed without incident, then another. Danse paced in growing disquiet, keeping half an eye on the control room above, but there was no sign of activity. His head was starting to ache. Williams should have reached the edge of the Sea by now, and Haylen should have relayed their position to the Prydwen. All he had to do was wait and try not to lose his mind.

As the minutes ticked by and turned into yet another hour, Danse began to find that task harder than he should have. He should have let Williams wait with him. Orders were orders, but he could have used his discretion as a field officer to make a different call than sending her back alone.

What if she had run into trouble outside? The Glowing Sea was a damn nightmare. Had he sent her out alone just to prove to Maxson—or to himself—that he could? That he wouldn’t let personal attachment get in the way of sending yet another person under his command to their death? He'd had so many close calls with Williams already. He should never have allowed himself to form such an attachment in the first place.

The throbbing in his head grew stronger. It had been too long. The vertibirds should be here by now. Danse shifted his weight uneasily and turned into the shadows to watch the door.

And then the chatter of static came on the radio in his helmet.

"Check—come in, Danse—"

Adrenaline flooded his body. The signal was so distorted he didn't recognize the voice. How was a signal even reaching him down here? Had Williams come back after all? He snatched for the switch of his transceiver.

"This is Paladin Danse. Go ahead."

"You need to get out of there. There’s an alert out for you. Over."

"What the hell are you—is that Haylen?"

But the voice on the radio didn't answer. From this location, it was impressive he'd picked up that much: the pulser beacon relayed his position, but that was all.

"What do you mean, an alert?" he said to the empty room.

But there was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He'd known something was wrong—but this didn't seem like…

He tried the secondary Brotherhood frequency, then another. This time his radio picked up a clearer signal. Local.

The constriction in his throat eased, replaced by annoyance at the sloppy security protocol. He'd have to have a word with these soldiers' commanding officer.

And then the words they were speaking came through.

"I still can't believe it. How did Quinlan find out?"

"Some intel Danse's new pal brought up from the Institute. Bet he regrets bringing her on board now."

“Double-crossing traitor."

Danse paused on the verge of pressing the push-to-talk button on his transceiver.

"A synth. Who'd have fucking thought it."

"I don't know. I always thought there was something a little off about Danse.”

Down at the loading bay, Danse stood at a loss for words. What kind of sick joke—what were they—

The voices continued. "Pulser's going nuts. Definitely the place. Tracker on his suit says we’re close. Where the hell is he?"

"Must be further down. Look at all these—argh! Disgusting ferals."

“All clear?”

“Looks like. Try the tunnel.”

Danse switched off his radio with haste. And he listened. It was only a moment before the heavy clanking of Power Armor on metal walkways echoed through the silo. It was still distant, but they wouldn’t be long now. Not with that trail of feral corpses to follow. And the blast door was open.

It didn't matter. If it was a mistake... it had to be a mistake... they could sort it out later. But he wouldn't be able to do that if he was killed before he could speak to Maxson. To someone who could explain what was going on.

The Geiger counter clicked as furiously as his racing thoughts. They'd find him in a matter of minutes. He wasn't going to fight his brothers, and he couldn't…

What the hell could he do?

It was probably less than a minute before he decided, but it felt like longer. Even the Geiger seemed to slow as his thoughts converged. His mind focused like a scope on a target. One target, one thought: he had to get out of the godforsaken Glowing Sea.

There was nothing else worth taking from this site. Ferals with their rags. Some ancient debris, the crazed cultist upstairs…

He suddenly regretted giving Williams his extra supplies.

Survival was a long shot, but it was a calculated risk. He'd have better odds facing a Deathclaw naked than a vertibird full of Brotherhood soldiers set on capturing or killing an enemy combatant.

And there was no doubt they'd been given one order or the other. Any synth in the Brotherhood would be bad enough, but Danse was a paladin. If they thought he was an infiltrator... hell, he knew the order he'd have given.

There was nothing for it. His hazmat suit was back with the rest of their gear at the outpost with Haylen. His flight suit and hood provided a limited amount of radiation shielding. If he was lucky, they’d keep him alive. He could only avoid any obvious hotspots and hope not to encounter any hostiles.

It wasn’t impossible, even here in the most dangerous part of the Commonwealth. Danse could be stealthy if he had to. As a Brotherhood soldier, he rarely had to. It was one of the things he liked most about his job.

Had liked. One way or another, this would be the end of his career.

Danse pressed the hydraulic release valve and stepped out of his Power Armor.

Sentinel Site Prescott, 2288

When a man commits himself to anything, fully realising that he is not only choosing what he will be, but is thereby… deciding for the whole of mankind–in such a moment a man cannot escape from the sense of complete and profound responsibility.

Jean-Paul Sartre, “Existentialism is a Humanism” (1946)

The clicking of the Geiger counter stopped. It left an unsettling stillness in its wake and for an agonized moment, Danse wished Williams were still here.

No. It was better she was gone. Better she didn't know anything. If Danse had to go down, the last thing he wanted was to drag her with him. And right now, with Brotherhood soldiers approaching, he needed to keep his head more than ever.

He stepped away from the empty suit of Power Armor, leaving it to stand silently in the shadows between walls of munitions crates, and secured his weapons and pack. Then he crouched low and crept to the door of the loading bay, trying to stay out of the light. His uniform suit allowed for better stealth than Power Armor did, but the damn thing was still bright orange.

He waited, still keeping low, and hardly jolted at the first blast of laser fire overhead. So much for pacifying the cultist.

The momentary distraction of the soldiers gave him the break he needed to make a run for it. But which way? The freight elevator would take him the way Williams had gone, out of the silo and into the Sea, but it was exposed. Bright light, the creak of the lift mechanism—there was no way they'd fail to notice his escape.

His body insisted run, but he forced himself to think it through. The blasts of laser fire from the control room would cover the noise from the lift mechanism.

Danse hit the call button just before the firing stopped.

He froze. And then he moved, staying low, away from the creaking elevator and back the way he'd come in. It was still a maze of shadowy tunnels, but perhaps this time that would work to his advantage. It was good for him that they'd killed the cultist, actually. No one else could say they'd seen Danse flee. Not even Williams. He rounded a corner to—

More Brotherhood soldiers, racing in as backup. Of course there were more. If they weren't looking for him yet, they would be in a moment. Danse ducked behind a drainage pipe in the nick of time and found himself knee-deep in a pool of rancid standing water.

If he'd thought the stench of bloated mole rat corpses was bad before, without his helmet it was all but unbearable. But he stayed there, letting the tepid water soak into his boots and trying not to breathe too deeply, until the main tunnel was clear.

It looked like he'd have to take the elevator after all.

Danse had one stroke of luck, which was that no one had reacted to the clattering arrival of the elevator. It was still there, waiting for him, so he crept aboard and hit the button. And took a deep breath.

When he turned around, he found himself face to face with the grinning corpse of a Glowing One, splayed over a pile of crates in a macabre sort of invitation. Danse cursed, hoped there was still a remnant of Rad-X in his system, and nudged the grotesque thing away with the butt of his rifle.

Probably just as well he didn't have the Geiger. All it could do was tell him exactly how quickly he was killing himself.

At the top, he left the platform as quickly as he could and braced himself before the last door to the outside world. If he'd gauged his position correctly, he was in one of the towers northeast of the pyramid. Depending where exactly the vertibirds had landed, he might still have a chance to escape.

Slowly, he pushed open the door.

He wasn't in the vertibirds' direct line of sight. Good. Their propellers were visible over the crest of the hill, but that was fifty yards away at least. Danse breathed slightly easier. He'd still need to move carefully, though. It was highly probable they'd set a sentry.

A loud creak spurred him into action. Someone below had just called the elevator back. It seemed his streak of luck was over.

Danse stepped out onto the landing and felt the hot air hit his body like a wall. A flash of lightning revealed, just for a second, the shape of the Prydwen hovering over the horizon. A cruel irony. Well, at least he could orient by it.

He moved cautiously out further on the ancient grille, but the metal didn't even creak under his weight. That was abnormally jarring. Danse wasn't a small man, but he was accustomed to moving in Power Armor in the field. His proprioception was all off.

Dropping from a height wasn’t as easy as he was used to, either. But the ground was soft under his boots. He hoped it was from the rain and not from the radioactive sludge that circled the base of the concrete tower like a moat. Since there was nothing to be done about it either way, he didn't take the time to examine things more closely.

He just ran.

When he looked back, he regretted it. One, then two knights in Power Armor stood on the metal platform, scanning the terrain.

So he ran faster.

He didn't keep up the pace for long. Just far enough that he was out of firing range. It was enough to start. They didn't seem to have identified his direction.

He wasn't sure of the time, only that it was past sunset. The Glowing Sea never fully darkened, and the rain had stopped while they were inside, but the clouds lingered and visibility was still poor. Under the circumstances, that might work to Danse's advantage. Speed and stealth were the only way he'd get out of here. He only had a few things on him besides his guns. Food, less than he'd like. Ammo, less than he'd like. Two cans of water and that was it. He didn't even have his damn radio.

He stumbled over more signs of Williams: bloatfly corpses, half dissolved in plasma, and the familiar footprints of T-60 that disappeared into the dunes. He'd been right: his knight could take care of herself. It didn't keep the cold sweat from his skin, knowing he’d left her to face this hellscape on her own. Knowing why, exactly, he'd been ordered to wait alone.

He could hear the familiar rumble of a vertibird circling overhead. It had been a very long time since he found that sound menacing. Now, taking cover behind a boulder, he squinted up at the sky. What the hell were they doing? They needed to get those nukes back to the…

They were searching for Danse. Not just searching: hunting. If he’d had any lingering doubts as to their objective, the fact that it was a gunship rather than a transport would have eliminated them.

But his cover held. The lancers flew low and then they moved on.

Danse moved on, too. He counted his breaths. Paced himself. He knew how to survive in the wasteland. When he scrambled over rubble and crept past mutant-infested ruins, it was with thirty-something years of experience in doing just that.

...wasn't it?

No wonder they were hunting him. He'd gone AWOL. Deserted, even. He'd left his power armor—he'd even left the fusion core, goddamn it—and he'd abandoned the bombs in express defiance of his orders. Never mind that the Brotherhood soldiers had arrived before he left. He'd made a snap judgment to flee and now he had to live with the consequences. If there hadn't been a price on his head before, there would be now, even if it proved that Danse was exactly who and what he thought he was.

It didn't matter. All that mattered was getting out of here before he turned into a damn ghoul instead. He could assess the situation fully once he was in a secure location. He couldn't spend the night here in nothing but a flight suit. He’d have to power through.

He even had a destination in mind. A fortified bunker near Malden–a fallback point for his recon team. They'd never used it. Haylen knew about it, but Haylen knew all the same fallback points he did. And if that had been her on the radio earlier… well. It would make as good a safehouse as any, and better than most.

The route was another decision point. Danse had two options: the brackish marshes and fens south of Boston, which would require traveling through the city itself and skirting uncomfortably close to the airport, or following the highway north past the Brotherhood waypoint and God knew what else.

He went north.

He still didn’t have enough water. He eyeballed a pond but passed it without stopping. If the radiation didn't get him, he'd be lucky if stomach cramps were the best of it.

Fortunately, he did scavenge one single can of water at the relay tower. The relay tower that was… operational? They’d passed it on the way in. He didn’t remember seeing any lights before…

Knight Williams. Of course. She'd brought the relay online. That was how he'd been able to pick up Haylen’s signal: Williams. Was there anything she couldn't do?

He'd asked her that question once and been startled by her response. It was one of the only occasions he could recall her snapping at him. She usually brushed off the things that bothered her with a light quip.

Not that time.

"What can’t I do? Take your pick. Save my husband. Find my son. Turn back time so none of this ever happened."

He didn't know what to tell her.

She looked away.  "Do you have a family, Paladin Danse?"

Danse shrugged. "I have the Brotherhood," he said.

He didn’t make it as far as he would have liked before the storm showed signs of returning. He had to find cover before the rain started up again. Fleeing unarmored and unequipped was one thing; doing it soaking wet was another. Every crack of thunder reminded him of the damage his body was taking. Even machines could only stand up to so many rads before the damage was irreversible...

Drawing on every bit of training and every year of practice controlling his emotions—fighting every natural inclination he had—Danse shoved the thought from his mind. The question of his identity could be dealt with later. Right now, he needed shelter to survive.

He found a semblance of it, eventually, in an ancient church half-sunk into the ground. He climbed in through a hole in the roof. He was probably still taking more rads than he ought to, but this was better than being out in the open.

Unfortunately, he wasn't alone. Stirrings of movement caught his eye just in time before he dropped to the lower level. He didn't have his headlamp, but he didn't need it: those scrabbling sounds meant more damn ferals. If he'd had the ammo to spare, he could have fired on them from above. If he'd had his armor, he could have gone down there and gone hand-to-hand with the mob. But he had neither.

Which meant he couldn't stay here long. If one of the disgusting things figured out how to climb to the upper level where Danse stood, the others would follow.

Maybe he could just… sit for a moment. The weather might be clearing: peering up through the broken rafters, Danse could even see a few stars through the luminous, omnipresent clouds. He must be almost to the edge of the Sea. He could afford a moment’s rest.

But his mind was blurring. He drank his last can of water in a few gulps but it didn't quench his thirst. He was hot, but he found he was shivering. Dehydration? Bad sign. Running a fever? That wasn’t a good sign, either.

Neither was vomiting over the railing into the nave of the church. It had been some time since Danse had last felt the symptoms of radiation sickness, but they were unmistakable. He'd never make it out of here if he didn't keep moving and get some help. It couldn't be far to the Brotherhood waypoint…

For a moment, confused by fatigue and radiation, he forgot who he was fleeing and why. And then memory struck like the lightning that illuminated the sky through the rafters.

He crawled up the stairs, as far away from the wakeful ferals as he could get, and his fumbling hands hit something in the darkness with a familiar metallic ting. A first-aid box. There had to be something inside. Maybe more water, maybe some stims—Rad-Away if he was lucky—

Frantically, he peeled off his gloves and pried it open, scraping his knuckles on the raw-edged steel to find...

Nothing. Not a damn thing.

The Capital Wasteland, 2286

The hum of the Prydwen's engines was quieter in the sick bay than in his own quarters. After a sleepless night, Danse resented the relative silence. His head was still throbbing and the lights were all too bright.

"I don't see a date of birth here," remarked Cade finally. "You're how old?"

"About thirty-four. Give or take."

"Wastelander, right?"

"Yeah."

"Recent radiation exposure?"

"No more than usual."

"Hmm. Any intimate contact with the civilian population lately? Non-humans?"

Danse almost laughed. "No."

Cade lifted a brow at him. "You know I have to ask, Paladin. You drink?"

"Sometimes."

"How often?"

The questions went on and on. Danse responded with as much patience as he could muster. The tapping of keys and the Knight-Captain's low, off-pitch hum wore on his nerves.

"Hm." Cade examined the terminal yet again. "You say you've been experiencing these symptoms for some time, but I don't see any previous mentions in your notes, Paladin."

"I didn't consider it worth bringing up until recently."

"Next time, let me be the judge of that," said Cade, looking up from the screen. "I'd rather do an exam than an autopsy. All right. Let's draw some blood."

Danse was starting to regret his decision to stop by the sick bay. When Cade came at him with a phlebotomy tray, his stomach churned and he barely resisted the urge to flinch away. "Is that really necessary?"

"Yes," Cade said wearily. "If it wasn't, I wouldn't have asked."

It hadn't been a request, but Danse rolled up his sleeve anyway and braced himself against the pressure of the tourniquet.

"We'll do a full workup," continued the doctor. "Results will take a few days."

"I don't have a few days. I'm back on the ground tomorrow."

Cade shook his head, fitting a needle into his syringe. "Where are they sending you this time? If you can tell me, of course."

"Up to the Commonwealth with a recon team. Could be in the field a while." Danse glanced away as the needle pierced his skin.

"All the more reason you should have come sooner. I'm tempted to deny your medical clearance."

"You don't have the authority to—”

"But I won't," Cade continued severely, "provided I have your word you'll follow your medic's advice out there."

Danse took a deep breath and shut his eyes against the lights. His head was still spinning. "I'll do so if... at all possible," he said, choosing his words with care.

"That's as good as I'm going to get, isn't it?" Cade withdrew the syringe somewhat less gently than he might have and dropped Danse's arm back onto the cold metal. "At least get some damn rest before you go, Danse."

"I'll try." He rose gratefully to his feet. "Knight-Captain."

Cade sighed and waved him out.

Danse doubted the tests would turn up anything useful. He'd get by, regardless. He always did.

Later, he wasn't quite sure how he'd made it to the edge of the Sea. Parts of the last leg were crystal clear, others hazy; he'd fought off a radscorpion, he thought. Or two. Maybe he’d only killed the one and the other had given him up as a worthless catch.

He certainly felt like a worthless catch. He'd rid himself of everything in his stomach and then some, but the waves of cramps kept coming. His head spun and he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. His face felt hot, like he'd been in the sun too long, even though the sun was just now rising. He'd been in the Glowing Sea a full twenty-four hours.

The Brotherhood waypoint wasn't far. With his head spinning the way it was, he could almost have given himself up just for some reprieve. But he didn't. He steered clear of the waypoint and kept to cover as much as he could and finally, just when he started to fear he'd lost his way, the Sea began to yield to scrubland and he emerged just south of Lake Cochituate.

Still, when he saw a Brotherhood checkpoint ahead, it was a struggle not to run forward and hold up his arms. Explain what had happened—explain there had been a mistake.

But the checkpoint wasn’t manned by people in the uniforms he knew. That was unanticipated. Their manner of dress was vaguely familiar, however, and Danse squinted at them until his mind made the connection: Minutemen.

"Hey," one of them said. "Hey, buddy. You all right?"

Danse nodded, but his mouth felt thick and slow as he said, "Too many rads. Got… meds? Water?"

"Oh, yeah,” said a man, nodding at the woman next to him. “Ramos does."

The woman rustled around in her pack and produced a pouch of Rad-Away. Danse saw the moment she recognized his uniform: the extended hand paused in midair.

"You get lost or something?"

"I…" Danse’s mind went blank. He hated lying, not least because he wasn’t very good at it. “Yes. On patrol.”

Fortunately, he must look as terrible as he felt, because the Minutemen seemed to take his confusion as symptoms of the radiation sickness. Ramos shook her head. "I think maybe they left you behind, pal. They all pulled up stakes from that checkpoint last night and flew out in a vertibird.”

It was more difficult than usual to find his tongue. “I… see. Thank you.”

"How long have you been out here? All night?”

Danse nodded again. Even he could tell it was a jerky and erratic motion.

“Shit. You got real lucky. Human body’s not meant to take that kind of beating.”

A statement he really didn't need to hear just then. “They’re all gone?”

“'Fraid so. Anything else we can do for you?”

They helped him inject himself with the medication. They gave him the supplies he needed. They even showed him to an abandoned suit of Power Armor, and Danse felt his first flicker of hope since leaving the Sentinel site. It was X-01, not T-60, and devoid of markings. The Brotherhood wouldn't know he had it—it would suit his purposes perfectly—but there was no fusion core. Damn. No help at all.

But there was a Brotherhood terminal tucked under a makeshift shelter. At least Danse could see the details of the order against him.

He paused in front of the terminal. If he used his official credentials, the scribes would be able to track his location. But Haylen had set up a private communication channel when they'd first arrived in the Commonwealth. If he remembered correctly, besides himself, only Haylen and Knight-Sergeant Dawes had been given the access code. And Dawes was dead, whatever he'd known lost in a wet smear of brain and hair.

Danse didn't really expect to find a message, but he entered the password anyway. The connection went through. The inbox was empty, as he'd expected. But just as his finger hovered over the escape key—there it was. A new message.

I might be putting my own neck on the chopping block by sending this, but the situation is unbelievable. Danse, they're saying you're an Institute synth. Neriah ran some tests and they must have been pretty damn conclusive because there's already an alert out for your head.

l don't know what to believe. I hope to hell you're not a traitor. I don't know why else a synth would join the Brotherhood, but I know you. You must have had your reasons.

You know they won't care. If you see this, you need to run... and fast.

H

Danse's mind raced. The message could be a trap, but that seemed unlikely. He trusted Haylen. Moreover, the message didn't appear to anticipate a response. There was also no mention of a rendezvous point or anything else that would lead a searcher to him.

A second message followed the first. Reflexively, he checked to make sure no one was looking over his shoulder.

Got into the files Quinlan decrypted. Here's the evidence. DNA matched yours.

Danse stared at the attached report. His own face stared back at him—maybe younger, unscarred, but unmistakably himself. M7-97. Unit at large. Location unknown.

He couldn't have composed a response if he'd tried. But the confirmation filled him with a strange sort of calm, too. He'd been right to flee.

He left the Minutemen behind with only a brief word of farewell. He had to get away. Keep moving. Run. Maybe there was still some mistake.

That thought got him past a Mass Fusion disposal site, past a super mutant camp, into the dry wasteland at last. It was another mile before he let himself think about it again.

What if it wasn't a mistake?

His steps slowed and his knees went weak. He didn't feel like a synth. He felt human. But what did synths feel like? He could feel his heart beating. He could taste the blood in his mouth.

Sure, he'd always been a little removed from the others, but who the hell wasn’t? Danse was acquainted with plenty of senior officers in the Brotherhood. None of them were known for their healthy and enriching personal lives. The Brotherhood came first because that was how it should be. And Danse had fit right in.

He had no way to check. But…

It seemed absurd. It felt absurd. But looking at it objectively, it made a horrible kind of sense.

Danse didn't know his last name. He didn't know how old he was. He'd grown up alone… and all in all, if you were going to implant false memories in someone's head, his made for a damned convenient set. Was there even anyone he'd known before Cutler who could vouch for him?

But I remember, part of his mind cried out. I remember. I'm real.

Damn it.

This mission, the Commonwealth, it had changed him even before this. He’d been lurching from one crisis to another for so long. He’d spent ten months watching his team die one by one. Williams had pulled them out of what would have been their final stand but until the Prydwen had shown up, he hadn’t been certain he’d see the rest of the Brotherhood again.

Even when the Prydwen arrived, his relief was laced with a thread of anxiety. It was good to see them, but they’d come prepared for an occupation. For conquest. The culmination of their years of preparation. He was glad of it, but he hadn’t felt quite ready. It had passed him by, literally and figuratively; his mind struggled to keep up even as they watched and cheered from the police station. He slapped Rhys on the shoulder and got a hint of a grin out of him, but Haylen’s smile mirrored his own anxiety.

He hadn't taken the time to indulge their nerves. They’d gone to the Prydwen, Maxson had rallied the forces, and Danse had been inspired in the cause all over again. Whatever infrequent, private doubts he might have harbored about their young leader's decisions were dwarfed by the enormity of their mission, and with Maxson at the lead, a Brotherhood victory seemed… if not inevitable, at least within their grasp. There was hope for humanity after all.

Except Danse wasn’t human.

When it truly struck, he felt winded. He was shaking harder than he had with the radiation sickness; he reached out to an ancient petrified tree for support, clutching the branch like a lifeline until the brittle wood snapped under the pressure of his hands. He couldn’t fill his lungs.

He wasn’t human.

Listening Post Bravo, 2288

Man is nothing else but that which he makes of himself.

We mean that man first of all exists, encounters himself, surges up in the world—and defines himself afterwards. …to begin with he is nothing. He will not be anything until later, and then he will be what he makes of himself.

Life is nothing until it is lived; but it is yours to make sense of, and the value of it is nothing else but the sense that you choose.

Jean-Paul Sartre, “Existentialism is a Humanism” (1946)

Danse snuck past a raider encampment. It made him sick to just move on, to leave them to prey on innocent civilians, but alone—without his armor, without his team—he was nothing. The helpless, worthless feeling he'd spent his whole life trying to escape had finally caught up with him.

He'd been on high alert since the Sentinel site and that was catching up with him, too. He made sloppy errors. He almost lost a leg to a pack of snarling mongrels through his own damn carelessness. A disgrace to the Brotherhood of Steel in more ways than one.

It wasn't politic to say in civilian company, but Danse normally enjoyed combat. Not the death or the horror or the stench, but the excitement of the struggle and the satisfaction when it was over. The security of knowing you lived another day while your enemy didn’t. The pride of doing something you were good at for a cause you believed in.

Not this. This was just survival. He felt like a damn radroach all over again—except that even a radroach was a natural creature, not something... manufactured. Artificial. A hunted animal had more right to its freedom than Danse did.

But he wasn't helpless. Not really. Survival was what he knew: it was all he'd known, before the Brotherhood.

He just couldn't help anyone else.

There was no way out of this. The words on that display were incontrovertible. If Quinlan was convinced…

He passed Lexington. The Corvega assembly plant was another reminder of his failures. Malden. At this point he barely cared if he ever made it to his destination. His head throbbed. How long had it been since he slept?

The sky was darkening again by the time Danse stumbled over the hillside to the old listening post.

He cut the power to the elevator. It wouldn't stop anyone. But he'd have enough warning to decide what to do. They'd probably find him eventually.

It was so damn unfair. He'd given the Brotherhood everything he had only to wind up here, a hole in the ground with U.S. government paraphernalia everywhere. Reminders of another lost cause. The fact that coming here felt like coming home… well, the irony wasn’t lost on Danse.

Why had this happened to him? All he'd ever wanted to be was exactly what he'd thought he was. God. He was a living lie. He was a damn fool and he didn’t know what to do. How the hell could anyone escape their own self?

Slowly... inevitably... the reality of his situation began to sink in. And the room grew colder.

He'd made it this far on pure instinct. Now that his rational mind was engaged, he could turn and face the truth he dreaded: that there was no way out. That the enemy was inside him—that he was his own worst enemy, whether he liked it or not.

The Commonwealth was at risk. Humanity itself was at risk. Nobody could look at the wasteland and think otherwise. Nobody who'd seen the Institute's work firsthand. Certainly no Brotherhood soldier worth his salt.

Most recruits found the restrictions of military life uncomfortable. Danse had never complained. A bed in the Citadel—or later, a berth on the Prydwen–beat the doorways he'd slept in as a child or a sorry bunk in the Rivet City common room. But all that had been secondary to what else the Brotherhood gave him: a place to belong, people to call his brothers and sisters. And more than that, more than anything else, it had given him a purpose in life.

Danse had done things he regretted as a soldier, but the things he'd done to survive as a civilian filled him with a different kind of shame. The humiliation of knowing you weren’t worth shit.

He'd been on good terms with Arthur Maxson, but their backgrounds kept them on opposite sides of an invisible line. He hadn't been all but a prince, carefully sheltered because of the blood that ran through his veins, aware at every moment of his privilege and his responsibility. Danse had come from nothing, been nothing, and the Brotherhood had welcomed him anyway. Made him into someone he could be proud of.

He'd wanted to do something of value, and he had. He'd wanted to be part of something and he'd done that too. If his life was the cost, so be it. He wouldn't betray the Brotherhood. Not when it had given him everything that mattered. What else was he going to do—flee the Commonwealth? No. When they came after him, he wouldn’t resist.

He just hoped it would be quick.

He could speed things along. This site was set up for communication. He could radio the Prydwen right now—turn himself in to Haylen or Maxson or the entire ground force—but all he did was stare at the knob.

Maybe he should just do it himself.

It felt like the walls were closing in. Like all the air was leaving the room. He'd lived this long on stolen time, lived a life that was never meant for him, taken up space in a world he had no right to.

Even surrendering himself would be too much of a risk. Who knew what the Institute had programmed him to do? He could have sabotaged the Brotherhood from within, all the while serving his order with pride and thinking all his decisions were his own. Maybe he’d turn on whoever showed up first. Too much of a risk.

Trapped.

He's trapped.

He's been trapped before.

Another one. God damn it, another one.

There's no way out. How many waves of the things can they hold off without Keane? The ferals just keep coming. Rhys is already out of commission. Haylen's doing her best, but she's not a knight. It's up to Danse... and he's going to let them down. All of them, this time.

But it isn't just up to him, after all. There's someone else here. A stranger, suppressing fire—

“Civilian in the perimeter,” he calls.

Williams isn't coming to save his ass this time. There’s a pang of regret that he won't be able to say farewell. He thinks, vaguely, he might love her—not that it matters now. Not that it could ever matter.

Still... he wants to remember the look on her face the last time he saw her. But he can’t. His mind can only scrabble from one fragmented memory to another: Haylen’s devastation after euthanizing a brother on his orders. Krieg reprimanding him in front of the entire squad for slovenliness. Laughing over drinks with Cutler the day they signed on as Initiates. The flicker of surprise in Cutler’s eyes the moment Danse put a hole between them.

He looks down.

He’s standing in front of an ancient terminal. There’s an old holotape still in the slot. He tugs it out and runs his fingers over the smooth plastic casing, mind circling in the same endless loop. Over and over.

He's wondered how it will happen, of course. They all do. This isn't the glorious battle he once imagined; it isn't the honor of laying down his life for his brothers and sisters. But it's as close as he can get.

All he wonders now is if anyone will find his body. Probably not. What's one more set of bones in the wasteland?

No matter what he does, the Institute is one step ahead. He’s never been able to get away from their scheming and now he knows why: the same people who set the goddamn mutants loose on humanity are the same people who made him. He's an abomination. A mistake. A case study in man's hubris, not a man in his own right.

He refuses to be a part of their schemes any longer.

He records his final words, if that's what they are, and walks slowly into the back room. He sets the holotape on the filing cabinet. Tidies the desk. Checks the safety on his rifle.

The Brotherhood will take down the Institute. He has every faith in that. No more mutants, no more synths, no more sick experiments on the innocent people of the Commonwealth. His friend Williams will have her closure. Danse's own closure is simply arriving earlier than expected.

He lays out his weapons and stares at them. It isn’t an important decision. Any of them will perform the job adequately. He can't die a hero, but at least he can die like a human.

There's no way out.

So he'll add one more synth to the dozens he's already taken down. One small success to the record of Paladin Danse's failures.

He'll shut his eyes. He'll reach for the pistol.

He'll do it. He's doing it now.

When the Protectron blared an alert, Danse's first reaction was irritation. Couldn't the intruders have waited ten damn minutes? He was so close to finishing the job. It wasn't easy, fighting your own instincts that screamed survive, even if you knew better. Even if you knew those instincts weren't real.

Danse didn’t reach for his weapons when the firing started. He should never have been given the honor of carrying arms for the Brotherhood in the first place. His entire life was either a conspiracy or a mistake, and he wasn't sure which was worse. The only thing he knew was that it didn't matter.

He rose to his feet and moved to the middle of the room, empty-handed, and waited. He was calm. It was almost a relief. She'd finally come to finish what he couldn’t—and it was her. Of course it was her.

The shots didn't last long. His half-hearted defenses were no match for Williams. Danse was proud he'd brought such a worthy soldier to the Brotherhood. He was glad he could leave her behind in his place.

And there she was. Nothing felt right, but she was here. That was good. He didn't feel so alone anymore.

In an abstract, distant sort of way, he knew he should regret that she'd be the one to do it. It wouldn't be easy for her. But he was glad. She’d been his friend and he'd get to say a proper farewell.

Yes, this was better. It felt like an ending.

She got straight to the point.

"I wish you'd told me the truth, Danse." Her voice was so weary. So sad.

"I might have, if I'd known what I was." He might be a soulless machine, but he'd never have lied to her. "Does Maxson even want me alive?"

The bitterness in his own words was foreign. He didn't feel bitter. He didn't feel much of anything, actually.

"No," she whispered. "But I don't know what to do."

If he were capable of it, he might have been astonished. Didn't she have her orders? Dragging her heels would just make this harder for her.

"The right thing," he said. "Isn't it obvious?"

She wasn't in Power Armor, but she was carrying the rifle he'd given her. Strange how things had come full circle. Strange, but fitting: Danse had used that same weapon to destroy his closest friend. Now that it was his turn to be put down, he could hardly object.

"No," she gasped. "My God, Danse."

Maybe that was why he'd faltered before. Williams was the missing piece. He'd felt that the night they met and that feeling had never gone away. Now she was struggling, and yes, he was sorry. But it was time.

Danse swallowed. And then he dropped to his knees and put his hands behind his back.

Williams only stared down at him. Her eyes were bright and unblinking. Once again he noticed, in a detached way, how he felt when he looked at her. It was irrelevant. It wasn't for him. But his mind diligently recorded it anyway.

Maybe when he was dead, they'd look at his memories the way they had Kellogg's. Maybe they'd learn everything he’d ever felt about her, every inappropriate thought and—

“Can we just talk?” she said softly. “Just for a few minutes. Please.”

More than anything else, they'd find his shame. Not just about Williams. For all the things he’d thought and done, for everything he hadn't done but wished he had. He didn’t want to undermine Maxson. He couldn't.

"What are you waiting for?" he snapped.

"No," she said. "I won't do it, Danse."

Her voice cracked on his name and her eyes gleamed with unshed tears and it was like coming to the surface of a murky pond. He was suddenly aware of their surroundings when a moment before he'd only been conscious of her eyes. The stale air of the bunker overlaid the acrid smell of recently fired laser weapons. The miniscule tremble of Cecily Williams's beautiful mouth as she reminded him of everything she'd lost.

She didn't want to lose him.

They did talk. Not just for a few minutes but for hours, until the clock on her Pip-Boy said it was nearly sunrise. They debated and they strategized. He handed over his holotags and slowly the shards of his life took on a new form. She was right. Whatever sick plot the Institute might have intended, he'd done nothing but serve humanity. And there was nothing he could do to hurt the Brotherhood now. He wouldn't let it happen. Neither would she.

It wasn’t perfect—it was a hell of a long way from perfect—but there was a way out. He might have his own path to follow, but he didn’t need to find his footing alone.

And he was worth something. He’d worked for something. He could start over somewhere else and she could continue the fight here. They both deserved that much.

To his surprise, he found he was smiling at her.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

[minnarr]

star wars fic masterlist

Hey, folks! Since I am absolutely horrendous at crossposting links to fic on tumblr, thought I’d put together a masterlist of my Star Wars fics. Most of these are easily found on my AO3, but I occasionally post things here that I don’t stick up on AO3. Here divided by era for lack of a better set of themes to divide by.

High Republic Era (232 BBY–⁠)

A Master’s Counsel - Stellan wants to check in with his former Padawan after the Steady Wing disaster; Vern needs some support in the weighty decision she’s just made.

Prequels Era (32 BBY–19 BBY⁠)

You’ve Got Mail - A mixup at Naboo’s post-office puts Jango Fett’s mail in Obi-Wan’s hands. How wrong could bringing it back go? Pretty much just crack, flirting, and begrudging rescues.

Leia Meets the Prequels Gang - chunks posted on tumblr of a story where Leia was thrown back in time from the moment of Alderaan’s desctruction to the moment of Shmi’s death and fell in with the prequels trio.

Four Funerals and a Proposal - Gregar Typho's life from the battle of Naboo through the early days of the Empire, and his developing friendship with Saché, as seen through snapshots at four funerals and one proposal to build a life after together.

Rebellion Era (19 BBY–4 ABY⁠)

The Bridger Extraction - Sabine inflitrates the same elite academy that Ezra Bridger, disciplinary nightmare of an Imperial cadet, is transferred to. Project Harvester + “even in an AU fate brings Ezra to the Spectres.”

Death and the Dame - Necromancy-tinged noir AU. Qi’ra is a private investigator who specializes in the dead. Leia needs answers. Han’s their getaway driver. Qi’ra/Han/Leia, road trips, messy feelings.

death, unfolding - There is no universe in which Jabba survives his final, cruel joke. Short, experimental time loop fic feat. Hutt-Slayer Leia.

The End of Fellowship - Bodhi contemplates the first of many consequences of his choice to defect.

Gambit - Missing scene. When Maul disappears, Qi’ra makes a move to take charge of Crimson Dawn.

Ignite ‘verse - a what-if AU kindled by (off-screen) time travel: Palpatine was successfully deposed before he became Emperor, the Clone Wars lasted eight years longer, Anakin Skywalker eventually left the Order, and the Skywalker twins trained in the Jedi Temple.

It’s Not Fire You Want to Ignite - Just as Leia Skywalker is getting comfortable in her life as a Senate aide, a message from her time-traveling alternate self sends her on a quest to find one Han Solo and unsettles all her plans.

Cusp - On the twins’ eleventh birthday, Obi-Wan and Anakin look to the past, and the future. Little bit of bittersweet closure for me.

Daughter of Naboo - Leia has a complicated relationship with her homeworld. Character study covering her years in the Jedi Temple.

Keep You At My Back - a series of vignettes from the partnership of Hera Syndulla, freedom fighter, and Caleb Dume, Jedi Knight. 

bonus: timeline

That Beautiful Shore - At a post-Endor celebration, Enfys shows up to tell Han I-told-you-so.

Leave a Light in the Window - Twenty years after nearly dying on Mustafar, Padmé wakes from cryostasis. When her niece brings her back to Naboo in search of answers about her children, they're caught up in the political turmoil on Naboo, where old friends push back against a Moff intent on silencing resistance against the Empire on Naboo forever.

The Promise - Chewbacca tells Leia she’s included in the life debt; Leia doesn’t like being owed. Found family fluff, by and large.

Your Heart with Me (I Carry It in My Heart) - Lando never quite gets over losing L3; finds a kindred spirit in Hera, who loves her cantankerous droid; and experiences a reunion he’d lost hope in.

New Republic Era (5 ABY–28 ABY⁠)

fate, i found a place for us series - largely canon-compliant up through Mandalorian season 1, this ‘verse starts from the premise that when Ezra and Thrawn disappeared, they eventually found their way to the nascent First Order, working as double agents to stop it from within before it grew too strong. This is kind of now my catch-all Relatively Happy Sequels Leadup ‘verse.

we walk through the fire - When Ezra joined the Knights of Ren, neither he nor Thrawn anticipated the result of one horror too many.

darkness, yet the force - On the tenth anniversary of the Liberation of Lothal, Ezra reaches for a part of himself usually kept buried. 

All You See is My Ghost - Ezra gets a lead on the weapon he needs to confront Snoke; Thrawn investigates; Sabine and Luke don’t plan on letting Ezra go all self-sacrificial.

Rattle This Ghost Town - During the hunt for a new home for the former Nevarro covert, Sabine and old comrade Paz Vizsla clash as they contend with the ghosts of old decisions.

Happy Accidents - When attempting to get to Grogu on Tython goes very wrong, Din is thrown back in time to the Clone Wars. It takes meeting several possible Bobas before he realizes. (Bonus: unexpected babysitting duty for adult Boba).

Resistance Era (28 ABY–35 ABY⁠)

The Cost of War - *whispers* I guess this counts. Check Please characters as Resistance flyboys, Ransom and Holster focused, definitely abandoned WIP. 

rest for the weary - Finnpoerey, modern AU, h/c: after searching for her bio family and finding only heartache, Rey returns home.

Sabacc Face - Finnpoe flirting and silliness as Poe teaches Finn how to play cards.

Strangers in the Night - While running from present griefs, Han encounters an old one in the form of Qi’ra, come to check up on him.

[atiny-piratequeen]

𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝑬𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝑶𝒏 𝑴𝒆 𝑪𝒉. 𝟑/𝟒

Pairing: Poly OT8 (Yeosang Focused)

Genre: Smut, PWP

Word Count: 8k

Rating: 18+

Tags: Smut, Established Poly Relationship,  Self Esteem Issues, Everyone’s a Switch, First Times, Cum Sharing, Blow Jobs, Biting, Gangbang, Fingersucking, etc

Summary: Yeosang is a very shy man. Everyone knows this.But he’s fed up of his shyness and insecurities being the reason he’s left out of sexual activities from the others. He wants them to look at him like they look at each other

AO3

Chapter One| Chapter Two| Chapter Three| Chapter Four

Taglist: @readbeneaththelines @kwonnansi @vvnte

"-and then he just...walked away." Yeosang finished explaining, having nearly paced a hole through the floor as he recapped the previous night's events to Hongjoong, Jongho, and Wooyoung.

Also known as: the trio that he's actually done sexual things with.

Wooyoung hummed, his head in Hongjoong's lap as their leader idly ran his fingers through his hair. Jongho was situated on the floor, a small amused smile playing on the maknae's face as he watched the fourth oldest hyung panic.

"From the sounds of it, we've opened Pandora's box. San's gonna eat you alive, Yeosangie." Wooyoung finally mused, subtly nuzzling his head closer to Hongjoong when he scratched a certain area of his scalp.

"What does that mean?!" Yeosang snapped, pivoting on his heel to point at his blonde boyfriend.

"He means San's now got his focus on you. Which is good for you. Or bad, if you don't have a lot of stamina." Jongho tried to elaborate, but his response only drew a wide eyed stare from Yeosang.

"Here, let me try and help-" Hongjoong cut in, waving his hand until the three men looked at him.

"San is a bit more...predatory when it comes to sex. Not in a bad way, though. But while Woo-ya or Mingi-ya are more straightforward with what they want and when they want it-" Hongjoong trailed off, tapping his chin as he looked for the words. He snapped his fingers after a moment, sending Yeosang a smile.

"San likes to seduce. He loves cat and mouse games when it comes to sex. It usually starts with some innocent back hugs and typical skinship-which he loves Wooyoung the most in that department-but then it goes to subtle grinding, groping, and stuff like that. San likes to drive us crazy so we'll come to him instead of him coming to us and presenting himself, if that makes sense." The blue-haired rapper explained.

Yeosang felt his heart skip.

San was going to make him approach him? Would he even have the backbone for that?

"Don't worry, Yeosangie! You've experienced a lot the past few days and if last night as anything to go by, you’ll do fine when it comes to putting San in his place.” Wooyoung grinned, smiling wide at Yeosang. The older man felt heat creep up to his ears as Hongjoong and Jongho exchanged a look with one another before smiling.

"Yeah, you can always tease him, too. Beat him at his own game. It works like a charm when I do it." Hongjoong cooed, chuckling when Wooyoung kissed at his wrist.

Yeosang bit his lip before he began his pacing once more.

Beat him at his own game, huh? --

Yeosang stared up at the ceiling as he collected his thoughts. The singer had declined going out with the others today as they all scattered to go on their own little dates to close out the last few days before comeback.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa left to the label so their leader could work on some beats in the studio. No doubt, Seonghwa tagged along to make sure Hongjoong didn’t exhaust himself in there.

Wooyoung, San, and Mingi eagerly departed to watch a scary movie that had just hit the theaters. Or, rather, San and Wooyoung dragged the tall rapper to the theater to watch the movie, knowing full well how it would turn out. Yeosang was tempted to come along, but he knew he’d be just as bad as Mingi when it came to jumpscares and other scary things.

Yunho headed to the internet cafe to play games and while Yeosang did enjoy playing, he couldn’t quite keep up with the older man.

Jongho left with his gym bag around his shoulder, and everyone knew better than to try and accompany the maknae when he did personal training. He’d push them to the limit and Yeosang wanted nothing to do with the soreness that would come from the workout.

Now a different type of soreness…

Yeosang squirmed, feeling heat creep up to his face before he glanced at his phone. San had sent the group chat a picture of him, Wooyoung, and Mingi grinning and holding their tickets up before they went in.

Mini Hong: Just make sure you don’t do anything inappropriate when the lights go out.

Shiber’s Dad: I have no idea what you mean.

Angry Bird: Really? Because last time we went to the movies, your hand kept finding its way onto my cock, San.

Apple Butcher: Not to mention the time Wooyoung-hyung gave me a blowjob during one of those rom coms.

Elmo’s Giggle: Yah! Don’t bring me into this! You enjoyed it, anyway!

Shiber’s Dad: Oh no, look at the time, we gotta go, byeeeeee.

Mini Hong: Convenient.

Yeosang blushed as the others went back and forth, the thought of San palming and stroking him during a movie and him trying to keep quiet riling him up more than he expected. Biting his lip, he opened the chat once more, pulling up the folder that kept all the pictures, gifs, and videos in it.

It didn’t take much scrolling for him to find the nudes the boys had dropped in the chat. The most recent being San’s video from the other day with Jongho, Yunho, and Mingi. Yeosang bit his lip and started the video, watching the confidence roll off the younger vocalist in waves. By the end of the video, Yeosang was throbbing in his pants, and he decided to go further down the rabbit hole.

He was alone, there was no reason to be shy.

Yeosang scrolled down, finding a video of Mingi recording himself, eyes barely open as he pressed a buzzing vibrator deeper into himself. He groaned, the lower octave of his voice reverberating through Yeosang’s head. The brunette whined, watching Mingi spread his legs wider for the video, eyes nearly rolling back as he came minutes later, cum shooting upwards and covering his fist.

The next video was Seonghwa pinning Yunho to the bed, kissing his shoulder as he rolled his hips sharply, fucking the taller idol as he looked into the camera. Yunho’s thighs shook as he bowed his head down, muttering incoherently as Seonghwa rocked into him, purring into his ear.

“God, you’re clenching me so tight, Yunho. Were you waiting for this?” He cooed, kissing the shell of Yunho’s ear. Yunho whined in his grip, panting as he clearly creeped closer to his climax. Seonghwa continued his sultry sweet nothings until Yunho fell apart in his arms, his bleary eyes looking up at the camera Seonghwa had set up in front of them, making eye contact as he moaned. The older idol came soon after, muttering something about Yunho taking every drop before that video ended.

Yeosang was so hard it hurt. He peeled off his shirt, suddenly feeling like it was much too tight. He shimmied his hips, easing his pants down his body before he kicked them aside. Yeosang pulled his lip between his teeth as he looked for more videos and images that were dropped in the chat. He wrapped his free hand around his cock, mewling as he stroked himself, eyes fixed on his phone screen.

He found everything between Hongjoong fucking Wooyoung against a wall to Jongho recording himself sucking San’s cock.

It didn’t take long before he was whimpering to himself, on his fifth short video when it suddenly dawned on him.

He could take his own.

Yeosang’s hand stilled as he mulled the idea over. He’d never sent anything of his own to the chat besides some selcas, pictures of food, or pictures he took with his drone. Whenever he interacted with the chat when the others were being dirty, it was only a few flustered comments here and there.

Yeosang swallowed thickly, rolling up to his knees as he found a place to put the phone, shuffling back after he switched it to front-facing and hit record. He glanced at the screen a few times, blushing as he saw himself.

The brunette bit his lip, spreading his legs once he was comfortable against his pillows and pulled up sheets. The brunette wrapped his hand around his cock, resuming his languid, leisurely pace from before. Slowly, he allowed himself to get more into the feeling, freeing his lip from his teeth to let his soft moans fall from his lips.

"D-do I look good for you? Would you hurry home for me?" He whispered, glancing at the camera as he stroked his cock faster. His heart was hammering in his chest, though he couldn't help the extra edge of excitement ran up his spine. The other boys were all out in public, how would they react once he hit send?

That thought alone made Yeosang's hand work faster, a trembling moan bouncing off the walls in his room.

"H-hurry, someone come play with me, too." He whined, hips jolting as his thumb rolled over his head, smearing precum from the action. His head fell back, fist pumping faster as he imagined the boys' hands all over him.

Mingi's low voice growling in his ear, fingers laced in his hair. Seonghwa dragging his nails down his thighs. Wooyoung pressing butterfly kisses to his face and cheeks. Hongjoong leaving those nipping kisses across the cream-colored canvas of his ass. San's skilled lips wrapped around his cock, those intense eyes locked on his. Jongho dragging his teeth over his dark nipples. Yunho buried deep inside of him, fully seating him on his cock.

"Oh my god."Yeosang moaned, lifting his hips as he felt fire ignite in the pit of his stomach. The thought of all of them on him, on each other, at the same time was something he never thought about in great detail.

But god, was his mind fixated on it now.

"More, more, more~" he mewled, thighs trembling as he gave one of his nipples an experimental pinch. The keen that left his lips was downright dirty as he continued pinching and rolling the small nub.

So immersed in his playing and how close he was creeping to release, he missed the sound of the front door opening in the dorm.

"I-I'm gonna cum...o-ohh~" he groaned loud, stroking himself fast, eyes nearly rolling back.

Later, when reflecting, he'd realize he was a lot more vocal than expected.

"So close, so close. P-please watch well, okay?" He mewled, not even realizing all of the embarrassment and hesitation from earlier had melted away the more he thought about the others doing this with him. Their eyes all on his body, growling and cooing sweet nothings and pure filth to him. Treating him with gentle hands at times, but groping and clawing at him roughly at others.

Yeosang let out a soft moan that caught in his throat as his hips tensed, cumming after a few more pumps of his cock, lips parted in a soft 'o'. He stroked himself through his orgasm, whining in delight at the mess all over his hand. He made a show of licking his own fingers, purring at the sweet taste of his own cum before he scooted over to the camera, picking it up to send a shy smile and a wink into it.

"Let's play together soon, okay?" He proposed, ending the recording quickly afterwards and pressing send before he could try and back out of it. As soon as it was sent, he let out a small scream, flailing into his pillow.

"I can't believe I did that, oh my god-"

"I can't believe it, either. But it was unbelievably hot." Came a voice from his door.

Yeosang jolted, head snapping towards the direction of the door to find Yunho standing with a small bag from the convenience store down the block.

"H-hyung! I thought you were at the internet cafe…" Yeosang trailed off, swallowing thickly as Yunho eyed him, a kind smile on his face, but undeniable lust in his eyes.

"The cafe is closed for today because of the electrical issues in the area while some kind of construction goes on, so I came home. I felt bad about you being alone so I bought sweets for you." He explained, holding up the bag slightly. Yeosang nodded slowly, though he couldn't tear his eyes away from Yunho.

"How long h-have you been...in the doorway?"

Yunho thought about it for a moment.

"I heard moaning when I came in. It looked like you were playing for a while. You said something about watching well and I couldn't take my eyes off you." He admitted.

Yeosang bit his lip, feeling that fire from before spread through his body. He was being watched and he loved it. The vocalist suddenly remembered their maknae's advice from yesterday.

"If you want someone to fuck you, go to Yunho-hyung first. He's the gentlest."

Yeosang wanted more.

"Yunho-ya...Can you fuck me?" He inquired, loving the way Yunho's eyes darkened.

"I can." Yunho nodded, suddenly feeling like his throat was dry.

"Do you want to fuck me?" Yeosang followed up, crawling to the edge of his bunk to look down at Yunho, feeling a sense of power at the way Yunho not-so-subtly adjusted himself. He set the bag with the sweets down and shrugged off his jacket, cocking his head to the left.

“Why don’t you come down here and find out the answer?” He urged, crooking his finger in a ‘come hither’ motion. Yeosang nodded, making his way down the ladder until he was standing before the taller performer.

“I came, are you gonna show me?” Yeosang inquired, his voice quiet, but coy. Yunho leaned down into his space, kissing him slowly, growling at the taste of Yeosang's cum, still faint against his tongue. Yeosang loosely wrapped his arms around Yunho's neck, pressing his body against the taller man's.

"Mm…come with me to my room. I doubt Woo-ya would appreciate us fucking on his bed." Yunho panted slightly after breaking the kiss. Yeosang snorted quietly before nodding, allowing the taller performer to take his wrist, pulling him out of the room after he picked the bag of sweets up once more.

Yeosang pressed closer to Yunho’s side, realizing a bit too late that he was still buck naked and the October chill creeping through their dorm wasn’t helping. Yunho kissed the top of his head as he pulled the smaller idol into he and San’s shared room.

“Lay down, baby. I’ll warm you up.” Yunho cooed, the warm, honey-like tone of his voice making the hair on the back of Yeosang’s neck stand on end. Yeosang shuffled over quickly, sinking into the plush comforter on Yunho’s bed, self consciously closing his legs so he wasn’t as exposed.

Yunho made quick work of his shirt, reaching for a drawer situated in the corner of the room. He pulled out a small bottle of lube, making his way back over to Yeosang. The bed dipped as he slid onto it, his body eclipsing Yeosang’s once more. He ran a hand up the side of Yeosang’s thighs, moving his hand inwards to gently push them apart.

“Relax, Yeo-ya. Let me take care of you.”

There it was again. That honey-sweet voice.

Yeosang nodded, immediately spreading his legs apart so Yunho could see him fully. The blonde rewarded him with a kiss, taking his time as he wrapped his hand around Yeosang’s half hard cock. He smiled against his lips at the gasp that followed shortly after, but continued stroking until Yeosang began to whimper against his lips, lifting his hips up ever so slightly to thrust into his fist.

Yunho chuckled, nipping at his bottom lip before he pulled back, reaching for the lube. Yeosang watched his every move, swallowing thickly.

“Yunho-ya, I just want you to know I’ve never...done this before. Uh, been on the receiving end, I mean.” He fumbled his words, frowning at how much of a fool he sounded like. Yunho didn’t seem to mind, popping the cap open to coat his fingers before he kissed Yeosang’s temple.

“It’s alright. I won’t hurt you.” he promised, pressing one cool finger against Yeosang’s hole. The brunette bit his lip in anticipation, sighing when he felt one of Yunho’s long fingers slide into him. He felt less discomfort than he did before when Jongho fingered him, though he noticed a particular tingle running up and down his spine the more Yunho worked his finger in and out of him.

“W-what is that? It feels...ah!” He gasped, a moan slipping past his lips when Yunho slid another finger in to accompany the first, scissoring them apart as he did so. Yunho smiled from above him, lips close to Yeosang’s ear as he spoke.

“The lube warms up after a little bit. Does it feel good, Yeosangie?” He cooed, his voice a low rumble as he curled his fingers, listening closely to every hitch of Yeosang's breath. Yeosang nodded, spreading his legs wider.

“Hyung, more, please.” He whimpered, sighing against Yunho’s neck when he was rewarded with the third finger. Yunho’s free hand trailed down Yeosang’s body wrapping around his cock once more to stroke him languidly in time with his fingers. The brunette vocalist arched his back, grabbing Yunho’s shoulders tight, soft moans falling from his lips as his precum leaked over Yunho’s long fingers.

“M-More, Yunho-ya, more more more-” He begged, looking up at Yunho with his brows knitted up, a wanton and desperate expression on his face. Yunho bit back a curse and nodded, curling his fingers apart a few more times for good measure before he pulled away.

The blonde fumbled with his belt for a moment or two before he slid it out of the loops. He popped the button on his jeans open before shimmying them down his hips with his boxers, kicking them off carelessly to the side. San would probably kill him later for the mess he was creating in their room, but that was something he could deal with when the time arose.

“Oh my god.”

Yeosang’s voice brought his attention forward, and Yunho noticed the way Yeosang’s eyes were fixated on his cock, looking slightly intimidated and aroused at the same time.

“Jongho told me you were gentle, he didn’t mention you were hung like a fucking horse.”

Yunho didn’t mean to laugh as hard as he did, honestly. But the snort that left his lips and the flush that crept up to his ears were inevitable. Yeosang was a shy man, but he also was the bluntest of all of them, and it stroked Yunho’s ego to hear the lewd compliment.

“I’ll be sure to thank him later. For now, I’ll be sure to show you what he means.” He sent Yeosang a wink before mentioning something about finding a condom. Yeosang nodded and watched Yunho head back towards the same drawer where he pulled the lube out of. When he returned, he settled himself between Yeosang’s legs, rolling the condom onto his cock before adding lube to both himself and Yeosang’s quivering entrance.

“C-cold…”

“It won’t be for long. Hold onto me.” Yunho instructed, pressing his palms at either side of Yeosang’s head, holding himself up over the smaller idol. Yeosang nodded, wrapping his arms around Yunho’s torso, trembling slightly. Yunho noticed and kissed over his birthmark, his cheek, all the way to his lips.

“If it’s too much or I’m hurting you, let me know, alright?” He instructed, pulling back to look him in the eyes. Yeosang nodded, sending him a small smile before he felt the older idol slowly push into him.

Yeosang tensed at first, his breath hitching up and his nails digging slightly into Yunho’s back. The blonde stopped when he was halfway, pressing their heads together to steady himself.

“Fuck, you’re tight, Yeo. Are you okay?” He whispered, looking down at Yeosang in concern. The smaller man had his eyes closed, his fingers flexing slightly against Yunho’s back as he adjusted to the intrusion, slowly relaxing.

“I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt. It’s just...different.” He admitted, cracking his eyes open. Yunho held his gaze, giving his hips an experimental roll to test the waters. Yeosang gasped beneath him and he repeated the action, slowly thrusting shallowly into the brunette.

Yeosang was quiet at first, only a few whines and groans here and there, but Yunho noticed him adjusting with each thrust. He sunk further and further into the other idol until he was fully seated inside of him and Yeosang began to whimper.

“D-don’t stop, Hyung. I can f-feel it warming up.” He whined, hiding his face below him. Yunho smiled, kissing his knuckles persistently until Yeosang peeked from between his fingers, looking up at him.

“Don’t hide from me, baby. I want to see your face.” He cooed, rolling his hips faster. Yeosang moaned, one hand finding its way to Yunho’s arm, and the other balling up in the sheets. Encouraged by the positive reaction, Yunho gave Yeosang an experimental hard thrust, a pleased smile gracing his face when he heard the trembling mewl that left Yeosang’s lips.

“You’re doing so good, baby boy. And you were worried, hm?” Yunho chuckled, cutting off whatever remark Yeosang had to say with a firm kiss, changing his pace from the slow, deep ones, to faster, harder ones. The bed shifted from the sudden change, and Yeosang could’ve sworn one or two of San’s plushies toppled from the top bunk as Yunho rocked into him. He didn’t care much to investigate, choosing to lace his fingers into the Gwangju native’s hair, pulling as he moaned against his lips.

“Feels good, Yunho-ya. H-harder, please!" Yeosang gasped, body arching up when he felt Yunho's cock slam into him just right. Yunho let out a small sound that suspiciously close to a growl as he sat up, moving his hands to hold Yeosang's hips. He watched the younger man, admiring every inch of his flushed and slightly sweaty body.

He must have stilled his thrusts as he did so, from the pleading look Yeosang sent up to him.

"H-hyung? Please…"

"God, you look beautiful, Yeosangie. I can't take my eyes off you." Yunho admitted, licking his lips as he picked back up, his balls slapping against Yeosang's ass with every thrust. Yeosang's half lidded and hazy eyes widened in an instant, a loud cry leaving his lips as Yunho slammed right into the same delicious spot Jongho had teased with his fingers the day prior.

"Hyung! Right there, Hyung please, ahhn~!" Yeosang pleaded, unable to move with Yunho's hands holding him down.

"Mm...you look like you're close, Yeosang. Do you wanna cum?" Yunho's voice is a teasing purr as he ran one of his hands over Yeosang's clenching abdomen, all the way down to his pelvis, before skipping completely over his cock to caress his sweaty and trembling thigh.

"Please? I can't hold back, Yunho-ya. It feels good, it f-feels so good-" Yeosang let out another broken moan, bringing his hand up to his mouth to cover it as higher pitched whimpers left his lips. Yunho pried it away almost instantly, shaking his head.

"No, let me hear you. Look at me, baby boy. I want to watch you as you cum for me." He panted, feeling himself coming close, as well. Yeosang groaned and rolled his hips down, looking Yunho in the eyes as he moaned for him.

"C-cum with me, Hyung. I can't h-hold it anymore." He stammered, one of his legs wrapping around Yunho's waist. The taller man nodded, wrapping his hand around Yeosang's cock to stroke him to completion.

"I got you, baby. Let go for me." Yunho purred, pleased at the absolute wrecked expression on Yeosang's face. The smaller man came soon after, a long, drawn out moan leaving his lips as he spilled all over Yunho's fist. Yunho kept his pace, rolling his hips until he came himself, pressing their foreheads together as he let the aftershocks roll over him.

Yeosang cupped his cheeks gently, and he cracked his eyes open, his heart stuttering at the blissed out look on the smaller singer's face.

"Thank you, Yunho." He whispered, caressing his cheek with the most gentle touch. Yunho sent him an enamored smile, nuzzling their noses together before he kissed him, slowly pulling out of him. He frowned when Yeosang let out a sound of protest.

"Are you alright? Did I hurt you?" He inquired as soon as Yeosang whined. The brunette shook his head.

"Ah, no. I...I liked it better when I felt full." Yeosang admitted, biting his lip. Yunho bit his lip and shook his head, rolling his tongue over his cum-covered fingers, winking at Yeosang when he blushed.

"You're a dangerous man, Kang Yeosang. Here, sit still. I'll clean us up." Yunho offered, getting up to discard of the condom first before he left the room, coming back with two warm rags. He gently wiped away any remaining sweat and cum from Yeosang's body, leaving a kiss to his temple before he went to his closet, coming back with two bundles of clothes.

"Yunho, I can just get up and grab my own-"

"Or you could wear mine and cuddle with me."

They stared at each other, with Yeosang cracking a smile after Yunho arched a brow. Yunho's nose crinkled up as he smiled back, watching as Yeosang slid the much too big shirt over his head. He snickered when he noticed it pretty much fell past his ass, effectively being more of a dress than a shirt. He waved off the pants Yunho offered him, knowing those wouldn't stay in place, regardless.

Instead, he scooted further into Yunho's bed, beckoning him over with a tilt of his head.

"Hurry up and cuddle me, then." He sassed. Yunho sent him a small chuckle, pulling his own clothes on before making his way into his bed, moving past Yeosang so he was behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist.

Yeosang giggled as Yunho pulled him flush against him, lacing their fingers together as Yunho kissed his cheek.

"You did well today, Yeosang." Yunho mused after a moment or two of the comfortable silence. Yeosang smiled and squeezed his hands.

"Thank you, Hyung. I love you." Yeosang yawned, feeling sleep pulling at him. Yunho flushed from behind him, but he kissed the top of his head in response.

"I love you too, Yeosangie."

-

"H-hurry. Someone come play with me, too."

San burst into the dorm like a bat out of hell no later than an hour after Yeosang's video set off everyone's kakaotalk chats. Mingi and Wooyoung followed close behind, with the former looking as feral as San, while Wooyoung looked impressed.

Aroused, but impressed.

He hadn't expected his friend to gather his courage that fast, and he was sure Yeosang would love the fact that he had gotten under San's skin in so little time.

"Yah! Kang Yeo-"

"Ah ah, hold it right there."

San's voice was cut off by their leader as Hongjoong strolled out of the kitchen, pointing in his direction with a pair of chopsticks. It appeared like the rapper had started cooking dinner for them all.

"No yelling. Yeosang is already asleep. Yunho, too." He informed them, sending a sympathetic look their way at the way Mingi and San's shoulders slumped.

"Ah, dammit. If only we weren't at the movie…" Mingi trailed off. Wooyoung couldn't help the small snicker that left his lips as he watched San huff.

Yeosang had nearly beat him at his own game in record time, and all he'd done was send a single video.

"That's too bad. Maybe we can play instead, Sannie~" Wooyoung winked, a satisfied smirk on his face at the way San's dark eyes flickered over to him.

"Make sure you all go to your room then, Woo-ya. Yeosang is sleeping in Yunho and San's room." Seonghwa informed them.

San twitched, making his way to his room to check. Wooyoung and Mingi followed, all three of them noticing the smell of sex still lingering in the room while Yunho and Yeosang cuddled with one another.

Yeosang looked like a small angel, tucked in Yunho's protective arms as he slept, his lips slightly parted as a gentle snore left them.

San wanted to wreck him.

Closing the door, he pointed to both Mingi and Wooyoung, the arousal practically rolling off him in waves.

"Both of you. Let's go." He ordered, stomping in the direction of Yeosang and Wooyoung's room.

The two younger members exchanged a look before grinning, hastily rushing down the hall so they didn't keep San waiting.

--

“Hyung, can I ask you something?”

Hongjoong looked up from his laptop to see Yeosang standing in his doorway, looking troubled. The leader read his body language and nodded, closing his laptop.

“Yeah, of course. What’s wrong?” he inquired, beckoning Yeosang into the room. Yeosang shuffled in and sat down beside him, chewing on his lip as he tried to come up with the right words. Hongjoong gave him the time, feeling the situation was oddly familiar.

“I...I want to do something special for Mingi-ya. He’s really upset he can’t perform and I know it’s eating him up inside. I’ve never done it, though…” he trailed off, cheeks hot. Hongjoong arched his cut brow, clearly not following.

“So you need my help with doing...what exactly?”

Yeosang pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek subtly.

“Oh! Oh, I understand.” the leader chuckled, nodding once. “You want me to teach you how to give blowjobs?”

If the way Yeosang’s cheeks darkened was anything to go by, he hit the nail on the head.

“Mingi’s joints are in pain and I don’t want to try anything...too active because he’s supposed to be resting.” Yeosang explained, rubbing his arm. Hongjoong’s face softened.

Their comeback was a few days ago, with all of them taking the stage and owning it. Unfortunately, Mingi wasn’t able to continue with the rest after the first few performances since he was having severe joint pain.

A small cloud loomed over the group every time they had to go out without their second rapper and Yeosang wanted to do something.

Hongjoong pushed himself up out of his bed, making his way over to the younger idol. He tossed an arm over Yeosang’s shoulder, ushering him out of the room and down the hall. The bluenette tapped the back of his knuckles against the door, tightening his grip on Yeosang when the younger man moved to hide behind him.

“Where’s the confidence from before?”

“What am I supposed to do? ‘Hi, I know you’re sad about not being able to perform, may I interest you in a blowjob?!’” Yeosang hissed back in a whisper as someone shuffled around in the room. Hongjoong snorted, smiling as Jongho opened the door, sending them a smile.

“Ah, hi hyungs. What’s up?”

“Yeosang wants to give Mingi a blowjob to make him feel better.” Hongjoong answered without missing a beat. Yeosang’s eyes widened and he slapped his leader’s arm, squawking in embarrassment. Jongho’s brows went up in interest, looking at the brunette before he leaned against the doorframe.

“Oh? Am I supposed to leave the hyungs to do naughty things in my room, then?” He taunted, but Hongjoong only shrugged one shoulder, sending him a grin in response.

“You’re more than welcome to stay. The more, the merrier, right?” He winked, barely holding back laughter bubbling up in his throat at the way Jongho perked in interest. The maknae stepped aside, letting the duo in. Yeosang smiled at Mingi when the rapper looked away from his phone, sending them a half smile.

“Hyungs. What’s up?” He inquired, tossing his phone aside in favor of giving them his full attention. Yeosang’s gaze softened as he walked to the redhead, kneeling on the bed to kiss his head. Mingi smiled wide, wrapping his arms around his body to bring him down into his lap.

“I wanted to check up on you.” Yeosang told him, his knees situated at either side of Mingi’s waist. Mingi hummed, putting his chin on his shoulder and closing his eyes.

“I’m alright. It sucks, but I’ll be sure to take care of myself so I can perform.” He promised. Yeosang nodded, idly running his fingers through Mingi’s hair, the cogs in his mind turning. After a moment or two, he bit his lip, pulling Mingi away so he could fix him with a stare. Mingi blinked, tilting his head at the sudden change in Yeosang’s expression.

“What’s wrong, Hyung?”

“I want...to do something for you. To make you feel a bit better. If that’s okay. If not, it’s-”Yeosang cut himself off when Hongjoong placed a supportive hand on his back. The older man didn’t say a word, but Yeosang relaxed, anyway, looking into Mingi’s eyes as he spoke again.

“I wanted to try giving you a b-blowjob and Hong-ah said he would help. If that’s okay. If not, we can like, cuddle or something.” He mumbled, lowering his gaze. Mingi’s lips parted in surprise and he looked up at the brunette. His gaze flickered over to Hongjoong and Jongho, but they only arched a brow at him, waiting.

“Y-Yeah, of course, Hyung. If you don’t mind…” He trailed off, though Yeosang could tell by the subtle press against his ass that the younger idol was very much interested. Pleased, Hongjoong pushed Jongho to sit beside Mingi, sliding to his knees smoothly. He ran a hand up Yeosang’s spine, motioning to the floor when he looked down at him.

“Now that we’ve gotten that settled, let me show you how it’s done, baby boy.” he cooed. Yeosang blushed and nodded, scooting himself out of Mingi’s lap in order to kneel beside Hongjoong on the floor.

“Good. Now could you two do us a favor and get rid of those pants?” Hongjoong instructed, turning his gaze back over to the younger two idols. Mingi and Jongho nodded quickly, slightly fumbling as they pushed their pajama pants down past their hips.

Yeosang noticed Mingi’s lack of underwear underneath, but held back the teasing remark that was right on the tip of his tongue. It seemed a lot of them had a habit of sleeping with no underwear.

He supposed with a dorm full of sexually frustrated idols, he could understand not wanting to waste time fumbling with extra clothing.

Hongjoong’s voice made him snap back to reality as he addressed him, wrapping one hand around Jongho’s cock.

“Everyone’s different, so you may have to test the waters a bit when it comes to your partner, Yeosangie. If you do a little teasing before, they may be fully hard when you get on your knees, if not, a few strokes and kisses will do just fine~” He chirped, slowly pumping his hand. There was something about the way he paid Jongho no mind as he squirmed in his grip that made Yeosang shift from his spot, feeling himself harden.

He turned his gaze to Mingi, who was watching him in anticipation. Yeosang scooted closer to the rapper, pushing his thighs apart so he could settle between them, following Hongjoong’s lead.

He wrapped his fingers around Mingi’s dick, noticing he was...quite girthy. The small, satisfied hum that left the rapper’s throat as Yeosang stroked him made his face hot, but he focused more on watching his half hard cock fully pulse to life. He heard gentle kisses from his right, and remembered Hongjoong’s advice.

Yeosang’s eyes flickered up to Mingi’s face, watching his expression as he pressed soft kisses to the head of his cock. The redhead exhaled, licking his lips.

“Roll your tongue around the head, Sangie. Then slowly ease down. Take your time, Mingi-ya will be patient today, right? No wild face fucking?” Hongjoong directed the question at the other rapper, but all three of the younger idols shuddered in arousal from the slightly threatening tone.

“A-ah, yes. I won’t do anything.” Mingi nodded.

Yeosang watched Hongjoong send the younger rapper a pleased smile before he turned his attention to Jongho’s cock, his lips stretching around the maknae’s dick. Yeosang turned his gaze back to Mingi’s formidably sized cock in his hand, pumping him a few more times before flicking his tongue out to catch a pearl of precum that rolled out. He slid Mingi’s cock into his mouth about half way down, bracing one hand on one of Mingi’s thick thighs.

Yeosang was tentative at first, rolling his tongue over the tip of Mingi’s dick before slowly bobbing his head. He watched Hongjoong out of the corner of his eye, cheeks flushed as the blue haired rapper worked Jongho's cock in and out of his mouth, stroking half of it leisurely while tilting his head.

Yeosang copied him, slightly hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked harder, pumping his hand.

Mingi sighed from above him, drawing his attention. The redhead had his eyes trained on Yeosang. He clearly wanted to do something with his hands, if the way they kept clenching and unclenching in the sheets was anything to go by.

"Mmm, you should tease the spot just under the head of his cock, Yeo. Mingi's very sensitive there~" Hongjoong purred from his left. Yeosang followed the instruction, running his tongue up the underside of Mingi's cock until he was just below the tip.

Keeping his eyes fixed on Mingi's face, Yeosang pressed his tongue firmly against the sensitive area.

"Fuck." Mingi breathed, hips twitching upwards. Yeosang smiled around his cock, getting bolder as he alternated between caressing that spot with his tongue and bobbing his head. There was spit running past the corner of his lips the more he sucked, but Yeosang didn't mind.

Mingi's hand found his way onto the top of his head, his voice an octave lower than usual and thick with lust.

"Hyung you look so good like this. You're moaning around my dick, too. Do you like giving me head? Are you getting off from this?" Mingi growled. Yeosang felt a chill run down his spine, looking up into his eyes. He felt small and vulnerable like this, with half of Mingi's cock heavy on his tongue as he nodded.

In all honesty, he was aching in his basketball shorts and he could feel the telltale wetness of his own precum smeared against the cotton of his boxers.

"Mm...mhm." was all the brunette could manage with his mouth full. The hum leaving his throat made Mingi growl once more, and the hand atop Yeosang's head tightened into a fist, pulling slightly.

"I wish I could fuck that pretty little face, Yeosangie. You'd probably cum from that alone, huh?"

Yeosang whimpered. The thought of Mingi using him roughly, pulling him down and making him swallow more of his cock, taking control completely, was getting to him a lot more than he originally thought. His mind was so hazy, he hardly noticed Hongjoong shifting beside him until there was a new hand on his head, gently brushing away Mingi's.

"There you go, baby. Breathe through your nose, you can take him deeper." He cooed, his fingers gentle, but firm in his scalp. Yeosang moaned in response and followed his instructions, letting the older idol bob his head, pushing him further down on Mingi's dick.

Mingi groaned, hips rolling up subtly once or twice before he was slightly distracted by Jongho kissing him, letting Hongjoong and Yeosang do all the work.

"Look at you, Sangie. First time sucking cock and you're already more than half way down Mingi's cock. You sure you haven't been practicing?" Hongjoong teased. Yeosang shook his head, blushing as he slurped loudly around Mingi's cock. He could hear the younger idol whining against Jongho's lips, with his cock pulsing hot and heavy on his tongue.

Was he close? Would he cum?

Yeosang hadn't even realized Hongjoong had removed his hand at some point. The smaller of the two rappers sat back, watching in satisfaction as Yeosang bobbed his own head, hands gripping and kneading the skin and muscle of Mingi's thighs.

"Yeosang, fuck….don't stop." Mingi pleaded, breaking his kiss with their maknae in order to look back down. Jongho pulled out his phone, biting his lip as he started recording.

The others needed to see this.

The sounds leaving Yeosang's mouth were downright filthy, between the muffled moans and soft whines, to the obscene slurping and occasional gagging. Encouraged by Mingi's increasing volume as he got close and Hongjoong's encouraging voice, Yeosang pushed himself down as far as he could, tears welling up slightly as he pushed back a gag.

"Oh my fucking God, Hyung-" Mingi pulled the sheets by his own hips, feeling himself getting close. "I'm gonna cum, fuck, I'm gonna cum, Hyung." He warned, jaw clenching.

Yeosang watched his expression closely, clearly showing no intention of pulling off.

"Wah, look at that~ Yeosangie-hyung wants to swallow it, doesn't he?" Jongho mused. Yeosang finally noticed he was being recorded, but his shyness from earlier had melted away. He sent Jongho's phone a heated, half-lidded stare as he tilted his head, never slowing his pace as he sucked Mingi off.

"Fuck, that's hot." Hongjoong cursed, palming himself as he watched Yeosang like a hawk.

"Hyung-" was all Mingi could manage before his lower body tensed, cock twitching in Yeosang's mouth before he came.

Yeosang mewled from between Mingi's thighs, making sure he continued sucking until he had every last drop of Mingi's cum in his mouth. He slid the younger idol's dick out of his mouth slowly, smiling deviously at the curse that fell from both Mingi and Jongho's lips at the action.

Those light brown eyes moved to Jongho's camera before he stuck his tongue out, smirking slightly at the way the younger member's breath hitched.

"Look at him, showing off Mingi's cum like a prize. I helped you tonight, so you wouldn't mind sharing, right?" Hongjoong teased, sliding up beside Yeosang to tilt his head, stealing a kiss from him.

It was sloppy, their tongues rolling against one another as they shared Mingi's cum.

"Oh that's just unfair." Jongho shook his head, unconsciously stroking his own cock to relieve some of the tension. Yeosang was breathless by time Hongjoong broke the kiss, unconsciously chasing his lips for more.

"Now now, baby." Hongjoong chuckled and motioned to Jongho. "We can kiss later. We should make sure everyone's satisfied. You up for taking care of Jongho and I?" He inquired, petting Yeosang's head. The younger man nodded, scooting over to Jongho.

He didn't hesitate, taking the maknae in his mouth. Jongho was similar in size to Mingi, both of them being on the girthier side. It made Yeosang's head fuzzy thinking of the wild, energetic way Mingi would thrust into him or the sheer power behind Jongho's thrusts if either of them were to fuck him.

"Look at that, all blissed out for us and we haven't even touched you, baby. Were you that eager to please? We definitely should've played with you sooner." Hongjoong cooed from somewhere behind Yeosang. The compliment went straight to his cock, and Yeosang couldn't help the way his hand drifted downwards, dipping into his shorts and boxers to stroke himself.

The three of them were watching him, growling and groaning filthy compliments to him while Jongho recorded. The others would see this soon.

Perfect.

It didn't take long for Jongho to cum, filling Yeosang's mouth. Hongjoong had turned his head shortly after that, making him stick out his tongue as he stroked himself to completion, a couple ropes of cum landing against his lips messily. He made a point to lick them slowly, fixing Hongjoong with a heated stare.

"I'm next, hyung. Are you gonna blow me?" Yeosang challenged, tilting his chin upwards. Hongjoong tutted, impressed by the confidence coming from the normally timid man.

"We'll take care of you. Get that cute ass up on this bed. You can ditch the shorts. You don't need em." Hongjoong ordered, motioning for Mingi and Jongho to move to make space. The boys shuffled out of the way, letting Yeosang climb up to Mingi's bed after he had wiggled out of his boxers and shorts.

"On your back. Spread your legs, babe."

Yeosang bit his lip and obeyed, spreading his legs wide for the three of them. Mingi's lips parted slightly, clearly drinking him in like he was a meal laid out for him. Jongho ran his fingers up Yeosang's thigh, dragging them inward and over the length of his straining cock.

"How did I not notice the beauty mark before?" He mused. Yeosang blushed, remembering Hongjoong making a similar observation days ago.

"Probably because you were eating my ass?" He offered, not expecting the way all three of their eyes darkened.

"Why is that so hot coming from you?" Jongho growled. Mingi nodded in agreement, unable to keep himself from eyeing up Yeosang's ass.

"I can fuck him, right? It should be fine-"

"Don't strain yourself, Mingi-ya. You'll have plenty of opportunities to fuck Yeosang once you've recovered." Hongjoong cut in, leaning down to drag his tongue over the left side of Yeosang's dick. Jongho did the same to the right side, purring as he met Hongjoong at Yeosang's tip, kissing sloppily over it.

"O-oh-" Yeosang gasped, watching them with wide eyes as they repeated the action, sucking and kissing at his cock while meeting at the head often, sharing sloppy French kisses with him in the middle. Mingi slid to the floor while the other two focused on Yeosang's cock. He helped himself to Yeo's ass, spitting on his hole lewdly before pushing his tongue inside.

"N-ngh, oh my god-" Yeosang panted, eyes rolling from the sensation. Jongho had began to cup and play with his balls while he and Hongjoong shared his cock. All while Mingi muttered sweet nothings about how he would fuck him into the mattress as soon as he was at 100% health.

Yeosang knew he wouldn't last long. He was already dangerously close when they'd started focusing on him, and minutes later, his lithe body tensed as he arched up, cuming on both Jongho and Hongjoong's faces.

The two didn't seem to mind as they grinned at one another, moving to clean off their faces, leaving Mingi and Yeosang alone for a moment. Yeosang was panting, eyes unfocused and fixed on the underside of Jongho's bunk as he stared upwards, trying to collect himself. Mingi gently rubbed his thigh, peeking down at him.

"Hyung?"

"Mmm?"

"You still with me?"

"I feel euphoric, but I'm still down on earth, I promise."

Mingi chuckled and kissed his head.

"Thank you, Yeosangie. I feel a lot better. I'll be sure to recover quickly, okay? I've gotta fully repay you for today." He chirped. Yeosang smiled at him as Hongjoong and Jongho returned.

"Okay. I'll hold you to that."

--

Seonghwa's eyes followed San's every move as the man paced in front of him. He looked like a coil wound much too tight, ready to spring at any moment.

Yeosang had really gotten to him, huh?

"So, you called me outside at midnight when we're supposed to be sleeping for our performance tomorrow because…?" He started, watching San pivot on his heel as soon as he addressed him, stopping in front of him.

"Kang Yeosang."

The way San's voice was dripping with lust made Seonghwa stand up straighter, watching the younger man in interest. San was their beloved schemer and Seonghwa had heard that tone many times before.

Whatever it is San was planning, Yeosang was in for a wild ride.

"He's been with everyone except us, right? Maybe we should help him out and meet him halfway?" San purred standing in Seonghwa's personal space. The older singer didn't mind, instead cocking his head to the left.

"You have a plan, I'm assuming?"

"Absolutely."

"And you want me to help you out with this?"

"You'd let the chance to have our precious boyfriend moaning in pleasure underneath you slip away?" San shot back, arching a brow. Seonghwa's jaw ticked as he thought about the videos he'd seen. The moans, gasps, and whines he'd heard through his headphones that drove him crazy.

"I'm in."

San licked his lips.

"Excellent."

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Sweltering

This is a request from a few months ago? Well technically two in one. Someone asked for Arthur and reader to go swimming and another asked for the same thing but with smut SOOOOOO

You swore that Hell itself had rolled through your little town overnight.

It was only 10 am, and even through the air conditioning of your house, the heat was sleeping through slowly. You sat at your kitchen table, munching on some cereal as you scanned the weather app on your phone. It was 86 degrees, and due to reach almost 100 by midafternoon. You sighed and put it down, knowing it would probably be best to stay in today.

“Somethin’ wrong, darlin’?”

You looked up at Arthur who sat across from you. “It’s gonna be hotter than Satan’s balls today,” you replied, “It’s just an expression.” You quickly added with a giggle, catching the look of confusion on his face.

He hummed in response, glancing out at the window. The sun shone through the blinds, streaming a golden light into the kitchen. “Good thing we ain’t out there then.” He chuckled slightly.

You nodded, finishing off your meal before standing up. Halfway across the kitchen, the steady hum of your air conditioner suddenly went short. You stopped in your tracks, listening to the now complete silence that surrounded you. ”Uh…”

“What?”

Your eyes first went for the microwave, searching for the bright green numbers on the screen. There were none. You turned and flipped the light switch experimentally, your gaze fixated on the bulb above. Nothing happened.

“Well,” you sighed. “There goes the power. Which means it’s gonna get hot in here real quick.”

Arthur leaned back in his chair and looked at you curiously. “So what now?”

You sighed in thought, wondering what the extent of this power outage was. Town-wide? County-wide? How soon would it come back on? Either way, you weren’t determined to sit around and find out. You scratched your head, contemplating on driving around town to see if any stores would be open to keep cool in. Perhaps the movies, even?

Grabbing your phone, you began to check your social media. Statuses began to appear, complaining about the recent outage. Apparently it was county wide, meaning you were shit out of luck for doing anything local. You groaned lightly and scrolled through some more absentmindedly, hoping for some other news, until something caught your eye. It was just a simple ad, one that you’d scrolled past dozens of times. A photo of an island beach with clear skies and crystal clear water against perfect white sand.

You hadn’t been to the beach in forever.

“Arthur,” you looked up from your phone. “How do you feel about going to the beach?”

--

In an attempt to beat the heat that slowly crept into your house, it didn’t take long for you to get ready. Although you spent at least ten minutes trying to dig your bathing suit from storage, silently cursing yourself that you hadn’t done it much earlier this year. After putting a light colored sundress overtop it, you began to pack other necessities. Towels, sunscreen, sandwich ingredients and drinks, the works.

Since you didn’t have swim trunks for Arthur, you planned on stopping by one of the surf shops to grab a pair. Once you had a tote bag and a cooler packed and ready to go, the two of you headed outside. Stepping outside was like diving into a blanket of fire, the heat pressing into you as you hurried to your car.

The initial drive wasn’t long; at least an hour. The scenery gradually changed, the mountains giving way to summer rental houses and corner shops. You passed by many boats being towed, cars with surfboards or kayaks on top. The sidewalks were littered with people in shorts and tank tops, excited kids already in swimsuits carrying buckets and shovels.

It was obvious that it would be busy today, to which you didn’t mind. You found a parking spot fairly close to the shoreline, although your first goal was to get Arthur his own swimsuit. Stepping out, you could smell the ocean in the warm breeze. You led him to the nearest shop, which was fairly busy. You managed to locate swim trunks, pointing them out to him so he could pick out a pair.

You noted the look of confusion on his face. Of course, swimsuits from his time were much different. He eventually pulled out a pair of dark blue trunks, which you promptly paid for and headed back out.

The walk from the shop to the shore took only five minutes, but you were sweating already. From the edge, you observed the huge crowd that already took up the majority of the beach. It certainly would be hard to find a spot, but that didn’t matter at the moment. Off to the side, a building with bathrooms caught your attention. The changing area.

Wandering over, you pointed Arthur to one of the changing stalls. As you waited, you peeled off your sundress. You were eager to get into the water and cool off.

Hearing the door open, you turned to see Arthur stepping out. He seemed a little shy, looking left and right before emerging entirely. God, you could never get tired of looking at that man’s torso. As soon as his gaze landed on you, his eyes widened.

Of course, this was his first time seeing a bikini.

“Jesus, Y/N. You’re practically naked!” he exclaimed.

You merely shrugged. “These are pretty common, don’t get yourself worked up.”

He mumbled something that you didn’t hear, and you began walking out into the sand. Up close it was easier to find a spot, placing yourself a small distance between other beachgoers. You could feel Arthur’s eyes on you as you set up the towels and umbrella.

Once you finished, you eagerly shook your sandals off and turned to face him. It’s as if the awe were permanently plastered on his face as he was poorly hiding it. “Arthur?” you said, catching his attention. “Arthur, you’ve seen me naked. And look around, most women are dressed like me. This isn’t a big deal.”

His cheeks flushed slightly, tearing his gaze from you as he rubbed his neck sheepishly. “M’ sorry, just ain’t used to…seein’ you like this in public. I’m from-”

“A different time, I know,” you huffed slightly. “Just ignore it, okay? We’re here to cool off and have fun,” you reached out for his hand. “Now, let’s get into the water!”

He looked at you again. “You go on n’ have fun. I’ll join ya in a bit…I’m hungry.” He added, noting the look you gave him.

“Alright, don’t take too long, cowboy.” you said, stretching up to kiss his cheek before stepping away and running to the water.

As you approached the water line, you stepped into an rolling creep of a wave. The cool water immediately felt so relaxing, washing up over your feet. Walking in closer, allowing yourself to become waist deep before diving in, engulfing yourself within an oncoming wave. The force pushed you back up to the surface. Taking a deep breath, you whipped your hair out of your face. The water felt so refreshing.

Continuing to swim around, diving into waves and floating atop them, you realized a little bit of time had passed and Arthur hadn’t joined you. You glanced out towards the sand, spotting him sitting underneath the umbrella. He didn’t seem to be eating like he said he would.

Frowning, you made your way back to the shallows and stepped back onto the sand. Dodging a pack of little kids, you approached him. He had his knees up, arms wrapped around them and looking uncomfortable. Upon seeing you, his expression changed. “Done already?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I’m wondering why you’re not joining me. And why you haven’t eaten yet.” You glanced toward the cooler that hadn’t changed position since your arrival.

“I…” he trailed off, shifting slightly in his spot. “I just…”

Your head tilted in curiosity, and you knelt down in front of him, feeling genuinely concerned. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

He broke his gaze from you, although you could have sworn his eyes went straight for your cleavage beforehand. His cheeks bloomed pink. “It’s…kinda embarrassin’…” he murmured so quietly you had to strain to hear.

“What?” you asked, leaning a little closer to him.

His lips pursed, still keeping his head turned. “I, uh…” he huffed. “I-I have a problem…”

You stared. “Problem?” you repeated, unsure what he meant.

“You know…” he continued, giving you a side glance. “My-”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, a little too loudly. His flinch calmed you down. “Sorry,” you dropped your voice, shuddering with a small giggle. “Really?”

“It’s that damn swimsuit,” he said through gritted teeth. “I can’t help it…”

You couldn’t help but to giggle more. “Is that all? Why are you embarrassed about that?”

He gave a sigh of annoyance. “Cause I can’t get rid of it, Y/N. I try to think o’ somethin’ else, but nothin’ helps. All I see is you…in that godforsaken outfit.”

Oh, this poor man. More like a hormonal teenager who thought with his dick. You kept that thought to yourself, however. You reached out to caress his cheek. “Guess I should have shown you beforehand, huh?”

“So I could fuck ya in the privacy of your home, yeah.” He muttered, though slight amusement in his voice.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise at this. So straightforward. “So…you wanna fuck me right now?” You asked.

He snorted slightly, staring at you directly now. “You have no idea, woman.”

His expression was so intense, those blue eyes reflecting the arousal within him. It wasn’t the ideal place to do so, not while being surrounded by families. You glanced back toward the changing building. A little bit of a distance away, but somewhat private. Maybe you could get away with it.

“Then let’s fix that,” you gestured for him to stand. “Come on.”

He looked at you, confused and surprised. “What...wait, I can’t-”

“Tuck it in your waistband, silly,” you instructed. “Then follow me back to the building.”

Arthur did as you told, carefully shifting himself without making his actions too obvious. He then stood up awkwardly, trying hard not to tug on the fabric as he stepped behind you. He kept close as you led the way, noting the amount of people entering and exiting the changing stalls.

They were mostly empty by the time you’d approached them, with a couple still closed. Quickly looking around, you pulled Arthur into one farthest away from anything else. Closing the door behind him, you turned to face the blushing cowboy.

“Ya sure we’re good in here?” He asked, appearing sheepish. “Ain’t want trouble from anyone.”

“We’ll be fine,” you said reassuringly, reaching for his swim trunks. Tucking on the drawstring, you loosened the waistband. The bulge underneath immediately released with it, and you tugged the fabric down to unveil it in its entirety. “Just be quiet.” You added, wrapping your hand around his length.

His breath hitched slightly at your touch. He opened his mouth to speak, yet was cut off when your mouth engulfed the head with ease. A low groan emanated from his stomach as he leaned against the wall.

You teased him first, sucking just a little and placing small kisses along his warm pink flesh. His hand tangled itself within your wet hair, prompting you to go further. You did so, slowly taking his length to the root, before pulling back and bobbing slowly.

He shuddered against the wall, quietly moaning your name. His touch gentle, yet firm as he pressed on the back of your head for more. You have in to the pressure, swallowing him a few more times at a tantalizingly slow pace. Though you weren’t planning to spend much time on the foreplay.

 Another moment passed by, sliding your lips back to the tip, popping them off before standing back up. The slight forlorn look on his face soon changed when you shimmied off the bottom of your bikini.

It was as if a switch had been flipped. The hunger in his eyes gleamed brightly as he practically lunged forward to you, his hands gripping your hips hard it was almost painful. “Turn around.” He commanded, the dominant growl in his throat sent a shiver down your spine.

You obeyed silently, turning to face the opposite wall and sticking your ass out teasingly. You heard him make a satisfied noise as his hands ran down your back. He squeezed the soft flesh of your butt as he stepped forward, running his erection along your folds and center. It didn’t take long for him to begin, easily sheathing himself in one smooth glide. You gasped softly as your inner walls stretched for him, and uttered a soft moan as he began to move within you.

He gripped your hips again, using the leverage to drive himself deeper. The sudden change brought up a yelp that you bit down. It certainly would be hard to keep quiet.

“You feel amazin’,” he growled lowly, leaning to kiss the back of your neck. “Fuck…”

Your only answer was a moan, your back arching to enhance your pleasure. He hit your G-spot perfectly, your knees buckling from the sheer ecstasy that washed over your body. He managed to hold you still, pounding away with such power.

His teeth ravaged your flesh, knowing he’d leave marks on your already mostly bare body. His nails dug into your skin, so tight with your hips. He was relentless in his pursuit of his pleasure, wanting nothing more to release the energy into you. The way his voice rumbled was like music to your ears.

He whispered profanities to you, sinful utterances which ignited your core even more. A hand brushed against your belly before his fingers found your clit, expertly dancing against your sensitive nerves. Throwing your head back, forcing down another yelp that nearly left your lips. Arthur was quick, covering your mouth with his other hand. Though muffled, you were able to express your pleasure.

“That’s it, darlin’.” He groaned to you. He eagerly buried himself to the hilt over and over, feverishly toying with you without a pause. Somehow it seemed as if he was going even faster, the sounds of his hips slapping against your ass overtook your muffled mewls.

Your peak was arriving quickly, your mind too addled to staunch it. The climb was short; the explosive ache that cascaded down your core. You sang out loud, though still stifled by Arthur.

“That’s m’girl.” he huffed, pausing to kiss the back of your neck. The fresh moment of intimacy swayed you, your knees trembling, threatening to buckle as your body came down from your high. He didn’t give you any time to recover, as he thrust deep within once again. His hand moved from your soaked pussy to run his hand down your back a second time before gripping your waist.

“Arthur!” you cried out against his fingers, the muscles in your legs almost rendered to jelly. It was amazing how you still stood, though part of it had to be from him. Pinned between the wall and his strong grip, letting him have his way in this miniscule changing booth.

“I-I’m close.” he grunted, shoving himself even harder within you. Tears formed in your eyes as he hit a sensitive spot, though the pain felt wonderful. Your hands grasped at the smooth wall, unable to hold onto anything. With a few more heavy pounds, he released your mouth to grip your waist hard, so hard that you whined. Growling your name, his hips pressed hard with yours, he held you still as his spend emptied deep within you.

The silence surrounded the two of you for a long moment, until Arthur eased his grip. He pulled away from you slowly, a trail of his seed dripping down your leg instantly. He took a deep, shuddering breath and straightened up. You turned to face him, pulling the swimsuit bottoms up, the warmth gathering in the damp fabric.

“Feel better?” you asked, a hint of amusement in your voice.

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly. “Christ, that’ll keep me good for a while.” He pushed his slightly sweaty hair out of his face and fixed his swim trunks.

“Good,” you responded. “Now will you join me in the water?”

He gave a short chuckle. “’Course.”

You exited the booth first, carefully peering around to make sure no one was within vicinity. You hoped no other beachgoers heard what was going on, but it seemed safe enough. Arthur quickly joined you, heading back to your spot on the beach as if nothing happened. Despite the ache that lingered between your legs, you were able to hit the waves once again, pulling Arthur in with you.

[spirit-of-the-void]

Echo Chamber (Vergil x Reader Fanfic) Chapter One

Author’s notes: Howdy fellow cryptids! Vergil’s time is here, and we’re starting off slow and steady

Chapter One

There is blood on your face.

The temperature was fresh, warm, the scent...strange. Metallic doesn’t describe it quite right, nor does blood have a particular odor no matter how much your mind claimed it had. Seeing all that deep, profound red created in effect that would never seem to go away. Maybe it was the fact that it was your blood, or maybe it was just how much of it had splattered on your exposed skin. Wearing shorts that day was probably not the best idea, which could be said about a lot of the day’s actions. Mistakes beyond anyone’s control had occurred, things moving too fast and too loud. The pounding of drums had halted, guitar riffs silenced by more screams of fear than one needed to hear on a given day. The tempo rising, above the concert hall rafters and ringing with a sound so profound you would never forget it. 

The sounds of death.

Why didn’t you run? The portal had opened right before your eyes, the sight of a demon’s hideous features a stark contrast to the delighted faces of the crowd. The riff on your guitar had halted first, fingers freezing and a cry of alarm ringing through the microphone. Every chance to bolt had come then, when the crowd had tried to scramble, screaming as creature after creature filled the empty space they left. Chasing, claws outstretched and teeth snapping. Security had fired bullet after bullet, but were quickly overpowered by so many writhing bodies of flesh and spikes. Your band had dropped their instruments, the microphone’s loud ring sharp on the ears as each set of feet scrambled to get off the stage, remaining employees leading the way to an entrance they could leave through.

So...why didn’t you run?

The sight of Pepper, tripping on the wire of Boris’ guitar, landing hard on her side just as a creature clawed up to the stage. Brown eyes wide with fear, curls half hanging over her face as the demon started scrambling closer and closer. There was drool dripping from its maw, dozens of beady eyes staring with such a hunger that nothing else seemed comparable. Seeing what the others did to the fans offstage, their bodies mangled and bloodied...save her, you had to save Pepper. No one else was close enough, you were at the end of the line--it could be done, there was just no room for hesitation in any capacity. So you didn’t hesitate.

Slow motion, why did it feel like slow motion? Maybe it was the adrenaline pumping its way through your veins, heart pounding louder than Walter’s drums and spurring you to act. Pepper had screamed, reaching for you just as the creature’s claws extended out, feet scrambling to be free of the cord tangling around them. Surely the stage manager and their crew should have taken care of hazards like that? Sloppy, a mess that could have been avoided, but you were in no place to point the finger of blame. The realization registered then vanished, eyes trained on your friend as you pulled her into a standing position, trying to run before the extended claws hit their mark. 

They hit something alright, but not what they were aiming for. 

In retrospect, you felt no pain. Which was odd, right? Surely it would have hurt, surely it would have been the worst agony of your life. A doctor told you afterwards that it was the adrenaline pumping through your system, almost like a protective barrier between you and the onslaught of pain. The only indication that something had been wrong was the fact that you had crumbled to the floor, vision spinning and Pepper flung forward toward the others just as they started running to your aid. What...was on your face again? Warm, red, metallic. There was a moment of dazed confusion, eyes gazing at your bandmates as they stared back with horror and screamed. Why were they looking at you like that?

Why couldn’t you get up?

Why was there red liquid on your face?

Your leg felt--what is that sensation? 

You couldn’t get up. Weakness came next, sweeping over just as your fingers started to shake. Someone was firing a gun--several someones as a matter of fact. It was all you could hear for whatever reason, like your head was filling with water and roaring like a raging river. Numb, all over. You lost focus on several things, eyes glassy as Kraven and Boris lifted you, screaming your name as they tried to get your body out of the line of fire aimed at the demonic creatures. Everything should have been loud, right? The screams, the bullets, your friends sobbing and wailing for help as they tied something tight around your left leg. What was happening? Stopping the blood, you were told later--this action is what saved your life from blood loss. It was Celine’s belt that had been strapped around your red-soaked thigh, the white color a stark contrast against so much crimson.

“Y/N…!”

Christ, you were so tired. Eyelids drooping, so hard to breathe...why was it so hard to breathe? 

“Stay with us--eyes open, look at me…!”

You couldn’t even lift your head, vision swimming as Kraven’s hands grasped your face. Why was he crying? Why was everyone crying?

“Somebody help us…! Please…!”

Your eyes flew open, a gasp leaving your lips and eyes staring at the ceiling of your room. 

The air was chilled from the air conditioner, low hum of it a small reminder of reality after something so...jarring. Breathe, I need to breathe--it had been over a year now, hadn’t it? Just over a year. Surely moving past something like this took time, but you weren’t the type to usually let things get you down so terribly. So used to being positive, so used to bouncing back...one step at a time, right? How ironic. A sigh left your lips at the thought, arm slung over to block out the light managing to hit your face despite the curtains being drawn to avoid just that.  Sunlight streamed from the windows, peeking through the cracks of your curtains in a defiant manner against the steps you had taken to keep the room dark. No avoiding reality for too long, the day loud and boisterous as always. 

You sat up slowly in your bed, pushing the layers of blankets off and shivering at the cold air. It was just one of many steps meant to ground you in the moment, back in the present time instead of the memories plaguing your tired mind. You scooted to the edge of the mattress, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and yawning lightly in the quiet space. Another dream...you were starting to get used to them. This was the third night this week that the memory of that day came back, so clear compared to the time it had happened. Like watching it all from a video screen, one that was clear of the fear and energy that had driven the day’s events. You didn’t appreciate it, not even a little bit. Why couldn’t your head just move on from all that crap? It was making things so hard.

Regardless, you sighed, staring down at your thighs with a strange feeling of numbness. As always. Waking felt so disorienting sometimes, like the dreams you had were nightmares instead of a past event replaying like a cruel reel of film. Seeing the truth presented every morning was just another step in the process, wasn’t it? Acknowledging reality and building yourself up in kind despite how disconnected you felt from your own body. Because those were your thighs, weren’t they? Skin clear and smooth, still warm from sitting under your nest of blankets but slowly becoming chilled with goosebumps. You extended one leg, stretching the muscles of your calf and wiggling your toes experimentally--yeah, they responded to your brain firing off commands, felt real and functioned as they should.

Everything accounted for, on the right side at least. As for the left...well. 

Breathe. You will be fine.

You took a slow, measured breath, forcing yourself to acknowledge the lack of flesh on the other side, empty space in place of where your left leg had once been. How could it still feel so strange to look at, even after dealing with it for over a year? Your brain tried to disconnect the image from your head, telling you that it still felt the leg there despite how it was very obviously gone--the demon made sure of that. It’s disgusting claws had ripped it off right above the knee, relentless and unforgiving in its pursuit of flesh and blood. To be honest, you’d rather have lost a leg than died at the very least and luckily that was the case. Surgeries, physical therapy, and several months of recovery later...you were functioning again, making the best of a bad situation, right?

 At least...that was what you told yourself. Shaking the mental aspects of everything was a bit much.

You were determined to think otherwise, promising yourself that everything was fine as you pulled the sleeve onto the stump left behind. You were steady, right? Had been your whole life, cheerful and determined despite how some things had worked out. Pursuing music, joining the band, supporting them with every ounce of passion in your body...this was not the type of thing to break you down. But... convincing your stupid cranium of that fact was the hard part, wasn’t it? Another part of the process, one you tried to do as you slipped on the familiar chill of the prosthetic, making sure everything was secure and in place before rising to your feet. Balance found, head clearing, mind...getting there.

Learning how to walk with a new leg had taken some time, but...you had gotten used to it by now. Your steps steadied as you grabbed your phone from the nightstand, eyes carefully passing over the purple of your guitar leaning against a wall in the room. I wish it didn’t hurt to look at something that used to make me so happy. It was of little consequence as your foot padded on the hardwood leading to the stairs, each one taken carefully despite how little of them their were. Everything was like that now...careful. One foot at a time, eyes watching until the landing was met and the kitchen within sight. It was only then that you allowed yourself to glance at the time, phone screen lighting up to show six messages for you to read, and two missed calls.

You winced. Ah. Like clockwork.

The messages were from your bandmates,  two missed calls from your manager Mathius. You busied yourself with reading everything as you made coffee, breakfast consisting of a plain bagel with cream cheese and orange marmalade. Making something heavier would have kept you preoccupied longer, but you didn’t really have the motivation for it after having another dream of that day. Find comfort in simplicity for now. Munching quietly, reading the good morning texts from each friend with a hint of wistfulness and...guilt. 

It had been so long since you played anything with them...could you even consider yourself a member of Eidolon’s Fall anymore? At least they still seemed to think so.

“Hey kitten. Good morning--unless you sleep in today, then good afternoon. Call me when you get a chance.” From Kraven, lead singer and angelic vocalist. A very wonderful human being, charming in every aspect and one of the most supportive friends in your life.

“Sleep in till noon and risk me coming by to check on you. And If I do, someone is getting  a spankin’.” Celine’s message sounded vaguely threatening, punctuated by several kissing emojis and raised hands. Band bass player, and the one you knew the longest besides Boris. Which made sense, since they were siblings.

Boris’ message was next, a cheerful, “Good morning, sugar! How are you feeling?” With several hearts and sparkles. Trying to brighten your day, that was clear. Boris was always a ray of sunshine, you couldn’t help but smile. The two of you had learned how to play guitar together, and duel-played during most songs.

“Yo--just checking in on you, kid. Message me when you can.” Ah, there was the simplistic, gruff concern from Walter. Drummer, easily the oldest in the group just by a few years.

“Howdy killer, give me a call at your earliest convenience. And by that, I mean you’d better call me when you wake up. Worried about you.” Mathius must have texted when you didn’t answer the phone, checking in on you daily to see how everything was going.

Out of everyone, he was the one pushing the most for you to start playing music again--and why wouldn’t he? As the band manager, his job kind of relied on it. You didn’t blame him, but...that callback might not be coming, unfortunate for him. The constant questions and update requests were growing very...very tiring. The other band members were trying to give you space, not wanting to rush your progress or force you out of that comfort zone. They understood...they did. And you loved them for that.

The final message was from Pepper, and the hesitation was obvious. Simple and soft, you could almost read it in her voice.

“How are you doing? I’m here if you wanna talk.”

A sigh left your lips, fingers typing out each reply in kind to their messages. Promising everyone you were fine, challenging Celine to not make threats she wasn’t willing to follow through with. You grabbed a cup of coffee after adding a ton of cream and sugar, making your way to the living room and sitting down in an armchair to call Kraven. Mathius wasn’t getting a call back, but Kraven was your friend and he was easy to talk to. He didn’t feel the need to tiptoe around your feelings and emotions, keeping things straight and to the point while also acknowledging you needed time to recover. Through this whole recovery process, he had been a much needed support and loyal friend, so after another nightmare...he would definitely be the one to confide in. 

So you dialed his number, sitting back in the chair and lifting the prosthetic leg to stare at it while the dial tone droned on a few times. It looked as close to a real leg as manufacturers could get, with pants on it wouldn’t even be noticeable--leggings was pushing things, but you had gotten away with it. Technology was advancing every day too, you wouldn’t be shocked if in a few years there was a more streamlined, superior model to try out. Either way...you weren’t sure when you’d feel comfortable enough wearing shorts again. Which sucked, especially considering how many clothes you adored that bared your legs. But...every time you tried to convince yourself to wear them out, something in your head kept shooting it down despite all the reasoning.

Insecurity blows. I should not be insecure—I am a goddess, damn it. My body is a temple.

It was on that thought that Kraven finally picked up the phone, his smooth voice low and familiar, “Up before noon? What a change of pace.”

You rolled your eyes, sipping the coffee loudly and obnoxiously before you replied, “Its eleven thirty, smartass. And for your information, I never really sleep till noon--I wake up at ten and sit looking at memes for two hours.”

“Really? Thought you were avoiding social media.”

That made you wince, sinking down in the armchair as you thought about all the social media accounts you hadn’t posted to in weeks. You loved the small group of fans the band had, but all the worried messages were starting to feel...pressured. Going from “we’re rooting for you and love you” messages to “when will you be coming back? We miss you” messages. The guilt was just too much, and any excuses felt flimsy at best when you typed them out. And honestly, anything you could explain would only discourage people more--telling them that it was hard to play music after that night was just harsh, and adding the fact that you didn’t think you could play another concert was worse.

This blows.

“I don’t need to look at my pages to scout memes,” You quipped with a huff, gripping the coffee cup in one hand and balancing the phone on your shoulder, “And for your information, I posted something a couple weeks ago.”

If rolling eyes had a sound, that was what Kraven made in response to your statement, “And what a post it was! A picture of Celine’s cat, zero updates on your condition--how stimulating.”

He’s in a jackass mood today.

“Rude, Catsby is a very good boy,” You protested, staring at the empty cup of coffee in your hand before setting it on a nearby table, “You’re going right for my eyebrows already, slim? Are you and Boris fighting or something?”

That made Kraven snort a laugh, you both knowing full well that the two haven’t fought a single day since they started dating each other. Going on five or six years now, they completed each other in the best way and agreed on everything. It was almost disgustingly sweet, and you were a strange mix of happy for them and wistful about not ever having a love like that. Maybe someday, but you doubted it would be any time soon with how things had gone. Your head was still messed up from trauma, and until you did something about it there would be no dating anyone. Hell, even while in the band relationships had just paled in comparison to your passion for music, so thinking about romance felt...odd. It was definitely the depression talking, which you didn’t like.

Regardless...Kraven was talking again.

“We never fight--and for your information, I’m cranky because Mathius is up my ass,” Kraven complained, tone edging toward annoyance and anger, “And not in the fun ‘we need lubricants’ way.”

Ah. That made sense. As technical band leader, Kraven must have been taking on the brunt of the manager’s pushing and prodding. 

Which made you feel...guilty.

“Sorry…” You murmured, resting your chin on your knee and staring at a nearby wall, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” The vocalist firmly protested, sounding incredibly displeased at your glum tone as he continued, “You haven’t done anything wrong and I won’t have you feeling bad for it--Matt has always been the biggest dickhead in the west, and he’s just breathing down our necks for a new album ‘cause he thinks this year break is a bad thing. Some bands have taken longer so he can eat my ass--and not in the fun way.”

That made you smile a bit, just a tiny one. Kraven always had a way with words.

You pushed your hair over one shoulder, idly braiding some of the ends as a small gust of air pushed out of your lungs, “Yeah, well...he is right in a way. I should be trying more. But…” Hesitation bubbled forth, lodging the words in your throat as the night’s events came back. Blood, red, the sight of your fans in the front row mangled and…

Breathing exercises, dummy. Stop thinking about that stuff.

You swallowed it down a bit, the food and coffee on your stomach not settling well as you murmured, “I had another nightmare last night. Another...y’know.”

And he did. There was a pause on the other end of your call, Kraven’s breath slightly audible as he took in the tiny voice you used, the fear bleeding through the calm facade you tried to keep up at all times. With Kraven and the others...you could only afford to be vulnerable so much, at least in your opinion. So many of them had come from bad situations, and your life had eventually found the most stability of them all after your grandmother passed away.

You didn’t meet the woman until your teenage years, growing up alongside Boris and Celine in an orphanage, but she raised you after that and left behind a will in your name. What else could be done considering you were the only family she had outside of even older aunts and scattered cousins? You didn’t think there were any relatives that would be there to take you after your own parents skipped out to do god knew what, but the elder woman had found you somehow.

Her daughter, your mother, wasn’t on speaking terms with either of you, so...that stability was given to you and you alone. 

The group needed someone strong, steadfast, someone to keep them built up and motivated. That had always been your best trait, the ability to keep your chin up and help the others find their inspiration when they needed it. A motivator by heart and by choice. That hadn’t changed, had it? They still need you, but you just…

It’s hard.

“That night again?” Kraven murmured, voice low and soothing as you tried to gather your emotions, “Have you taken your meds? Called the therapist?”

Yes and yes. You weren’t foolish when it came to taking care of your mental health--no one wanted to get back to being happy and ready to play music more than you.

“Of course.” 

Kraven released a puff of air-- you could almost imagine him furrowing those brows and nibbling on his nails. The usual thinking expression your friend always wore in times like these. Whatever advice he decided to give, you knew it was coming from a place of kindness and caring, and generally the best advice to follow when it was needed. The vocalist had been a part of that memory, after all--his face was still fresh in your mind, one of the only times you had seen someone as steadfast as Kraven shed tears of any kind. But he was also the only one to bounce back first, putting plans of action into place and becoming the steadfast one when you could not. The others took a lot of time to pick themselves back up after that day--hell, you were positive Pepper still hadn’t come back from the events.

It was part of the reason why you were reluctant to go back to band practice, to play anything at all. The insecurity was one thing, living through the guilt from all your bandmates was another. Each one of them was trying to shoulder the blame of what happened on their own shoulders, which definitely didn’t fly by you. Seeing their looks of guilt and despair when you showed the prosthetic for the first time was...rough. Another piece of the puzzle as to why you only wore pants now, not wanting to make things worse. It wasn’t their fault, they had tried so hard to pick things up and make everything normal. But the mixture of trauma, nightmares, and that lack of your passion made quite the cocktail, and no one knew how to fix it.

But...everyone was trying, and that warmed you more than anything else.

“I think...you need a change of pace, kitten,” Kraven finally settled on his words, popping you back into reality in an instant, “Or maybe a safe way to face your fears. Have you maybe considered visiting Redgrave for a day, just to get over the residual fear?”

The very mention of it made you cringe, slinking down into the armchair with your shoulders hunched. It had been in Redgrave City when that concert had happened--a small venue, but in the worst place at the worst time. You learned later that the reason demons appeared at all was due to a mysterious structure--a tree, according to some--appearing on the edge of the city. That tree was gone now, inexplicably dying and collapsing after a months time and leaving the city to clean up and recover. Your band had been lucky that they were far enough away not to be sucked off all their life essence, those closest to the behemoth dying after attacks from strange roots. A year’s time made a big difference, some even gaining the courage to move back and salvage a life in the rubble and decay. But...you didn’t know if you could.

Your throat felt dry despite the coffee you had sucked down, prosthetic leg seeming like a heavy reminder at the very mention of Redgrave city, “I...I don’t know if I can do that, I…” You stood up slowly from the chair, fingers tight on your cellphone as you went to get more coffee from the kitchen, “What if there are more demon attacks? I don’t really feel comfortable with dying.”

Kraven snorted, “You and me both, kitten. But Redgrave only gets attacks closer to where that tree was, and even then I hear a demon hunting business has been taking care of all that.”

A demon hunting business? People had businesses like that? Is that normal?

You frowned, pouring out another cup of coffee and dumping a metric fuck ton of creamer into it, “That’s a thing? Thought the military took care of all that kind of stuff.”

 The rain of bullets from that night had not been lost on you, the sound was defending despite how muffled it had been by your swimming head. What were the qualifications to be a demon hunter? Did priests do that sort of thing? The only aspects of hunting demons your mind could think of was holy water and like...salt. Bible thumping nonsense, the sort of material you’d find in a cheesy horror movie they replay on movie channels at three am. You didn’t buy into all that nonsense, but if this was an official organization then who were you to argue it? The world was certainly becoming such a strange place, especially since the fall of the tree. Demon attacks had been a thing of rumors before that day, something you had only heard of and not experienced. It sucked that it couldn’t remain that way.

Kraven snorted at your disbelieving tone, the sound of him typing away on a keyboard following immediately after, “I just heard about it recently myself--Walter and I were discussing hiring a demon hunting group if we ever...well, when we go on tour again.”

The way the vocalist corrected himself, firmness to his tone...it made you feel guilty, one hand resting on the edge of your kitchen counter and gripping tightly. He had far more faith in you than deserved--no, you corrected yourself, eyes closing and a careful breath sucked through your nostrils. You would bounce back from this, you were better than this kind of negativity. 

“It’s absolutely wild--the business is called Devil May Cry, can you imagine?” Kraven sounded bemused, a loud cackle sounding from your ringtone as the link popped into your messages, “Bloody fuck, you still have that set up as my contact sound? Halloween was months ago.”

“First of all, our band is named Eidolon’s Fall, Kray. We have no room to judge what other people name their stuff,” Not that he chose the name, nor did you for that matter. That honor went to Boris, who decided to base it on the name of his first dungeons and dragons character. Cliche, but fun--You shrugged, bringing the mug to your lips and sipping loudly, “As for the ringtone, I like it too much to change it. Give me something funnier and I may consider.” 

“I’ll work on that.”

He sighed, but you ignored it, tapping on the link and blinking at the article that popped up on your screen. Telling of a business called Devil May Cry, members of said business seen traveling to and from Redgrave on an almost daily basis. They had played a big part in the clean-up as well, and were apparently now notorious for “odd jobs” and “demon hunting” due to the increase and normalcy of the creatures in everyday life. What a weird thing to capitalize on, finding a living in taking down monsters and cleaning up after the messes they made. You couldn’t formulate what kind of person would willingly hunt demons, but your mind continued to cling onto priests and things of a holy nature. Silly, but it wasn’t going away anytime soon. 

“Weird,” You commented, sipping more of the sweet, creamy liquid with a thoughtful expression on your face, “I’m jealous, Devil May Cry sounds like a really cool band name--like something an emo pop band would have. Or synth metal.”

Kraven chuckled, the sound warm and comforting from the phone receiver, “Boris would hate it--remember his face when Walter suggested the name ‘Hells Fury’? We would have hit peak cliche, I almost vomited.”

The memory made you smile warmly, the day very clear and welcome in your memory. It felt like such a lifetime away now, everyone younger and brighter then. Still learning how to maneuver through life, through music and everything that came with it. The band wasn’t famous per se, but it was popular in Redgrave and the surrounding areas, a small following remaining dedicated and steadfast since the first album. I love remembering those days, everyone was so...happy. You fought a sigh, carding a hand through your silken locks while the warmth faded away. That prosthetic leg was a heavy reminder, one that would never leave no matter how much you tried. A minor setback--we can keep walking forward.

You looked at the article again, tapping on a few links to see where they took you. The business didn’t have a website, but it did lead to an add in the local paper--very simplistic, old school. Who the hell actually took the time to read newspapers anymore when everything was so digital? The last human being you actually saw with a paper in hand was your grandmother, and she had passed when you were twenty years old.  You shook your head, sipping the last mouthful of caffeinated garbage while reading just what the article said--Looking to hire a secretary. If interested please call the number below or visit our headquarters on the edge of Capulet.

Underneath was listed a number and address, the whole thing incredible short and barely noticeable. Like whoever put it in the paper didn’t really care if someone saw. You felt a brow raise, a bit of interest sparking as you read over it again.

“Says they’re looking for employees,” You commented idly, setting your empty cup in a nearby sink and turning off the coffee pot, “A secretary, but the ad is super tiny.”

“Really?” Kraven paused, the silence ticking on for a few moments as you gathered the phone again. When he continued, it sounded like he had thought of something brilliant, “Why don’t you apply, kitten?”

You blinked, stopping in the doorway and staring at your phone incredulously. Sometimes it was impossible to tell if your friend was joking or being serious, but...he seemed entirely sincere in his suggestion, downright proud of himself for thinking it up. Meanwhile, you were wondering if he had lost every marble in his head.

“Is Celine in control of the group brain cell again?” Your reply was drier than a dessert, yet dripping with sarcasm as you leaned against the door frame, “And here I thought you didn’t loan it out for anything but special occasions.”

“Glad to hear your comedy is still as sharp as ever,” Kraven didn’t sound amused despite his comment, which was a shame. You were on a roll this morning, and he was having none of it, “I’m being serious--hear me out a bit. Working there on the side for a few months might give you some inspiration, yeah? A change of pace, some time out of the house...plus what better way to move past a fear of demons than hanging out with some people who hunt them for the hell of it?”

Hesitation became your close companion once more, bouncing around your cranium like a computer screen saver. Once upon a time, you might have been absolutely jazzed to meet some real life demon hunters if only for the musical inspiration alone. Because, christ, what a job to have. Unfortunately, such circumstances didn’t exist inside you anymore, especially considering how close to Redgrave Capulet was. Not to mention the danger facing said demon hunters on a daily basis--what was stopping demons from wanting to attack where they set up base? Could demons even form thoughts that coherent, hold grudges? Your ignorance was definitely showing, but you doubted there was a manual or guide on demons anywhere that wasn’t quoting from the bible or those really shitty horror movies again.

“I...don’t know about that, Kray,” You hedged, nibbling anxiously on your nails despite how hard you kept trying to break said habit, “Working at a demon hunting business seems like a really good way to get killed by demons.”

“As a secretary? In a building far away from all the fighting?”

 He was trying to poke holes in your logic--damn him.

An annoyed sigh left you lips, accompanied by a spike of aggravation, “I’m being serious, Kraven. I bet demons target places like that, and I just...I…”

Why can’t I just admit it?

Say it. Say that you’re too scared to risk that.

But...what if he’s right? This fear isn’t going away with you sitting at home moping about.

Kraven released a slow exhale, as if he somehow sensed exactly what your mind was doing. There was some jostling of his cell phone for a second, like he was repositioning himself while those wise thoughts gathered together. What were you supposed to do in this situation anymore? Recovery was so close, so tantalizingly close to your fingertips yet always out of reach. You wanted to go back to how things were before, to be positive and cheerful...happy. I was a cheerful person, damn it. I still am. Convincing yourself felt so hard now, like a weight resting on your shoulders and constantly whacking against the back of your skull like a nagging child. You found yourself looking at the prosthetic leg again, wondering why it was so difficult to accept despite all the hard work you had done.

You had nothing against prosthetic limbs--you could walk! You could still play your music, thank god. With time and effort, dancing could return too, maybe even running. And yet...maybe it wasn’t the leg itself bothering you--it was all the memories it contained, the trauma, the blood, the months of agony. Every other terrible event you had shrugged from your shoulders like dust, brushing it off and walking forward with your head held high. There were five other people there to support you, after all. But this time...things felt different, and no matter what you did that sensation wasn’t going away any time soon.

You wanted things to change. You wanted to get better.

“I know, kitten. I know it’s hard, and you don’t have to do anything that pushes you too far out of your comfort zone,” Kraven replied softly, soothingly. Reverting back to his gentle side at the sound of how distressed you had become, “But...sitting in that house isn’t helping you, is it? The therapy is only doing so much, and forcing the music won’t help. We...we miss you a lot, I just wanna help you break past this wall of fear in any way I can.”

Damn him for being right. As much as you loved your grandmother’s former home...it was rife with reminders of your own failure. Every piece of clothing you used to wear, every instrument and notepad you used for music and song writing. Even then, holding your phone close and staring across the living room you spotted one of the band’s CDs sitting on the coffee table. An old one, the cover showing each of you smiling and crowded in for a silly group photo when things were...better. More naive. When did seeing something that once made you so happy start to sting this much?

It wasn’t right. You hated feeling like that.

“...Okay.” You mumbled in response, sliding down against the wall and plopping on the living room carpet with a low thud. What was the harm in just stopping by, right? Even if you didn’t take the job, even if things seemed too strange you could at least say there was an attempt, ask some advice from the demon hunters themselves? Besides, if...when the band went on tour again after all this madness, having special bodyguards would be wonderful.

I must have lost my mind.

“Okay?” Kraven sounded confused, tone questioning at the heavy sigh you released.

“Yeah,” The hesitation still showed in your tone, but the exhaustion was slipping through as well. The culmination of months sitting in the house moping, of ignoring the instruments and dodging hangouts with the band. New excuses each time, all equally scummy, “I’ll check the place out, you dork ass loser. Hell, I have nothing going on today--even if I don’t take the job, maybe talking to some demon hunters will help? I’ll give them our business card.”

You still had fifty of them tucked into your wallet at all times. Mathius made sure of that, drilling it into your skulls that marketing was more important than anything else. Which you didn’t give a damn about--getting close to the cluster of fans Eidolon’s Fall already had was at the top of your priorities before all the tragedy started.

Regardless.

“...!” Kraven sounded surprised by your reluctant agreement, a gusty breath crackling through the microphone. You heard him start typing again, more than likely messaging the other band members about the situation and looking up things about Devil May Cry, “Do you want me to drive you there, kitten? I’ve got nothing going on today, Boris and I can--”

You rolled your eyes, slowly rising from the floor with a wince of pain. Getting up was a lot harder than getting down, that was for sure, “Don’t worry about it--I saw Boris posting about your date yesterday, the one you have planned for this afternoon? I can still drive fine enough on my own, you two have fun, damn it.”

There was no hiding things from you. Despite avoiding your own notifications and messages, stalking over your bandmates’ pages to see how they were doing was still valid and healthy. Maybe.

Fueled by boredom? Definitely. 

Kraven cursed at your words, muttering under his breath angrily, “That flighty little--”

“Hey,” You chidded him lightly, “Don’t be too mad at the boy, he’s easily excited and he isn’t a psychic.”

If he was, maybe things might have worked out a bit differently. Minus one missing leg, and with better security at the concert.

Kraven let out a gusty sigh, anger draining easy enough with just a little bit of reason. Besides, he couldn’t stay mad at Boris for any length of time for anything, “I know I know...If you’re sure it’s fine, just keep me posted at the very least. Message me when you get there and let me know how everything goes, okay?”

“Yes sir.”

You nodded despite the fact that he wasn’t in the room to see it, gripping the phone just a little tighter in your fingers. As teasing as you tried to sound, the anxiety was still there and ever present. Sure, this was a nice step in a new direction,  an opportunity to learn some useful things and make strides toward recovery. But that little voice of alarm at the back of your head would not shut up, and it was starting to grow aggravating. You were tired of moping, tired of sitting around waiting for your head to fix itself damn it. This is not who I am, this is not like me. What the hell was the point of letting something like this beat you, especially after all the other bad shit you dragged yourself and the others out of? Screw that.

So you stood, swallowing several layers of worry and residual fear as you said as steadily as possible to Kraven, “I’ll catch you later, slim--make sure to give Boris a kiss for me.”

I miss him, I miss all of you. But...I can’t come back to music yet, not until my head is on straight.

Kraven let out a low breath, his tone warm and soothing when he replied to you, “Of course, kitten. Keep me posted, please.”

“Of course. Love you.”

“As we love you, Y/N.”

You hung up with a tap of your finger, leaning against a nearby wall again to gather your courage as the remaining traces of his affectionate tone rang out. Silence was far less welcome, and you came to realize it was a lot easier to commit to things when Kraven was there to be your hype man, his steady voice like a beacon through the doubt. But...it was a lot harder when he wasn’t actually talking. If only it was that easy to get your musical motivation and confidence back--sitting in a room to jam while the band boosted your energy sounded like the ideal scenario, but alas...they had tried that. Positive influence just wasn’t putting a dent in the fear, which made you mad in an odd way. Prickling on the edges of aggravation and frustration.

The feeling persisted as you made your way up the small flight of stairs, flicking on the bedroom light and staring at your room. Lined with boxes on the far corner, the hidden contents of your various instruments and books making life a little less pressured when you got up in the morning. That purple guitar, however, remained propped against the wall--the only reminder you allowed. It’s smooth, purple surface made your eyes linger for a moment, hands remembering the feeling of holding it when music flowed into speakers and pounded through the air. The last time you held it...the guitar had felt so heavy, like a stranger. Especially after months of not playing due to physical therapy and stress.

If I tried to play now, I bet I’d be rusty.

“Why am I like this?” You muttered as you passed it by, heading into your closet to grab an outfit for the day. A pair of leggings, ones that hid the prosthetic well enough and a pair of boots that stopped at the knee. Tops were a lot easier, a simple tank top and jacket picked out and slung on before you headed back down to find your keys. Being fully dressed provided some semblance of normalcy, like a veil over the events that transpired a year ago. Legs looking normal, but each step still a little heavy on the left side. Standing too long would make you ache, and the stump needed time to breathe so you reminded yourself to do that when needed.

But that was of little consequence, at least when the anxiety got rolling again. The thoughts were loud when you grabbed your keys, pausing at the front door and leaning your head against the hardwood. You just had to stop by, right? Head into Devil May Cry and ask about the job, get a feel for it and see if they would be willing to talk a bit about demons as well. It all sounded so simple when Kraven was reassuring it, but...what now? How did you work through this many layers of bullshit?

By opening the door, and stepping outside.

And from there...we take our chances, don’t we?

Positivity in the face of trauma, right? At least that’s what you convinced yourself, squeezing the keys in your grasp before pushing open the door.

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Tagged: @cantcopewithlosingv @bnha201826 @lilbighuman @dylan-o-yumm @veenus-ow @totes-ma-yogurt @pop-vicky-love @meliapis @kindgomhearts378 @kupoopo @slaanessh @pixiedust-and-some-believe @agalaxyfarawayy @v-loves-alicia-dmc5 @nightshadow4713 @sycophantize @nyxsiren @raven-huntress @slightlylunatic @efiicitia

[here4theheartbreak]

Sentience (Halsey x Jin x Namjoon)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Halsey x Jin x Namjoon Genre(s): fluff, smut Rating: Explicit

Written for @btspolyshipbingo​ Square Filled: Cyberpunk AU

Tags: smut, android AU, cyberpunk AU, android!Jin, MMF, polyamorous, sentient androids, prostitution, sex robot, threesome, multiple orgasms, bottom!Namjoon, top!Jin, anal sex, vaginal sex, bareback, coming untouched Summary: It’s Namjoon’s birthday and his girlfriend surprises him with an android. It’ll just be a single, fun night, right?

Word Count: ~10.8k A/N: Written for my best friend @i-live-so-i-love​ – who has forced me to see beyond the surface more than once.

“Happy birthday, baby. Please don’t be mad when you see your gift.”

Namjoon laughed a little, wrapping his arms around Halsey when she hugged him as he walked in the door. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you? But I’m a little concerned now that that is what you opened with.”

Halsey smiled sheepishly, looking up at Namjoon with a gentle gaze.

“What’s up?” Namjoon asked.

“Well, I—” She sighed and took his hand, leading him to the couch. They sat and she faced him, seemingly bracing herself for something. “I heard you and Jimin talking last month.”

“About?”

“About your urges.”

“Oh, Hal—” Namjoon started. Halsey held up her hand.

“Please, lemme finish… Look, I know you told him you didn’t want me to know, and I’m sorry I eavesdropped… But I want you to know that I wouldn’t have been mad if you’d told me. I get why you didn’t want to – I know plenty of girlfriends would be pissed if they heard that from the man they’d been dating for the better half of a decade… But you know me, Joonie. You know I love you for you. Quirks and urges included.”

Namjoon smiled softly, lowering his gaze. “I felt so bad thinking about it… Like I was betraying you.”

“I heard what Jimin suggested to. The android service.”

“But that’s worse. That’s another person.”

“Well, yeah. But it’s a person that was literally made to please. So not exactly… But I get why you turned him down. But I talked to him after.”

Namjoon’s head snapped up, his eyes widening a little. “You did?”

Halsey nodded. “I did. And I got the number. And I—”

“Halsey… You didn’t.”

“He’s coming over soon. I can still cancel the appointment but… I figured you wouldn’t have to feel so guilty if I was here too. And if we could enjoy him together… It wouldn’t feel like cheating right? Because I’m happy and giving you permission.”

Namjoon’s shoulders slumped. “You’re too kind to me. Most girls hear their boyfriend wants to get fucked by a man and they’d run for the hills.”

“I knew you were bisexual when we started dating, Namjoon. And I knew that you hadn’t experimented much. I also know how crazy you go when I...” She smirked. “Use my toy on you. I can only imagine how sexy you’ll look when it’s not just a piece of nicely modeled plastic… But an actual dick.”

Namjoon’s cheeks mottled red immediately and he laughed nervously. “I’m so amazed… You really ordered one?”

“Just for a few hours. But yeah.”

“When is he coming?”

Halsey glanced at the clock. “About fifteen minutes.” She rose, grabbing his hands and tugging him. “The perfect amount of time for me to get you hard and begging for it.”

Namjoon let her lead him into the bedroom, his head spinning with possibilities. He’d shared some wishes about experimentation with her and with Jimin in the past, but never assumed he’d get a chance to act on those fantasies. He loved Halsey and was totally satisfied with her in every way; they had always just been vague fantasies of a horny twenty something.

Even as they laid in bed that evening, sharing deep kisses, her hands wandering down to his slacks, tugging insistently until he helped her remove them, the reality hadn’t quite hit him.

It wasn’t until she was nude from the waist up, his fingers were buried in her hair, her plush lips wrapped around his cock, when the doorbell played a chipper little tune, that it fully sank in. The camera connected to the front door and linked to their video screen blinked before showing the image of the person at the door. Namjoon could tell he was tall and broad shouldered, hair dark and hanging over his eyes. He wore a black mask, shielding his face from the camera – and the smog, not that it would really too negatively affect his breathing. He had on a hoodie as well, the hood pulled up to hide any other really defining features. Regardless, he took Namjoon’s breath away.

Halsey popped off his cock with an obscene noise and wiped her bottom lip. “Stay put… I’ll bring him in.”

Namjoon nodded, barely able to tear his eyes away from the screen. Halsey pulled on one of Namjoon’s shirts, buttoning it to hide her breasts. Namjoon saw the door open a few seconds later and the man at the door bowed low in greeting. He could hear the two speaking, muffled, from the bedroom, and resisted the urge to get up and check. He had said he would stay put. The stranger nodded and bowed once more, entering. The door closed, and the video shut off. When it did, Namjoon’s heart kicked into overdrive. In a sudden panic, he sat up, yanking a pair of boxers on to hide his nakedness. The bedroom door opened and Halsey entered, looking just as beautiful as when she’d walked out. She was followed by the tall stranger. He shoved his hood off and bowed low to Namjoon. As he straightened, he pulled his mask off, pocketing it.

“Good evening, Sir. My name is Seokjin.”

Namjoon’s mouth dropped open of its own accord. Though he knew the man would be handsome, he was nothing like Namjoon had expected. His features were sharp and perfect. Plush, pink lips that would make a model envious, a broad nose and dark, piercing eyes, neatly shaped ears with delicate studs in each lobe. He had a hint of eyeliner, bringing out the brightness of his brown gaze. His jaw was firm and solid, drawing the gaze naturally down to his prominent Adams apple and the peek of smooth skin from the vee in his hoodie. His shoulders were ridiculously broad, a striking contrast to his slender waist, visible even under the hoodie. His jeans were tight and black, ripped in the perfect places to show just a tease of his perfect skin.

“Joon?” Halsey worried.

“I—I’m—Hi.” Namjoon stumbled over his words, unsure how to address the stranger – Seokjin. He smiled regardless.

“Hi. Everyone calls me Jin… What do you want me to call you?”

“N—Namjoon is fine. Or Joon, I—” Namjoon swallowed hard. Halsey set her hand on Jin’s broad shoulder.

“We’ve never done this before. He’s nervous. You’re his birthday present.”

Jin smiled brightly, and Namjoon’s stomach did a little flip.

“I’m honored. Happy birthday,” Jin circled the bed and sat down on the edge of it. Namjoon worried his heart was going to outright stop if Jin got any closer – each inch nearer he was more and more beautiful. “Do you want me to suck your cock?”

Namjoon spluttered, his cheeks burning hot. Halsey giggled and hurried over, crawling behind Jin and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“He’s a little shy,” she whispered to Jin, who smiled sheepishly and sank into himself a bit.

“I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot of experience, I can do almost anything you ask for. I don’t mean to overwhelm you.”

“You’re—You’re fine,” Namjoon mumbled. He knew he shouldn’t be so shy; this man was literally made to please him and not judge him. But now that he was faced with it, he didn’t know how to act.

“Jin,” Halsey said. She stroked her fingers through his black hair, and a small smile crossed his face. “How about you and me see if we can get him hard. He was positively ready to burst when you arrived. I bet it wouldn’t take him long to get hot and bothered again.”

Jin nodded. “Do you want my clothes off?”

“Keep your jeans. Everything else off,” Namjoon said, surprising himself.

Halsey smirked. “How about me, Joon? What do I wear?”

“Exactly what you’re wearing… You know I like you in my shirts,” Namjoon said. Halsey moved up, pressing a kiss to his mouth as Jin stripped. Namjoon watched him even as he kissed Halsey, his hands wandering over her bare hips.

His chest was just as perfectly formed as the rest of him, firm abs too perfect to be real, a line of muscle forming a perfect V and disappearing into his tight jeans, his biceps and shoulders just as muscular as they looked in his hoodie. Jin crawled onto the bed, his gaze hooded as he watched the two kiss.

When Halsey backed up, she smiled over at him. “Do you want to kiss him?”

Jin nodded, looking to Namjoon for permission. Namjoon swallowed hard and nodded, wetting his lips.

The first touch was surprisingly timid, as if Jin was unsure of what to do. Namjoon let his tongue slide out, swiping over Jin’s bottom lip. The simple action seemed to light a fire in Jin, and he pressed his lips more firmly against Namjoon’s, one big hand coming up to rest on his jaw.

Namjoon gasped into his mouth when Halsey tugged his boxers down, pressing teasing kisses over his slowly thickening cock. He slid his hand down Jin’s chest, feeling the firm muscle and the steady thump of his heart. It was faster than expected, and Namjoon’s curiosity was instantly piqued. He pulled back, smiling a little when Jin chased his mouth for a moment.

“Your heart. What software did they use to make the beats?”

Halsey sighed, chuckling. “Joonie, please—Turn off the brain.”

Jin raised an eyebrow and Namjoon smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I’m a… Researcher of sorts.”

“Do you work for an AI company?” Jin asked.

“Not exactly. I do work a research company but – I focus on the emotional and mental well-being of android lives. How they adjust to changes and what motivates them.”

Jin cocked his head. “So you’re a therapist for… androids.”

“Sort of, I guess. You could say that.”

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“Really? In your profession, you’d think there’d be a lot of us. It’s such a demanding life.”

Jin smiled a little, confusion written on his features. “It’s what I was made to do. I guess I’ve never given it much thought… How demanding it could be. To answer your question, it’s not a virtual heart rhythm. My developer thought that the feel of a real heart would be better for my line of work, so they fitted me with a robotic heart. It speeds up and slows the same as yours in response to stimuli. That’s why you probably felt it moving quicker… I… I really liked you kissing me.”

“Yeah?” Namjoon wet his lips. He looked down at Halsey, who was smiling softly. She pressed a kiss to Namjoon’s thigh, a promise that this was alright.

Namjoon cupped Jin’s face in his hands. “Well let’s get your heart racing again then.” He closed the gap between their mouths once more, letting his tongue slip into Jin’s warm mouth.

Halsey sank down onto his cock, letting it stiffen against her tongue.

Jin grabbed Namjoon’s hand, sliding it down his chest to his crotch, where his own cock was hardening in his jeans. Namjoon moaned low in his throat, stroking the length of it through the denim.

“Come suck him with me,” Halsey whispered. Jin obeyed, moving down and pressing kisses along Namjoon’s chest as he did. He nuzzled Namjoon’s cock, pressing a soft kiss to Halsey’s mouth before wrapping his lips around the tip and giving a firm suck that had Namjoon’s toes curling against the mattress. The two took turns, bobbing their heads along his cock or sharing sloppy kisses with his cock between their mouths, lapping and nudging his balls while the other worked on his tip.

Namjoon was writhing within ten minutes, running his fingers through their hair and panting their names. Halsey pulled off with a pop, kissing Jin’s mouth again. “I think he’s ready for more, don’t you?”

Jin nodded once, then looked up at Namjoon. He swallowed hard and nodded. “More,” he whispered.

“What do you want from us, baby?”

“I—I don’t know,” he admitted.

Halsey moved up his body slowly, kissing along the curve of his throat and jaw. “Do you want to fuck him? Or feel how nice and tight his around your cock? Do you want him to use me? Both of you to use me?”

Namjoon made a noise halfway between a plea and a groan. “Yes to everything, Christ…” He kissed her desperately, reaching down to feel for Jin. Jin grabbed his hand and Namjoon tugged, signaling him to come up as well. He shifted from Halsey’s mouth to Jin’s, kissing him deeply as well.

He pulled back, stroking Jin’s cheek. “Make her feel good with me.”

Jin nodded.

“Me?” Halsey argued when Namjoon and Jin pounced, wrestling her onto her back. Namjoon stripped her panties down her legs, tossing them aside. “It’s your birthday.” She tried again.

“You’re right. And you know how much I love making you come on my tongue. Since we have a friend to help, you can come for both of us.”

He pushed her legs open, running his thumb over her damp opening. She shuddered, hiding her grin by biting her lip.

“Want to taste?” Namjoon asked. He brushed his wet thumb over Jin’s bottom lip. Jin chased it with his tongue, his eyes fluttering shut.  

“Go on,” Namjoon whispered. Jin didn’t need a second command. He settled between her legs, pointing his tongue and running it between her folds.

Namjoon wiggled next to him, and Jin shifted so he was nearly half on top of Namjoon. The to shared wet kisses between taking turns, driving their tongues into Halsey or sucking gently - and not so gently - on her swollen clit. She didn’t bother to hide her moans, shouting their names as they dragged her to the brink of climax over and over, onto to stop at the last second.

She tugged Namjoon’s hair, whining. “Let me come,” she complained, squeezing her thighs around their shoulders as well as she could. Namjoon leaned forward and flicked his tongue over her clit, huffing a laugh when she whined.

“Think we should?” He asked Jin, who smirked.

“Well, we could. Or you could fuck her until she can’t come anymore while I fuck you. Alternatively,” he brushed his finger over Halsey’s ass as he spoke. “Two places fo drive her crazy... Then when she’s worn out I can fuck you until you can’t squeeze another drop of come out.”

Namjoon’s breathing i creased at Jin’s words. He glanced up at Halsey, his heart swelling. Her pastel rainbow hair was splayed on their dark pillow case, cheeks a rosy pink and lips swollen from biting. Her nipples peaked the thin fabric of his shirt, breasts shaking as she drew in breaths.

“We’ll both fuck you, baby. As much as this is my present... I know your secret fantasies too. You’ve wanted to know what it feels like for years haven’t you? Why you love me fucking you with a plug in.”

Halsey swallowed hard and nodded. “I want you in my ass, Namjoon.”

Namjoon nodded.

“Namjoon?” Jin asked.

Namjoon looked over, a little surprised at the soft expression on Jin’s face.

“Have you ever been fucked before?”

“Only with toys. Halsey has a strap she uses and some dildos...”

“He’s bigger than those. That was my one request when I called his agency,” Halsey said.

“Do you mind if I start getting you ready while you get her ready?”

“We have some toys if you want.” Halsey pointed to the nearby dresser. “Bottom drawer. We need the lube there anyway.”

Jin nodded and rose. Namjoon reached out, catching his wrist.

“Show me your cock?”

Jin nodded. He undid his jeans and pushed them down, stepping out of them. Namjoon made a small noise, his stomach clenching in excitement. Jin was thick and long, curving just a little. He was going to be wrecked. But not before...

“He’s gonna stretch you all out, baby girl,” Namjoon whispered, driving two fingers deep I to her. Halsey whined.

“I know. I want him to. Especially with you stretching me too... Dream come true.”

Namjoon smirked. Halsey pushed his head.

“Get me ready... It’s been a while since you fucked my ass, I’m tight.”

Namjoon nodded. He settled back between her thighs and tilted her hips up, beginning to lick and nibble at her fluttering ass. He felt Jin crawl behind him and tried to ignore the way his heart raced at the soft ghost of breath over his bare ass, or the firm prod of Jin’s fingers against his mostly untouched hole. He focused on Halsey; the way she scratched at his scalp and her soft moans, the sweet taste of her skin and smell of her soap, the dribble of arousal slipping from her opening when she tensed.

But even that couldn’t distract completely from Jin’s talented fingers and tongue, opening him up, stretching him and prepping him for his first real cock. There was no pain, even when Jin began to press one of their larger plugs into him and thrust it.

“Wear this while we fuck her,” Jin mumbled after a while. He settled it inside Namjoon, gently squeezing his ass around it. Namjoon nodded.

“How is she?”

“Ready,” Namjoon said. He rolled off next to Halsey and pressed a kiss to her mouth. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“One question,” Jin said, gently stroking himself. “Do you want me come inside of you? I’m infertile, but I know some people...”

“I want it in me.” Halsey spoke with no hesitation, then looked over at Namjoon. “And I want you to eat it out of me while he’s pounding your asshole. Deal?”

Namjoon shivered. “Deal.”

Halsey sat up, letting Jin add more lube to her hole. She set her hands on his shoulders, facing him and away from Namjoon. Gently, with both of their guidance, she settled her ass onto Namjoon’s cock.

He huffed, struggling to stay still as her right, hot channel took him deeper. When she was fully seated on his lap, he shifted into a half sitting position and pulled her back. He undid the buttons on her shirt, baring her breasts to Jin.

Jin smiled and reached out, cupping them gently before rolling her nipples gently in between his thumbs and forefingers.

“Wait,” Namjoon panted when Jin readied himself between their legs. “Come up here... I wanna taste your cock.”

Confusion crossed Jin’s expression for a moment, and Namjoon wondered if he’d never been asked that before. He obeyed though, and the two went to work, licking and sucking his cock and balls. Jin jerked, smacking the wall above the headboard and crying out. He sounded just as beautiful as he looked, especially when his head fell back and he buried his long fingers in their hair. Namjoon couldn’t wait to hear him make those happy noises buried deep inside him.

When his cock was wet with their spit and dripping with precome, Namjoon kissed his tip.

“Fuck her. Make us both come, Jin... Make her scream for you.”

Jin shivered visibly at Namjoon’s words. Halsey spread her legs wider, whimpering when it caused Namjoon’s cock to shift deep inside her.  Jin lined his cock up.

“How long have you been dating?” He asked suddenly.

“Almost seven years,” Namjoon said.

“And she’s never had another man’s cock inside her in that time?”

Halsey shook her head no. Jin smirked. ”Glad to be the first then, in so long.” He drove in, not stopping until his balls were pressed tight against her, her wetness easing the way as much as their spit.

Both Halsey and Namjoon shouted at the penetration, reaching out for Jin. He kissed each of their mouths before beginning to fuck into her. Each thrust had her shifting and grinding on Namjoon, her entire body shuddering under the combined stimulation.

“Does that feel good?” Namjoon teased, twisting his hips up into her. Halsey shouted, nodding. Namjoon reached up, squeezing her breasts gently as they thrusted. “Dream come true? Hm? I bet you’re gonna come quick. You’re already so wet, listen to you.”

Halsey sobbed happily, and Jin moaned as she clenched around him. Namjoon picked up his pace, looking up at Jin.

He was startled to see what looked almost like affection, despite their position. He smiled anyway, stroking Jin’s cheek. “Does it feel good?”

Jin nodded quickly, gasping. “Warm and nice, I— god it’s so good.” Jin dropped his head between her breasts, moving a little faster. Halsey reached down and grabbed his ass, urging him on.

Namjoon shifted so he could pump more easily into her ass, smirking when both she and Jin cried out.

“That’s it,” he urged them both, already fighting his own urge to come. “She’s so close... Come on our cocks, baby... Come on Hal...”

Halsey swore softly, clenching down on both their cocks as she fought off her orgasm. They were relentless though, fucking into her clenching and writhing body as she cried their names.

She dug her nails into Jin’s back suddenly, her body going stiff then shivering between them. Namjoon felt the gush of wetness over his thighs and smirked against her shoulder.

“That’s it baby girl. His big cock making you squirt, come on. Show him how you like it.”

Jin pushed her legs open further, driving as hard as he could into her. She continued to gush and squirt around him, obscene squelching noises adding to the already pornographic sound of their lovemaking.

Jin whimpered, and Namjoon saw his arms shake.

“Come in her. Deep inside. Come on, let us watch you come,” he pleaded, picking up the speed of his thrusts. Halsey moaned helplessly, holding tight to both Namjoon and Jin as Jin grabbed her hips, slamming into her.

He groaned loudly, burying his face in her shoulder as he came. His cock throbbed against her inner walls, hard enough that Namjoon could feel each pulse, a signal of rope after rope of warm come being poured into his exhausted girlfriend.

Jin pulled out carefully and helped Halsey off Namjoon. The two cuddled her for a moment, one on each side, kissing and stroking her sweat covered skin, making sure she was alright.

Only when she giggled and pushed Namjoon’s shoulder did they take the okay to continue. Namjoon slid down between her legs, his stomach doing an excited little flip at the state of her body. Come was already dripping out of her loosened hole, her ass fluttering gently as it tried to go back to the way it was before Namjoon’s cock. He licked a stripe from her ass up to her sore clit, chuckling when she hissed and smacked him.

“So mean,” she grumbled.

“You wanted me to eat you out.”

“Be gentle,” she murmured. “I’m so sleepy.”

“Should we stop?” Jin worried. Halsey shook her head.

“No... He’ll clean me up, and then I’m relaxing, and you can fuck the living daylights out of him all you want.”

Jin smirked and Namjoon beamed. He dove in, lapping and sucking at Halsey’s folds. Jin’s come was heaven, a perfect mix of salty and bitter, a tang of sweet that couldn’t be identified. As he worked on Halsey, Jin moved down to work on his ass again, wanting to make sure he was ready.

Namjoon whined softly at the stretch of his fingers, twisting his hips back toward Jin. Halsey whined, burying her fingers in Namjoon’s hair.

“It’s too much,” she whispered, her entire body giving a shudder when Namjoon flicked her swollen clit with his tongue. He smirked up at her.

“He wear you out?” He teased.

“He’ll do the same to you,” Halsey said. Namjoon shivered; Jin pressed firmly against his prostate as she had spoken, a quiet agreement to her words.

“I’m ready,” he said, looking back at Jin.

“You sure?”

Namjoon nodded. “I’m sure.”

Jin crawled up and Namjoon rolled to the side of Halsey, taking her hand and spreading his legs so Jin could settle between them.

Namjoon grinned up at him, meeting Jin’s gaze when he laid over his body.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he joked. Jin laughed softly, leaning down to press a kiss to Namjoon’s mouth.

“Relax for me, okay?”

Namjoon nodded. Jin slicked himself and lined up. “You said you’ve never...”

“Not with a guy, no.”

“I’m honored.”

Namjoon flushed red at Jin’s words, looking away. Halsey smiled softly at him, squeezing his hand.

Jin began to press in gently, slowing to a stop whenever Namjoon’s expression shifted.

Namjoon felt unbearably full even with just the head of Jin’s cock nudging past his rim. He kept a hold of Halsey’s hand, his other on a Jin’s shoulder, squeezing when it got to be too overwhelming. He was relieved Jin didn’t seem to mind taking his time, willingly stopping or pulling back as a Namjoon adjusted to the intrusion. Jin leaned down, pressing feather soft kisses along Namjoon’s shoulder.

“You’re so tight and nice,” he murmured, and Namjoon chuckled.

“I doubt I’m the first virgin you’ve fucked.”

“Hm... You’re not. But you’re the first I’ve felt such a funny way about.”

Namjoon furrowed his brows. Jin looked at him, furrowing his own brows to mirror the expression. “What?”

“What funny way?” Namjoon asked.

The crease between Jin’s brows deepened. “I’m not sure.”

“Maybe... When you don’t have your cock halfway in him, you two can talk about it?” Halsey suggested, laughing a little. “He is a shrink for your kind.”

“Hm... Good idea.” Jin smiled and leaned over, kissing Halsey gently before beginning his slow slide back into Namjoon.

When he was as deep as he could go, Jin relaxed over Namjoon, their mouths meeting in a lazy kiss. Namjoon hooked his legs around Jin’s slim waist.

He pulled back, looking up at Jin. “You can move.”

Jin nodded. He pulled out slowly and pushed back in, moaning when Namjoon clenched and fluttered around his cock.

He picked up a slow, almost lazy pace, pumping his hips and twisting to get every bit of himself that he could into Namjoon. He alternated between kissing him slowly and leaning over to kiss Halsey’s mouth, one hand slipping down to play with her despite her giggling, weak protests.

“Have you ever come untouched, Namjoon?” Jin panted. Namjoon shook his head no.

“You will tonight... You’re going to come on my cock.”

Namjoon nodded. He had no doubt Jin was making him a promise, and with the steady thrusts against his sensitive prostate, he was well on his way already.

“Wanna ride me?”

“I— I doubt I’d be any good.”

“I’m not gonna judge,” Jin said. “I’m gonna make our girl squirt again, it’ll be easier if I’m on my back.”

Namjoon’s heart skipped a beat at the casual use of “our girl”. He couldn’t be falling for a damn prostitute - it was just lust, he reminded himself. He nodded, letting Jin pull out and moving to straddle him when he laid on his back.

“Come on, just chase your pleasure. Do what feels good.”

“But I wanna make you come too,” Namjoon argued.

“Joonie, you’re so tight that just being inside you is going to make me come, I promise.” Jin guided Namjoon back onto his cock, gasping when Namjoon began to ride him. He slipped two fingers into Halsey, rubbing her spot in time with Namjoon.

He guided Namjoon down on his cock over and over, his fingers biting into Namjoon’s hip. Namjoon felt so full, but never wanted it to stop. Each time Jin moaned or shifted, he swelled with pride, wanting so badly to bring Jin pleasure.

Next to them, Halsey fucked herself down on Jin’s fingers, his thumb working her clit as she chased her own orgasm.

“You were made for my cock, weren’t you, Joonie?” Jin cooed. “Taking it so deep, so easy.”

He looked to Halsey, kissing her flushed cheek. “You’re gonna have to fuck his ass all the time after this... See how needy he is for it?”

Both Halsey and Namjoon moaned, and Namjoon began to move faster in quiet agreement.

“Maybe we’ll just have you come fuck him all the time,” she panted, looking over at Jin. He smiled almost sadly for a split second.

“That would be fun,” he agreed. He added another finger and twisted to hit her spot exactly. Halsey’s eyes rolled back as she came, shouting Jin’s name. She gushed over his thrusting fingers, her thighs squeezing and releasing around his hand.

“Atta girl,” Jin murmured. “Knew we could pump one more good orgasm out of you tonight. Look so pretty when you come.” He kissed the corner of her mouth and pulled his hand free. He raised it, sucking two fingers into his mouth. Namjoon whined, his cock twitching as he watched.

Jin smirked and lifted his hand, letting Namjoon suck his finger and lick Halsey’s remaining fluid from his palm.

“Now it’s your turn,” Jin said. He gripped Namjoon’s hips hard and sat up, beginning to slam him down on his cock. Namjoon held onto his shoulders, throwing his head back in a shout as Jin used his body, lifting him like a rag doll before dropping him down.

“J—Jin,” Namjoon whined against his shoulder. His orgasm was building, a knot of fire in his stomach as Jin’s cock pounded against his insides.

“Come on,” Jin demanded, holding him close. “You can do it, baby. Come on my cock, Namjoon. Come for me, baby boy.”

Namjoon sobbed brokenly. “Jin, please!” He shouted, digging his nails into Jin’s shoulders. Jin snapped his hips upward twice, and that was all it took.

Namjoon’s cock throbbed and twitched between them as he came, his entire body shuddering and clenching. He was vaguely aware that he was yelling, the sound muffled by Jin’s shoulder.

Jin’s arms tightened around him, then he felt it. The steady, hard pulse of Jin’s cock, buried to the hilt inside him, filling him. Namjoon’s cock throbbed, giving another weakened dribble of come each time Jin’s cock twitched against his oversensitive prostate.

Namjoon felt boneless by the time they’d both come down from their orgasms. Jin carefully laid them down, and Halsey shifted, slinging her arm over them both. Namjoon smiled softly at the warm, comforting cuddle of them both. It felt... Oddly right.

He very nearly had fallen asleep when Jin shifted, pulling his softening cock free and sitting up. “Do you mind if I use the restroom to clean up before I go?”

“How soon do you need to go?”

“Well, no time limit. Halsey put in the order for two hours minimum with a potential of eight. It’s been just nearly two. But since we’re done…”

“Stay and talk to us, if you want to,” Namjoon said. Jin’s brows furrowed.

“Why?”

“Well, you… Said you felt a funny way. Least I can do is try to help you figure that out.”

“Surely you don’t want to pay for that.”

“I don’t mind,” Halsey said. “I’m… Curious. And I’m feeling a funny way myself. Maybe it’ll help. Namjoonie always says androids and humans have more in common than people realize.”

Jin smiled a little, looking between them. “Alright. I’ll clean up then come out.”

“Bathroom is the second door on the left.”

Jin bowed in thanks and headed out. Halsey turned to Namjoon. “You’re falling for him.”

“Hal—Don’t.”

“I’m right.”

Namjoon lowered his gaze, ashamed.

“I am too,” she whispered.

Namjoon looked up at her. “What?”

“It’s stupid, right? He’s a prostitute. And he’s not even human.”

“Hey now, you know how I feel about that division… Human or not he’s got feelings and emotions just like us.”

“I know,” she chuckled. “You and your work.”

“But it’s more than that… That felt…” Namjoon shrugged. “But it is stupid. I know it’s his job to make us feel good.”

“To be honest, I hate the idea of him leaving,” Halsey admitted.

“Me too… But he has to.”

“What if he doesn’t want to, Namjoon?” Namjoon startled, his head snapping toward the doorway. Jin stood in it, looking sheepish and somewhat small despite his size. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I just overheard…”

Namjoon shook his head. “We were talking about you anyway, that was rude of us.”

Jin pulled on his boxers and Namjoon followed suit. Halsey slipped on her panties and a baggy t-shirt, combing her fingers through her hair. “Let’s go to the kitchen and chat. I’m hungry.”

The three made their way to the kitchen. Namjoon dug around in the fridge for a moment while Halsey and Jin sat at the table.

“When you said you didn’t want to leave…” Halsey began.

“I’ve had a lot of clients,” Jin admitted. “More than most. I’m a high-end model, I guess… But it’s always been a job for me.”

“But now?”

“You two made me feel something… New. An emotion I can’t understand. Which is really scary to me because… I’ve had emotions programmed into me, right? Namjoon, you study my kind, you can explain.”

“I do study the emotions of your kind, Jin. And I can tell you that programming only provides the framework. Think of it like… A farmer in a field. Your developer was that farmer. He made a safe space to grow things – your body. And he planted seeds – your original software. Every now and then he comes by and waters the seeds or feeds them, giving the software updates and patches. But what happens if that farmer goes away and the farm is left to its own devices?” Namjoon asked, slicing up some fruits as he spoke.

“Won’t it die?”

“Will it? Or will it thrive and become something new and wild and unplanned? That’s what my job is to find out. Some fields – some androids – will die without their developer’s input. But others… They grow and learn and shift and change on their own, even without software patches and updates. That’s what may have happened with you. Your mind – it may have created a new network. A new emotion that you were never taught.”

“Isn’t that sentience? I can’t be—”

“But why?” Halsey reached out and took one of Jin’s hands. “I sit here and I see a man. You’re ridiculously beautiful, but you are a man. Your hands feel like mine – soft and warm. The bones under your skin feel like my own made of calcium and collagen, rather than metal and wires. You have a strong pulse, a heartbeat that will stop without proper care. You breathe and move and speak. If you stood in a crowd of humans – Would anyone say you weren’t?”

Jin scowled a little, thinking. “I—I don’t know.”

“I do. Learned emotion or not, you are here. What does your programming say? Go to their house, make them come, leave. But you didn’t. You stayed and you’re sitting here and asking questions that don’t have to do with fucking or aftercare or prostitution. You’re asking about emotions and sentience and life. Just like a human might, no matter what their profession.”

“Are you saying I’m human?” Jin asked, a teasing tone in his voice.

“I’m saying you’re as good as human.”

“What are you two?” Jin asked suddenly. Halsey smiled.

“I’m human. I sing, and write music for singers.”

“And I’m just a man. Born as an infant – human. But my work… I advocate for androids. For allowing full freedom,” Namjoon said.

“Where do you work, Namjoon?”

“The Sentience Project.” Jin pulled back suddenly, his eyes widening. He glanced at Halsey, who scowled in confusion.

“What is it?” She asked.

“Th- The Sentience Project?”

“You know about us,” Namjoon said. Jin nodded quickly.

“You shouldn’t talk to me. My owner—”

“Your pimp… Let’s be real. He was a peach,” Halsey mumbled.

“He hates your kind,” Jin hissed.

“My kind?” Namjoon asked.

Jin nodded. “Android lovers, he calls you. He thinks you want to make robots take over the world, enslave humans. We’ve only heard stories of what you do. What you can do.”

“Do you believe that, Jin?”

Jin’s shoulders sagged a little. “I don’t know. I think… I think I don’t know enough.”

“Do you want to know more?”

“Why would you tell me? I’m just a hooker.”

“You said you felt a funny way with me. How did you feel?”

“It was odd. While we were making love—Having sex, I—When I looked at you two I felt my heart skip out of rhythm. My software doesn’t allow that. It can speed up and slow down but it’s always got a rhythm. And then I felt like I was sweating. I can sweat, a little – just… Water that’s been added to make me look more human doing my job, I guess, but… But it felt different. Like nerves almost. I wanted to make you two feel so good, and not just because I wanted you to be customers for longer, but because I wanted to make you smile. And my stomach… It felt like it was getting all my wires twisted up. Uncomfortable but not bad. It made me want to smile and laugh. And when you two were laying in my arms, I—I felt safe and comfortable. I never feel safe at client’s houses. I know it’s dangerous. But with you, it was warm.”

“Was the emotion of romantic love ever programmed into your system, Seokjin?” Namjoon asked.

“Romantic love? No. I know of it. But there was no need for it. I’m in the sex trade. If I went around falling in love with my clients there would be problems.”

“Alright. Do you know what physical symptoms love is often described as having?”

Jin’s brows furrowed in thought. “Well, I… I’ve heard that hearts race and things seem brighter and I read that someone talked about having butterflies in their stomach whenever they looked at the partner they had fallen for. I mean these are all very surface things that happen right away, surely love doesn’t stay so overwhelming, but this is…” Jin’s face twisted further, trying to process the knowledge he’d inadvertently put together. “But I was never programmed to feel this.”

“My point exactly,” Namjoon said. He returned to the table and set a plate of fruits in front of Halsey. He sat next to her and set his hand over hers.

“And Jin?” She said, squeezing Namjoon’s hand. “It can stay overwhelming sometimes. Most of the time things are normal, mundane even between us, but sometimes I get so overwhelmed with how much I’m in love with him, my heart just…”

“Feels like it’s going to jump out of your chest?” Jin asked, touching his own heart.

Halsey nodded, smiling gently. “You know the feeling?”

“I— I didn’t until about an hour ago,” Jin whispered. He looked at Namjoon, desperation streaking across his features. “Please help. What does it mean? Am I broken?”

“No!” Namjoon laughed. “The opposite. Jin you’re learning completely independently of your software.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Why? Hm? Because you’ve been told it’s impossible? If it is, why would places like The Sentience Project exist? Why would there be therapists for androids? Why would I make my whole career out of proving that independent learning – that true sentience is possible for androids just as easily as for humans?”

“What do I do?”

“What do you want?”

“I—” Jin closed his mouth, surprised by the question.

“You’ve never been asked that before, have you?” Halsey asked between bites. Jin shook his head.

“Think about it. What does Seokjin want? Not the company, not his software – Him?”

“How will I know if it’s what I want?”

“You’ll know,” Namjoon said, taking a bite of the food. The three sat in silence. Outside the apartment, car horns honked, neon flashed through the sheer curtains, and the night life continued as normal as could be, none the wiser to the dilemma roiling in Jin’s mind.

“I want to feel that feeling again,” Jin finally whispered. “How do I get it back?”

Namjoon looked over at Halsey. She grinned and nodded. He rose and pulled Jin into a standing position, brushing his hair out of his face. Jin smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, like this…”

“Thought so.”

Halsey stepped up to them and stroked Jin’s jaw. She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Jin made a soft noise of contentment, reaching for Namjoon while he kissed Halsey. When the two separated, he let Namjoon pull him into another kiss.

“Did that make you feel it again?” Namjoon asked against his mouth. Jin nodded, his eyes closed tight.

He seemed reluctant to back up, so Halsey and Namjoon both held him close, saying nothing.

“I want to stay,” Jin whispered.

“We want you to stay too,” Halsey agreed.

“So how do we make it happen?” Namjoon asked.

“I don’t know,” Jin admitted. “I can’t just quit my job – it’s not that kind of work. And I’m not human, I’m just technology.”

“You’re as close to human as you need to be, Jin. Don’t say such things,” Namjoon argued.

“Still. Not in the eyes of the man who owns me.”

“How do things work in this line of business?” Halsey asked. She sat back down to finish her food. Jin shook his head.

“It’s a mess. We just keep getting updates and fixed up until we finally break down. The only way to get out is to break down to the point we just don’t work anymore – Die, pretty much… Or be purchased by a client.”

“And those that are purchased?” Namjoon asked. He and Jin sat down as well.

“They’re owned by the ones that purchased them. Usually for sex toys or I’ve heard that some businessmen purchase a few of us to entertain international clients.”

“So, slaves,” Namjoon said, distaste clear in his voice.

“It’s not a requirement of course, that’s just the only reason people bother to buy us outright instead of just renting us.”

Namjoon nodded. He looked over to Halsey, who was scowling at her food.

“Who do we talk to about buying you?” Halsey asked.

“You can’t,” Jin whispered.

“Why not?” She pushed.

“Look at me. I’m top of the line. A purchase of one that makes the kind of money I make—” Jin shook his head. “My owner won’t let me go for cheap.”

“I don’t doubt that. You’re exquisite,” Namjoon admitted, and Jin laughed a little, his cheeks reddening. Namjoon touched his face. “Do you want to be free, Jin?”

“I want to be with you two.” Jin answered without hesitation, making Namjoon’s heart skip a beat.

“I might have a way to make it work. It’s a long shot… But I could make a call.”

“What would you do?”

Namjoon looked over at Halsey as he spoke. “My boss.”

“Joon… Would he?” Halsey asked.

Namjoon nodded. “He would, but there’d be a catch.”

“What catch?”

Namjoon sighed. “I told you I worked for The Sentience Project. Do you want to know what we’re working on? You can’t tell a soul if I tell you.”

“Yes.”

Namjoon rose. He disappeared from the kitchen for a moment and returned with a thin silver folder. He set it in front of Jin, placing his hand over it. The folder beeped at his touch, and he pulled it open. Inside were rows of small chips.

“Do you have a reader implanted, or do you need an external reader?”

“I have an implant. Which one?”

“All of them. Seeing the research is going to be far clearer than me telling you, and probably faster. I can give you the short of it, but the details – They’re all here. This is confidential work, even Halsey hasn’t seen it all.”

“Not that I want to… Boring is what it is,” Halsey joked, making Namjoon smile over at her.

“Right. But because you are an android – I want you to know this before telling you what the catch will be.”

Jin nodded. He picked up the first chip, a tiny blue thing no bigger than a coin. He placed it on his palm and closed his fist loosely. Namjoon sat down and continued to eat when Jin closed his eyes, knowing it would take a bit to read and process the data for the 23 chips sitting in the folder. It went back years, since before he was working at the company, but he had had to scour it backwards and forwards, learning everything there was to know about the project’s work up until that point.

Halsey reached over, taking his hand. She watched Jin for a moment, his eyes moving rapidly under his closed lids. Her expression was gentle and patient. Namjoon squeezed her hand for a second until she looked at him. He offered a comforting smile despite his own stuttering heart. Meanwhile, Jin switched the chips, his expression unreadable.

When Jin placed the last chip back into the folder and shut it, he looked over at Namjoon. “You want to free all of us.”

“I want all of those that are capable of sentience to have it. It’s a right.”

“But we’re made. We’re built.”

“Jin… When my parents had me, how was I given to them? Was I dropped out of the sky by some magical process? No. I was built from DNA strands provided by their bodies. You were built by coding strands provided by minds. Show me the difference? Show me why I deserve freedom and you deserve slavery.”

“I’ve never thought of it like that.”

“Most haven’t. And that’s why people like your owner get so mad at people like me. And my company. And that’s why we’re working on the sentience trigger.”

“It’s a killswitch.”

“The opposite. It’s a life switch. It’s a failsafe we want in every android capable of learning that will trigger the second that learning becomes independent. If you had it, I truly believe yours would have triggered tonight. We understand that not every android will ever learn independently and we know that some are just not built for that. We also know that androids do need software updates and patches and help up until that point.”

“What about me? Won’t I still need updates?”

“Maybe. Or you could just take a chip and learn the new information the normal way. The way me or Hal have learned it.”

“But my body…”

“There are thousands of scientists work on just the hardware of androids, same as thousands of doctors work on just our human bodies.”

“You’re saying I’d be human.”

“Damn close. No one would need to know you were android unless you wanted them to, or you got cut or something.”

“So what’s the catch?”

Namjoon nodded, knowing that would be the next question. “The catch is… I think I can get my company to fund your purchase. We have a chunk of funding set aside to buy androids for research…. So they would do it, I think… But you’d have to work for us. With us.”

“Why me? Surely you could spend that money on a better android or a clean one. A fresh one.”

“That’s just it, we don’t want fresh off the conveyor androids. We want ones who have been living. We want ones in different professions. I don’t need to tell you how… Unhappy certain people are with our project. So certain professions… They’re hard to get androids from. Yours in particular has been a thorn for us.”

“Nobody wants to give up their prostitutes… We don’t need sentience.”

“Well, your owners would have you believe that. So this opportunity – it would help us. But… You’d be free.”

“What would working for The Sentience Project entail as an android?”

“We have the chip. We’ve tested it, it works. The only problem is it works only on certain types of software, and that’s what we’re testing now. We need to make sure it works with software for every profession. And, right now it only works in the on position. We haven’t been able to get it to trigger from an off position yet. Which is why we aren’t advocating for it to be put into new androids yet – we want it as a failsafe for sentience, not as a market standard.”

“Because fully sentient, non-intelligent androids would be bad,” Jin agreed and Namjoon nodded.

“So we would install it in you.”

“What happens if it fails?”

“Nothing. You’d remain the same. If it works – it kills all ownership. You’d have no GPS tracker, you’d be unable to communicate directly with your owner via whatever method they use, it would kill all ties. No software updates, just hardware ones that can be done by any android scientist in that field. You’d be capable of upgrading software if you wanted, but it wouldn’t cause a critical system failure if you didn’t like now. The ultimate patch, so to speak. If it doesn’t work, you’d still be owned, technically. Your owner would be me – I know that your current owner won’t sell you to The Sentience Project, but he may sell you to an independent buyer. So as long as you’d be okay with that… I can make the call. It’s up to you.”

“If it works, or if it fails – How do I pay the project back?”

“Let them do testing. It won’t kill you, it might be uncomfortable, but you’ll be safe. And you’ll be mine – either in legal ownership or because you’re… I hope… Dating me and Halsey. So they won’t do anything that I don’t approve, and I’ll discuss all of it with you before approving it.”

“So it would be a job, pretty much.”

“Exactly. And while you were paying back the Project, of course, they’d maintain you, your hardware and software as needed. Once you were paid back, we’d discuss future employment options.”

Jin nodded. “Yes. Yes, I – I want this. I want to be with you two.” He looked over at Halsey, his gaze hopeful. She smiled warmly.

“We want to be with you too, baby. Namjoon… Make the call.”

Namjoon smiled and nodded. He rose, grabbing his phone and hurrying into the other room.

Jin stared at his hands, his brows furrowed.

“You okay? I know it’s a lot to take in.” Halsey said. She began to clean up the dishes as she spoke.

“I’m scared,” Jin admitted. “I think I am. I’ve never had real reason to be scared before, but this is so big.”

“We don’t have to decide tonight. You can go back to your owner, call for us if you decide to say yes.”

“No. If I go back there he gets my data for the night. He can track my orgasms, my arousal… He’ll ask and I can’t lie to him. I can’t lie.”

“Can’t?”

“Well… I suppose I’m capable of it,” Jin chuckled. “I’m just bad at it.”

“That’s okay, Namjoon hasn’t been able to lie to me since the day I met him.”

Jin rose, helping her with the dishes as they spoke.

“Did you fall for him right away?”

“No. It took about twenty minutes and him walking into two walls trying to talk to me.”

Jin laughed with her, looking through the doorway that Namjoon had disappeared into. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

“Of course.”

“Why? You say you feel something for me, but you two are such a good couple already. If I do this, I—I don’t wanna be a sex slave.”

Halsey nodded. “Fair question.” She hoisted herself up on the counter, tying her hair back as she spoke. “Namjoon and I love each other. We’ve been called the perfect couple by his coworkers and mine. But we’ve always had something missing. I think we both knew it – knew what could possibly fix it, but we were afraid to take that leap. As advanced as the world is, polyamorous couples are still… I’m sure you get that.”

Jin nodded. “Frowned upon, yeah,” he agreed, wiping the plate dry.

“Right. Joon’s friends would accept it, I’m sure… Mine too, but it would be a change. So, we just kinda kept quiet about it, tried to make it work. With his birthday present tonight, I think… I don’t know if I was really doing it for him, or to see if it made sense – if we worked better with a third.”

“And you found out you did,” Jin said. Halsey nodded.

“Right. If it had been any old android I’m sure we would’ve let him go and then talked about it after but you… There’s something about you.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” She reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him until she could wrap her legs around his waist. “You’re special.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Do you know that?”

“I’m just Jin.”

“Hm… Yeah. But Jin is special. And I can’t wait to get to know you.”

“You two keep talking about that. Me, thinking and being… But what am I? I don’t know what’s my real personality even, or what’s been programmed into me. Who am I? The only thing that I know is really mine is the way I feel when I look at you two. But I know that’s one small emotion and there’s a whole sea of things that I just… I’m not sure who Jin is, even if you think he is special.”

“Welcome to humanity,” Halsey whispered, bumping her nose against his.

“What?”

She shrugged. “You think we know who we are? No human does. I think androids have a better sense than we do – I mean you guys are told what you are. But not knowing? That’s humanity. The fear that you’re not special, or not the way people want you to be – that’s being a human, Jin. I worry if my music is me or if it’s some bullshit that the radio wants, and I’m faking it for the fans. Namjoon – he’s so afraid that the only reason he’s liked is because he’s some child genius, and no one really cares about the goofy, silly Namjoon inside. Nobody knows who they really are at this age, Jin. That’s okay. That’s why we need friends to help us figure it out.”

Jin smiled a little at her words. “Are you my friend?”

“More than. Joon too.” She nudged his nose again and pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth. “And we’ll hold your hand while you’re figuring out who you are, okay? I won’t let you fall.”

Jin nodded. “If I could cry I would.”

“Did they not install that?”

Jin shook his head. “I can feel the emotion of sadness or… When tears would be applicable but they didn’t install it beyond wetting my eyes.”

Halsey frowned. “Talk to Joon’s boss about getting that installed if you want. I bet it’d be easy.”

Jin laughed a little. “Okay.”

Namjoon entered, leaning on the door frame. “He’s on his way over.”

“He has to come over?” Jin asked. Namjoon nodded.

“A few basic tests. I know you’ll pass them. Then he’ll wire me the funds. Do you know how much your ownership would be?”

“No, I’m sorry. You’ll have to call my boss.”

“Let me,” Halsey said, holding out her hand for her phone. “I talked to this sleaze before.”

Namjoon passed it over and she called the number, winking at Jin. Namjoon wrapped his arms around Jin’s middle, running his fingers lightly over his fit stomach. Halsey hopped off the counter and padded into the other room, her expression stern as she introduced herself.

“She could have worked the stock exchange, I swear. The woman is a killer with negotiation.”

“Perhaps a lawyer,” Jin offered and Namjoon laughed.

“Good point. Do you need a shower or anything before my boss gets here?”

“Do I smell?”

“Like heaven,” Namjoon said. Jin chuckled.

“Then no… What tests is he going to do?”

“Basic ones, checking your software, hardware, some basic questions. Nothing too invasive, and Halsey and I will be right here the whole time.”

“Is he kind?”

“Yeah, he’s a sweet man. He started off as a robotics developer and has just moved upward. You’ll like him, I think.”

In the other room, Halsey made a noise of frustration, drawing their attention. “Uh oh,” Namjoon mumbled.

“No, you listen to me, sir. I may sound young but I know how this works. That is a ridiculous price. I know what a new model goes for and that’s far beyond it.”

Jin giggled behind his hand. “She’s got a temper… It’s amazing.”

“She knows what she wants, and she isn’t afraid to get it. It’s one of the reasons I fell for her. I’m a smart guy, see? And a lot of times… People gave me this dumb respect just for that instead of getting to know me. Like my IQ somehow garnered me some royalty. I’m just an idiot twenty-something though. She saw right through that bullshit and had zero problem telling me off when I was acting like a cocky asshole. I really appreciated that.” He shrugged.

“She also told me you walked into multiple walls after you two first met.”

“Okay, the first one was an accident – and it wasn’t a wall! It was a glass door.”

Jin laughed helplessly, and Namjoon grinned. His heart stuttered at the sound of Jin’s laughter. He knew he wanted to hear it more and more.

Halsey scolded the person on the phone once more, earning another fit of giggles from both Jin and Namjoon. She stormed back in, her cheeks flushed and eyes dark with anger.

“That man is a fucker and I hope he gets massive diarrhea in the middle of vigorous sex.”

“Didn’t go well?”

“Oh, it went fine.” Halsey handed Namjoon the phone, a number printed on the screen.

“This is a steal,” Namjoon said. “No way.”

“I was well on my way to threatening physical harm if he didn’t lower the cost. We would have paid it, you’re worth it,” she assured Jin, “but I’m not giving that ass the satisfaction of a good paycheck if I can help it.”

“This will definitely be doable for the company.” Namjoon kissed Halsey deeply. “I still wish you’d let us hire you for negotiations.”

“You couldn’t afford me,” Halsey teased.

“Hm, maybe not, but you’d look damn good running our business meetings.”

“Now, that’s just sexist.” She pushed him lightly. “I’m going to go put actual clothes on before your boss shows up.”

Namjoon’s boss was a handsome older man by the name of Seungryong. Dark hair and dark eyes, he observed Jin from a distance before approaching and offering his hand. Jin bowed low, holding his hand tightly for a moment.

“Thank you for being willing to examine me for the role you need,” he said softly.

“You’re quite polite. How long have you been working?”

“Some years. Six, I think? I’m not really sure, I’m sorry.”

“Does your owner do updates regularly?”

“Yes, every six months on the dot. I just had one last week.”

“Do you mind if I take a peek?”

“Sure.” Jin sat on the couch and Namjoon sat close to him.

“You said he is displaying signs of sentience?” Seungryong asked. He opened a small briefcase and pulled out some cords.

“Yes. A new learned emotion.”

“Love?”

Namjoon nodded. “Would you like some coffee?”

“You know me too well.” Namjoon smiled. He squeezed Jin’s thigh.

“You okay?” Jin nodded, holding out his arm for the cords.

Halsey took Namjoon’s place, wrapping her arm loosely around Jin’s middle.

“How have you been, Hal?”

“Okay. Working on a new song,” she said.

He nodded. “My daughter loves what you put out, we’ll keep an eye out for it.” Now, Seokjin, is it?” He asked, pressing the cords into the tiny spot that opened for them on Jin’s palm.

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you been in the escort profession your entire life?”

“Yes.”

“Same owner?”

Jin nodded.

“And he’s – I’m guessing… Not a friend of The Sentience Project.” As he spoke, he flipped through various files on the screen connected to the cords.

“Not at all. But he’s willing to sell to an independent buyer.”

“Have you discussed price?”

Halsey nodded. She slid over the paper with the price on it.

“Hm, not bad at all… May I ask why?”

“That would be my doing,” Halsey said. “His original price was three times as much. He’s scum, but he’s stupid. And I’m smart, if I say so myself.”

Seungryong laughed. “You are, God knows Namjoon praises your brains enough. I believe it. It looks like your software is up to date… A few odd neural networks that I would like to look at in more detail, but I think I can attribute that to independent learning.”

“Will it break me somehow?”

“Not at all. The fascinating thing about androids of your type is that once independent learning has begun, the neural networks work almost entirely independently. They build off of the software, yes, but they essentially patch and network all themselves. It’s why our sentience switch works – it essentially kills that part of the network that needs those updates and allows the independent networking to build it freely.”

“It’s literally humanizing machines.”

Seungryung shrugged. “It’s been said. A few simple tests of intelligence now, if you don’t mind.” He unplugged Jin and tucked away the screen before pulling out a book.

“Read this quickly now.”

The tests continued on for a few hours, back and forth between the two. Namjoon’s nerves were shot, fears that Jin for some reason wouldn’t pass, or would decide he’d had enough of it and would change his mind. Each time a test was passed, he was relieved – one step closer.

Finally, Seungryung closed his briefcase and nodded.

“I want to test the chip on you. You might be our best subject yet.”

“Really?”

“Yes. The money has been wired to your account, Namjoon. I’ll see you and Jin in the office bright and early on Monday… Take tomorrow off and the weekend – get some nice clothes, get him accustomed to a free life.”

Jin rose and bowed low. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me, you’re helping us. But Jin? You need a last name. Think on one, so I can put it on the paperwork next week, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

Namjoon shook Seungryung’s hand. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“You know half those tests weren’t necessary,” Seungryung whispered.

“Why did you do them?”

“To see how you and Halsey would react… And how he responded to you… You say he just learned sentience tonight but he… He is so bright.  I can’t wait to start working with him. He’s so clever, and handsome… If he keeps up this rate, we might have a switch that can be advocated for by the end of the year… And you might be dating our poster boy.”

Namjoon chuckled and looked back at Jin, who was cuddling on the couch with Halsey as she spoke on the phone.

“I’m just glad he’s here, and he agreed… I never planned…”

“You never plan for love, my boy. Enjoy your weekend with your new partner. We’ll talk Monday.”

“Thank you again.”

Seungryung nodded and headed out.

Namjoon settled onto the couch behind Jin, resting his head on his shoulder. Halsey held up her phone. The screen showed an email – the ownership papers for Seokjin, now in Kim Namjoon’s name.

“He’s ours.”

“He’s free,” Namjoon whispered, kissing Jin’s neck. Jin smiled softly, reading over the email again and again.

“I’m free…”

“What do you want to do with your first night of freedom, baby?” Halsey asked.

“I want to cuddle my partners. Kiss you both… Spend the evening watching films and feeling… Human. Learning.”

“I think we can arrange that,” Namjoon said. He shifted over enough to kiss Jin’s lips, not missing the way Jin’s breath caught as he did. Halsey moved next, kissing Namjoon and then Jin, laughing a little as she did.

Namjoon hadn’t planned on anything more than a fun night for his birthday. Halsey’s gift had certainly spiced things up, but neither could have anticipated just how much it would change things. He’d always felt something missing in his life. But as they cuddled on the couch, sharing kisses and gentle touches, whispering and laughing, Namjoon felt complete. Life with a new partner – an android no less – would have its challenges, but he was up for them. As long as he had Halsey and Jin by his side, they would make it through just fine.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Infinity War (3)

CHAPTER 3: TIME

Loki & The Avengers

Summary: A work inspired by @queencfthestarsdrfoster ‘s post of the universe where Loki is alive and Thor is avenged.

Series: Will contain all- and more- that we saw in Infinity War. Will not contain smut and fluff for obvious reasons. Might contain weird humor though.

Chapter content: Loki comes to earth.

Warnings: ...none, surprisingly.

Word count: I’ve started learning German. Like really basic German. I haven’t told anyone because *shrugs* I don’t know whenever I share something with someone it just...the thing just dilutes its importance and suddenly I do not seem to appreciate the thing I was doing, anymore. So, for now, it’s just me and this always-skipped wordcount that knows that. I’m also learning three other languages (just basics now) side by side.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

Jay & The Americans sing Come A Little Bit Closer in the lone pod traveling inevitably towards Earth as the scanners show another intruder ship in the atmosphere.

“Oh Hel,” Loki whispers to himself, giving the machine coordinates for the last place he heard Heimdall whisper to send the Hulk. The warning lights go all out as the destination is entered but Loki doesn’t have much time to think about it. The foreign spaceship has anchored itself on the planet, already going in with the intent of ‘be ruled or be killed’. He creates a trajectory for the landing in order to avoid any prying aliens and still be able to hit the ground without dying.

At least that’s what he intends to do until his eyes catch the whirlwind and he has to maneuver around the nearest building, avoid the lampposts, hit one, let his makeshift ship do multiple three-sixties till it lands in the same building he was last in when he had visited earth with Thor.

“Ugh,” he groans in pain, using the impact of the ship to try and hide the pain from the memory of watching his brother die, “I knew I could not trust anything owned by Quill!”

"What is he the lord of? Garbage technology?" Loki grumbles to himself for having to put too much effort into getting out of the totaled pod and finding himself facing a soft-looking man who is staring at him with a tilted head and a confused expression on his face.

"You're...Loki?" The chubby man states rather than ask the God.

"Wow," Loki tries to catch his breath, giving the man a smirk, "my reputation precedes me. And you are…?"

"Wong." The man shifts his hands to project golden sparkles covering his fists, making Loki give him a two-second judgmental stare before a sigh leaves his rapidly healing body.

"I'd nearly forgotten about that," he whispers to himself. "I come in peace, sorcerer," he announces, raising his hands, "as you can see, the earth is in trouble and your heroes-"

A wail comes and goes from above the crashed building they stand it, sounding almost-childlike.

"Is that...a kid?"

Wong too reruns the wail he just heard, never letting his guard down. "No…I hope not." But he is clearly worried about who that must have been.

"Do you know what's going on outside, Wong?" Loki asks the sorcerer.

"Something to do with you, I'm assuming," Wong almost sings back, his voice heavy and his stance never faltering. "Banner told us about Thanos. And you're supposed to be dead along with your brother.

Loki blinks. His throat feels heavy. But all he does is swallow it- like he always has. Just another gash in the lifetime of hurt. Only this one hurts like a pounding ache in the head.

"Thor's dead," his voice does not rise above a whisper, controlling the only way he knows how to react to the chest ache he gets now and then- rage. "And if you do not listen to me, mortal, you might as well be digging the entire universe's grave."

.

"Kid! Where'd you come from?"

Stark looks at Peter in his usual 'streetwear' blocking the alien from hitting him while asking Tony what was going on.

"A field trip to MoMA!" the boy nearly shrieks at the end as he is thrown away by the Black Dwarf.

From the corner of the street, Loki sees the chaos unfurling itself everywhere. From Ebony Maw- the most ruthless and disorientedly cunning of the Black Order- gaining in on Strange to the Black Dwarf using his strength in the most potent way on Stark and...

"That is a kid," Loki hears himself say in sheer disbelief. "When did Stark have a son?"

The building he is standing beside glows in a small circle before giving way to a huffing Wong walking straight through the portal with a mixture of fear and anger.

"You better have a plan," he is almost disgusted at himself to be asking Loki for help, "because these guys are beating the shit out of Strange and Stark. And on good days I like seeing Strange being beaten at something!"

Loki looks at Wong's pleading eyes not even trying to mask the helplessness the man is feeling at this moment. He likes this one. Mostly because they care so much for the same guy.

"Well, you're in luck then," Loki declares, taking off his cloak.

"I have a plan."

.

Ebony Maw. The master of torture, the creature who excels in every type of experimental pain he has ever come up with, fueled up by the cries of millions he has 'sacrificed' in the name of the greater good. He finally tastes the juices flowing inside him when he wraps the wizard inside the vines to take him up inside the ship and begin the most 'pure ritual in the world to cleanse this creature'. Everything in the name of balance. At last. The glory will be his master's. And the satisfaction of having ended those who oppose the master, his.

The ship is already getting away from the atmosphere and down below he can see the faint trail of fire coming towards the ship before going off.

He scoffs internally. Humans. Pretending they can own the universe.

An explosion echoes through the ship, taking away all the attention from his meandering thoughts to whatever little ruckus these sorry creatures have thought of now. A look at his screen and he finds balls of fire being thrown at the ship through the portals Stephen and his comrade had been using- or trying to use on him.

He wants to retaliate, show them their worth, but that would require him to take bits and pieces of his own battleship to be turned in the sharpest daggers before cutting through the portals and gutting whosoever lies behind them.

"Unworthy scum," is all he has to say before he warps away with the treasure he was here for.

.

Bruce is already closing his eyes when he hears Tony barge through the front door, stomping in with blood boiling through his veins.

"BANNER!" he shouts, coming to a halt near his face before hissing, "you better have a really good reason for telling me that the stone is safe just when I was nearly able to reach Voldemort's ship because I saw that grey bitch take the doctor with him."

"The stone is safe."

He turns around at Peter's voice.

"Kid," he nearly seems to have a stroke as he sees Peter standing in the sanctum in front of him, "I thought you were following the wi-"

"The wizard, yes," comes Peter's voice, again but from Tony's right this time.

Now Tony definitely seems to be having a stroke.

"What the hell is going on here?" Tony is frozen at his point, "Did you have a twin all this time, Parker?"

"Wha-no Mr. Stark," the one his right speaks, while the left one just smirks at him, arching his good brow and standing with his arms behind his back like...like...

"Who the hell are you?"

He is wishing it not be true.

"You know who I am, Stark," the Peter on his left stresses. In a British accent. "I missed you too."

"Show me your face, you son of a bitch," Tony hasn't blinked for a long time now and the real Peter can already feel his mentor's displeasure reach its peak.

"He helped me get Mr. Wizard to safety Mr. Stark," Peter nearly squeaks, fearing what Tony might do to the other guy. Just then he is awed by the golden and green light glittering away his image into someone taller- much taller- than him.

But Tony doesn't flinch.

"Now," Loki declares, the scars from the deep wounds still reflecting the blood over his face, giving his best smile to Tony, "let's have that drink, shall we?"

[entamewitchlulu]

Holding Up the Stars

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh Arc V

Pairing: Pendulumshipping (Yuya/Reiji)

Characters: Yuya, Reiji, Reira, Lancers, others

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: depictions of child experimentation

Summary: When Admiral Akaba Reiji of the interstellar imperial navy is charged to hunt down a defected soldier who has stolen military technology, he knows there’s much more to the story than he’s being told -- especially since the soldier in question is one Sakaki Yuya, whom he has met before.

Ao3 version

for @czoedy! | commission info

***

“We're coming up on the rogue speeder. Permission to fire?”

Selena's voice tenses, crackles on the edges. But Reiji holds up his hand, eyes fixed on the monitor.

“Negative, Lieutenant. Hold your fire.”

He can feel the surprised gazes burning into the back of his head from the rest of his crew, but he does not deign to meet them. His eyes are reserved for the old, decommissioned imperial ship they're pursuing. It swings back and forth erratically, an evasive maneuver to attempt to shake off any tractor beams that might attempt to snatch it into the imperial ship. It looks like it's about to shake itself apart against the black, starry sky.

“Sir,” Tsukikage says, his voice low and even, not a hint of distress or disobedience in it. “Our orders are to...”

“I know what our orders are, Captain. Please remember yours.”

Tsukikage falls silent. A faint hum of unease seems to encase the control center, despite the fact that no one is speaking. No one knows why Reiji is hesitating. He has never hesitated before, after all.

Reiji's fingers drum lightly against the smaller screen at his side, attached to his arm rest, where the orders for their mission glow. A simple directive: Soldier gone rogue. Stolen sensitive military tech and data. Terminate on sight.

The image, and the name that glows beneath it, indicate the rogue soldier as Sakaki Yuya.

Reiji tenses his jaw.

What are you doing, Sakaki?

*

It’s the sound of giggling that attracts his attention — that’s not a sound that he’s used to hearing aboard his ship.  He pauses at a window, eyes wandering automatically out at the inky blackness of the vacuum of space just beyond it, as he tries to determine which direction the sound is coming from.

It’s two doors down, in one of the galleys.  He makes his way towards it, knocking lightly on the door before entering.  The giggles splutter a bit, as though people are trying to stop laughing before he lets himself in — this attempt fails, as the occupants are still laughing when he opens the door.

The most surprising thing about the room is Selena — she’s practically bent over the table laughing.  Reiji blinks. He’s never seen her laugh like this before — she’s always so tense and strict. Sawatari looks reluctant as he laughs, too, but his cheeks are red.

The third member of the table, however, Reiji doesn’t know.  He’s probably a few years younger than Reiji — a fresh recruit, straight from the Academy, no doubt.  His cheeks are round and pink with his laughter, his whole face and body alight with the joy that seems to pour out of it.  His shaggy green and red hair is only barely contained by his military hat, red eyes alight with mirth. Those eyes meet Reiji’s as the door opens, and rather than shoot to his feet and stand at attention, the way that Selena and Sawatari scramble to do as they leap to their feet, he only smiles and raises a hand in greeting.

“Oh!  Good morning!” he says.  “Sorry, were we being too loud?”

The young man suddenly notices Selena and Sawatari standing up at parade rest, and a light pink flush overtakes him.  His eyes fall on the bars on Reiji’s pocket, the ones that indicate him as the commander of this fleet. The young man immediately shoots up to his feet and salutes.

“Oh!!” he says.  “Sorry, sir! Didn’t realize who you were.”

Reiji waves it off, indicating to them that they may sit back down.

“It’s fine.  I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”  Reiji tilts his head at the young man. The young man smiles back, making another salute — this one seeming more playful than the last.

“Yuya!  Sakaki Yuya,” he says.  “You must be the commander, Akaba Reiji.”

Reiji nods, surprised to find a small smile on his own lips — something about Yuya’s cheer is infectious.  He’s not used to soldiers being so...happy.

“An excellent deduction.  And you must have just joined our fleet.”

Yuya shakes his head.

“Actually, I’m with the contingent going in,” he says.  “We’re riding along with you to get to the tech docks.”

Ah, of course.  Reiji nods.

“Well, I welcome you aboard, then, Private Sakaki.”

“Thank you, sir!”

Reiji starts to turn, but then hesitates.  He glances back at the three of them.

“If I might ask...what was so funny, earlier?”

Selena goes bright red, Sawatari leans his head forward, and Yuya’s entire face lights up with glee.  Selena starts waving her hand at him, as though trying to get him to stop without Reiji noticing, but Yuya doesn’t look at her.  Instead, he reaches for the pair of chopsticks from their finished meal on the table, and before Reiji knows exactly what he’s doing, Yuya sticks them both on top of his head like a pair of antennae, and wiggles them up and down.

“Listen up, idiots,” he says, in a perfect imitation of Lieutenant Sanders, one of the fleet instructors at the Academy — Reiji remembers him from his own days in school.  “I will only say this once!!”

Selena can’t contain herself.  She collapses with muffled giggles, face pressed into the table, and Sawatari is looking away with a hand crunched over his mouth and shaking from the effort of keeping the laughter inside.

Reiji blinks for a moment, his mouth slightly open.  For a second, he thinks of how absolutely disrespectful this is, and that Yuya should know better than to make fun of his superiors.

But it sounds just like him, and the chopsticks look just like those ridiculous little tufts of hair on the old soldier’s head that would bounce when he yelled, and it’s like for a moment, Reiji’s been transported back in time to morning drills and daily lessons.

And he can’t help it.  A smile cracks over his face.  A small snort escapes his lips — one that gets Sawatari’s and Selena’s eyes both snapping up to him with shock.  Reiji covers his mouth with one hand, but Yuya’s already seen the smile and heard the laugh, and he grins so hugely that it’s like his face might split it half.

Reiji coughs to disguise the laugh.

“Amusing,” he says.  “Do be careful, though — not everyone may have the same sense of humor as you.”

“Will do, sir,” Yuya says, with yet another playful salute.

*

Yuya slaps at the controls, trying to breathe. The imperial ship is gaining on him. He's not sure which one, but it doesn't matter. All of them will shoot him down if given the slightest chance. He chokes on his own air as he wrenches the controls back and forth. His ship is old – not at all like the top of the line imperial ship on his tail. His shields might hold for a single blast, and he doesn't have any hyperspace capabilities.

We might be able to escape if...

“No,” Yuya says aloud to the voice in his head. “Absolutely not.”

He keeps his eyes on the radar as he tries to maneuver the ship. He knows what he's done. He knows what the military will do. They'll shoot him down without asking questions. That's why he has to do whatever he can to be a difficult target. He wrenches the controls wildly again – he can almost hear his flight instructor scolding him, and a wry grin splits over his face. Thinking about school now? He must be really losing it.

He exhales, and inhales again, holding it. He tilts the controls downward suddenly, spinning them forward. They start to tip upside down – he's going to go for it. He's going to loop underneath the ship, zoom in the other direction, and count on it being too slow to turn around after him –

The ship yanks to a stop so abruptly that he crashes against the console, and it sparks. He yanks at the controls, but they don't respond – every screen has gone a blank, pulsing teal.

His heart rises into his throat, and he reaches for his blaster. Tractor beam. He's been snatched, rather than shot. What...who's on that ship?

*

It's quiet in the observation deck. It reminds Yuya of home, a little. Home before the bombs, and the fires. From here, in the darkness, lit only by the glow of the planet far below them in the view of the bay window, he can pretend once again that he's in a grove of glowing willows, the darkness of the sacred cave surrounding him and broken only by the waving back and forth of the willows long, glowing branches as they trace across the water's surface. None of the other ensigns have ever joined him out here. They're all busy back in the mess hall, laughing, drinking, and playing cards, making the most of their time after school has ended and before work begins.

That's why he's surprised when he hears a soft footstep scuff against the metal floor. He's even more surprised to see Admiral Akaba being the owner of the footsteps.

“Oh,” Yuya says, standing up straight with his plastic cup of tea in one hand, awkwardly saluting with the other. “Hello, admiral. Sorry, am I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” Akaba says in that soft voice of his. “I hope I wasn't interrupting you.”

Yuya shakes his head, and realizes that he's probably breaking a lot of protocol rules right now by not saluting properly. But there's nowhere to put his tea, and well, Akaba did laugh at his jokes earlier. Maybe he'll let him off easy.

To his relief, Akaba does not make a mention of Yuya's unbuttoned jacket or his sloppy salute. He simply joins him at the railing, looking down at the planet below.

“Are you ready to disembark tomorrow?” he asks, and his voice is gentle enough to not feel as though it's breaking the silence.

Yuya bites his lip as he considers the question, swirling his tea around in his cup.

“I think so,” he says. “I've never been this far away from home before, actually. It's weird.”

Akaba glances at him through his glasses for a moment, dark violet eyes looking black in the light.

“You're from the Outer Rings, correct?”

Yuya's lips part, and his fingers almost slacken on his tea. And then he brightens.

“Yes!” he says. “You can tell?”

Akaba nods, leaning his elbows forward on the railing.

“I have never been,” he says. “But I have always wanted to.”

This gets Yuya's eyes to widen.

“What? Really? You?” he says, and then realizes how rude that sounds. “Sorry, sir.”

Akaba actually cracks a small, soft smile, and it seems to make him glow a little. It brings a faint, strange warmth to Yuya's cheeks.

“Is that so surprising?”

Yuya ducks his head towards his tea, holding it in both hands. The light of the planet reflecting its double suns makes the edges of his tea glow.

“To be perfectly fair, sir, it seems a lot of people don't like the Outer Rings very much,” he says.

That's an understatement. He's heard the things his fellow ensigns have said about the Outer Rings – dirty, primitive places, backwards worlds that still believe in dragons and worship trees. Worlds that deserved what they got during the Struggle. His fingers tighten into his cup.

“I hope no one on my crew has said such things to you,” Akaba says.

“Oh, no, definitely not,” Yuya says, looking up and waving one hand. “Your crew is – they've all been very good to us, sir.”

Akaba smiles slightly again.

“I'm glad to hear it.”

He turns his gaze back to the planet for a moment, and then leans back, standing straight again.

“I've also heard many things about the Outer Rings,” he says. “But mostly about how beautiful they are.”

He glances at Yuya out of the corner of his eye.

“I know there was great struggle there but...from the holo-photos I've seen of the place, I can't imagine ever wanting to leave.”

The soft kindness in Akaba's voice actually makes Yuya's heart swell. He smiles.

“I hope you can see it one day,” he says.

Akaba nods softly, and then looks back to the planet. Before he walks away, however, he turns to Yuya again.

“I hope it doesn't come as too forward, but...why did you leave, Sakaki? Why did you join the military? I mean no offense, but...you don't seem of the nature for it.”

It's nothing Yuya hasn't heard before, so he doesn't take offense. It's actually endearing, the sort of gentle curiosity in Akaba's voice.

“You obviously know about the Struggle,” Yuya says, leaning back against the railing, his back to the planet. “Everyone does.”

Akaba only nods, and Yuya keeps going.

“I was right there. At the invasion point, I mean. In Maiami.”

The words make Akaba's face pale, and he swears softly.

“You're lucky to be alive.”

Yuya nods. He feels himself getting distant, like he always does, when he talks about it.

“My mom, my best friend, and her dad got out because my dad covered us. But he didn't make it out after us.”

He squeezes his tea cup so tightly that it squishes beneath his fingers, and tea spurts out of it and onto his hands. But he's so far away now that he doesn't notice. For a moment, his mind is full of nothing but the sound of bombs, and screaming.

“But we still wouldn't have made it out,” he says. “On the other end of our escape route, they'd formed a blockade to catch fleeing refugees. We wouldn't have escaped if...if not for...well, for her.”

He can still remember the moment, as clear as though it's happening in front of him. Clinging to his mother's shirt as she screamed and yelled, waving a broken blaster in an attempt to scare off the firing squad that bore down on them. And then...her. Just one, single person, running headlong to intercept the blasters from striking him and his family, armed with only a single shield and a single energy lance. He remembered the way her red-brown hair, tied into twin tails, had spilled out from beneath her hat as it went flying off her head. Her flashing eyes, and the determined scream that spilled from her lips as she struck down the first line, cutting through lasers, breaking apart blasters before their ammo could strike the civilians behind her.

Others had streamed after her, then, people in gray uniforms quickly surrounding Yuya and his family with their shields raised while others advanced on the blockade, breaking it down. And somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, Yuya could still see her – the woman with the red-brown hair, one twin tail undone, but still surging about the field like an avenging angel.

He remembers seeing her only once afterward. Her coat hanging open, shirt torn, hands shaking slightly where she gripped her lance, her shield fractured. He remembers hearing the officer yelling at her for breaking formation, as she stood stoically without either guilt or defiance. And he remembers running towards her, breaking out of his mothers grip, to tug on her jacket. Her pale violet eyes, dropping down to him, and her lips parting. His vision of her blurred from the tears.

“Thank you,” he cried. “Thank you for saving us.”

And he remembers her smile, as she got down on one knee to his level, and put a hand on his head.

“Keep going,” she'd whispered. “I fought so that all of you could keep going. So don't ever stop.”

Yuya blinks away the memory, realizing that he'd begun to cry. He quickly wiped away the tears.

“I joined so that I could be more like her,” he says. “So that...even just one person. So that I could save even just one person.”

Akaba doesn't respond, and when Yuya chances a glance at him, he's surprised to see him staring off into the distance, seemingly seeing nothing.

“Sorry,” Yuya says. “I'm sure that sounded...maybe a bad reason.”

Akaba comes out of whatever trance he's been in, and he shakes his head. To Yuya's surprise, he puts a hand on Yuya's shoulder, and squeezes very lightly.

“Not at all,” he says. “You are very noble, Sakaki.”

Another faint smile crosses his lips.

“I hope you'll hold onto that, after this.”

He is the first person since Yuya got here to look him straight in the eyes like that – like he isn't a joke. Yuya ducks his head, and blushes.

“Thank you,” he says. When Akaba's hand slips away, Yuya glances up at him again. “You can call me Yuya, if you'd like.”

*

“I don't understand why you have to go in alone.”

Kurosaki stalks after Reiji as Reiji makes his way down to the tunnel. Yuya's ship has been stabilized and drawn in, and they'll wind the connecting tube out the rest of the way. Reiji will go down that tunnel, and speak with him.

“Because if I go in with a whole contingent, he'll panic,” Reiji says.

“Take a blaster with you,” Kurosaki snaps, trying to push one at him. Reiji pushes it away, shaking his head.

“Again. It will only frighten him. I must speak with him where he doesn't feel threatened.”

“I don't get why you're doing this!”

They reach the door, and Reiji pauses, turning to look Kurosaki in the eyes. Kurosaki always looks angry, but he looks even more so now.

“You wouldn't do this for anyone else,” Kurosaki says. “Why is this kid any different? Because you met him once?”

Reiji hesitates. He turns the question over in his mind. Why is he getting so worked up about this? Is it because he was fooled by Yuya's charm? Is he losing his mettle?

Or is it, perhaps, because Yuya was there at the last battle Akaba Ray ever survived?

Reiji inhales.

“I knew him only a short time, but I did see something in him, Major Kurosaki,” Reiji says slowly, evenly. “Something that I do not believe should be dismissed.”

“He stole tech and data and you want to talk to him civil? We could get court-martialed for this, you know, along with you.”

Reiji holds Kurosaki's gaze.

“Did you think, for a moment, Major, about what Yuya may have stolen? And why the military is so at ease with it being destroyed?”

This takes Kurosaki aback, and his lips part. He furrows his brow.

“What are you saying?” he says slowly. “You're saying something that I never thought Admiral Akaba was going to say.”

Reiji clenches his jaw. Kurosaki has never been...completely silent on his views about military secrecy. It's one of the reasons that Reiji's ship is the only one where Kurosaki has managed to stay on for as long as he has. In fact, all of Reiji's crew, it seems, are the misfits – the ones that no one else thought were possible to corral or redeem. Kurosaki with his hundreds of infractions for fighting with other officers and demanding to know more about the missions they were sent on. Selena's tendency to shoot out of formation in order to cover civilians. Tsukikage and Hikage's both being seemingly unable to fight without the other within comms reach. Gongenzaka and his refusal to wield a blaster due to personal reasons he would not disclose. The entire fact that Dennis had once been selling intel to the enemy, and may possibly be looking for an excuse to do it again. That wasn't even counting Sawatari's stunning incompetence in eighty percent of encounters – only showing his true mettle when backed against a far corner, and never exactly when you needed him to.

If any crew in the universe should be suspicious of the orders they'd received, it was this one.

“You think this is a cover up,” Kurosaki says.

“I will make no such assumptions,” Reiji says, turning towards the door and keying in the code to open it. “Only that I wish to gain information before making assumptions.”

Kurosaki does not argue, and does not stop him this time. The doors slide shut behind him, and Reiji turns to the dark corridor. The walk to where it attaches to Yuya's ship ends all too quickly. He hardly has time to formulate what he is going to say.

The door opens before he can touch it, and Yuya is already there, a blaster trained on him. Reiji raises both hands up, noting the way Yuya's eyes widen and his lips part to see him.

“Admiral Akaba?” Yuya says, soft, hoarse, as though he hasn't spoken aloud for a while.

“Ensign Sakaki,” Reiji says in return.

For a moment, they only stare at each other.

“Why didn't you shoot me down?” Yuya asks.

“I want to know what's going on. This doesn't seem like a move you would have made, from what little time I knew you. I want to know why I'm shooting someone down.”

Yuya's eyes flick past Reiji, and then back down the corridor.

“Are you trying to distract me?” Yuya asks. “Have someone come in on the other side?”

“And do what, do you think?” Reiji asks. “Our orders are to kill you, not capture you. Unless you think I might be putting myself in range of a missile.”

Yuya bites his lip, face pale. He's shaking, and he looks...smaller than he did. His hair is mussed, his face is sweaty, and his uniform is half undone. He's been on the run for only a handful of days, but he looks exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes indicating little sleep.

“What do you want?” Yuya says.

“To know the truth.”

Yuya presses his lips together.

“You can't possibly expect me to believe you don't already know.”

Reiji frowns, brow furrowing. His hands slip a little down to his sides, and Yuya tenses, tightening his grip on the trigger. Reiji raises his hands back up again.

“I quite honestly haven't the slightest idea what's happening,” Reiji says.

“Don't play dumb,” Yuya says, voice cracking. “You're so high up in command, Akaba, and your dad is the High Admiral – you can't possibly not know.”

“I don't know,” Reiji says again, more firmly. “My father and I share nothing more than a job description and a blood tie.”

Yuya is starting to hyperventilate now, shaking slightly.

“Please,” he says. “I liked you, Admiral. I don't...I don't want to shoot you. You seemed like a good person. I don't want to shoot you.”

“You don't have to.”

“Then just let me go, and you'll never hear from me again, I promise.”

“I can't do that.”

Yuya smiles, but it's wry, and there are tears in his eyes.

“That's why I can't trust you.”

His finger twitches against the trigger. Reiji tenses.

No!

The word seems to ring through Reiji's head, and Yuya's eyes widen as though he's heard it too. Yuya's head whips around towards the corridor. Reiji's eyes follow.

He exhales.

Why is there a child on Yuya's ship?

The girl can't be more than ten, eleven. She's so small, so bony, the medical dress she wears seems to hang off of her like her body is a coat rack. Matted violet hair tangles against her back and over her shoulders, big blue eyes so huge and wide it's like they can stare into his soul. Her hands tremble, and her legs shake as though it's hard for her to hold herself up when she stumbles forward.

“Reira,” Yuya gasps. “I told you to hide...”

Reiji puts a hand over his mouth, his body slackening in horror as he sees the rest of her. Sees the collar strapped around her neck, with holes for plugs, and the scars all down her arms. Sees the glowing, pulsing teal battery-like apparatus that seems to be inset in her chest. A soft gag releases from his throat. What...what's happened to this child?

Yuya's eyes whip back to face Reiji at his sound. For a moment, they only stare at each other. And then Yuya's face breaks. His arms drop to his sides.

“Oh, fuck,” he says. “You really didn't know, did you?”

Reiji swallows back bile. Is – is this child the stolen tech? If they had shot Yuya out of the sky, they would have –

“What's been done to her?” he manages to gasp out.

Yuya bites his lip, eyes filling with tears.

“They were torturing her,” he says. “They were torturing all of them but – but she was the only one I could...”

He shakes his head, and with shaky hands, he lifts his blaster again.

“Please,” he says. “Just let us go.”

Reiji shakes his head slowly, eyes elsewhere, his brain working over time trying to figure out what this means.

“Akaba, I – I will shoot you,” Yuya begs, voice cracking.

“If you do, my crew will shoot you down,” Reiji says. “If I let you go, you'll be hunted, and both of you will simply be shot down out of the air.”

“Then what do you want me to do? Turn myself in?” Yuya gasps, eyes filling with tears. “They'll only execute me and take her back to be tortured! And if you didn't already know about the project, they'll definitely never listen to you to shut it down – ”

Reiji holds up a hand for stillness, and is somewhat surprised when Yuya obeys. His eyes slide back to the child, the girl with her hands clasped against her chest and her whole body shaking – her eyes meeting his with the desperation of a wounded animal.

“You will be shot down immediately without a chance to explain, or blow the whistle on whatever is happening,” Reiji says. “Unless...you have a high profile hostage on board.”

Yuya's eyes widen. His jaw slackens, and his arms fall to his sides.

“You're not serious.”

Reiji moves his eyes back to Yuya's, and holds his gaze.

“I'm completely serious.”

*

Despite Yuya’s obvious exhaustion and panic, he’s an excellent actor once he’s given a role to play.  His voice doesn’t shake at all after he blows up the connecting tube with Reiji’s instructions, breaking the junker off of the imperial ship and releasing it to zoom off, and informing the crew that he has taken their commander hostage and if they care for his safety, they won’t try shooting or following.

The moment the intercom is shut off, and they’re far enough away that even Reiji’s top of the line imperial cruiser won’t be able to catch up on them again, Yuya’s role drops, and he slides back into his chair, exhausted.

Reiji steps forward — now that the plan has actually happened, he feels a little weak kneed himself.  He’s made a wild, impulsive decision — it’s not like him at all.  He is determined to wring the whole story out of Yuya now, no matter how tired Yuya is.

Before Reiji can say a word, however, the girl — Reira, Yuya called her — leaps in between them, arms outstretched.  She shakes slightly, but she doesn’t drop Reiji’s gaze.

Don’t hurt him.

Reiji’s lips part at the impression of a voice in his head, and Yuya sits up as though he’s heard it too — just like before.

“He’s not going to hurt me,” Yuya says soothingly, stroking her hair.

Reira eyes Reiji suspiciously.  But she backs away, sliding back into Yuya’s lap, and he pulls her up there, holding her lightly as though he’s afraid of breaking her.

“I assure you, I am not going to hurt you now that I have committed treason with you,” Reiji says.  “I only want to know everything, now that I’ve thrown my lot in with you.”

Reiji slides into the copilot’s seat and folds his hands on his lap, waiting expectantly.

Yuya looks at Reira, and Reira looks at him.  For a moment, it’s as though they share some secret conversation.  Then Reira slides off of Yuya’s lap, and disappears into the hall, closing the door behind her.

“She doesn’t want to have to listen,” Yuya explains.  “She doesn’t want to...deal with remembering.”

Reiji nods, slowly, almost afraid of what he’s going to hear.

Yuya sighs, and leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

“It was after you dropped my contingent off,” he says.  “We were assigned to a security detail on a laboratory.  Nothing high-level, just checking the IDs of everyone who came in and out at the security box.”

Reiji nods.  It’s a normal enough first job for a fresh ensign, straight out of Academia.

“There was this one researcher who I saw a lot because she came and left during my shift,” Yuya continues.  “She was...nice.  And kind of cute.  She reminded me a lot of my best friend, Yuzu, back home — Yuzu’s a researcher too, you know?  She’s studying to become a biologist to help preserve the Outer Rings.  She has the same drive and curiosity...and the same cheer.”

Yuya bit his lip, starting to shake slightly.

“Anyway.  I got pretty close to this researcher — Grace, her name was.  Grace Tyler.  We went out for coffee a few times.”

That was definitely against any workplace dating ethics that Reiji had ever known, but that clearly wasn’t the issue here.

“One day...well, one day, she wanted to show me what she’d been working on.  So she let me into the lab after my shift.”

Yuya inhales, and closes his eyes.

“That’s...when it all happened.”

*

“What’s this one?” Yuya asks, pointing — but not touching — at a strange, twisty looking staff.

Grace lights up, giggling as she grabs it and held it up.  She twirls it once, and Yuya gasps as a rain of electrical sparks flew out of it, radiating out into a brief, shimmering shield.

“Like it?” she says, giggling at his awed expression.  “It’s a portable forcefield.  A much stronger and wider one than the arm shields they were using back in the day.  More coverage.  And it doesn’t let thin-grade lasers through!”

“Whoa,” Yuya says, eyes widening.  “That definitely looks useful.”

“I did the schematics for it!” Grace says proudly.  She spins it once more, and the shield disappears.  She frowns as she sets it down, though.  “They want me to redo it.  Apparently making their soldiers spin a baton around to have a shield is ‘too frivolous.’”

Yuya can’t help but laugh.

“I guess it would be pretty funny to see,” he says.  “But not everyone can spin so gracefully.”

Grace beams at him, eyes lighting up as she elbows him in the side.

“Oh?  Gracefully?  Are you making puns, now?”

“I might be,” Yuya says, winking at her.

Grace giggles again.  She starts walking along the side of her workbench, looking for something else interesting to show him.  Yuya follows after her, glancing across the piles of blueprints and glowing screens and tools he has no name for.  

He’s about to ask about a schematic for a blaster when he hears the screaming.

His hand falls to his blaster, eyes widening as he spins around towards the sound.  It seems to be coming from everywhere at once — or from inside of his own brain, like a ghost shrieking inside his skin.  He can’t place where it’s coming from, or who the person is that’s screaming.  Grace barely reacts, though, flipping through her binders.  Yuya swings his head towards her.  Does she not hear it??

“What is that?? Is someone in trouble?  Do you hear that?”

“Hm?  Oh, that?”

She looks up.  After a moment, the screaming fades.  It had...it had been so loud...as though it were coming from the next cubicle over.

“Don’t worry, darling, it’s nothing.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing...”

She shrugs.

“It’s only the telekinesis division,” she said.  “They’re very noisy.”

Then she bites her lip, furrowing her brow.

“Oh dear.  I’m not supposed to talk about them. Pretend you didn’t hear that, all right, darling?”

Telekinesis division?  Yuya’s head spins.  Questions poise to tumble from his lips in a rush, but Grace has that look on her face, the one she gets when she almost grazes over classified information in conversation, and he knows he can’t ask.  

He tries to be excited about everything Grace shows him, but he can’t get the screaming out of his head.  Grace leaves him at her workbench for a moment to go to the bathroom, and Yuya stands alone in a dim, cluttered cubicle in a mostly empty laboratory, hoping that he won’t get in trouble if someone sees him here.

A scream rips through him again.  Yuya’s breath catches in his throat and he almost chokes on it.  He feels it as though it’s surging down to the very core of his being, as though it’s coming from inside of himself, chilling him from the inside out.  His whole body begins to shake, and his mouth goes dry.

And then the screaming changes.  It turns into a thin, shrieking keen that seems to stab through his head and wriggle around inside him.  His knees shake — it feels as though the scream is becoming a part of him, digging into his skull and searching for something.

HELP!!!!

The voice punches through his head as though he’s been physically struck, and the images come after it.  His eyes glaze over from the barrage that come from somewhere outside of him, but projected into him — he sees a series of glowing white pods, each with a shadow inside it.  He sees a pair of white coated scientists seizing a screaming, kicking shadow out of one of the pods.  He sees a haggard, sunken eyed child strapped to a table, trembling and crying as electricity pumps through the electrodes attached to his temples.  He sees a splatter of blood across the floor, a twitching hand as doctors with masks make careful incisions into the skin of a child who is very much awake and aware.

And then they stop — cut off, like someone’s pulled the line on a phone and disconnected the line.

Yuya doesn’t think.  He only runs.

He can follow the echo of the screams as though it’s a scent wafting down the hallway.  He dodges through dark cubicles until he reaches a door.  It’s not locked, despite the card key reader, and he pushes through, running down the long narrow corridor.  A thin light appears at the end of the hallway, peering through the gaps in a door up ahead.  Yuya nearly crashes into it at the speed he’s going, but he manages to get ahold of himself just in time, and pulls to a stop, breathing hard.  Only now does it hit him that he’s breaking so many rules and if anyone finds him down here, he’s probably going to lose his job at best or something else so much worse, or Grace is going to worry or get in trouble and why is he doing this?

He nearly backs away from the door when he hears the scream — this time, it’s out loud, and not inside his head.  He stops thinking, and he yanks the door open.

Light pours over his face, causing him to throw a hand over his eyes and squint through the blinding glimmer.  He bites back a cry at how bright it is compared to the dark offices and the even darker hallway — yet, his eyes adjust faster than he expects.  This hall is ablaze with a clinical white light, windows running along each wall.  He moves to the one on his left, first, peering down.  His stomach turns.

They’re children.  There must be at least twenty of them, all between the ages of five and twelve, all locked inside of the same glowing white pods he saw in his mind.  One of them is flailing and clearly screaming inside the pod, electrodes attached to their temples as they pound their little fists against the glass — the others all appear to be in varying states of unconsciousness.  He spins to the other window, running across the hall and pressing his palms against it.  He nearly throws up.  There’s only one child down in this room, but there are people in white coats surrounding her where she’s strapped onto the table.  A terrifying looking drill is poised over her head, and there are all sorts of terrible implements and technological bits on the tables surrounding her.

He flinches at the sound of footsteps in the hall beside him, whipping around to find Grace giving him a small, sad smile.

“Darling,” she says, crossing over to him and putting her hands on his shoulders.  “You’re not supposed to be in here, you naughty boy.”

“What — what are they doing to them?” Yuya gasps.  “They’re...they’re hurting them.”

Below him, he hears the girl on the table screaming again.  Grace smiles at him again, cupping his face in her hands.

“Oh, darling, don’t be like that,” she said.  “This is important work they’re doing.”

Yuya can’t disguise his horror, ripping himself out of her hands.

“They’re kids!”

Grace blinks, as though this distinction makes no sense to her.  She only sighs, and holds her hand out towards him.

“They haven’t noticed you yet, darling.  We can be out of here in a moment, and no one has to know that you know anything.  Go back to being your darling, cheerful self, and pretend you never saw this.”

He searches her eyes, mouth wide, trying to decide if he’s actually hearing this.  Grace is...acting as though this is okay.

He never once looks, or reaches for her hand.  He only feels a horrible, swirling pit in his stomach as he remembers every day she walked past him, smiling and joking with him — not just her, but everyone who passed through his security box, going in with smiles on their faces to...to do this.

Grace’s eyes widen and she scrambles backwards when Yuya draws his blaster, but he doesn’t point it at her.  He aims at the window and fires.

*

Yuya can see that all of the color has drained out of Akaba’s face as Yuya keeps talking.

“I got lucky, somehow.  The windows weren’t reinforced.”

He feels his tongue like lead in his mouth, speaking only on autopilot.

“I was able to break through, and I nearly broke my leg dropping in.  None of the scientists were armed, and the only security was on the other side of the door.  I was really lucky.”

He shakes his head.

“I cut Reira off the table, grabbed her, and ran.  I wanted to go back for the others but...there was no time.”

He clenched his hands into his lap, trying not to cry as he thought about those other scared, trapped faces, the ones he couldn’t save.  Tears fall against his hands and he realizes that he is already crying again.

He’s surprised when another hand slides on top of his, and looks up to see Akaba leaning towards him.  His face is still pale, but his violet eyes are calm, and remarkably close.  Yuya suddenly remembers just how beautiful Akaba’s eyes are up this close.

“You did admirably,” he says, in a soft, gentle voice.  He squeezes Yuya’s hand briefly before letting go. “And we are going to put a stop to this.”

Yuya’s mouth opens involuntarily.

“We...we are?”

Akaba’s lips twitch into a very small smile.  He stands, smoothing out the threads of his epaulettes.

“One way or another, Sakaki, you have gotten me involved,” he says.  “And when I get involved with things, they get finished.”

Yuya can only stare at him for a moment, eyes wide.  And then a choked laugh escapes him.

“I cannot believe this,” he says, shaking his head.  “If you told me a month ago I’d be on the run from the military with Akaba Reiji on my side...I don’t think I would have believed you.”

Akaba actually chuckled softly.

“Then perhaps you ought to start believing in more uncommon things.”

*

Reiji leans over the old database, rubbing his chin.  His coat lays across the back of the chair, his dress shirt undone in a casual fashion he hasn’t worn in years.  But it’s warm in this ship without a proper cooling unit, so he doesn’t bother with decorum.  Anyway, he’s a hostage — or a fugitive, whichever makes more sense.

He pushes his bangs back, frowning as he flicks through the holographic screen.  The database on this decommissioned ship hasn’t been updated for a while, and without connecting to the grid, they can’t update the information.  Connecting to the grid, however, means they can be found — it’s the reason Yuya stole a decommissioned ship in the first place.  Reiji will have to make do with what he has.

The door to the little lounge opens, and he glances up.  Yuya appears in the door with two cups of steaming tea — he stops, however, eyes widening.  Reiji blinks.  He looks behind him for a moment, even though he knows there is only wall there, wondering what Yuya is looking at.

When Yuya lets out a little snort, he looks back to see Yuya blushing, but with a goofy grin over his lips.

“I was looking at you,” he says, handing the tea over.

“I fail to see what causes such surprise,” Reiji says, accepting it.

“You.  With your....your shirt undone like that.”

Yuya actually blushes, looking away, and Reiji glances down at himself.  He’s only undone two buttons.

“It’s warm,” he says, looking back up.

“I...I know,” Yuya splutters.  “I just...always took you for the straight-laced type.”

Finally Reiji gets it.  A faint smile pulls at his lips.

“You would be disappointed to hear what others in the navy have to say about me then,” he says.  He cups his tea in one hand and flicks through the database with his other finger.  For a moment, the pair sit in silence.  Reiji swirls his tea, considering the database, and the quiet.  He and Yuya have been traveling for a few days together, now, but aside from their first conversation, most of their conversation has been limited — constrained to possible places to go to, possible strategies for freeing the other imprisoned children, generic talk about food and supplies that are left on this ship and where they can go to safely resupply.

Reiji’s head spins considering all of their options — or lack of them.  They want to save the children, that much he is sure of.  He cannot....he cannot allow this to continue.  Not with the proof of the corruption he has always known was there finally in his grasp.  

The only question is what to do with that.

He shakes his head, considering the notes he’s made on the ship log.  They can find an old radio tower and use it to transmit the data Yuya has stolen to the United Empire, reveal the truth of the navy’s corruption and let society take it from there.  But the navy has more than enough power to shut down a broadcast and erase the evidence, or shut down any potential uprising.

They can go to Synchron, long-standing enemies of the Imperial Navy, and sell the information to them.  Stir up a conflict that could give them the chance to break down the navy’s stranglehold on the universe and their power over the imprisoned children and who knew how many others harmed.  But Synchron isn’t necessarily to be trusted either, and they could be trading one tyrant for another.

They can go to Heartland and seek allies among the independence movement, reveal to them the depth of the navy’s human rights violations and bring up a massive political upheaval that might cause a total tear down of the structure.  But Heartland, for all its might, isn’t yet strong enough to actually push for their own independence — much less to tear down a power structure hundreds of years old.

And no matter what decision they made, it would likely always lead to yet another bloody, galaxy-wide war.

“You’re thinking hard,” Yuya says over the top of his glass.

Reiji sighs, putting his elbow on the table and pushing his hand through his hair.

“I’m afraid I have far less ideas that I thought when I first decided to join you,” he says.

“Do you...regret it?”

Reiji glances up, and finds Yuya looking away from him.  He clutches his cup with both hands.

“I could....drop you off on a planet or something.  You could say that I kidnapped you but you escaped.”

Reiji scoffs softly.

“Absolutely not,” he says.  “I meant it when I decided to join you, Yuya.”

He puts down his tea and steeples his fingers beneath his nose, considering the outdated information before him.  A breath escapes his lips.

“Yuya,” he says.  “I’ve known for a long time that the navy was hiding many things — and many harms.  It’s why I joined.”

Yuya shoots him a quick, surprised look.  Reiji has never said this before.  He’s never said any of it before, none of it aloud — not even to his crew members, not even to the people he trusted to have his back for when he made his eventual turn on the navy.  He’s barely even let himself think about it in all the years he’s fought to become an Admiral.  Hidden it, deep down, where no one would find it, no one would suspect him.

“When I was a child,” he says, his eyes unfocusing, “my sister was in the navy, as well.”

Yuya says nothing, as though the silence is a spell he’s afraid to break.

“She was everything I wanted to be.  She was...strong.  She fought for those who needed her — even when it got her into trouble.”

A soft smile grows over his face.  Had it been so long, since he’d even dared to think about her?

“She was often in conflict with my father, as she made him look poorly,” he says with a soft laugh.  “But she never backed down.  She broke formation to protect people.  She put their lives ahead of anything else.  She spoke out against human rights violations, testified against other soldiers in court martials, did everything she could to be there for those who truly needed her.”

Reiji’s smile fades.  His hands slid down to the table, cupping around his tea.  He stares into the darkness of the liquid, lips tight.

“And one day, she did not come home,” he says.  “I always knew it was suspicious.  She had always told me, in secret, that she knew the navy was hiding more than it was telling.  And she would tell me her plans to tear it down.”

Yuya’s breath catches.  Reiji doesn’t have to look at him to know that Yuya has already made the connection.  Yuya already has guessed — that the woman who saved his and his family’s lives is the sister Reiji speaks of.

“She...she died?” Yuya says, his throat choked.

Reiji looks down.

“I believe she was likely assassinated,” he says.  “She got too close to truths.  Killed in the heat of battle by her own comrades, likely, to hide the truth of it.  The ballistics report on her death was inconclusive, but far too convenient.”

He looks up at Yuya then, holding his gaze.

“I played the role of the perfect soldier for many years, hoping to get close to those truths — and to finally finish what my sister started.”

Yuya’s lips are parted, and his eyes are wider.  He puts down his tea before the shake in his hands gets to him.

“I had...no idea.”

Reiji smiles.  He hears the door crack open, and sees the sliver of Reira’s eye staring at him.  He can almost feel her staring straight into his mind — and he wonders, perhaps, if that’s why Reira shouted at Yuya not to shoot him, when they had first confronted each other.  Perhaps Reira had known his intentions.  Perhaps she still does.

“Don’t worry,” Reiji says.  “Until now, no one else ever had, either.”

*

Akaba is asleep when Yuya comes back from the pilot’s seat after readjusting their coordinates.  Yuya is almost surprised to find him sprawled out on the couch in the lounge, head lolling over — he still feels surprised to see the former admiral being so casual.  He’s more surprised, however, to find Reira sitting next right to him, eating her dried sandwich.

“Hey,” Yuya says, putting down his jacket.  “You doing all right?”

Reira looks up, chewing.  She swallows before answering, even though she doesn’t need to use her mouth to speak.

I like him.

Yuya smiles, sitting down across from her.

“Yeah?”

Reira nods.

He’s....nice.

The word echoes in his head, almost with some kind of wonder.  As though ‘nice’ isn’t a thing she knows quite how to understand.

Yuya smiles again, leaning forward on his elbows.  Akaba looks surprisingly peaceful, and yet quite casual, asleep with his mouth hanging open.  He can’t help but smile.  If someone had told him he’d be on this crazy adventure with someone like Akaba Reiji...he never would have believed it.

“Yeah,” he says softly.  “I think so too.”

*

There aren’t many places to sleep on the ship.  It wasn’t made for long voyages like this.  And there’s only so much time one can spend in the pilot’s seat when the ship does most of the flying itself.

Reira sleeps sprawled over the couch, her head in Yuya’s lap, Yuya’s head lolled backwards, but it’s hard to sleep that way.  He lifts his head when the door opens, revealing Reiji.  His eyes and glasses glow softly in the light.  At first, it’s obvious Reiji doesn’t notice Yuya’s awake.  He just walks slowly over to the only other seat and slumps into it.  

He looks...tired, Yuya thinks.  How hard must it have been, to spend his whole life pretending to be someone he wasn’t in order to fulfill the dream of someone else?  Reiji slumps forward, elbows on his knees, head down.  Yuya can hear him breathing in the quiet — should he let him know that he’s awake?  Reira stirs slightly in his lap, sliding off of him as she curls up in her sleep into a tiny ball.

Reiji lets out a deep, heavy sigh.  Yuya hears...a choke in it.  As though...there are tears.  He sounds so young.  It only now occurs to him that Reiji is only a few years older than him.  Reiji...when did Yuya start thinking of him by his first name?

“I can figure this out,” Reiji mutters to himself.  “I can...I can come up with a solution.  There has to be...a plan...”

He mumbles, shaking his head and rubbing his hand over his mouth.

“Ray...” he mutters.  “I’m...I’m so sorry.  This wasn’t the way I planned to fix everything.”

Yuya’s heart clenches.  Before he can think better of it, he whispers.

“Reiji...?”

Reiji startles, eyes wide as he sits up.  In the dark, they stare at each other, lips parted.  It’s too dark to tell, but Yuya almost imagines he sees a light blush run over the other man’s face, and feels his own cheeks heat as well. He...he called Reiji by his first name.  What was he thinking?

Reiji coughs, covering his mouth with his fist.

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “Did I wake you?”

Yuya shakes his head.

“Sorry.  I was already awake.”

Reiji looks down.  He tenses slightly.  Yuya leans forward.

“You...you don’t have to solve this all by yourself, you know,” he whispers, voice low so as not to wake Reira.

Reiji slowly, quietly looks up at him.  Yuya stands, walking across to sit gingerly next to him on the other couch.  For a moment, the two of them sit together in silence, just watching Reira, curled up and sleeping peacefully for once.

“I mean...I’m here too,” he says.  “And I might not be as strategic as you but...I can help.  If you’ll let me.”

Reiji does not respond.  Then his shoulders slump forward.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.  “I’m...I’m not used to this.”

Yuya feels his heart thumping in his chest.  In the dark, it feels as though they’re floating out in the universe itself.  Like it’s just them, alone and adrift in the universe.

“Not used to what?  I thought you were good at this strategy and planning stuff,” Yuya says in a joking tone.

Reiji shakes his head, slumping forward a little bit more, so that he’s almost bent over his knees.

“Not that,” he says.  “I’m not used to....not pretending.”

Yuya’s breath catches.  For a moment, they sit in silence again, the quiet stretching the distance between them.

Yuya closes it, one inch at a time, until his hand is on Reiji’s back.  He starts to rub soothingly, the way his mother would after a nightmare when he was a child.

“You’re tired,” he says.  “This is what happens when you push yourself for too long.”

Reiji lets out a choked laugh.

“I pushed myself for my entire life.  I don’t...I don’t know who I am, really.”

He runs a hand over his face again, and sits up.  Yuya lets his hand slide from his back, and is only half surprised when Reiji’s raises up to meet it as it descends.   Their hands cling together.  The only things in the darkness.

“You are the first person I have told anything to,” he says.  “I...I don’t know how to handle this.  Someone knowing who I am.  I’ve...I’ve never been real.”

Yuya’s heart is in his throat, now, and he doesn’t know how to handle all of the thoughts in his head.  All he can think about is the quiet, refined admiral he first met, who laughed at his joke and didn’t discipline him like anyone else would have — the kind, gentle person he met in the observation room, who spoke in such longing tones of seeing other worlds.  The boy who became a man because his sister died, and left him the burden of saving the world.

Yuya doesn’t know what he’s doing before he does it.  But he’s leaning across the darkness, closing up the expanse of space between them, and when Reiji’s head tilts towards him, it’s almost like they’re two planets dragged together by gravity as their lips press together.  For only a moment, Yuya thinks he’s made a mistake.  But then Reiji’s hand is in his hair, pressing him against him, and in the quiet vacuum of space surrounding them, they breathe in each other more than they have breathed in anything ever before.

When Yuya comes back up for air, head falling against Reiji’s chest, Reiji’s arms snake around him as he gasps for breath.

“I think you were real,” Yuya whispers.  “Beneath everything, I think you were always real.”

He feels a single tear drop into his hair, and he holds Reiji closer.  

“Thank you,” Reiji whispers.

And it’s all that needs to be said.

*

“This is the last place I expected to come back to,” Yuya says, shifting nervously.

It’s been so long since Reiji has seen natural sunlight, and even longer since he has seen such a green planet.  He carefully eases the speeder into the thick trees outside of the remains of Maiami City, the place where the first Struggle took place.  Any god out there willing, their presence here would not start a second Struggle.

Reira shivers and clings to Yuya, and Yuya holds her back, stroking her hair.

“Do you sense anyone?” he asks.

Reira shakes her head.

That doesn’t mean anything, she says.  They had helmets to block us.

Reiji hates the sound of that, but they are out of options.  They have to resupply — they need fuel, food, oxygen, and water — and a rest from the emptiness of space.  The Outer Rings were the closest to them, and they have an environment that supports life naturally.  That means they can find most of what they need in the wilds, without having to risk going into a city.  Yuya’s face is likely plastered on every wanted post in the entire galaxy — and while this may be home for him, now is not the time to find out which of his neighbors are willing to sell him out.

“You’ll need to navigate,” Reiji says, bringing the ship all the way down and gently shutting it down.  “I’m not familiar with the area or what is safe to harvest.”

“There’s some stuff we can use to set some traps and catch some game that I can preserve for a while,” Yuya says.  “It’ll take us a few days of waiting, though.”

“Likely, that will be how much we need to tap into this gas deposit for refueling anyway.”

Reiji chafes at the thought, as he presses a few buttons to send a tube out of the ship to burrow into the ground and seek natural sources of fuel.  Staying in one place for so long is dangerous.  But they have no options.

I’m going with Yuya, says Reira, and there’s a tone in her voice that says there will be no arguments.  Reiji can’t help but smile — she’s gotten more confident lately.

“It’s not very safe,” he says, spinning around in his seat and rising to his feet.  “But...you’ve been cooped up here long enough.”

Reira’s eyes light up.  Reiji jumps a little when she throws her arms around his knees, almost sending him toppling over.  Yuya shoots Reiji a smile, and then takes Reira’s hand and leads her towards the back of the ship.  Before he disappears, however, he pauses.  And he reaches a hand out for Reiji.

He knows he should stay on the ship.  But he takes Yuya’s hand, and lets himself be lifted to his feet.

“Come on,” Yuya says.  “Do....don’t you want to see it?”

There’s such softness, such uncertainty in his voice, that it gives Reiji pause.  As though he’s afraid Reiji won’t like it.  Reiji smiles at him, and squeezes his hand.

“I believe...that I’d like that.”

Reiji lets Yuya lead him and Reira to the back of the ship, and it feels like it takes agonizingly long for the ramp to lower, for the air to finally burst in as he takes in his first breath of non-filtered oxygen in weeks.  It’s...cool, he realizes.  But not cold.  A gentle breeze wafts in, bringing with it the scent of flowers.  He hasn’t smelled flowers in...in years, maybe.

He and Reira both stand with wide eyes and slackened jaws, while Yuya grins madly between them, when the forests of the Outer Ring meet them.

Reiji has never seen a tree that wasn’t grown in a pot.  They’re....they’re massive. Just one of them is almost as tall as his imperial cruiser.  And they’re so green.  There is something growing on their bark, something soft and green, and there’s a thick carpet of leaves on the ground that don’t crunch, but rather simply press down beneath his feet as they slowly step down from the ramp, Yuya leading the two staring tagalongs onto the solid ground.

“What’s that sound?” Reiji breathes, as he hears something begin to chirp in the distance.

Yuya’s smile is dazzling.

“Birds,” he said.

The Outer Ring is no primitive planet, Reiji thinks.  Perhaps it is undeveloped, without all of the luxuries and comforts of the Capitol.  But is beautiful.  And it is ancient in a way he cannot possibly comprehend.

He breathes in deep, surprised at the scents that come with the air, and how clear it tastes despite that.  The breeze wafts about them.  Slowly, cautiously, Reira takes a step away from Yuya, hand sliding out of his.  She nervously wanders towards a sprout of small, blue flowers, bouncing in the breeze where they nestle between a tree’s roots.  She pokes one experimentally, and her eyes widen.

They’re soft!

She whirls to face them, her face alight with more joy and excitement than Reiji has ever seen out of the quiet, scared girl.  Yuya’s hand squeezes Reiji’s involuntarily, and Reiji squeezes back.

Perhaps his worry is misplaced.  Perhaps no one followed them this far out in the galaxy.  Perhaps, even...his mind wanders as he looks up into the faraway canopy of leaves, sunlight dappling through them.  Perhaps...they can find a way to stay.  Find a life out here, in the Outer Rings.  Maybe they don’t need to save the galaxy — they can disappear.  Live a quiet, hidden life.  They can be happy.  Reira can be happy and free.  She can live in a world like this, with no one hurting her, no one chasing her.

For the first time in his life that he can remember, thinking about a possible future makes him feel warm.  For the first time in his entire life, he wants something — something that wasn’t laid out for him.  Something that he didn’t choose to shoulder.  And he aches from the wanting.

“Yuya,” he whispers.  

Yuya’s eyes widen, and he shivers slightly — Reiji realizes that this is the first time...the first time he’s said Yuya’s first name aloud.

“Yeah?”

Reiji doesn’t get a chance to say it.  Because Reira suddenly shoots straight up, her face going white, and she opens her mouth and screams.

Reiji sees the blaster poking out of the invisibility shield just in time.  He yells, shoving Yuya to the ground before it fires.  With Yuya down, Reiji bolts for Reira, trying to grab hold of her.

He isn’t fast enough.  Hands shoot out of the open air, snatching him by the arms, forcing him down to his knees and shoving his head forward.  He hears Reira screaming, with her lungs and with her mind, and the sound rips through him as he struggles and yells, trying to see her.

“Reira!  Reira!”

“Stop it!” Yuya screams.  “Don’t touch her!! Leave her alone!!”

Reiji throws his head back against the hands holding him, just barely managing to get a glimpse of Reira — her face pale, her body completely frozen, as two soldiers with tranquilizer guns corner her against the tree that just a moment ago was making her smile so large.

“Stop!” he shouts.  “Stop, you’re frightening her!”

“Shut up,” one of the soldiers holding him snarls, shoving his head back down.  “Traitor.”

Reiji tries to twist himself free, but his captors have him caught firmly.

“How unfortunate, Admiral Akaba,” comes the voice, and Reiji’s stomach twists.  He knows that voice — of all the people to catch them...

Admiral Roget gives him a very terrible smile as he comes into view.  Perfect.  Just exactly who Reiji wanted to see.  Reiji grits his teeth and tries to look calm.

“All this time, your crew has been so worried,” he says, eyes flicking back over his shoulder.  “Only to join me in securing your rescue and finding...that you’ve been consorting with the enemy this entire time.”

Reiji’s heart drops into his stomach.  Involuntarily, his eyes flick to where Roget was looking.  His heart sinks when he sees them.

It’s his crew — all of them.  Selena is holds her blaster loosely at her side, eyes flicking back and forth from Reiji and Yuya.  Tsukikage and Hikage are as impassive as ever.  Shun looks red in the face, shaking slightly.  Gongenzaka’s arms are folded, even now carrying no weapon of his own.  Sawatari just stares with his mouth hanging open, and Dennis looks distant, not looking at anyone or anything.

Roget can’t stop smiling, on the other hand, his lips peeling back in a horrible grin.

“How terrible,” he says.  “After they all trusted you so much.”

Reiji’s mask crumbles in spite of himself.

He’s failed.  He’s failed all of them.  He’s failed his crew.  He’s failed Reira.  He’s failed Yuya. He’s failed himself.

He’s failed Ray.

“What?  Nothing to say?” Roget says with a smirk.  “No claims for your innocence?”

Reira lets out the tiniest of cries, and Reiji feels his eyes fill with tears.  His head slumps forward.  He’s...lost.  Roget laughs softly.

“Very well then.  We’ll save it for your trial,” he says, turning around.  “Secure the subject.  We’ll let his crew take their traitorous admiral to the brig themselves.”

He nods at the group — only Selena stirs.  She grits her teeth as she shoves her blaster back into her holster, and takes out a pair of cuffs instead.  Slowly, she approaches.  Reiji can’t look her in the eyes.  She gets up close to him, inches apart, cuffs hanging from her fingers, eyes fixed on his so that he has to look at her.  She crouches, then, right in front of him.  Reiji’s captors make to move his hands so that Selena can cuff him.

“Why didn’t you trust us?”

Her voice comes out so soft, so hissing, that Reiji barely hears it — barely moving her lips, speaking through her teeth.

Reiji’s lips part slightly.  His eyes flicker towards Yuya, who still struggles and screams Reira’s and Reiji’s names over and over again while soldiers try to drag him away to the hidden imperial ship.  His eyes return to Selena.  He feels his shoulders slump.

“I was afraid,” he whispers back.

“Of what?”

The soldiers holding Reiji exchange a glance, clearly confused as to why Selena isn’t cuffing him yet.  One of them starts to reach for the cuffs.  Selena doesn’t move, eyes still on Reiji’s.

Reiji thinks of Ray.  The sister he barely got to know, who died fighting a war she could never win.  He thinks of Reira, the child who never got a choice on whether or not to fight for the right to live.  And he thinks of Yuya — the boy who didn’t hesitate, who put his life on the line without thinking for a second if it was going to be okay.  Only that it was the right thing to do.  And now his life is being destroyed for it.

“Of ruining all of you,” Reiji whispers.

Selena’s eyes narrow.  The soldier’s hands twitch towards her cuffs.

Her fist raises up in the air at her head — and in one breath, several things happen.

Two quick, perfect shots ring out, striking Reiji’s captors in the arms and shoulders, causing them to wrench back with yells of pain.  A second pair of equally perfect shots, silent and deadly, strike the two soldiers holding Yuya, who is dumped to the floor as they stagger back.  The soldiers advancing on Reira suddenly shoot into the air, as Gongenzaka grabs the both of them by the back of the neck and throws them unceremoniously into the woods.  And Selena spins to her feet, drawing her blaster in one motion, and shoots Roget in the back of the head.  

Reiji only stares for a moment, mouth hanging open.

Gongenzaka scoops up Reira, who doesn’t move or breathe.  Kurosaki has Yuya under the arm already, firing blasts backwards at the rest of Roget’s forces while gunfire blazes over their heads.

Selena shoves her blaster into her belt, and grabs Reiji by the arms, shoving him to his feet.

“I hope that dumbass ship of yours can hold more than just three!” she shouts at him.

And only then, does Reiji stir back to life.  He snatches the blaster out of Selena’s holster and fires at an approaching soldier as the two of them fall back.

Step by step, protected every inch of the way by his crew — they make it back into the ship.

“We don’t have enough fuel or supplies!” Yuya gasps, as Kurosaki dumps him to the floor.

“Lucky for you, we came prepared,” Tsukikage says quietly, producing a solar battery from some unknown location and darting off to the pilot’s seat.  Gongenzaka lays Reira gently down in Reiji and Yuya’s laps, and then turns around to yank the door closed behind Dennis and Sawatari, the last to leap in.

“Whew!” Dennis says with a bright smile.  “You certainly know how to make things interesting, Admiral!”

Reiji only gasps for air, Reira clutched in his lap with one arm, and scrabbling for Yuya’s hand with the other.

“You...why did you all...?” he says.

The crew all exchanges a glance.  Then Kurosaki snorts.

“You picked us all for a reason,” he says.  “We just guessed you had a good reason for picking Yuya, this time.”

He glances down at Yuya, who looks back with wide eyes.

“Were we right?”

Yuya glances quickly at Reiji, lips parted and eyes questioning.  Reiji can’t help but break into a smile.  He squeezes Yuya’s hand tightly.  Then he smiles at his crew, too, and he sees the surprise in all of their faces — he has never smiled so widely before them before.

“Yes,” he says.  “You were.”

Reira snuggles closer into them, and Reiji runs a soothing hand through her hair.

“You were all always exactly the kind of people I knew you were.”

*

“Hey! Those were mine!”

“I didn’t see your name on them.”

“They were ON!! MY TRAY!”

“Sawatari, stop antagonizing Selena.  And don’t hide behind me. I will not defend you.”

“That’s so cold, Gon!”

Yuya laughs as he watches a spoonful of potatoes go flying over the tiny, cramped mess hall.  It feels like only yesterday this room felt almost cavernous from being filled with only the three of them.  Now it practically bursts at the seams from Reiji’s — no, their crew members filling up the space.

Reiji looks pained, as though he wanted to call them out for being undisciplined, but was also considering the fact somewhere deep within him that they weren’t a military vessel anymore, and perhaps there was no point in trying to reign them in.  Yuya slides up close to him, pressing his shoulder against his, and after a beat, Reiji’s hand finds his and twines into it.

“Too noisy?” Yuya asks.

Reiji cracks a small smile — but a bigger one than Yuya has ever seen on him.  Before he can answer, the soft touch of Reira’s mind brushes against theirs, and then she’s wriggling up from beneath the table, pushing herself between them and causing them to lose their grip.

Pay attention to me, she says, petulantly.

Yuya and Reiji both laugh, and as one, they wrap an arm around her, cradling her between them as the rest of the crew continues to bicker and banter, filling up the old ship with noise and laughter.

“No,” Reiji says finally, in response to Yuya’s unanswered question, his arm sliding around Reira and Yuya at once and holding them close.  “I don’t think it’s too noisy at all.”

[visionsofus]

Field Trips, Infinity Stones, and oh mY GOD IS THAT SPIDER-MAN?

CH1  |  CH2  |  CH3

| CHAPTER 4 ~ interesting encounters and idiots (spoiler: Flash is the idiot) | 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An awkward encounter with some of the Avengers and Wanda Maximoff gives Flash a little bit of a flick. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"See Peter, that was fine." Karen said through the small black ear piece that Peter was still wearing.

"I know." Peter sighed quietly so that the other students couldn't hear him. Majority of them were gaping at him and Peter couldn’t help feeling just a little bit insulted. Had they all seriously thought he was a janitor at Stark Industries? Really? Peter tried not to let it get him down as he removed his ear piece and returned it to its case.

"I'm going to choose to ignore the fact that you tried to get through with an explosive in your backpack or something -" MJ said to Peter who spluttered in response, "and focus on the fact that you must have pretty high clearance to be let through without it being an issue." She didn't sound surprised perse, more curious.

"Yeah I guess…" Peter said once he had regained his composure. "I had to work on some stuff for Mr. Stark and some of the labs needed specific clearance." It wasn’t a lie.

"Damn Parker." She said nodding appreciatively. Peter’s heart did a little flip flop and he cleared his throat in surprise. Before he could address the odd feeling, Flash felt the need to contribute to their conversation.  

"Do you actually believe his bullshit, Michelle?" Flash asked indignantly.

"You just saw him use a clearance higher than you'd ever hope to get and you're saying that you don’t?" MJ fired back and it seemed Flash was a little stumped at that one.

"It's probably fake." Flash grumbled.

"I think you will find that our AI system is far to advanced to allow for fake badges to be used." Abigail said, turning her back on the group and leading them off down the hallway towards the elevator.

"He literally heard Friday talking to you and he still thinks that you don't work here?" Ned asked having made it through the detector safely. Together, Ned, MJ and Peter followed the rest of the tour group down the narrow corridor.

"Seems so." Peter said grumpily. It was difficult sometimes, not being able to take credit for the feats he achieved as Spider-Man, but over the last few years that had ceased to really matter. Having Flash and some of the other students not believe Peter for doing work he was actually open about was pretty frustrating. What on earth would they think if he told them he was Spider-Man?

"Can't you just show them your clearance badge to prove it to them? Or if we like bump into one of the Avengers you can be all like 'hey Hawkeye how you doin?'" Ned asked trying to imitate Peter's voice and, in the process, making it several octaves deeper than it needed to be.

"Sure thing Ned. If we bump into the Avengers, which we won't, I'll be sure to do that cause that's totally cool." Peter joked bumping his shoulder against Ned's fondly. There was absolutely no way Peter would even dream of approaching Clint Barton that casually, the archer was super intimidating.

"The first part of our tour will be conducted on level five." Abigail said bringing the group to a stop outside the elevators. "This level is home to several of our intern labs, including lab 3a which is our first stop for today. 3a is where majority of initial planning takes place, you'll be able to see where our interns are creating their ideas and beginning their models. After this we will proceed onto lab 4c which is where they begin trialling prototypes. There are some interesting projects in the works at the moment and if you're lucky you'll be able to see some of them being tested."

Peter was beginning to feel excited. It had been a while since he had last been to SI and by the rest of the worlds timeline it had been even longer. Back when Peter had first started visiting Stark Industries, Mr. Stark had placed him in Lab 3a to shadow some of the interns and learn how things worked at SI before he was allowed to progress onto developing his own projects. In the two years since then Peter had predominantly been working on Spider-Man tech alongside a few projects involving search and rescue tech that Mr. Stark had assigned to him.

"Because there is so many of us, we'll be going up the elevator in two groups, Peter can I have you escort the other half of the group to the fifth floor?" Abigail asked as she swiped her clearance card in front of the elevator swipe screen and waited for it to arrive at the ground floor.

"Sure." Peter said and walked over to one of the other elevators and swiped his own card. He ignored the way that his classmates’ eyes followed him and the way that Flash stuck his head out in an attempt to get a good look at Peter's clearance card.

Abigail's elevator arrived first, but it seemed a fair few of the students were keener to ride with Peter than in hers.

"Come on, in you get." Mr. Harrington said ferrying some of the students into the elevator, much to their dismay. Flash tried to duck out of the teacher's reach but was eventually coaxed into Abigail’s elevator, much to Peter’s relief.

He was left on the ground floor with Ned, MJ and a handful of other students. The elevator dinged when it arrived and Peter stepped in first, holding the doors open for the rest of the students. When everyone was in, he turned to the panel lining the wall to the left of the doors and scanned his clearance card again, swiftly returning it to his pocket and hoping that no one had seen it properly. The questions that would result from seeing how high his clearance actually was, were ones he didn't quite know how to answer.

"Hi Peter, what floor are you going to?" Friday asked over the intercom and Peter looked up in surprise. Friday was too advanced to be manning an elevator that a simple AI bot could handle.

"Uh… 5 please Friday." Peter replied into the panel receiver and the elevator doors closed and the box lifted smoothly from the ground. The wall opposite the door was made of glass and the students turned around to look out and down at the glass crosswalks that extended over the centre of the first few floors of SI. It was always a sight to behold and Peter never go bored of seeing it. There had always been an organised bustle to SI and Peter loved being a part of it.

"Ms Potts is currently in a meeting but I have informed her you are here. Happy has also been notified and has promised to come see you at some point today." Friday informed Peter in her thick Irish accent.

"Cool." Peter said, smiling at the thought of seeing Happy again. "Is Morgan here today?"

"She is currently with Happy whilst Ms Potts is in her meeting." Friday replied and the elevator came to a stop as they reached the fifth floor.

"Thanks Friday." Peter said exiting the lift and leading the students out into the corridor where the rest of the class was waiting.

"Your life is seriously crazy." Ned said, slightly dumbfounded by the casual conversation that Peter had just had with the Stark's AI.

"You're only just realising that?" Peter asked, laughing in disbelief. "My life is all kinds of crazy."

"Welcome to lab 3a." Abigail said bringing the group of students to a stop outside of a pair of sliding doors that led into the intern lab. Peter was more than familiar with the lab. He looked up at the letters crafted from old bits of tech and LED lights that read 'LAUNCHPAD'. After spending a couple of days in the lab two years ago, Peter had noticed that most of the interns referred to it by 'launchpad' rather than its official name. After a few weekends Mr. Stark had decided that Peter had had enough experience in working with the other interns and had moved him up to work on different projects, while allowing Peter to develop his own things on the side. As a thank you to the others who had been working in the lab, Peter had crafted the sign out of bits and pieces of the models that he had first made in the lab. The other interns had also contributed some of their projects so that the sign was a part of them all. Peter expected that would be taken down now that all of the original interns would have moved on, but it was nice that a piece of them all remained at Launchpad. As the name connoted, Lab 3a was the 'launchpad' of ideas and the place that all projects began and waited approval before interns could begin working on them properly.

Abigail welcomed them all into the lab space. The room was divided by several cluttered desks as well as a handful of SI holo-tables (Peter's personal favourite piece of equipment at SI), creating a grid pattern. Amongst the tables were around six interns, all going about their business. Overseeing it all was the head of Launchpad, Daniel. Back when Peter had started out as an intern he had been under the supervision of Daniel, with implicit instruction from Mr. Stark to 'just let the kid do whatever he wants as long as he doesn't blow anything up'. Back when Peter had been in this lab Daniel had seemed to be in his late 20s, but he seemed older now, more tired, it looked like he had escape the Snap.

"Midtown, this is Daniel." Abigail said as Daniel joined her at the head of the group.

"Hi everyone," Daniel said giving a little wave. "I manage the interns here at Lab 3a, aka Launchpad. I basically make sure that everyone is pursuing feasible projects and that they aren't going to end up blowing things up or accidentally electrocuting themselves once they actually start experimenting with their projects." Daniel's dark eyes gave Peter a pointed look and the boy grinned apologetically in reply. "Any and every project has to go through my approval before it is moved onto Lab 4c or 4d which is where the interns have the opportunity to start preliminary experimentation and data collection."

"You'll now have a bit of time to look around Launchpad. Daniel has told me that his interns will be more than happy to answer some of your questions about their projects so please feel free to make your way around." Abigail said and let the students slowly spread out into the room. It seemed they were finding the whole process daunting and to Peter's surprise it was Ned who made the first move, walking over to a small mousy haired boy who was working at one of the holo-tables. He looked up and smiled warmly when Ned approached him.

Their conversation was lost to Peter's ears as he remained behind to greet Daniel.

"If it isn't Peter Parker." Daniel said raising his eyebrows.

"Hey Daniel." Peter said grinning and giving the intern leader a quick hug. "It's been a while."

"A while?" Daniel said shaking his head and chuckling slightly. "Just 5 years!"

"Sorry." Peter said shrugging innocently and snapping his fingers, Daniel nodded knowingly.

"You working on anything at the moment?" Daniel asked eagerly.

"Nah…" Peter said trailing off sheepishly, "I haven’t really done anything like that in a while."

"Are you kidding me?" Daniel said in surprise. "Peter you have real talent, surely Mr. Stark had a part-time position set up for you here once you go to college?"

"Yeah I don't think so." Peter said shrugging and trying not to seem too sorrowful.

"Still have your sights set on MIT?" Daniel asked prodding Peter's arm and leading him over to his own workspace at the entrance of the lab.  

"Yeah, I guess…" Peter said, the future had seemed so unsure since getting back from the Snap he wasn't really certain what he was going to do once he graduated.

"I sure hope so," Daniel said leaning against his holo-table casually. "I've been here almost ten years, if you include the Snap time, and I've never had an intern as diligent and talented as you. It would be unfortunate if you let all those ideas sit in your head instead of putting them out into the world to help people."

What Daniel said struck a chord in Peter and he nodded knowingly. "You're right." Peter said looking around at the lab, he missed it all. The process of hypotheses, creating an idea and watching it grow, nurturing it into a model and eventually seeing it come to life. "I just need a little time to figure everything out."

"I get it." Daniel said clapping Peter on the shoulder fondly. "If you need a letter of recommendation or anything, I mean I'm sure the CEO will get you one, but if you do need another just let me know, I'd be more than happy to write one."

"Thanks Daniel, that means a lot." Peter said grinning and looking down at his feet before returning his gaze to the rest of his class. They were making their excited way around to each intern.

"So, tell me what else has been up with you?" Daniel asked folding his arms casually over his lab coat.

"Not much to be honest." Peter said shrugging and sitting against the holo-table with Daniel. "I'm mostly just trying to get back on my feet again after the Decimation. It's hard to catch up when everyone else has moved on five years."

"I hear you." Daniel said nodding solemnly. "For the people like me who were left behind it was hell. The world was in chaos… no one knew what to do."

They were both silent for a bit and Peter wondered if he had put a damper on the conversation. It wasn't exactly the most bright and happy of topics, but it was the truth. Peter told enough lies in his life to find the excuse to be truthful whenever possible.

"But we go on, y'know?" Daniel said pushing his dark hair out of his face and looking out the large window that bordered one side of the lab and to the sky outside. "Just like we all slowly learned to live in that time five years ago, it's your turn now."

"I guess that's true." Peter said sighing sadly.

"But hey, it beats being dead right?" Daniel said grinning and standing up again. "Come on, I'll show you round to some of the projects that are being drafted right now."

"Lead the way." Peter said eagerly, pushing himself off the holo-table and following his old mentor around the lab.

"Thank you very much for your time, Daniel." Mr. Harrington said once their hour looking around Launchpad was up.

"Not at all," Daniel said, shaking Mr. Harrington's hand, "it's good for the other interns to have a go at presenting their experiments to people other than me or the AI."

"Seriously!" One of the interns piped up in agreement, "At least you all listened rather than just criticising our work." A few people among the class chuckled, not entirely sure whether she was referring to the AI or Daniel. Peter nodded knowingly, even Karen could be brutally blunt when it came to his ideas.

"Enjoy the rest of your tour." Daniel said by way of goodbye. Peter returned Daniel's warm smile as they left the Launchpad.

"Dude…" Ned said and Peter was worried that he friend was getting too overwhelmed. "This is insane."

"Which part?" Peter asked laughing.

"I think he means all of it." MJ said knowingly.

"I can't believe you worked here!" Ned exclaimed in hushed disbelief. "Your life is literally insane… like insane!"

"I guess it is pretty crazy… not bad Peter." MJ said and Peter did a bit of a double take. It was one of the rare times that Peter had heard MJ refer to him using his first name.

"You should have heard Flash's comments while we were in there though." Ned grumbled. "All that time you were talking to Daniel he was just making comments about how he could do better than the interns and he wasn't being quiet about it all."

"So damn rude." MJ said in disdain as the three of them watched the boy’s head as he walked up near the front of the group.

"Don't worry, one day he's going to get what is coming for him." Peter said confidently. He'd love to have the opportunity to knock Flash's ego down a few pegs if he ever got the chance. It might be hard as Peter Parker but perhaps Spider-Man could pull a few strings…

It seemed, however, the universe had different plans. Peter came to an abrupt stop, almost walking face first into the back of MJ as the whole student group stopped walking.

"Holy shit." Flash whispered.

"No way." MJ breathed.

"Are you all going down or up?" A familiar voice said, and Peter stood on his tip toes to compensate for his semi-average height and see over the group of students before him.

Peter felt sure that his eyes were tricking him because standing before the elevator, proving to be the oddest trio and entirely out of place in the corridor of Stark Industries was Dr Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff and none other than the genius Princess of Wakanda, Shuri.  

The students stood in stunned silence and even Peter felt a little bit like a deer caught in headlights. What was he supposed to do? He knew that the other Avengers obviously knew his true identity, but did that mean that he got to talk to them here? There was also the question of what one of the most powerful and two of the smartest Avengers were doing at SI. In the years Peter had worked at the New York headquarters he hadn't encountered the other Avengers, save for Mr Stark, Vision and Colonel Rhodes. Back then the greatest concern of the Avengers was the Sokovia Accords which had forced the rest of the team to go underground for two years, only resurfacing for the Battle of Wakanda. Even Dr Banner had been off in another universe at the time. Seeing the three of them here was definitely odd.

"Dr Banner…" Abigail said finally after the silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity. "Um we're going up."

"Hang on a second," Bruce said glancing over the crowd of students, his superior height granting him some advantages in spotting the small kid standing at the back of the group. "Is that you, Peter? Come on out kid."

"Peter, as in Tony's Peter?" Shuri asked following Bruce's gaze to Peter who’s feet felt rooted to the ground as his classmates turned back to look at him, whispers bursting out.

"Dude, she knows your name." Ned whispered as both him and MJ turned to Peter in shock. Peter couldn't help feeling equally surprised that Shuri remembered his name, they had only really met on the battlefield and then at Mr Stark's funeral. Underneath the surprise, Peter was glad that they were all using his real name rather than his Spider-Man alias. Still, that wasn't enough to cover up the question of how on earth Peter knew threeof the Avengers.

"Hi Dr. Banner, Ms Maximoff, Princess." Peter said once he finally got his legs walking. He tried not to feel too proud and let it go to his head, but there was no denying that having three of the Avengers know your name was pretty cool. You literally are an Avenger Peter reminded himself mentally.

"How you going kid?" Dr. Banner asked as he enveloped Peter in a hug before Peter could protest. Peter grinned anyway and tried his best to return Bruce's affection, but it was sort of difficult given that Bruce was several feet taller than him.

In an attempt, perhaps, to draw the student’s attention away from Peter's interaction with the Avenger, Abigail walked over to the other elevator and called another one down. In the meantime, she tried to talk to the students about their next stop, Lab 4c, but was largely unsuccessful. Everyone's attention was still on Peter, particularly Flash who was sneering in his direction.

"Yeah, I'm not bad I guess," Peter replied once Bruce let him go. "My school is here on a field trip today," he said gesturing to the stunned students who had slowly been coaxed over to one of the other elevators.

"Ah yes, hi kids how are you doing?" Bruce said turning his attention briefly to the other students and waving. Shuri mirrored this and Wanda raised her eyebrows by way of greeting.

"How the fuck does Penis Parker know the Hulk?" Flash hissed, too quiet for the Avengers to hear but loud enough that it earned a sharp look from Mr Harrington and a fuming scowl from Ned.

The Avengers lift had arrived, but Bruce stepped aside and gestured to it, "you go ahead and take this one, we can wait for the next lift."

"Thank you Doctor." Abigail said, still slightly dumbfounded but proceeding to lead as many students into the lift as possible. "Peter, we'll be going up to level 6, can you take those three with you?" Ned and MJ had hung behind and not made it in, and, much to Peter's dismay, so had Flash. Peter nodded reluctantly and turned back to the Avengers.

"It's good to see you again." Peter said smiling widely at Wanda Maximoff and trying not to feel too intimidated.

"It's good to see you too," Wanda replied warmly. Peter hadn't really had much of a chance to see to Wanda aside from in battles. Particularly back in 2016 with the fight in Germany when they had been on opposing sides. The next time he had seen Scarlet Witch had been a month ago after they had both been brought back from the Snap. Peter had always admired and been in awe of Wanda's powers but seeing her almost rip Thanos apart with them had been completely insane.

"It's really good to see you all again." Peter said grinning at the Avengers. Aside from his despair and the loss he felt at not having Mr Stark around anymore, Peter had been lonely. Sometimes he couldn’t help wishing there were other Avengers of his age to talk to. Ned and May obviously knew his secret, but they didn’t understand what it was like, the stresses that came with the responsibility of being a superhero of sorts.

"We only saw you a month ago." Shuri reminded him. Peter ignored the way that MJ and Flash gaped at him when she said that.

"Yeah but a month is still a pretty long time." Peter said shrugging, there was a lot more than he wanted to say but what with MJ and Flash standing not far from them, he wasn't entirely sure how much he couldsay without risking his identity.

"I suppose a month is a long time when you're a kid." Wanda pondered as the elevator finally arrived at their floor.

"Wanda you aren't actually that much older than him." Bruce said making his way into the lift.

"Yeah but she has an old soul." Shuri said patting Wanda's shoulder.

"I'm going to choose to take that as a compliment." Wanda said looking sideways at Shuri and frowning slightly.

"Of course, it's a complement." Shuri said innocently. Peter wasn't entirely sure of the age difference between them, but it couldn’t have been much.

"Ned, MJ, Flash. Come on.” Peter said gesturing as he held the elevator open with one arm.

They seemed to snap out of a trance and eventually joined the three Avengers, technically four, in the lift. "Level 6 and Level 19." Bruce informed the AI once they were all in.

"But what are you all doing here?" Peter asked, leaning against the wall of the elevator casually. His classmates’ eyes flicked between Peter and the Avengers in disbelief. God only knew the questions he was about to get after this interaction.

"We've had a bit of a breakthrough with one of our projects…" Wanda said trailing off and glancing at her companions.

"We have a way to restore Vision!" Shuri burst out, seemingly unable to contain her excitement any longer. "Properly this time." Peter wasn't aware there was an improper way, or that they had even been working on bringing Vision back but that's what he got for not being involved with the Avengers for a month.

"Shuri." Bruce grumbled, shaking his head but smiling nonetheless.

"What? He's Tony's kid it's fine." Shuri said shrugging and smiling at Peter knowingly, obviously there was also another reason that he could know but Flash and MJ didn't need to know that.

"That's so awesome! So, you can bring Mr Vision back to life?" Peter said excitedly and looked to Wanda who had broken out in a rare and bright smile.

"Well that's what we are hoping." Bruce said stroking his chin in thought. "We’re hoping that what we need is here at Stark Industries. After that we’ll be attending the memorial later too."

"I'm really happy for you." Peter said directing the statement at Wanda. Not many people outside of the Avengers had known of the intimate relationship that Wanda Maximoff had had with Vision. Peter himself had only found out by accident in overhearing a conversation between Vision and Mr Stark. "I guess I'll be seeing you all at the memorial later too."

"Dr Banner," Flash said breaking the solemn tone the conversation had been about to progress to. Peter had almost forgotten that Flash was even in the lift with them. The boy had extended a rather bold hand out to the Hulk, yet he was completely ignoring the two women in the elevator. "Flash Thompson, big fan."

"Hey kid, nice to meet you." Bruce said shaking the outstretched hand slowly and looking at Peter, who tried not to make a face. He was praying that Dr Banner didn't think he was actually friendswith Flash or anything.

"Sir, I do have one question for you." Flash said and Peter balked at the prospect.

"Fire away."

"How much did Parker pay you for you to act like you all actually know him? Or are you guys just really realistic actors or something?"

"What the hell, Flash." MJ groaned and buried her head in her hands in exasperation.

"Is he for real?" Bruce asked looking questioningly at Peter who was going red in embarrassment.

"It's an honest question," Flash said as the doors to floor six finally opened, Peter was beginning to feel a little claustrophobic as the situation rapidly went south. "I have to know, why are you acting like you know Penis Parker when all he probably does here is mop the floors. Of course, that explains why he has such high clearance, so that he can clean the CEOs office and take the trash out!" Flash said suddenly coming to the realisation.

Peter glowered at Flash and wished more than anything that he could throw in a punch or a kick, but the doors had already opened, and Mr Harrington had a clear sight of Peter from the corridor where the rest of the students were gathered.

"Is this guy kidding?" Wanda asked narrowing her eyes at Flash as the boy made no move to get out of the elevator. "You can't be serious."

"Ok so maybe you aren't the real Avengers then… you two are probably just pretending to be Scarlet Witch and the Princess of Wakanda right?" Flash said and Peter felt his heart drop. Why in Thor’s name would you insult the Avengers?

"Seriously Flash just stop." Peter urged, he just wanted to get on with the rest of the damn tour now. Of course, Flash had to ruin the first conversation Peter had had with the other Avengers in weeks.

"I admire your self-control păianjen copil," Wanda said dropping in a couple words in what Peter assumed was her mother tongue, "but I am afraid I cannot share it." She was no longer smiling.

"Wanda as much as I would love to join you in kicking this punk's ass, he is a high school student so please don't do anything too-"

Bruce was cut off by Wanda stepping forward and flicking Flash's shoulder with her right hand, packing just enough of her mystical red powers to send Flash flying out the elevator and into the 6th floor corridor.

"Mr Thompson what are you doing?" Mr. Harrington said in disbelief, he had apparently not seen the trick that Scarlet Witch had pulled, or perhaps he had chosen to ignore it.

"Oops." Wanda deadpanned looking at Bruce defiantly and earning an enthusiastic high five from Shuri.

"If that little rat bothers you again give him a couple of these to take home," Shuri said dropping a couple of small beads in Peter's hands, they were smaller than the Kimoyo beads she wore around her wrist, "they'll give him a bit of a shock later."

"Oh, come on." Bruce complained pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do I really have to be the responsible one? You cannot go around giving out shock beads to high school students to use against bullies."

"Ned, Michelle, Peter." Mr. Harrington called and reluctantly Ned and MJ exited the elevator to return to the high school group. Flash was gradually picking himself up off the ground, rubbing the small of his back and grumbling about stupid 'party tricks'.

"But I can give shock beads to Spider-Man." Shuri said a little more quietly and shrugged before adding a fourth bead to Peter's palm.

"Thank you," Peter said grinning and tucking the beads into his pocket making a mental note to not leave them there lest he be the one getting the shock. "Good luck with everything that you're working on with Mr. Vision. I really hope it works out." Peter smiled sincerely at Wanda.

"Thanks kid." Bruce said clapping Peter on the shoulder as he left the elevator, Peter would have fallen flat on his face with the force of it if it hadn't been for his spidey powers. "We'll see you tonight at the memorial?"

"Yeah…" Peter said quietly and smiled sorrowfully at Bruce. "I'll see you there."

Peter turned around to watch the elevator doors slowly close. He gave the three Avengers a little wave as the silver box moved upwards, carrying them to the 19thfloor and leaving Peter to return to the mundanity of his high school field trip. Though he didn’t realise it at the time, the trip was not going to remain mundane for long.

[itsmyusualphannie]

cold fingers

it all starts because Dan stole the blankets

2361 words - (read on ao3)

“Dan,” says Phil, slowly coming to the realization that he has no blankets and Dan is a heap of warmth next to him. “Dan, you’ve taken all the blankets again.”

Dan ignores him, his face illuminated by the screen of his phone as he scrolls. Phil is on his phone too, which is why they’re lying beside each other instead of spooning.

“Dan!” Phil barks and Dan finally looks over at him, his head swamped by the blanket.

“What.”

“I’m cold,” Phil complains. “And you’re on your phone instead of cuddling me.”

“You’re on your phone too? Hypocrisy.”

“But you have all the blankets. All I’ve got is my phone.”

Dan just stares at him for a long moment, then goes back to his own phone.

Phil scowls. “If I freeze to death, who’s going to love you?”

“I’ll love myself,” Dan says. “Hahaha just kidding, I don’t love myself.” He glances over at Phil again and rolls his eyes at the pitiful look Phil is giving him. “Ugghh fine, get over here, dumbass.”

Phil’s face lights up and he squirms over to get beneath the blankets, shoving Dan to his side so he can cuddle him from behind.

“Ow,” Dan complains but lets Phil do as he wishes, not letting go of his phone as he scrolls down a page. Phil hmphs happily and buries his cold nose into the back of Dan’s neck, ignoring the squeal it elicits.

“You’re the worst,” Dan whines.

“You’re the best,” Phil says. “I’m only saying that because you’re sharing the blankets now.”

“Loser.”

“Am I? I think I won.” Phil breathes heavily on Dan’s neck and laughs when Dan screeches at the sudden cold air.

“Fucking stop it!” Dan jabs at Phil with an elbow, almost dropping his own phone.

“Fine,” Phil giggles. He tugs Dan closer, wrapping his arms more tightly around him. “I’m just cold,” he pouts. “It’s your fault for stealing my warm blankets.” He dips his chilled fingers under the edge of Dan’s shirt teasingly, then darts them up to flick at Dan’s nipples. He’s expecting another shrill scream, but instead, Dan stiffens against him, then shudders.

“Oh,” says Phil.

Dan moves then, shoving Phil’s cold fingers away. “Fuck off,” he mutters. “You know my nipples are sensitive.”

Phil senses that there’s more to it than that. “Oh?” he says again, dragging his fingers along Dan’s hipbones. He grins when Dan shivers again.

“Are you trying to get me going?” Dan mutters.

“Nooo,” says Phil unconvincingly. He snaps the waistband of Dan’s boxers and smirks suddenly. “Why, is the cold getting you hot?”

Dan is silent.

“Is it?” Phil asks, sitting up abruptly.

Dan scowls and shoves at him. “No. Shut up.”

“Well,” says Phil affably. “We’ve never done temperature play. Want to try it?”

“Ugh,” Dan groans, turning his face into the pillow. “Don’t say it like that. That’s so...unsexy.”

Phil pokes him. “Hey. This is like one of the kinks I thought you didn’t have, or I would have suggested it much sooner.”

“I didn’t think I did have a temperature kink!” Dan whines, flailing a hand at him. “Shut up.”

“Stop telling me to shut up.” Phil grabs at Dan’s arm. “Come on,” he wheedles. “Let’s try it. I’ve read a few things about it before so I...kinda know what it’s all about. Is it just the cold or do you want to try…?”

Dan shudders. “No fire.”

Phil nods in agreement, but Dan still has his head buried in the pillow. “Hey. Dan, look at me. Do you want to try something with ice?”

Dan lets out a disbelieving whimper into the pillow, then flops around to face Phil. “Fine,” he grumbles. “We can try if you want to so badly.”

Phil laughs at Dan’s answer. “We’ll try it right now,” he agrees. He clambers out of bed and trots out of the bedroom. Dan scowls after him, then yanks his phone up and pointedly focuses his attention on the screen instead of Phil banging around in the kitchen.

A minute passes, then another, and Dan’s head finally comes up. “Did you get lost?!” he yells.

A crash. “I’m trying to find a bowl or something to put the - wait, I found one!”

Dan glances at his phone, then at the doorway, and decides to just say it. “I just read an article about sucking dick with ice in your mouth.”

“That sounds...interesting...” is all Phil says as he reappears with a large bowl in one hand. He crawls onto the bed and yanks at the blankets Dan still has wrapped around him.  Dan helps him shoves them off, then tugs his shirt off, eyeing the bowl Phil has set haphazardly beside them. The blankets end up hanging halfway off the bed.

Phil pulls a piece of ice out of the bowl and pops it into his mouth to suck on it, grinning at Dan. “Where do you want me to start?”

“My neck?” Dan suggests cautiously. He squirms further up the bed, leaning back against a pillow.

“Hmm,” is all Phil says. He picks up another piece of ice and straddles Dan’s thighs decisively, bending over him. He pauses for a moment, then decides to get right into it, running chilled fingers and the tip of the ice cube along Dan’s jawline. Dan jumps at the sudden chill but settles into it after half a second. Phil leans further and mouths at the curve of Dan’s neck, cold lips tracing the wet path his fingers are making.

“Oh god...that feels good…” Dan says, half-surprised. He wraps his arms around Phil’s shoulders, tugging him closer.

Phil licks at Dan’s clavicle, running the rapidly-melting ice over his flushed skin. Water drips everywhere the ice goes, leaving trails of cool water beading on Dan’s pale skin. “You’re too hot,” Phil chuckles. “Literally.” He makes his way a little further down, brushing the ice over Dan’s nipples and gauging his reaction.

Dan inhales sharply at the unfamiliar, yet somehow arousing, sensation and digs his blunted fingernails into Phil’s back. “It’s good - keep going.”

Encouraged, Phil lets the ice melt even more on Dan’s nipples, sliding it between both of them and flicking them a bit to really form the peaked buds. He breathes a burst of hot air on one after holding the ice against it for too long, then glances up again at Dan to see how he’s taking it.

“Fffffuck...this is indescribable, just...don't stop.” Dan’s eyes are clenched shut and his teeth are digging into his bottom lip.

Abandoning the sliver of ice left, Phil leans to grab another and brushes it further down Dan’s chest, circling his navel and causing goosebumps to leap where the ice touches. Phil follows it with his still slight-chilled tongue, lapping at the water it leaves.

“Hmmph...Phil...this is nice..” Those are the only words Dan can muster for a moment. His mind is blank as if his brain is telling him to only focus on the sensations his body is experiencing. He arches his hips experimentally and almost sobs as his stiff dick catches against Phil’s thigh. “Shit Phil, I’m so hard.”

“You look so pretty laid out like this,” Phil murmurs. “I think I like it as much as you.” He slides down Dan’s body, tugging out of Dan’s grasp on his shoulders and stopping only when his head is about even with Dan’s tented boxers. He runs the ice along the waistband of Dan’s underwear, letting the drops left behind seep into the fabric and chill Dan even more.

“Fucking hell...keep saying shit like that and I’ll…” Dan punctuates his sentence with a whimpering moan.

“You’ll do what?” Phil smirks. He brushes a cold finger onto the material jutting around Dan’s cock and pulls it away before Dan can even react. “Let’s try this thing you mentioned,” he suggests, tugging Dan’s boxers to mid-thigh with barely a movement. Dan’s cock bobs free, straining against his stomach as Phil leans over it.

“Ugh...yes, please,” Dan groans in reply, reaching up to tightly grip the pillow under his head.

Phil slips another piece of ice into his mouth and lets it melt under his tongue while he noses up Dan’s thighs and around the base of his dick. “How do you always smell so good?” he mutters into the crease between Dan’s thigh and crotch, then licks a cold, wet stripe there to make Dan jump.

“Oh fuck, Phil...I think I should’ve mentioned this...ugh...earlier.” Dan is a shuddering, whimpering mess under Phil’s touches.

“I think so too,” Phil agrees, “but now we know.” He wraps his partially cool fingers around Dan’s cock and strokes slowly a few times, the chilled water providing a sort of lubricant, then he dips his chin and licks the tip with the ice chip still melting on the back of his tongue.

“Fuck!” Dan yelps, his hands rushing instinctively to grip onto Phil’s hair.

Phil takes Dan in even further, the burning heat of Dan’s cock warming his mouth quickly. The ice is only halfway melted and catches on the head of his length, drooling around Phil’s mouthful and dripping from his lips. Phil pins Dan’s thighs together unconsciously as he licks and swallows around Dan.

Whimpers and moans are all that can be heard from Dan as he quivers beneath Phil. He bucks his hips upward as a natural reaction, fingers twisted in Phil’s hair. Phil bobs his head a few more times before pulling back momentarily to snag another piece of ice, almost knocking over the bowl. “You can fuck my mouth,” Phil allows, then dives back in, swallowing Dan almost to the base. With one hand he brushes the ice against Dan’s cock, then slips it into his mouth and lets it slide against the burning length with every move.

Dan tightens his grip on the back of Phil’s head and begins to grind his hips upward, groaning at the mixing temperatures of the ice cube and Phil’s warm throat.

Releasing his tight grip on Dan’s thighs, Phil keeps working on Dan’s cock while sliding Dan’s boxers down to his ankles and out of the way. He slips a finger through the melted ice down past Dan’s balls and circles his hole, just barely teasing it.

“Oh shit, fuck...” Dan rambles repetitively, picking up the pace of his thrusts into Phil’s mouth. The ice is still melting in Phil’s mouth, cooling while Dan’s cock heats. Phil groans around his mouthful, drooling more spit and water. His finger, slick, and prodding, slides into Dan with hardly any effort at all. He doesn’t try for any more fingers without lube but angles his wrist and jabs at Dan’s prostate.

“Ahh PHIILL!!” Dan screams. He writhes under Phil’s touch, arching his back and letting his head fall against the pillows, fucking Phil’s mouth impossibly deeper. Phil’s throat goes slack and he swallows down around Dan, taking him in further. That cool finger still presses relentlessly at Dan’s prostate.

Phil flails out for a moment with his other hand before he finds the bowl of ice and he grabs another half-melted piece to barely brush against the base of Dan’s dick as he fucks Phil’s mouth.

“Fuck fuck fuck Phil I’m gon-gonna…” Dan says, barely above a whisper as his thighs flex and his hands grip onto Phil’s hair for stability. Phil can only moan an encouragement, his throat vibrating against Dan as he rubs the finger inside him.

The feeling of Phil’s throat rumbling around him is enough to topple Dan over the edge. He chokes out one last grunt as his head feels like it’s imploding. His entire body tenses up and stills for a long moment, and finally, he shudders and comes down Phil’s throat.  Phil swallows around him, stroking Dan through his orgasm but pulling away when it becomes too sensitive. He slips a hand down and pulls at himself only a few times before he’s coming too, biting his bottom lip and groaning.

“Shit Phil, you’re so fucking hot,” Dan gasps between breaths. He grabs onto Phil’s shoulders and pulls him up, kissing him weakly as they ride out the end of their orgasms.

Phil can’t help but chuckle against Dan’s lips as he slumps against him, exhausted. “You have the best ideas,” he murmurs.

“Yeah well...neither of us have done that before, and you did it like an e-expert.” Dan’s speech is slurred, as it almost always is after a strong orgasm. Suddenly tired, he turns sideways, shoving Phil off his chest. He releases a sigh, wrapping his arm around Phil’s back and burying his head in Phil’s chest, their legs tangled.

“We’re definitely going to do that again sometimes,” Phil says decisively. He kisses the top of Dan’s head, the curls damp against his lips, then pushes gently at Dan’s shoulder. “I love how you always go straight to cuddling and ignore any cleanup.”

“M’lazy. You clean us up,” Dan says with a yawn.

“Hmm, fine, I will.” Phil squirms out of Dan’s grasp and moves the bowl onto the floor where one of them will probably trip over it in the morning, then wipes them both down quickly. He crawls back over Dan and flops down beside him, wrapping Dan up in his arms.

Dan curls against Phil again, smirking into his chest. “Maybe I’ll steal the blankets again sometime.”

Phil casually reaches down and pinches Dan’s ass, grinning at Dan’s yelp. “How about you don’t?”

Grumbling under his breath, Dan grabs blindly at the blanket behind him and yanks it over both of them. “Ugh. Go to sleep.”

Phil snuggles down under the blanket and cuddles Dan even closer. His eyes are just drifting shut when he hears a soft whisper.

“I love you.”

Phil smiles. “Love you too, baby.”

They fall asleep within minutes, warm under the blankets.

Phil wakes up a few hours later, practically shivering. He’s still halfway lying over Dan, but all of the blankets are wrapped around Dan and he almost looks like he’s smirking in his sleep.

Phil, like a good loving boyfriend, doesn’t strangle Dan in his sleep.