#also I need to keep the ‘Team Flare are the worst gay people you know’ thought going /lh

[rainbowpufflez]

The fact that I headcanon Lysandre to have the most amount of Internalized Homophobia™️ a human being can have, but then would actively call someone homophobic if it was to his advantage amuses me to no end

[sorikkung]

what goes on in neverland. ⇝ ch. 7: fighting, flighting, and so many feelings

word count: 16k

pairings: transmasc!reader x Everyone, everyone x everyone (skz, tbz and atz, check masterlist for more details)

genre: e2l, f2l, smut, fluff and lots of assorted shenanigans. hijinks, if you will

au: battle of the bands!au but make it gay and horny

warnings: extremely dubiously consensual voyeurism, humiliation kink, very brief hyung/oppa kink, feminisation kink, breeding kink but probably not in the way that you think.

a/n: just a reminder that these characters aren't meant to be super great people. they're a little fucked on purpose. also, not proofread at all, not even once, just needed it done. full a/n at the end. glad to be back! c:

tags: @honeybyunnies @syunderful @absentcaryatid @mingirn (lmk if you want to be added/removed!)

prev | masterlist | next

“Do it again.”

This is starting to feel a little like déjà vu.

“I did it perfectly that time, what are you talking about—”

“Just do it again!” Eric snaps, pressing play on the music and not giving you much of a choice. As you go through the complex part of the routine he had given you, he barks orders to your other bandmates getting distracted behind you. “You guys should be practicing too! You have all of night time and every other day to make out, can you not focus on practice now that it matters more than ever?”

The air inside feels stuffy with all the sweat and exertion, but god forbid this man gives anyone a break. How his own body managed to keep up with the strain he’s putting it and all of yours through is far beyond your comprehension. You contemplate if he’d be able to keep going after you throw a large rock at him.

“Eric,” Kevin whines, leaning on his knees to catch his breath and wiping the sweat from his brow as Eric tries to pull the two boyfriends off each other. “Can’t you take it a little easy on us? Not all of us are used to dancing for hours and hours on end, or even dancing at all. At least let us have breaks when you’re focusing on someone else. Which you’re not even doing! Look, he just did it again!”

You ponder the type of rock you should throw at him. Maybe pelting him with tiny pebbles would be even more of an annoyance. Maybe you should stick to a big one and go straight for the bruises on his legs that still linger from how hard he went and continues to go on the pole.

Eric whips around to look at you in your ending pose, and twirls his finger at you in a motion to repeat. “Do it again, I didn’t see it.”

Or, maybe you’ll just find the heaviest rock you can find and drop it on his head. Hopefully the worst it’ll do is a mild concussion.

“Yeah, cause you’re too busy being a dick to everyone!” you quip at him, eyes flaring. “Eric, we gave you this position because we wanted to show you we’re still taking the competition seriously and that we still value your opinion and trust in your leadership, not for you to walk all over us and push us too hard because you’re still salty that we fucked the guys making you insecure! Get over yourself! If you want to take this stage sooo seriously, maybe take into consideration the physical state of your team! We’re all about to collapse!”

“For someone who trusts in my leadership, you sure aren’t following it all that well,” he grumbles in response, rewinding the track. “One more time, just you. Or do they not train you hard enough at the Prism?”

You roll your eyes at the fucking audacity, because that is not even remotely the same and he knows it. “No, because they’re more concerned about our sex appeal than our pole technique, Wooyoung and I train ourselves to have fun — you should try it sometime!”

He doesn’t grace that with a response, turning the song on again, and you decide to cooperate only to throw all your remaining energy into the routine, making it as extra as you can muster — facial expressions, powerful moves, dramatically thrusting your whole body into it like it was the actual stage, so there’d be absolutely no way Eric could nitpick on you any more.

Or so you thought.

“You overdid it.”

“Get fucked, Eric!”

You straight up scream in his face, pushed far past your limit and sick of his shit. You have been trying so hard for him. All for him. You made sure he was okay with it before even signing up for the competition, you trained him in pole and choreographed him a role routine and night at your job just so he could impress them, you fucked his ex with him just so he could prove a point, you got thrown over a table for it and continued defending his honour and all you get in repayment is him being a total asswipe because he can’t handle what you do with your spare time.

“Are you fucking serious right now—“

“Alright, enough!” Sunwoo bellows, loud enough to make poor San flinch, stepping between you and grabbing each of you by the collar. “Either make out and make up, or fuck off till you calm down. I’ve just about had it with all the arguing and bossing around. We’re all taking a break and I am not taking no for an answer!”

Sunwoo is the type to get fired up just as easily as Eric is, if not more, so you all know how to handle him when he gets set off; but there’s something different this time. His tone cements the decision as final, and Eric must feel it too because he finally stops arguing and storms off.

The rest of you watch him leave, and as soon as he’s out the door, you all slump in relief to the floor. It’s done. Day one of Eric’s Nightmare Bootcamp is finally done.

“Fucking finally,” Sunwoo mutters, lying still for a moment before being the first to get up and start collecting his things. “My entire body aches. Apparently this place has hot springs? I think I’ll go check them out.”

“I’m way too hot and sweaty for that,” you sigh as the others start getting up to join him, “Lowkey tempted to take an ice bath instead. Or go chill in the lake, or something.”

“I’ll join you,” San pipes up, hanging the sweaty towel he was using to wipe his face around the back of his neck. “The lake sounds great right now.”

Sunwoo shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

It was Eric’ idea to put the camp in boot camp, bringing up his extended family's holiday house in the woods that only ever gets used twice a year. It’s a ridiculous waste of money and housing as far as any of you are concerned, but  at least Eric was smart enough to mould himself a spare key before he went no-contact with them. Granted, he then immediately lost said key while moving apartments, but as soon as you brought up the idea of a boot camp he turned the whole damn apartment upside down searching for it, only to realise it had been hot-glued to his battle jacket this whole time as a decoration along with other spare keys you had gathered for diy purposes.

The place is nice, awfully scenic – not quite mountainous, but hilly enough for the cliff the lodge is on to make for a gorgeous view overlooking the lake, estuary and ocean — secluded, and cosy. Now that Eric actually has a key to the place, next time you come here you hope it’s on calmer terms, with more time to check out all the hike trails and rock pools by the beach, but for today, aimlessly floating in a lake to sooth your sore muscles sounds perfectly ideal.

San’s bare ass is a pretty welcome sight, too.

“A cheeky skinny dip, huh?” you muse aloud, “Have fun getting whatever bacteria this lake has to offer, I’m keeping my jocks on.”

“Oh please, like that’d help that much.”

“It literally would though, that’s a whole additional barrier!”

“It’s still gonna soak through though, so if it’s in the water, you’re fucked.”

“Is that why you want me naked so bad? So I can be fucked?” you tease, wading into the water with him – still slightly warm from the daylight, but no doubt quickly cooling with the setting of the sun in the horizon.

San shrugs cheekily, submerged up to his shoulders in the murky depths, ducking under the water to drench himself entirely then dramatically flip his hair back upon breaching the surface. “Maybe.”

“Horny bastard,” you huff, splashing him in the face and making him cough and splutter, only for him to splash you back twice as hard. “Pffuah— stop, stop! I’ll stop, I’m too tired for a splash fight.”

“Okay, okay,” San hums, relenting his assault to come up behind you and wrap his arms around you instead. You sigh and lean into his gentle embrace. “I was joking, anyway. I’m way too tired and sore to be doing any fucking right now.”

So are you. The more you think about it, the less the thought of getting it on seemed appealing, the ache in your muscles dragging you down like lead. The cold water was nice, though, and the reprieve of San’s warm body amongst it even nicer, so you just stay there for a whole, tucked under his chin and listening to the steady beating of his heart.

It’s exactly what you needed after such a long day. Probably what San needed too, if the way he sighs in relief into your hair is any indicator, then presses a kiss atop your head. “This is kinda romantic, isn’t it?”

“Romantic?” His tone is playful, but the conversation you had with Sunwoo still lingers on your mind. You find yourself at a loss for words. “What about it?”

San leans down to rest his chin on your shoulder and press a kiss there, invoking a shiver. It has little to do with the temperature. “The scenery, for one. This lake is beautiful. The sunset. Holding you like this. Is it not nice?”

You blink twice, trying to process what this man is saying to you. Does he mean romantic as in nice? An interesting choice of wording, that’s for sure – but maybe you’re overthinking it. You’re probably overthinking it. You’re definitely overthinking it. Had Sunwoo not said anything, you probably wouldn’t have thought twice about him saying that. Saying it so seriously, even. Though the initial question did sound like a bit of a joke, so he’s probably joking. Or something.

“No?”

You snap out of your thoughts to reply to him. “No, it is nice— it’s really nice. Just what I needed after all of... y’know.”

“After all of Eric’s bullshit?” he suggests helpfully, and you don’t need to see his little cat-like grin to know it’s there.

“You said it, not me.”

He laughs, placing his hands on your shoulders and twisting you around to face him. You don’t know how he manages to smile so blindingly after the hell he has been through today, especially as one of the few band members who had no background dancing, but he gave it his all. You admire that about him, how he’s so hard-working and so soft-hearted but in a way that he needs to be tough to be; the fact that he always remains soft under the pressure of the world trying to harden him, is toughness in its own right. A fuzzy feeling sprouts in your chest, such deep fondness, and it’s enough to ease a bit of the lingering tension. He leans in for a kiss, not quite a quick peck but nothing deeper; just a kiss for the sake of a kiss, one that lingers, then he pulls you back into his arms and pushes your face into his neck.

San’s always been like this, so it really shouldn’t be as flustering as it is. After all, he’s the reason your band started being as touchy with each other as they are now – from kissing the homies goodnight. He’s just overly affectionate like that. Has his heart always beat this fast when you did, though?

Has yours?

You wonder if he can hear it.

You think about how easy it would be to tell him you love him right now. The words could just roll off your tongue; I love you. Things wouldn’t have to change. San would probably just be happy to hear it, say it back, and kiss you breathless. Yet, something about that thought makes your words get caught in your throat. It would be so simple. Too simple, even, because what would he mean, when he says it back? What would you mean?

“Do you want us to be more than friends?”

San’s skin feels even hotter to touch, or maybe that’s just you. He quirks a brow at you when you pull away from him, lips drawn into a slight pout, and it makes you feel like eating sandpaper, so you pull him back in and bury your face in his broad chest once more. You have always been weak for San’s pout, even if you’re the one making him do it on purpose because it’s just so cute. You know Wooyoung does it for the same reason, he’s said so, and you never miss the way his eyes crinkle with glee when it works. For Wooyoung, bothering his loved ones is his life’s greatest joy, and there’s nothing quite like the glow of a man in his element. You can picture him smiling at San like that right now, calling him a baby and calling you whipped.

“Do you want to date us? Be romantic with us, tell us those three words you’ve been too scared to say for too long, take us on dates that are explicitly dates, call us yours? Is that what you want?”

You kiss him, and nothing more, over and over again, until you finally stop thinking. He picks you up for your legs to wrap around his waist, weight supported by the water around you. He doesn’t ask questions nor complain, only pulling you in closer, and when you feel him harden against you, there’s no pressure to address it.

When that only makes each kiss feel even more intimate somehow, it starts to dawn on the edges of your mind that you may be well and truly fucked.

After three days of more torture, you have just about reached your limit. You thought Eric would have calmed down after the initial fight, but it seemed to instead just put him on edge the whole time – you and the others quickly realise he is not about to pull that stick out of his ass until you get that win against Stray Kids, and if the next round is still in another three days, then to hell with all of you in the meantime.

Usually, you would just fuck it out. Shockingly, having an outlet for all the pent-up frustration does wonders for trying to sort out problems, but you can tell it’s different this time; even if Eric did let you sleep with him, you aren’t entirely sure he would calm down completely. Still, selfishly enough, you could do with it for the release on your end, as your other physical outlet being dance is no longer cathartic when it’s the cause of half your frustration.

At this point you would have just grabbed one of the other members after practice, but morale is at an all-time low and everyone just seems tired. Eric has always been the energizer of the group, and you realise just how much you all relied on him now that he’s no longer filling that role. Even Wooyoung and Sunwoo’s attempts at joking around and lightening the mood have been falling a little flat, and you can see the toll it’s taking on them too. Tension lingers in the air even when you are not fighting, and as nice as the view of the Sohn’s lakeview lodge is, all you’ve wanted to do since you’ve arrived is get out.

The reception isn’t the best out in the woods, so you find yourself climbing one of the tall, sturdy trees by the lodge to see who you can call. Not necessarily for a booty call, maybe sort of a booty call, but more importantly just someone to talk to who isn’t your band; though you quickly realise how few people you actually talk to outside of your band. Most are friends or acquaintances from within the industry, and the last thing you need right now is to spread gossip about your own band to the event organisers, or worse, your competitors – but as you scroll through your messages, something about the latter sticks out to you.

You call Lino.

The idea is not your best one, you have to admit, but you’re definitely intrigued to find out what kind of metaphorical ditch you will wind up waking up in by doing this. Your last interactions with Lino made it very clear the way he operates – it’s a trade-off. He is not beyond gossiping about his own team, so if you pry well enough, you can get something juicy – the caveat being, he remembers everything you say as well, and will use it against you. Which only makes this idea even worse the more you think about it, since it would not take much for him to smell blood in the water and something like a fight among your band would be far too easy to prey on, but you already pressed call.

You are not exactly known for your good life decisions.

“Hello?”

The voice that picks up is already a lot warmer and richer than Lino’s light and airy voice, which raises every alarm all at once, but it’s definitely not a recognisable enough voice to match a face to. One of the other lost kids, that much you can tell, but that’s it.

“He…llo? This isn’t Lino.”

A laugh filters through the receiver. “No, it’s not. I stole his phone and he still hasn’t noticed yet.”

Whoever this is, you like him already, you decide. That’s the kind of mischief you can get behind.

“Wow. And who might this be? Another stray kid?”

A tongue click. “That’s right. Makes me wonder why my beloved hyung is getting a call from the enemy.”

The reference to you as an enemy has you not knowing how to feel about it. The same term has left your lips about them on more than one occasion, but perhaps part of you has always been aware of how one-sided your feud with them really is, though, you suppose with your tendency to meddle and pick fights, that’s been quickly fixing itself. You can acknowledge you have been creating drama, but to hell with it, you think. You’ve meant every damn word you’ve said this whole time.

“Heh. Well that’s for me to know and you to wonder, hmm? What makes you think I’d tell you? I don’t even know who you are.”

You hear the ping of him turning his camera on, and pull your phone back from your ear to see a familiar enough face staring back at you. Now the fact that you didn’t recognise him from his voice alone is almost embarrassing – that rich baritone carries their songs, and you’ve done enough internet stalking all of them to know the rest by face now.

“Ah. You’re Seungmin, right?” You switch on your own camera and fix your hair in a way you hope seems nonchalant, but you know it’s a poor attempt to hide the absolute wreck you must look like right now, covered in sweat and hair sticking out in every which direction. “I don’t think we’ve ever actually talked.”

“No, you’ve been a bit too busy digging into my bandmates– are you in a fucking tree?”

You instinctively glance behind you, as if not expecting a tree to be there, when you are, in fact, quite literally, sitting in a tree. The movement is so fast you wobble a bit on the branch you perched on, but it holds steady, and you regain your balance quick enough.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m in a tree. Long story.”

“I got time.” Seungmin’s expression remains unreadable as he pulls the strings of his hoodie and flops backward onto presumably his bed, possibly Lino’s or god knows who else’s, and gets comfortable. “Why you in a tree?”

“Why do you care? I called Lino, not you.”

He rolls his eyes, then flicks the phone camera loud enough to make an audible thwack as if he just flicked your forehead. “No shit you called Lino, this is his phone. But I’m bored, a little nosy, and a shockingly good listener, so I’ve been told, so indulge me a little. If you’re not going to tell me why you called Lino, at least tell me why you’re in a tree, I’m curious now.”

“You’re more interested as to why I’m in a tree than to why I called Lino?”

“Mmm, maybe equally as interested. I just figure you wouldn’t tell me why you called Lino even if I did pry, but I’m gonna just assume it’s a booty call.”

You snort. He’s a little more right than you want him to be, but you don’t know if you want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that yet.

“Well, the short version is that the reception out here is dogshit, so I climbed a tree.” You flip the camera and show him how high up you are, and nearly drop the damn thing however many feet below to a tragic death among the pinecones.

“Woah, nice view!” You flip the camera back around to your face to grin a little smugly. “Surely you don’t live out there in the woods, do you?”

“Ah, no, just out here for, uh… boot camp. Decided we needed to start taking practice more seriously since we have some actual competition this year, so we took the week off work and fucked off to one of the guys’ holiday homes.” You deliberately leave out the part where it’s kind of sort of technically trespassing, despite how curious you are to hear his reaction to it. “Hence. Tree.”

Seungmin nods along, cutely playing with the hoodie drawstrings and pulling them up past his chin with the hand not holding his phone. You’d think he was on FaceTime with someone a lot closer than a near stranger, but you suppose his cute charms just come naturally to him. “Damn, respect. We’ve more or less been doing the same this whole time, but more of us are unemployed than not, so, at least we don’t need to worry too much about taking time off work. Well, in Innie and I’s cases it’s taking time off classes, but, he barely shows up to classes anymore anyway.”

“Y’all studying?” Now that you think about it, you don’t know much about the group’s personal lives beyond Felix and Chan – Felix, obviously from knowing him through Eric since he was still doing his tattoo apprenticeship, and Chan’s digital presence informed you he did music full-time, selling the beats he doesn’t use himself. You remember their friend Jisung being a DJ at parties, and saw him doing music online as well, Changbin too but with less of a presence – but none of them were big enough to explain the ridiculous budget Stray Kids stages have been having. Either the few employed members are raking in dough, or someone comes from money, and you bet your meagre savings on the latter.

“Yeah, I’m studying music, vocals mostly. Also composing, music industry, music history, photography and videography, and Japanese as an elective ‘cause it’s fun.”

“Jesus,” you exhale, “That’s… a lot.”

He chuckles, pulling his hoodie back down to hide his face less. Even in its entirety, you can’t read any of it. “Yeah, it’s good fun.”

You expect him to elaborate on that more, but he doesn’t, making you crinkle your nose. “What about the others? You all students or?”

Seungmin shakes his head. “Nah, just me and Innie, he’s also studying music performance. The rachas – our production line, that is, Chan, Changbin, and Hannie – they all do music pretty much full-time, except Changbin who is also a part-timer at a gym. Personal trainer. Lino’s a viral sensation on YouTube for making cat videos, it’s shockingly enough to pay rent. I’m sure you already know what Lix does, and Hyunjin, well, apparently you know about that too.”

You snicker. “Funnily enough, we found out that one completely on accident.”

“You’d have had to,” Seungmin says slowly with a knowing grin, “We make sure to keep those profiles completely separate.”

Whatever other sentences your mind tried to come up with quickly fizzle out as you process his choice of wording.

“We?”

He laughs, light and melodic, and his face shines with such cutesy innocence you are shocked to hear him allude to engaging in creating such content. “Yeah, we. How do you think he sets up the camera and everything while tied up like that?”

Your eyebrows shoot up at the realisation that Seungmin was the rigger from the one stream you caught, and remembering how intricate the ropework was, you find a sudden deep respect for him blooming as a craftsman.

“Wait, you’re his rigger?”

“I’m his boyfriend, but yeah, his rigger too. So, sorry if I piss you off at the competition and you can’t suck my dick about it, it’s a real tragedy.”

He practically just handed you a formal invitation to think about his dick, so you rip it out of his hands with a sly smirk. “Aw, why not? That’s never stopped Mingi or Wooyoung. You could tie me up all pretty, too.”

Not that it’s a particularly good idea to let a practical stranger tie you up in a full-body rope harness, but you don’t expect him to actually get to that point, more so just teasing the idea. While you definitely expected some sort of reaction, the quirk of his brow and beat of silence is certainly more than you bargained for.

“Y’know, I’m starting to wonder if at this point you just want the whole band as notches on your belt.”

Were you anyone else, that might have even stung, but you shrug it off in earnest.

“Maybe I do. But truthfully, it’s like, ninety-percent more to do with the fact that each and every one of you are smoking hot. Like, I may be cocky and hypersexual, but even I have standards, and you all more than exceed them, so sue me for shooting my shot.”

His eyes widen slightly at that, and you wonder if he doesn’t get told how good looking he is that often. Granted, his face is a lot softer and sweeter compared to the more visually striking faces of his bandmates, but he’s still incredibly handsome by every means of the word. The likelihood of your assumption quickly decreases when he follows it up.

“I can respect that. I am quite a catch, aren’t I?”

You snort, not prepared for his response. “Yeah, I’d say so. So, if you and your prettyboy boyfriend are ever looking to spice things up, feel free to call. On or off camera.”

“Damn, you’re bold.” He chuckles again in what seems to be mild disbelief, to which, he really should have known better, but you suppose you can let it slide on the account that he’s never interacted with you personally until now. “I’ve haven’t had that conversation with him yet, but don’t get your hopes up. He’s quite the possessive type.”

The dopey smile and fond tilt of his head when he says that tells you that he doesn’t really mind that one bit.

“Aw, shame. I was already thinking about all the fun we could get up to together!”

It’s not as sarcastic as you make it sound with your sing-song tone; having already wanted to give Hyunjin hell since that first stream, and almost but not quite regrettably, more after, the thought of teaming up with someone as seemingly sly as Seungmin, to do a number on him was beyond appealing, but you suppose you can’t always win them all. It’s only then what a relevant thought hits you.

“Wait, but what about him and San?”

“Ah.” He at least doesn’t seem surprised to hear about it, so you’re glad you at least didn’t just throw San under the bus with that one. “Hence the yet on the conversation. I don’t know. We were all arguing, tensions were high, he and San grabbed each other by the shirt, he looked at me before he kissed San and right after, too. It felt like he was asking for permission, so I just… I don’t know. It’s not something I’d really thought much about till then, but I was curious. I can’t say it felt right, but I kind of just wanted to watch and see what happened anyway? I probably should have said something to stop them, but I just shrugged and nodded at him, let him decide if he wants to do that. Think I was angrier about it than I thought I was, but with everything going on I couldn’t really isolate that feeling yet. So I just kept arguing.”

At the mention of all the arguing, you’re coldly reminded that the very man you are talking to, probably said some really nasty things about you and the people you care most about, but you shove that aside for now. As aggressive as you tend to be, the long week prior just has you tired of arguing with just about fucking everyone, and you don’t know if you like that that says about you.

As if the situation between the bands couldn’t get any messier, yet more relationships get tangled in the web of drama. You always wonder why people cling so hard to the concept of monogamy when another alternative presents itself, but you suppose it’s easier to avoid the work it takes to communicate with people that much when you can just expect someone to avoid making you feel bad by default. At least this time you aren’t the one at the centre of it, but either way you can’t take all the blame when it takes two to tango in the first place.

“Oh jeez, that’s messy. And you haven’t talked about it at all? It’s been days, dude, why not?”

“Why do you care?” he huffs with a laugh, dryly throwing your own words back at you.

“I’m bored, nosy, and a shockingly good listener,” you retort right back at him. “Indulge me a little, sticking my nose into other people’s drama is a great distraction from my own. Plus, an outsider’s perspective might even be useful, who knows?”

Seungmin’s lips flatten into a line, staring up at the ceiling past the camera and debating it internally before rolling onto his side with a sigh. He looks so cozy, wrapped up in his hoodie and now snuggled up to a big fluffy pillow he rests on, his other hand propping up his phone to give you the perspective of two close friends talking at a sleepover, and not rival strangers, just one of which sitting atop a random ass tree.

“I feel like I’ll regret this, but, well, suppose you’re the only one I can talk to who doesn’t know either of us well enough to be biased, so… sure. Though there’s not much to be biased about actually. I don’t think. Basically he just… I thought he was gonna talk about it afterward, but instead he just ended up getting noticeably more possessive… like, needs to be clinging to me at all times, glaring at everyone else who tries, referring to me as his boyfriend more than usual. I’m not sure what’s up with that, since he’s the one who slept with San, but we’ve been too busy and stressed with practice to really have a chance to talk about it yet.”

“Ah.” You nod along, figuring that they must be taking the competition just as serious as your band is to come up with such show-stopping stages, so you relate to the stress that would probably make it a bad time to have such a conversation. “That’s rough. How do you feel about it all, though?”

Seungmin has to stop and think about it for a moment, shoving his face deeper into his fluffy pillow and looking down at the sheets instead of his phone screen. “I… I think I’m more upset that he’s acting so strangely about it than the fact that he did it in the first place. Makes it look like he feels guilty about doing it and is tryna be extra possessive to make up for it, or something, which… means he must’ve felt like he was doing something wrong when he did it. I don’t think it’s technically cheating, because he did pause to check in with me and he wasn’t trying to hide anything, but… we probably should’ve actually talked about it first.”

“Yeah, you can say that part again,” you huff. “Shockingly, sitting down and talking about your issues tends to solve them. Most of the time.”

He seems to be able to read through your tight-lipped expression, looking back up at the camera again.

“Something tells me the drama you’re distracting yourself from with mine, wasn’t solved that easily.”

“Yeah, well.” You pause, trying to think of how much you would be willing to share with the other team, considering you have no idea if Seungmin is the type to run his mouth or not. “It… yeah. Not that easy this time, unfortunately. Our plan B – or, plan A, sometimes, honestly – is usually to just. Fuck out all our emotions then talk about it calmly. But this time the hurt person decided to revoke that, well, technically he said he wouldn’t bottom for us anymore so maybe that still is on the table, but it just feels different. I don’t think he wants to go about it like that this time, and our other attempt didn’t work either and just made us even more tired and wired and I’m reaching my limit with these guys. Probably would do me some good to take a drive back into town, but I’m not sure what I’d do there. Work a shift at the Prism, maybe try go home with a stranger? I dunno. I’m not as keen on hooking up with strangers anymore, they don’t always like the same things I like and usually aren’t as down to sit down and talk about it beforehand so its just mid. But my other physical outlet has always been dancing, which, is all I’ve been doing lately and half of why I’m so frustrated.”

He nods along much like you did, humming at certain points to indicate his attention. “Right. So you just want an outlet for all that frustration, huh?”

“Basically. Or maybe just a break. Who knows.”

“I like boxing as an outlet,” he suggests helpfully, “Helps to print out the face of whoever you’re pissed at on a punching bag.”

“Ooh, that sounds good,” you hum, already thinking of which photo of Eric you should print out. You aren’t sure if Seungmin is extending an invitation or not, but either way it’s a good suggestion. You decide to throw out a line, just in case, and see what he does. “Doesn’t punching something over and over get kinda boring, though? Suppose that’s what you get a sparring partner for though.”

“Does fucking someone over and over get boring?” He asks cheekily, and you certainly were not ready for that response, so you splutter.

“Does- no, of course it doesn’t get boring. Not when your partners are hot and good at what they’re doing and – lets just say, we spice things up enough to keep things exciting.”

“Like what, jacking off to Hyunjin’s streams?”

“I guess, yeah. Among more exciting things. You’re not the only rigger around, y’know.”

Seungmin smiles and runs a hand through his hair, exposing his forehead more, which frames his features a lot differently; you start to get a glimpse of what you think Hyunjin sees before his streams in the was he grins so deviously at you. “Are you trying to one-up me?”

“In what, being a kinky freak?” you snort, not really seeing how even this is meant to be a competition, even if it did, admittedly, kind of feel like it. Just talking to any of the Stray Kids at all seems to draw out your competitive streak. “I mean, I reckon I’d have a fair run at topping it, but I’m not gonna pretend I’m the kinkiest degenerate in town. That’s Wooyoung for sure.”

He laughs and it’s shockingly melodic, which is a little unfair to all the people who laugh like they’re dying. “Really? Now that’s be interesting, who has the more questionable Pornhub search history, Wooyoung or Hannie…”

“Wow, way to rat out your own,” you chuckle, and you find yourself really enjoying your interactions with this Seungmin guy. He seems pretty alright so far. “Found him stumbling out of my apartment last week when I got home after the last round. Sunwoo sure did a number on him.”

“Yup, and he hasn’t shut up about it since,” Seungmin drawls with what seems like a rather fond eyeroll. “I think he saw God that night. Changbin is pissed about it. Thinks he’s stooping too low, or something. I wonder what he’ll think about you and Chan?”

Static sounds play in your brain until you can catch up with him. “He doesn’t know about me and Chan? You know about me and Chan?”

“Uh, yeah, genius, you were both at each other’s throats last we saw you and then you were both gone. Not rocket science. Chan isn’t blabbing, if that’s what you’re worried about. Though I kind of wish he would. How was it? I hear he’s a real romantic, but I have my bets on him being quite the tease.”

“You spend this much time thinking about what your homies are like in bed?”

The no-hesitation response sends Seungmin’s eyebrows shooting upward for a split-second, and a slightly twisted sense of satisfaction fills you at being the one to have a gotcha moment with that one, rather than being on the other end. You don’t like the realisation that more than one person has tried to call you out for that. You try not to think about it.

“Just… curious, I guess. It just comes up in conversation sometimes! It’s not that weird. You can tell me. I’m sure I can nag it out of him later, anyway.”

“Last time I shared anything juicy with a stray kid, he used it against me,” you hum, sounding less hurt and more amused at whatever he’s playing at. “Surely I get something just as interesting in return, as a guarantee, of sorts?”

Seungmin thinks about it, stroking his chin through a comically big sweater paw. “Not sure what kind of dirt I could give you. My boyfriend’s cock and hole is on the internet for everyone to see, you can gage a pretty good guess of what we get up to behind the screen based on what he does on the screen. I don’t really have much to hide.”

“Dirt on the others, then? You mentioned Han’s search history…”

“Ah, our Jisungie,” Seungmin coos, a smile taking over his face again at the mention of his bandmate. “Suppose I could throw him under the bus a little more. I think he’d like it if I did, honestly. Humiliation kink n’all that. Not that he’d admit it. But he doesn’t have to, it’s written all over him and the guys he likes. Hell, the girls too. If you teased him about it, it’d probably make his dick hard.”

“Really now? Oh, now that is so enticing… how bad is he gonna kill you for that one?”

“Really bad,” Seungmin chortles, muffling his laugh behind his sweater paw. “He gets worked up pretty easily, but cools down just as quick, only to fire up again as soon as you prod him. We used to fight a lot, when the band first got together, but I think we’re past that now. Since meeting you guys, though, it’s like his diss track era all over again… it’s been fun how angry he’s gotten over it all, and now he’s just angry at how good Sunwoo was in bed. It’s so cute. Seeing him get all competitive is also cute. He gets flustered easily, but then he’s surprisingly witty. Cocky, too. Haven’t seen that side of him offstage since he was still beefing with Hyunjin.”

He clearly has no idea how much material he is giving you to work with, probably thinking the humiliation kink was the meat of the information, but you absolutely soak up the details on how this man reacts to things. You won’t be caught off guard, not by him or anyone else on that team, and you are increasingly confident that the next round will absolutely rip them a new one.

“Is that so… alright, I’ll bite. Chan… is a lot crueller than he seems. But I can see how he’d be the romantic type in any other situation… I think I bring out his mean side, though. It’s pretty fun,” you muse, to avoid saying it’s pretty hot instead. “He’s very… patient. Frustratingly so. Not as much of a pushover as I thought he’d be.”

“You’re being awfully vague on purpose,” Seungmin points out blankly, “so I’m going to assume it was hot as fuck and he fucked you so good you’re ashamed to admit it.”

You really don’t like how fucking perceptive he is, you decide.

“Well, I’d definitely go with him another round.” You try to sound nonchalant as you shrug and act unbothered, because if your assumptions are right, he will go running to Chan as soon as you hang up the phone. “Next time though, it’ll be at my place on my terms. We’ll see how long he lasts.”

You hear the filtered sound of the door opening, and Seungmin stiffens, but grins. “I’ve heard all I need to hear. Lino just got home though, so I gotta dip– DM me if you wanna spar sometime. I think it’ll be fun to punch you.”

“Hey!”

He hangs up, and you’re left sitting in a tree with more questions than you have answers for. Your body aches as you make your way down the tree to head back for dinner, then practice, then sleep, then even more practice, and you wonder if you’ll have time to drive back into the city to try boxing somewhere in between. Probably not.

You get the feeling this won’t be the last of your interactions with Seungmin regardless.

Arms wrap around your waist from behind, suddenly finding yourself pressed back against someone’s firm chest. You look down at his hands, listen for the scuffles of the others’ feet on the dance floor of the practice room and voices talking, then chuck out a guess without turning to look at the mirror.

“Sunwoo?”

“Gotcha.” He pulls you back, out of the room into the sunlight and the refreshingly cool breeze of the woods. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you. We literally live together!”

“Yeah, that makes it really fucking easy to tell when someone’s avoiding you.”

Have you been avoiding him? It definitely has not been a conscious attempt to do so, but you suppose the urge to avoid his intense gaze has probably resulted in you avoiding him somewhat altogether. You aren’t sure what to tell him.

“I haven’t been trying to avoid you,” you mumble, slumping back into his embrace so he has to practically hold your entire body weight, leaning back on the outside wall of the rec room. “But I guess I’ve been doing it unintentionally. I’m sorry. I’ll stop now.”

“It’s okay,” Sunwoo hums, resting his chin on your head. “You gonna tell me why, or nah?”

“I think you know why,” you mutter, glad for how he holds you from behind so you can stare out at the scenery around you rather than have to meet his eye.

“Humour me.”

“I don’t think I will, Sunwoo,” you sigh, exhausted from this game of cat and mouse you’ve been playing. “There’s just. A lot going on, right now. I’m tired. Stressed and tired.”

He accepts your subject change gracefully, hugging you tighter and humming in agreement. “I could tell. We all are, but you seem to be taking this all the worst after Eric.”

You snort. “Really? So why aren’t you comforting Eric about it, then?”

“You saw how he is. I don’t think he wants comfort from any of us except Kevin until we bring home another win.”

“I really thought this would help him,” you confess, voice small. It makes you ache a little. “It seemed like the perfect idea. Give him a sense of control and respect and trust in us again, focus on our art, kick some ass. I just didn’t expect him to kick ours.”

He chuckles, and you feel it rumble in his chest against your back. Grounding. “Yeah, me neither. That’s why I’m leaving that one to Kevin and coming to you instead.”

“Well, thanks.” You twist around in his arms to give him an appreciative peck to the lips, then immediately twist back around towards the scenery at how just seeing his face up that close again made your heartbeat faster. His presence feels so much more intense since that conversation, which is likely why you ended up being so avoidant.

“Turn around and look at me.”

“Huh?” You do, withholding the urge to visibly gulp at the way he smirks down at you and cups your cheek.

“You’re really cute when you’re too flustered to look me in the eye. Have you been having feeeelings about me?” he teases, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip and fizzling out the last coherent thought you had in your brain.

“It’s– It’s a feeling alright,” you stammer, trying so hard not to shy away from his gaze. “One of them, for sure.”

“Mm, I wonder which one,” he presses further, leaning in to dust kisses along your jawline, stopping at your neck just to breathe over it. “But you don’t even know that for yourself yet, do you?”

You shiver, clutching tightly at his hips. “I– I don’t know. Everything has been so insane lately and I don’t wanna add to all that at such a stressful time for everyone, y’know?”

He pulls back with a sympathetic smile and strokes your hair. “This is the most stressed I’ve seen you in a while. Been waiting for you to ask me or the others to help you do something about it, but you haven’t. Why?”

Perceptive as ever, Sunwoo sees right through you like fucking glass. To a point where it would be almost humiliating if it weren’t exactly what you needed a lot of the time. “Because everyone is tired and sore and needing to be in tip-top shape if we’re gonna endure any more of Eric’s boot camp hell. This is the kind of frustration I’d take out on Wooyoung that’d have him sitting on a bag of frozen peas and calling out of work for the night.”

“Ooh,” Sunwoo chuckles with a smirk, “that frustrated, huh? Well, I don’t enjoy pain that much, but I can fuck the frustration out of you if you want—”

“Tempting as that sounds,” you muse aloud with a click of your tongue, “I don’t wanna put your body through any more stress than Eric already is. You’re not a dancer, you must be sore all over.”

“I am,” Sunwoo confesses, “But I don’t need to exert myself. C’mon, you needa de-stess.”

“Sunwoo…” A smile is already tugging at your lips however, and you both know you don’t have it in you to deny him.

“C’mon.” He has a cheeky grin as he waddles you down the hill with him back towards the lodge, ushering you to his room. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

He’s confident. He always is, never failing to lure you in and get you where he wants. If that happens to be his bed, then in his bed you will be, trapped in his embrace on the edge of the bed, right in front of a full-length mirror. Sunwoo is a bit vain like that, or perhaps just voyeuristic. Probably just voyeuristic, if the way he left the bedroom door wide open is any indicator, but such isn’t uncommon when it’s only the band around. This time, at least, the lodge seems empty.

Sunwoo takes his time kissing along your neck and trailing his hands along your body, under your clothes, and you sigh and lean back against him, letting your eyes flutter shut and focus on the feeling of his plush lips and calloused guitarist’s fingers. There’s no rush. You know he could do this all day, and it has you relaxing into it so much you jolt and gasp when he bites down on your neck just as hard as you like it. The dark chuckle he lets out at your whine is telling; he has you right where he wants you, playing your body like a fiddle.

He turns your head towards him and pulls you into a heated kiss, slow yet eager, savouring every brush of lips and taste of tongue. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world and he wants to spend all of it just feeling you against him, your lips on his lips and your skin under his palms and his hardness against your back when he pulls you closer.

A hand slips down your pants but not past your underwear, simply cupping you there, idly teasing as he proceeds to kiss you, and you find yourself subtly shifting your hips up into his touch for more pressure. You know if you tried to egg him on any further he’d pull away immediately, so your keep your hands firmly planted on his thighs encasing yours, giving them an encouraging squeeze.

“Want more, baby?” he breathes into your ear, the air making you shiver.

“Please.” You don’t have the energy for his teasing, or any of the usual back and forth. You’ve had enough of that lately, and at least with Sunwoo, you don’t feel too embarrassed to beg. “Just touch me.”

“Your wish is my command, prince.”

His hand finally slips into your underwear and touches you where you need him most, gathering your wetness on his fingers and slowly circling your clit. Too slow. It does it’s intended purpose of riling you up, but you don’t need to be even more riled up right now, you need to let off steam—

“Relax,” he murmurs when your hips buck up more into him. “Just focus on feeling all of it, okay? You’re gonna tire yourself out quickly if you’re that eager.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, slipping a finger into you and replacing its spot on your clit with his thumb.

“Sunwoo, please,” you beg again, and you see him smirk down at himself in the mirror. That little shit. He’s enjoying your desperation a little too much for someone who claims he just wants you to relax. “I need more.”

“Well, shit,” Sunwoo hisses, slipping a second finger in and finally quickening the pace and pressure of his fingers, your body singing under his onslaught. “When you ask that prettily, how am I supposed to deny you, mm?”

Your head falls onto his shoulder, just in perfect range for him to start sucking on it again, no doubt on his way to leave a very visible mark behind. “Y-You don’t,” you manage to gasp out, and he smirks against your skin.

“Don’t get too used to it, prince. You might find me feeling a lot more cruel another day.”

You want to groan out, I know, but his fingers working their magic don’t let you, and you honestly welcome the way it makes your mind go blank, watching him through the mirror looking so focused and so into making you feel good, completely ignoring himself. Your eyes flutter shut just as you are interrupted by his phone ringing.

“Motherfucker—”

“Shhh.”

He doesn’t remove his hand from between your legs as he uses his other one to grab his phone from his pocket and answer it, lazily drawing circles on you with his thumb while grinning at you in the mirror. You know you’re trapped now, because you can’t quite recognise the muffled voice on the other line, and if it’s someone important, possibly even related to the band, you can’t risk ruining it for him by making a sound.

“Oh? No, I’m not busy,” he lies smugly, making direct eye contact with you while he says it and slipping in another finger. “Why, I didn’t expect you to call so soon. Missing me already?”

Your eyebrows raise at that comment, noticing the flirty lilt in his voice and trying to figure out who the fuck he would be talking to like that. It doesn’t sound like any of your bandmates, giving he wasn’t expecting the call, unless it was maybe Eric? You mouth him the question, but he pointedly ignores you and resumes curling his fingers in you so deliciously you have to bite your lip to stay quiet.

“That’s so pathetic it’s cute,” he giggles, and now you’re even more curious. There’s no way it would be Eric, not in the mood he’s been in, you think he would punch something if anyone tried to call him pathetic right now. “Oh, you poor little thing. I’m out of town right now, so you’re stuck there on your own.” He clicks his tongue at the other person’s reply. “I meant I wasn’t too busy to hear how you’re touching yourself for me and the things you’re thinking about me in explicit detail, so do go on.”

You widen your eyes again, pulse thrumming with the excitement of how dirty it all is, and with Sunwoo’s movements quickening you only hope that whoever’s on the other end of the line can’t hear your breathing quicken with it. Or maybe you hope they do.

He suddenly stops as the other person keeps talking, and next thing you know he’s propping his phone up between his face and shoulder and pulling at your pants. When you start to shimmy them off, he reaches for his own, pulling them down just enough to let his cock spring free, already dribbling precum.

“What am I doing? What do you think I’m doing, cutie? I’m taking my cock out. You sound so fucking delicious for me, baby.”

You don’t need to be told what to do, shifting back to meet him and hovering over his length, earning a hiss from him as he leans back and lets you rub the tip against your entrance. “Yeah? You gonna take me?” he pants into the phone, meeting your eye in the mirror as he says it. You sink down on him all at once and the moan he lets out is a guttural one. “Fuck, good boy.”

You hear a whine on the other end and it’s so tempting to just snatch the phone out of his hand and put it on speaker, let you in on the action too, but it doesn’t take long for him to practically read your mind and do it himself.

“Oh? You want to show me? Let me see your cute little cock then, princess.”

“Fuck,” the voice on the other end whimpers, broken and airy, and it becomes a video call request that he accepts with only audio on his end first. You aren’t sure who you were expecting to see, but when the screen comes up with the same man who you met stumbling out of your apartment last week, leaning back on the bed with cock in hand, ass plugged with a pretty pink gem, and a thin sheen of sweat sticking a few strands of his long, silky hair to his face.

“Mmm, so pretty for me, Jisung-ah,” he coos, voice shaky from how you slowly move up and down on him – or try to, but he stops you with his free hand and gives you a stern look you know is because he wanted you not to do any of the work. “You like showing off for me?”

He nods profusely, fucking his fist and scrambling down to reach for the plug to fuck it into his hole too. “Love it, love your eyes on me, fuck, wanna see you too, please, I bet you look so hot right now hyung…”

As far as you know, the two of them are the same age, and you suppose that’s why the honourific brings such a smug look to Sunwoo’s face. “’Hyung’? Not wanting to be my pretty little princess anymore, hmm?”

Jisung whines again even more needily, the lighting in his room is dim through the closed curtains but just enough evening sunlight peeks through to reflect off the wetness oozing from his tip as he lazily strokes it. “A-Ah, c’mon, please…”

“Please what?”

He shifts around on the bed a bit with his eyes squeezed shut, pulling an arm over his face to hide in his elbow while he mumbles, “Please, oppa.”

“That’s a good little girl,” Sunwoo rasps lowly, the praise making Jisung’s ministrations quicker, and you have to bite your hand to muffle a laugh at the sheer humiliation of it all, and just how easy it was. How perfectly pathetic. “Want me to put on a show for you?”

You know the real question he’s asking and to whom; do you want him to see us like this? You nod at him through the mirror and tap the camera icon for him, pointing the camera ahead so you he could see you both.

“Good thing you caught me at such a good time, then. You have such a good show to enjoy.”

Jisung freezes up, eye blowing wide at where his phone is propped up on something in front of him, and for a second you think he’s going to dive for it to hang up but instead he throws his head back so hard against the headboard you think it would have hurt, gasping and whimpering as he comes all over his fist, hips thrashing wildly and thick ropes of white painting his slutty little muscle tee, even from where it’s pulled up over his abs.

“What the– what the– what the fuck, Sunwoo!” he whines, still frantically jerking his cock and twitching violently at the overstim, burying his cute little face in his arm again, too embarrassed to face you himself but not too embarrassed to cum to it. Or maybe it was the embarrassment that made him cum in the first place. “You– you said you weren’t busy–“

“I never said I was alone, baby. Besides, we weren’t busy. Were we, prince? Just hangin’ out, right?”

“No, not busy. Just relaxing.” You flash a smarmy grin right back at him, grinding down on his cock with an over-exaggerated sigh, throwing your head back onto his shoulder again and spreading your legs to make sure Jisung was getting a nice view. After all, he deserves a treat for the humiliation the two of you just put him through.

“You– You’re a dick,” Jisung pants out, slowly pulling his arm away to pull his boxers back on. “Can’t believe you made me say that in front of him–“

“You love my dick,” Sunwoo sassed him back, passing you the phone so he could grab your hips and take over, pulling you up and thrusting up into you slowly. “Needa split you open on it again. Maybe they can watch. Don’t worry, they didn’t hear our whole conversation, only the video call – I’m sure he’d love to see it for himself instead, though.”

You moan, rubbing yourself as Sunwoo bounces you up and down and trying to keep the camera steady, “Oh, fuck I sure would. Would you be my good little girl, too?”

“You’re both so mean,” he complains again, and you find yourself quite liking the little pout on his face when he does it. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away, however, reaching forward to grab his phone from whatever it was propped up on his bed to get a better look. “Fuck… you look so hot like that though…”

Showing off a little more, you pull yourself off Sunwoo so Jisung could see his cock in all it’s glory, thick and veiny and oh-so-picturesque, and simply rub your pussy against it, both gasping when your clit and his head collide.

“Fuck, hold on,” Sunwoo mutters, reaching down to his luggage on the floor and rummaging for a bit before pulling out a sleek bullet vibe and turning it on, pressing it to your dick and slipping back inside. You both groan, as Sunwoo angles the vibe so he could feel its vibrations against his shaft too, and starts fucking into you with reckless abandon. “Shit, baby, so good–“

“Hah– thought you said you wouldn’t exert yourself– woah, slow down, I can’t keep the camera steady,” you huff, Sunwoo reluctantly obliging and taking the phone away to prop it up on the dresser and change it to the front facing camera towards the bed, pulling you back down with him and bending you over.

“Fuck that,” he growls, all his patience from before melted away with every rough snap of his hips, “I’m gonna fuck all that stress outta you, I’m gonna fuck you into this mattress even if it fucking kills me tomorrow.”

You are reduces to cries instead of words as he does exactly that – frankly you have no idea where all this energy comes from after a long day of dancing, but you figure he won’t have his usual stamina this time – craning your head over your should to peek at his phone on the dresser, where Jisung watches with his lip pulled between his teeth and an obvious shaking from below the screen.

“Let us see,” you gasp out, eyes rolling back into your head as Sunwoo angles his hips just right and makes you see stars, but you force yourself to focus on the screen just enough to see him lift his phone higher and reveal him stroking his cock again, still covered in cum, cutely small in his hand.

“Y-You guys are so fucking hot it’s unfair,” he sighs, body twitching hard enough to shake the camera with every other movement. “Can’t believe you fuck raw too. Do you cum inside? Can I see it? Please, wanna see him dripping, fuck, wish that was me.”

“Yeah? Wish this was you, huh?” Sunwoo pulls you up on your knees with a firm yank on your hair, pulling a moan from you, and you don’t have much of a choice but to let him use you as he wants as he fills you up so fucking good. “Want me to cum in your ass and knock you up, huh? Want me to breed your cute little hole? Ooh, he clenched around me at that, I didn’t know you liked that one, prince.”

You whine a little in embarrassment, but mostly hold it together. “Y-Yeah well, it’s a new one,” you mutter, grasping for anything to ground you as Sunwoo keeps you propped up, but as soon as he lets you back down to lean on the mattress again, the vibe is back between your legs and you whimper.

“Cuuute, see, you’re not the only one who has embarrassing kinks, Jisung, looks like both of you wanna be all knocked up, hm? Want me to put a baby in you, baby?”

“No,” you rasp, ignoring the way his words send a wave of heat down south anyway. “Wanna put a baby in him.” You point towards the camera, and Jisung whines so erotically you think he would do just as well on cam as Hyunjin or San would.

“That’s so fucking hot fuck– please, please, please, breed me, knock me up, both of you, fuck…” He’s fucking the a dildo in his ass now, so frantically it keeps slipping out, “Need you both inside me, fuck, get me pregnant…”

The two of you chuckle at how far gone he is, willing to say all these embarrassing things so openly to the same people he spent so long arguing with the other week, that bitter resentment warped into something else entirely and were you not getting your brains fucked out you would want to ask Sunwoo how the fuck he did it, but he seems intent on not giving you the chance to form a proper sentence.

“Fuck– yes– shit I think I’m gonna–“ your breathing quickens, your core tightens, and one strangled groan from Sunwoo behind you and another few perfectly angled snaps of his hips sends you falling over the edge, the high pulsing through you like electricity.

“That’s it baby, thaaat’s it, fuck you’re so pretty when you cum for me,” Sunwoo mutters, bending over you and tilting your head to steal a kiss as he follows you over, moaning against your lips as he paints your walls white.

Jisung is still panting and fucking himself with his toy while the two of you catch your breath, and the sheer agony on his face is so fucking delightful you find yourself wanting to be so much meaner to him if given the chance.

“No, no, please,” he begs, “don’t stop yet, ahh, I’m close, please.”

He sure seems to love the show, so it’s a good thing you and Sunwoo both love to perform.

“Babe, move with me, lemme get the camera–“

You and Sunwoo both awkwardly shuffle to the edge of the bed where Sunwoo can reach his phone again, taking it off the dresser and flipping the camera back to the front so he can give your little voyeur on the phone a close-up view of where your bodies meet.

“Oh, fuck–“

“Don’t look away for even a second, baby. You don’t wanna miss a second of this.”

Sunwoo slowly pulls himself out, shiny and wet and covered in you, and when you clench down around nothing, he has a perfect shot of his cum dripping from your hole. The sounds Jisung is making on the other end of the line are beyond gone, fucked out and on the brink, and when Sunwoo collects his dripping cum on his fingers and pushes them back inside you, you hear his voice crack.

“Fuck–! Cum- Cumming- fuck…!”

“That’s a good girl.” He puts the phone back in front of you so you both can enjoy the sight of Jisung spilling another load all over his chest, not even touching his cock as he simply milks his prostate with the toy inside him. Sunwoo is even mean enough to take screenshots, and you grin at him, “Send those to me.”

It takes him a long moment to recover from the intensity of his orgasm, chest heaving, covered in sweat and his own mess, but the most dazed smile takes over his features as he covers half his face in disbelief.

“Fuck,” he exhales, picking the camera back up to hover above his face, “You guys are the hottest fucking… most insufferably horrible people I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah?” You raise a brow at him playfully, “Sounds like you like it, though.”

“Yeah, well,” he rolls his eyes, “Unfortunately for me that’s kinda my type. Dick hard one moment, wanting to punch you through a wall the next.”

“Don’t worry, I think Changbin already did the latter part for you!” Sunwoo chips in helpfully, so you elbow him in the shoulder. “See you on the battlefield next time, cutie.”

Jisung snorts, and you see him slipping out of his dick-drunk trance. “Is it really a battle or is it a slaughter?” He catches his tongue between cheekily at that, and you feel heat flare up of a familiarly ambiguous kind.

“We’ll make it a slaughter by the time we’re done with you,” you vow, and Sunwoo has to put a hand on your shoulder to remind you to save it and not get too heated. “You aren’t ready for what we have in store for the next round.”

“More provoking lyrics and slutty outfits? I think I can take it. Yes, innuendo intended, I could and would take you both – now I gotta get cleaned up, so. See ya later.”

It takes a second for you to recover from the whiplash of him bouncing between cocky and confident, and needy and pathetic, back and forth between only a few sentences, but you are quickly starting to understand what Seungmin meant about him. You exchange glances with Sunwoo and shrug.

“Still stressed out?”

“His switch-up at the end wasn’t that good for my stress levels, but I think I’m mostly alright,” you laugh, and Sunwoo laughs with you, then raises a suggestive brow.

“Sit on my face about it?”

“God, you’re the best. I’m gonna suck your soul out your dick about it.”

Eric looks up and all he can see is Felix looking down at him.

He wants to punch a fucking hole in the wall, shatter glass, snap something in half. He does not delude himself into thinking he is not an angry kind of person; he is, and he knows it. Still, lately he finds his nerves have been grated even more than usual, and he’d be a fool to not know why – it’s Felix. Of course it’s Felix. He just didn’t think it’d get him like this.

They broke up on good terms. That’s what he keeps drilling into his own head, over and over like he would forget otherwise. It was a mutual agreement; they weren’t working out. Eric wanted to see Felix a lot more than Felix could see him, and Felix didn’t want Eric to feel like he was constantly being put on the backburner, so they broke up. Figured that it just was the right person, wrong time.

Right person, wrong time.

He keeps telling himself that, over and over, as he goes through the choreography again, and again, and again, long after the rest of the band got sick of his shit and left him in the makeshift studio. He wants to punch the mirror hard enough to shatter it.

Right person, wrong time.

He regrets how much he held onto the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he could wait for him. Maybe there could be a right time, if he was patient. Like a fucking fool, he hoped that it wouldn’t be the last time he held him, kissed him, or touched him again. And it wasn’t – so why does it feel like it only made it worse? Felix was exactly like he remembered, only with more tattoos and piercings, dark hair, a sharper jawline, broader shoulders, and a bit more attitude. But he was still Felix, he was still his Felix, still the Felix who crumbles for someone with lots of confidence, who can’t lie, still the Felix who pokes his tongue in his cheek when he’s riled up, his Felix who’s breath hitches when someone leans in close, who gulps when he’s nervous, who’s voice jumps up in pitch when he gets filled up-

“Missed me that much?”

He keeps playing that night over and over. The song plays again, he twists and turns and jumps and hits, but all he can see is Felix and you all over him. He missed him. He missed him so fucking badly, when he really did think he had moved on. He has you now, he has the band, and that was more than enough for him – he even stopped dating because whatever it is you guys have going on was always just so much better. Hell, even if Felix came crawling back to him on his hands and knees to apologise and asked to get back together again, Eric doesn’t even think he would say yes. Not if it meant giving up what you guys have.

He still fucking misses him.

The choreography is intense. He pops, locks, perfects his body line, practices his flip, lands on one knee just a bit too wobbly for comfort; but while the music still plays, the energetic and intense trap beat Kevin made just for him, he doesn’t get back up. He falls forward, hands on the polished wooden floors, and cringes as it comes back wet – it’s only then when he realises he’s crying. He’s crying onto the floor of his dance studio while his kick-ass battle song plays and he just feels so fucking pathetic, because why is he even crying over this? Why is he crying over someone who was never truly his? Why is he even crying over someone who didn’t even really wrong him?

Not until now, at least. Not in their relationship. Unless the reason he was so busy back then was because he was making another dance crew with his other friends and he decided he would rather give up Force and Eric along with it, like Eric suspects, when if he wanted to sing and rap that badly he knows Eric would have let him join the runaways. He’d even fit with their namesake too, having ditched his family home in the middle of the night as soon as he turned eighteen; he knew Eric would have loved to have him here.

But of course, he was too busy. Not too busy for Stray Kids, just too busy for Force, and too busy for him. As they always were. As everyone always fucking is. History has a habit of repeating itself until you learn your lesson but he just does not understand the lesson needing to be learnt – what does he need to do to make them stay? What does he need to do to be someone’s first priority, to not be constantly brushed aside? What does he need to do to be worthy of the kind of intense devotion he gives everyone he cares about? Eric supposes that was always his weakness; loving more than he was ever loved back. Everyone would love him, but not nearly as much as he loved them, when push came to shove. Everyone except you and the band.

What he just doesn’t get, is why you guys just can’t get that. You seemed to understand enough that coming to participate in a band contest as a glorified dance crew – a dance crew, like the one he left – with his cool new friends when he knew how important the competition was to you guys, was a cold fucking move at worst and a nonsensical one at best. They insulted you, punched you in the fucking face, insulted your work, and you just go and suck their dicks about it? Go and suck Felix’s dick about it? You know what he means to him. You know he isn’t over him. But it seems like just about fucking everybody is willing to bend over backwards for the golden boy and his pretty freckles and award-winning smile that Eric fell for so long ago.

“Fuck. Fucking fuck!”

Eric knows exactly why you like him so much. He knows because he still fucking likes him. He knows because when he smirks at you like that, and he still wants to kiss him too. He still remembers how soft his lips are, and that they taste like caramel because he’s always drinking those sickeningly sweet excuses for coffees that might as well be milkshakes. But he just can’t do it. He can’t just kiss him like they’re still in love when he is coming and taking over everything that was ever fucking important to him. Everything he still cares about. Dance, music, you, his friends. But it doesn’t include him anymore, it never was fucking about him. Not anymore, it’s never about him anymore. Even now, at his family’s holiday house, leading his supposed dance boot camp, the rest of you are in the lodge playing board games without him because you said you needed a break and he’s been pushing you too hard.

If he can keep going, why can’t you? Why is he the only one taking this seriously? What happened to trusting him? You said you let him lead this week so he can see that you trust and value his input, but you guys just aren’t listening.

More than anything, he just wants to go home. He’s tired, mentally and physically, and he just wants things to go back to the way things were before the battle. Home, not the apartment, but in a cuddle puddle with the six of you when none of you are mad at each other, staring at the ceiling while the starry sky projector you bought lights up the room with colour.

But he knows better than to think you will agree to back out now. Hell, as much as he wants to, he wouldn’t let you, either; the controversy has put both you and your rival band in the spotlight like never before, and if you all want to achieve your dreams of being able to do music as a career and tour the world, you need this. He needs this. He’ll be damned if his shady ex-boyfriend gets in the way of that.

No more distractions, he decides, getting up and wiping away his tears. One more time, from the top.

“Eric?”

When he looks toward the doorway and sees the solemn expression Kevin gives him, holding a plate of freshly cooked food in hand, he feels whatever wall he just built up come crumbling down instantly. “Kevin…”

Kevin must be able to tell that he was just crying, because he sets down tonight’s meal on the pool table pushed aside to make room, and sweeps Eric into a crushing hug, which, for Kevin, isn’t the most common of gestures. Eric hugs him back and buries his face in his neck, not wanting to look at him. Not wanting to say anything. Not even wanting to hear anything. Kevin speaks anyway.

“We’re all really worried about you, y’know?”

“Not really,” Eric sniffles, and he hates how pathetic it sounds. “No one’s listening to me.”

Kevin tuts and pulls back slightly to frown at him, but Eric doesn’t look up. He can’t bear to meet his eyes. “Eric, we’re not listening because you’re being unreasonable. The week’s deadline doesn’t suddenly give our bodies any more endurance than they already have. We’re not all built like you!”

“I’m sick of fighting, Kev,” Eric sighs, and Kevin runs a hand through his hair soothingly.

“Then don’t fight. How about we go eat and head to bed early? It’s been a long day.”

Eric wants to argue again, despite just saying he is sick of arguing. He does not want to be coddled like an angry toddler throwing a tantrum, but that’s exactly how he feels; unheard, begrudgingly comforted just so he can calm down and go back to normal. He thinks he wants things to go back to normal more than the rest of you combined. Normal, back when it didn’t feel like all his bandmates were looking so far down at him like everyone else.

He bites his tongue and redirects it.

“How about I eat you instead? To de-stress, of course.”

Please let me have this, Eric pleads silently, hidden poorly behind a weak smirk. He grabs Kevin’s hips and starts tugging him towards the couch pushed up to the side of the room. Let me have you, let me feel you.

Kevin sees his request for what it is; a plea for intimacy, more than sex. A plea for trust, connection.

He sees it for what it is, and with a small sigh, grabs his face and connects their lips.

By the time you and Sunwoo finish cleaning up and re-gaining the feeling in your legs, a bonfire is crackling outside, while Wooyoung and Mingi are manning a fragrant barbecue. Eric being there is a welcome sight – just the fact that he is no longer cooping himself up inside the practice room or his room is already promising, but him being around the rest of the band willingly is even better. You turn to smile at Sunwoo and he’s already smiling back at you – he’s probably thinking the same thing.

“Well look who finally–“ You are cut off by Sunwoo stepping past you and shoving you roughly in the side to sit down next to Eric on a log and clap a hand on his shoulder.

“Glad to see you back, bro.”

Eric smiles.

You can’t even complain at the shove as it was completely called for; Sunwoo is right, what Eric needs now is probably not your usual attitude and instead more gentle appreciation, so you follow his lead and sit on his other side, giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Sorry. Missed you.”

He doesn’t seem to need the clarification on what you meant, giving that you have been seeing each other most of every day the whole week, but he returns your peck with a quiet thanks and goes back to staring into the dancing flames.

You have half the mind to leave him alone, since he clearly does not feel like talking, but you figured that if he really wanted to be left alone, he would be in his room or the makeshift studio again, so his decision to be here around you all was deliberate. So you stay next to him, pressed shoulder to shoulder just to give him that grounding point of contact – you’re there. You’re with him, next to him. If he wants to speak, he can, but if he doesn’t, you’ll still be there anyway.

He leans his head on your shoulder, and you feel your heart soar. He’s leaning on you. Both figuratively and literally, he’s leaning on you, he’s allowing himself to be soft with you even if he might still be mad at you. You wrap an arm around his shoulders and press another kiss to the top of his head, to let him know you heard him, even if he didn’t say anything. You hear him.

Sunwoo gets up to grab his food when Wooyoung calls that dinner’s ready, but Eric doesn’t move, and you won’t either until he does, but you give his shoulder a little squeeze.

“You gonna eat anything?”

“Not hungry.”

“Eric…”

“I’ll eat later, I promise,” he insists, taking your free hand in his and playing with it gently, intertwining your fingers. “Just… not right now.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, not wanting to find any more reasons to disagree with him for now. “What do you want to do right now, then?”

He has to think about it, still playing with your hands as he does, and it’s cute how it seems to soothe him somewhat. “I want… to talk this out, or whatever. I’m tired of being angry. I just. Don’t really know how to start.”

You look over his shoulder to gesture to the others to come in, and you all find yourselves seated on the log by the bonfire or the dirt in front of it, not wanting to be any further from Eric than necessary. “Start wherever you feel like, baby. We’re listening.”

He sighs, then tries to gather the words to start, then sighs again even louder. He lets go of your hand to drop his head into his own.

“I don’t know. I’m just, I’m tired, I’m upset, I miss Felix, I don’t want to miss Felix, I’m angry at him for doing this to me, I’m angry that you’re taking such an interest in him, I’m scared of being replaced, and I feel so fucking inferior about everything I ever had any confidence in and I just want it all to stop.”

“Okay, that’s a good start,” you encourage him, stroking his back rhythmically while he let it all out. “I had a feeling it was something along those lines.”

“It’s alright to be scared and angry,” Mingi pipes up helpfully, leaning over to give Eric a reassuring head pat.

“Felix did do you pretty dirty,” Wooyoung adds, to which the others nod.

Eric sighs again, running his hands through his hair. “I’m scared,” he repeats. “I’m scared we’ll lose. And I don’t know how I’ll handle that if we do. Because that’d be… feels almost fucking symbolic, in a way, of him just. Ruining everything I worked towards. That’s why I keep drilling you guys and being even more of a perfectionist than usual and – god, they’re fucking perfect. They’re incredible performers. I still don’t think their act should be allowed as a band but they’re so fucking good at what they do I can’t help but think we can’t really compete.”

“But we can!” San chimes in, shifting closer to make sure Eric is looking at him. “Prior to this week I didn’t even know how to dance beyond a few TikTok challenges, now I’m doing choreography you made for a dance crew! Half of you guys are practically professionals, and this might be one of the best songs Kevin’s produced yet, and the lyrics–“

“Have some more faith in us,” you interrupt, a little too enthusiastic, “we’re fucking good at what we do, too. We won last year for a reason, remember? This stage is absolutely gonna blow their socks off.”

“It’s not you guys I’m really worried about,” Eric admits quietly, still refusing to look any of you in the eye. He doesn’t need to. You already see his real feelings written all over him.

“You’re worried you might fuck up the whole thing.”

His silence is the only confirmation you need.

“Oh, Eric.” You pull him in for a tighter hug, which everyone else joins in until you are all awkwardly hunched over on the log and almost fall over, making you all giggle. “You’re not going to fuck up anything, okay? You’re going to be the star of the show.”

“I don’t know… I don’t think my choreography can match theirs. I’m mostly trained in hip-hop, but Hyunjin adds a contemporary twist to theirs, and Lino has such insane body control and–“

“And you have a swagger onstage that they could only dream of,” Kevin finishes, leaning over to put a finger to Eric’s lips, and he finally looks up from the ground to meet him. “Do you really think band judges are going to be looking for mixtures of dance genres and technical precision? They’re here for the music and they’re here for the spectacle. I’m pretty sure the reason why Stray Kids are getting as far as they are, is more to do with their production quality, live vocals, and stage presence. Are you really gonna doubt us on those fronts? This isn’t a dance tournament.”

Eric doesn’t have a response for that, playing with his own hands as he processes it all, so you take one into your own so he could go back to fidgeting with yours if he so desired.

“You’re right, I can’t doubt your guys’ songs and vocals like that. That wouldn’t be fair. Suppose it also wasn’t fair how hard I pushed your bodies, too.”

“Or your own,” Wooyoung reminds him, getting up to grab a now-cool plate of food to bring back to him and plop it in his lap. “You don’t need to be so hard on yourself, either. Whether or not we win the next round, which I have in good confidence that we will, we are still incredible fucking performers. Stray cats can’t take that from us. It’s not like we can really lose – everyone else in the competition has been an absolute non-event, dude. No one’s talking about them. We’re basically guaranteed second place at the very least, and that’s still a win.”

Eric pokes at the meat on his plate with his fork, trying to muster up the appetite. “I don’t want to be second place to anyone. Not anymore.”

You realise what he really means by that, and he doesn’t mean the competition at all. It was never about the battle, it was about the war – the ongoing war raging in his head of his own self-worth and the way his past threatens it. How he can never be certain that he won’t have to fight for his right to exist, his right to be loved – and you get it. You really do. So deeply, even, that you have bonded over it in the past, and that is exactly how you know that he will stick by you till the bitter end, and you just wish he could feel the same. You sigh and massage the back of his neck.

“Eric, sweetheart, you could never be replaced. Not by Felix, not by the homeless children, not by anyone. We wouldn’t be here right now if you could!”

He seems to only shrink in size as he curls up and munches on his food. “Why are you so obsessed with Felix, then?”

He turns to you.

“Obsessed? With Felix?” It strikes you as a little odd. “What do you mean obsessed with him? He hurt you, Eric. I can’t forgive him for that. You know how ride or die I am for the people I care about and the six of you are at the absolute top of that list. I’m fucking around with him because I want him to feel as small and pathetic as he’s made you feel, and I want it to fucking haunt him how he can’t help but think of it when it’s just him and his right hand. I want to drive him insane until he realises he fumbled the best thing to ever happen to him.”

“And Chan? You seem awfully interested in him too. And how interested he is in Felix.”

You are not sure whether to feel hurt or understanding at Eric’s accusations. You know he’s insecure and you know he needs your reassurance, but you don’t like the way he’s painting you in this whole situation. “Chan has a weak spot for Felix and it’s so easy to prey on. Why wouldn’t I? He’s the core of their group. He calls the shots and it seems like to some degree, everyone relies on him. You destabilise him, you destabilise all of them. Besides, we just have beef from leader to leader, creative to creative. I know we got invested in this whole rivalry for your sake at first, Eric, but it’s gotten pretty personal now. That doesn’t mean we’re moving past you now. It means we’re all taking them on together.”

“You make the battle of the bands sound like some huge psyop mission,” Kevin snorts, finishing off his plate. “We should just not worry about them and focus on making our performance the best we can be. I’m sure Chan and Felix and all of them will leave us alone if we just leave them be.”

“No way!”

You, Eric, Wooyoung, and Sunwoo, all pipe up at the same time, looking at Kevin incredulously.

“I don’t want to leave them alone, I want them to wish they could be us so bad,” Wooyoung huffs, crossing his arms. “C’mon, even you enjoyed putting Jupiter in their places last year. It’s fun to stick it to some bitches who deserve it!”

Kevin goes quiet, then waves his arm dismissively. “Yeah alright, whatever. Have your fun with it then, I guess.”

“Maybe I need to be having more fun with it,” Eric chuckles, poking at his dinner some more. “I mean, tag teaming him at the Prism was pretty fun. I guess I just got… really into my own head about it.”

“Attaboy,” you cheer, giving him an encouraging slap on the back, “that’s the spirit! Obviously you don’t have to fuck around with them if you don’t want to. But y’know. You can always annoy them more.”

“I think I’d rather fuck you in front of them and have them watch,” Eric throws out casually, making your eyebrows shoot up and your still aching core throb. “That’d be pretty hot. Wonder if they’d agree to it, though.”

You shrug. “I dunno Eric, we can be pretty damn convincing, I think. Maybe we should invite them to our dressing room next round. Or something. We’ll work it out. But before we get to any more plotting and scheming… how do you feel? Are you like… okay? Or at least better?”

“Better,” he nods, and you feel reassured in that he didn’t have to stop to think about it. “I don’t know. I know I was projecting my own insecurities onto you guys. And I know I was pushing you guys too far. I just needed to feel… like I held any weight here. Like I was still important to you guys.”

“Of course you’re still important to us,” Mingi breathes out, visibly saddened at the thought that Eric even had to doubt it. “I’m sorry you couldn’t feel it enough.”

“I do now, at least.” He cracks a small smile, and exchanges a knowing look with Kevin that makes you think Sunwoo was onto something when he said he’d let the keyboardist handle him. “I know that was the point of this entire trip. And I’m sorry all I used it for was to try and find ways to prove that you guys didn’t care as much as I did. I’ll stop projecting. At least, I’ll try.”

“That’s all we can ask for, Eric,” San reminds him, getting up to give him another hug. Sunwoo has to stabilise his plate so it doesn’t get shoved off his lap. “You can tell us if you’re feeling bad or insecure about things, y’know? Just please don’t get angry with us. You know we can talk things out calmly and you’re scary when you yell.”

Eric laughs at the audible pout in San’s voice without needing to see it over his shoulder. He pats him on the back affectionately. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll try not to. I’m sorry again. We can take tomorrow off, I think. Enjoy the holiday house while we’re here, spend the day by the lake, maybe. It’ll be fun.”

“Sounds like exactly what we all need!” Kevin agrees, clapping his hands together. “I unironically think that our practice will be even better if we don’t practice for a day. Let our bodies catch up with it all.”

“For sure,” Wooyoung agrees, “it’s always like that. In the meantime, I think we should all take turns schlobbing your knob for being such a great dance teacher.”

That makes everyone burst out laughing, but Wooyoung simply doubles down. “What? I mean it! I’ll give you the sloppiest toppy bro, the Gluck Gluck Triple Twist–“

“I get it, I get it,” Eric howls, trying to recover from the sudden humorous outburst. “God, that gave me whiplash. Yeah, sure, if you’re offering, I won’t say no.”

“It’s whatever you want, Eric,” you tell him, leaning on his shoulder this time, “after all, this is still meant to be your trip.”

The smallest but most genuine of smiles pulls at the corners of his lips, and he presses them to your crown appreciatively. “Thanks. All of you. You guys… mean a lot to me.”

Sunwoo notices the tears glistening on his cheeks before you do, and instantly leans in to kiss them off, and before you know it, everyone is swarming him to try and express their own forms of affection to a point that’s downright comical in it’s impracticality, knocking him off the log in your onslaught of touch and kisses.

“Ahaha, alright, alright! I get it, you guys too– ahahaha, fuckin hell, you guys are too much.”

Once again you hear what he really says, and it’s loud and clear;

I love you all so much.

a/n: i feel like the apologies for the wait get more and more ironic the longer i go between updates, but i really am sorry! 2023 was a year of all time for me and i was just speedrunning life events but it's okay i think im normal now. ish. im writing again at least! i slaved over this chapter for MONTHS because i kept changing it and hating parts of it no matter what i did so i just sat down and finished it and decided i would not proofread or reread at all and just go with whatever i come up with so i can finally get this chapter DONE or else it might have just sat in my wips rotting for another year. so apologies if you notice the dip in quality, but hopefully you wont LMFAOOoo

anyway the questionnaire is still open and even more relevant than ever so any responses are so so so appreciated and help me write future chapters! feel free to fill it out more than once if you have already a while back. LMFAO. anyway. enjoy! happy new year! jskdgfkskdh

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Abridged: 1976

The X-Men, those fiery mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 97 - 102) - by Chris Claremont and Dave Cockrum

If I ever participate in Drag Race, this will be my entrance look. (“Hear me, bitches! No longer am I the woman you knew! I am fierce! I am fashion incarnate! Now and forever, the winner of season 27!” *mugs at camera* ) (X-Men 101)

It really amazes me how quickly Claremont shifts things into high gear. One year in and he absolutely does not calm down, giving us both the Shi’ar, more Sentinels and the (motherfucking) Phoenix. SO LET'S GOOOO

You’d think that, as a telepath, Charles would be used to dreaming absolutely twisted shit, surfing everybody else´s freaky dream waves, but apparently, vividly dreaming of space is so exhausting that he needs a vacation.

To be fair, I’d be exhausted too if I dreamt of schizo space bugs on detailed splash pages. Get into it, Mr. Cockrum. (X-Men 97)

Meanwhile, Alex and Lorna have absconded to the sizzling Rio Diablo to work on their doctorates. It’s unclear what they’re studying (archaeology?) and where this Rio Diablo is (Panama, Chili, Ecuador?), but considering that Rio means River, I’m unsure whether drawing a dry dry desert is the appropriate setting. But hey, this was the pre-Google era and you’re not here for topographical nitpicking, so.

Lorna is shot by an unknown assailant and continues the long, long history of Polaris being mentally overtaken by other entities. Together with the equally not-himself Havoc, they travel back to NYC and attack the plane Xavier is boarding. The X-Men battle them, until it is revealed that these former not-quite-X-Men are in league with… Eric the Red?

Scott is all: But I was Eric the Red! Also, Eric the Red does not exist!

Xavier escapes, apparently not giving a fuck that all kinds of X-Men are demolishing the JFK airport, but the still-evil Havok and Polaris also get away. The X-Men are shook!

Some time later, The X-Men celebrate X-Mas at Rockefeller Square, where Claremont skips some steps in favour of narrative expediency. Moira and Sean are apparently in a relationship, Jean and Storm are the best of friends. It’s some pretty rough telling, not showing, but we’ll allow it, but only because the Storm/Jean-friendship is one of my favourite things.

What, you think only the movies indulged in Lee/Kirby-cameos? (X-Men 98)

Anyway, Jean and Scott are attacked by the Sentinels, who continue their trend of being way too sneaky for supersized racist robots! Xavier is kidnapped on his boat trip with super-duper scientist Peter Corbeau (seriously, he has two Nobel Prizes), while they steal away Jean, Sean and Logan in NYC. When they come to, there’s some gloating from Stephen Lang.

Jean Grey being a literal pin-up while delivering nazi-burns is such a big middle finger to everything she was in the sixties and I am here for it. (X-Men 98)

When the three kidnapped X-Men make a break for it and escape the Sentinel’s clutches, they burst through a wall, only to be greeted by the cold vacuum of space! They’re not on Earth at all: they’re on a formerly SHIELD space station! GASP! (literally)

In secret, Peter Corbeau, inventor of sliced bread, helps the X-Men back on Earth board a space shuttle, where Colossus remembers his brother Mikhail (objectively the worst Rasputin), a kosmonaut who died at the launch of another spacecraft. It’s another Future Plotline Seed©.

The X-Men dodge solar storms which sounds like a made-up contrivance but aren’t, while the Sentinels try to destroy the shuttle. In what the kids these days call a pro-gamer move, the X-Men instead ram the space station and go through to these apparently sub-par Sentinels like Magma through butter. Kurt’s showmanship and Colossus’ loyalty are highlighted, while Cyclops becomes more robotic and repressed the more Jean is in danger.

Colossus’ secondary mutation is apparently BEING THE BIGGEST DORK. (X-Men 99)

Scott almost kills Stephen Lang, but then Stephen throws his ace in the hole at them: THE OLD X-MEN? This reveal throws us right in the hallmark one hundredth issue!

And, look. Stephen, this is just a terrible plan. Instead of using most of your budget on making more impressive Sentinels, you blow half of it on making janky X-Men clones to… what? Confuse the real X-Men?

It works for a hot minute, but Kurt and Ororo quickly figure out something is wrong. This Beast, for example, isn’t hairy and this Jean doesn’t remember being in Storm’s confidence. Wolverine is the first to snap: acting on instinct, he kills ‘Jean’, proving she’s an android.

Stephen Lang, foiled by the X-Men’s logical thinking skills (which, to be fair, are notoriously unreliable), spews some hatred and accidentally blows himself up. Nothing of value is lost.

Too bad the X-Men can’t return to Earth: their space shuttle is too damaged. I actually love this: going to space is kind of a big deal for most people and the fact that the X-Men have trouble because they’re stranded in space lends them a kind of vulnerability that has been lost over the recent years. Jean steps up to the plate, herds the other X-Men into the protected life cell and assumes the pilot seat of the shuttle. This is after zapping Cyclops into unconsciousness and telling the other X-Men to kindly fuck off when they try to stop her.

As the X-Men descend onto the Earth, Jean’s telekinesis isn’t enough to protect her as she’s engulfed by solar flares. OR IS SHE?

Nothing funny. All of these panels are just beautiful. Forget those robot copy X-Men, this is why this issue is worthy of being the hundredth one. (X-Men 100)

The space shuttle crashes, rolls over JFK airport before dunking in the water. The X-Men emerge, safe, sound and very lucky and then, defying all odds, Jean emerges as the Phoenix. Fire, life incarnate, etc.

After a brief but melodramatic burst of energy, Jean collapses into unconsciousness and is hospitalized. Wolverine intends to bring her flowers (aw!), before throwing them out when he realizes the gal’s taken, establishing the X-Men’s most famous love triangle. (You can fuck right off with your Scott/Jean/Warren-bullshit.)

I’m not sure what my favorite thing is here: the absolutely bonkers everybody’s-elated-panel (special mention to Kurt’s boots and his bounce) or the subtle character beat where Kurt goes all heart-of-the-team and checks on Scott, who turns out to be not so stoic. (X-Men 101)

Charles orders all the X-Men (except Scott) to go on vacation, so he can take care of Jean. Like, Charles, you’d think they could just go hang out at the X-Mansion. Instead, they go to Ireland because Sean has conveniently inherited the ancestral Cassidy Keep.

All the X-Men dress up fancy for a welcoming feast, and it seems Kurt and Ororo are flirting? But sometimes, it also seems like Ororo and Piotr are flirting? Listen, I’m not judging: I love these polycule vibes from the early X-Men. Especially because neither Kurt nor Ororo have had particularly satisfying romantic plotlines for the past 20 years.

I’m not here to insinuate nothing, but last time I said “I enjoy being with both of you”, it ended up in a spitroast. (X-Men 101)

The soiree is interrupted by… THE JUGGERNAUT, BITCH, and Black Tom, Sean Cassidy’s evil cousin. They are hired by an unknown someone to kill the X-Men! Since nobody subtle is involved, they quickly wreck the castle and everybody tumbles into the dungeons. (Local news paper reports: gay power couple harasses ill-dressed American tourists.)

This story is mostly a vehicle to tells Ororo’s backstory: Storm, one of the few who could conceivably put up a fight to Cain Marko, feels caged by the cold rocks of Cassidy Keep and is incapacitated by her claustrophobia.

Back in the USA, Charles, who’s heard Storm’s mental anguish, is furious with Scott because he doesn’t hop in a plane to save the other X-Men, even though Scott correctly points out that he’ll never get there in time if he leaves now. Meanwhile, Jean awakens, convinced she somehow brought herself back to life. Yeah, you go girl.

While the rest of the X-Men fight the evil duo in Ireland, Claremont tells Storm’s backstory in a few gorgeous spreads.

“I could write a novel about Storm’s backstory.” “You get two pages.” “Deal.” (X-Men 102)

Another classic comics trope appears here, where family members are immune to one another’s powers. I have no idea how Black Tom is immune to Banshee’s sonic scream - he has ears.

Does Black Tom just have a voice in his ears going NEENER NEENER NEENER when Sean screams? (X-Men 102)

When Storm finally pulls herself back together, it’s too late: the Juggernaut has pummeled the other X-Men into a paste and she also falls to his onslaught. IS THIS THE END OF THE X-MEN?!

Other things introduced this year:

Kurt’s image inducer, which he abuses to look like Errol Flynn. (I would abuse it to look like an amalgam of Milo Ventimiglia (ca. Gilmore Girls) and Timothée Chardonnay. OR like Emmy Raver-Lampman.)

The fastball special!

All kinds of name confusion: Lorna is Polaris, Havok is sometimes Havoc and Piotr becomes Peter.

Best new character: Phoenix. Hit me with that iconic shit.

What to read: The Stephen Lang arc is not fully necessary, just read issue 100 and 101. Don’t skip issue 102 if you want to know all about Storm’s past.

[dtsugabby]

BTS Fic Rec

Bear with me, I’m trying to organize all of my recs from various sources. In the meantime, check out below and also my ao3 bookmarks here if what’s below isn’t enough!

A U T H O R S

Basically, I’d rec anything by these authors. They are incredibly talented and I always enjoy their works.

 dirtysope (ao3, also on twitter)

wispyoongi (ao3, also on twitter)

pauline (twitter)

bri (twitter)

kaythebest (ao3)

metastacia (ao3)

babiesko_o (twitter)

moonlitaehyung (twitter)

bloom (twitter)

F I C S

Twitter

<History> sope au in which murder mystery writer Yoongi joins a new dating app that connects people based on their internet search history. He’s matched up with Hoseok, who, unbeknownst to him, is a notorious serial killer all over the news.

jikook au where idol jimin is having a competition, whoever has the highest scores on his superstar app gets to go on a date with him. only one problem, 90% of the songs have an unbeatable high score all from the same user, "jjklovespjm". that user happens to be the idol jungkook

jikook au where jimin and jungkook are new roommates and jimin finds jungkooks hidden stash of yaoi and boylove manga under his bed but it's funny bc jungkook is straight.

jikook au where jimin and jungkook are both gay af but they think the other is straight. so, they act extremely heterosexual around each other, causing them to believe the other is straight even more. this only leads to awkward conversations and situations.

「 euphoria 」   ✧ jikook au ✧ -in which they were childhood friends. later on they both become part of different rival musical groups, and one day jm finds a love letter from jk which he wrote years ago.

jikook au where well known ceo, jeon jungkook, is seen as a huge playboy by media and the public. nobody knows that hes been married to his childhood best friend for 6 years and has a son.

Jikook AU} Whiskey   In which Jungkook comes back traumatized from war and Jimin is the bartender who lives next door. One day, as he’s coming back from work, he sees Jungkook sitting in his front porch, a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

NamJin AU In which for some reason Seokjin is just really really convinced that Namjoon is a witch. Joon found it interesting and keep taking Jin on a date, disguising it as a "prove research"

taekook au Jeongguk tries breaking up with his boyfriend through an AirDrop note but accidentally sends it to Taehyung instead, which of course, leads to a series of unfortunate events.

[jikook au] where youtuber jimin reacts to jungkook's video and jimin is introduced to the mess that is jeon jungkook

「 vminkook 」♡ hidden where taehyung finds this very popular vminkook stan account that he shows to jimin and jungkook and they spend the whole night laughing at the edits, aus and posts. what they don't know is that jungkook is the person running the account.

「 jikook au 」♤ little do you know when popular kid jeon jungkook's crush is revealed to be a certain park jimin everyone assumes it's cheerleader and social butterfly girl jimin and not nerdy bookworm boy jimin

「 jikook au 」◇ encounter park jimin's idol group makes an appearance on the hottest variety show in korea. he has a big fat secret crush on one of the hosts, jeon jungkook who is very clearly flirting with his fellow member, min yoongi - so jimin becomes petty on national tv.

[NAMJIN AU] “SKY HIGH” Seokjin is a flight attendant who keeps clashing with HR. He gets a final warning letter with one last chance. Desperate, he offers to give a passenger a blowjob in exchange for not writing a complaint, not knowing the other’s true identity...

Jimin is a single father and his little son is the biggest fan of the worldwide known singer Jeon Jeongguk~

[ jikook au ] - show me:  where jimin sent jungkook nudes over twitter but those pictures wouldn’t load on jungkook’s phone so he just replies with an ‘lmao’

[jikook au] solo artist, jeon jungkook, is getting married.

jikook social media au in which jungkook is a very famous kpop idol in the middle of his world tour and jimin is a small nsfw twt acc their worlds collide when korea’s favorite idol accidentally likes a tweet on the latter’s account

yoonseok!au in which hoseok accidentally drunk texts yoongi instead of his ex

yoonseok au where yoongi accidentally sends the wrong picture to his coworker hoseok

Yoonseok/SOPE AU In which amateur police detective Min Yoongi has to solve a series of public murder cases with no witnesses while being assisted by murderer and conman Jung Hoseok who agreed to help as it can shorten his prison sentence

<YOONSEOK/SOPE AU> in which Hoseok confesses to his long-time crush, Yoongi, by sending him a Spotify playlist. Oblivious to what’s going on, Yoongi goes ahead and drags his music choices. [mostly crack and fluff tbh]

[ jikook au ] - time where jimin can see a person’s lifespan and knows that his own time is limited but discovers that whenever he shares physical contact with jungkook he gains time but the thing is they hate each other

[jikook au] — the list nsfw in which jungkook just wants to go grocery shopping and jimin sends him an unexpected list

jikook au where jimin is a popular beauty youtuber, known for his lipstick looks. jungkook is a gaming/vlog youtuber who finally gets the confidence to post his own makeup tutorials that hes been filming for months (secretly) after discovering jimin.

jikook au where jungkook has tattoos, lots of piercings, and always wears black. jimin thinks hes dangerous and bad, until he sees jungkook with a pokemon lunchbox surrounded by dogs at the park one day.

AO3

Dynasty (series, completed, sope, taenamjin, jikook) Royal AU, slight fantasy?, I cried several times 

“Hundreds of years ago, the Gods intertwine the lives of seven boys. They suffer through war, heartache, & separation, but with the help of the Fates & their inner wolves, they all try to find their happy endings.

abo au universe on twitter;; https://twitter.com/dirtysope/status/1054116662620778496″

Peaches (series, incomplete, sope, namjin, vminkook) BDSM 101, somehow the most adorable thing ever, all commissioned

“A very nsfw modern setting AU which is centered around the boys exploring their sexualities predominantly through BDSM. The main ships are Sope, Namjin, and Vminkook, but various pairings will be explored in poly situations in shared BDSM scenes.”

Infinity (series, incomplete, sope, vmin) Vampire AU, all commissioned (I’m part of the commission group!!), sope are soulmates wbk

“This is an OT7 vampire universe that involves all seven of the boys. Main pairings will be Sope, Vminkook, and Namjin. This is your warning for darker themes⚠️ There will be compulsion, mind control, gaslighting, possessive behavior, violence, death, murder, & angst. ~no toxicity occurs within the ships~ Blood drinking will be very relevant and featured heavily!”

Charmed (series, complete?, sope-centric) HP AU! So cute, my first dirtywisp fic and tied for my favorite HP au in the fandom

“Bangtan in the Harry Potter universe.”

Infectious (chaptered, complete, sope, yoonmin, namjin, taekook, jikook, vmin, vminkook) THE zombie apocalypse AU, very angst filled, major character death, semi-happy ending (if you discount the MCD)

“During the first leg of their US tour, BTS, depleted, weary, tempers flaring, step on the stage for the second night of concerts. Little do they know, this is not going to be like any other show of their lives--instead before the end of the first song they are going to be on the run against what they can only call a zombie attack. Determined to stay alive until BigHit can rescue them, BTS is forced to be smart, resourceful, and get over themselves to survive.”

Hand In Hand (chaptered, incomplete, namgi) adoption au, disabilities au, i cried literal tears several times

“Namjoon, a sign language professor, and Yoongi, a songwriter, got certified to foster. But, they never expected that would open the door to love, heartache, pain, and most importantly, family. But, as they figure out this "dad-thing" hand-in-hand, they realize that family isn't made up of blood, it's the love that they have for each other.~or~ Namjoon's a deaf college professor Yoongi is his husband and a songwriter Seokjin is their case manager Hoseok, Jungkook, Tae and Jimin are kiddos with their own set of challenges and triumphs“

Heart of War (chaptered, incomplete, namjin, taegi, jihope) royal au

“For the protection of his people, Prince Seokjin has to marry his fiancé’s killer: the alpha king of the most ruthless and feared kingdom in all the lands with a reputation of being a cold blooded monster on the battlefield. Worst of all, the omega prince doesn't even speak their language.“

Until Dawn (series, incomplete, jikook, sope, namjin) fantasy creatures au, 100/10, tae is in it too, they all come together to save the world from various disasters major and minor, read this series

“The Documented Adventures of Your Favorite Local Supernatural Gang”

Raspberry Vodka (chaptered, complete, jikook) college au, misunderstandings

““You don’t have to make excuses.” Jimin crosses the room and Jungkook follows him to the doorway, all the words he wants to say jumbling together in his head but never making it to his lips. He wants to tell Jimin he’s just inexperienced and way too drunk and all he needs is a second to calm down and reassess his thoughts before he throws up from stress, but Jimin is already opening the door and stepping out into the hallway and oh god, he needs to say something.“I’m a virgin!” Jungkook shouts.“

Like A Hard Carry (chaptered, complete, namjin, yoonminseok, taekook) overwatch au, social media au

“In which: Jungkook, a popular Twitch streamer with both the self-esteem of a wilted piece of lettuce and the impulse control of suicidal squirrel, convinces his best friend Jimin to do a livestream for him; RM, captain of a pro Overwatch team, is suddenly missing a sniper; Jin, in an attempt to make things better, just makes them worse; Hoseok screams in various different volumes and moods; V, a pro-gamer, finds an incredible sniper, a cute boy, and a crush, making the mistake to think that they’re all the same person; Yoongi isn’t sure which one of his friends is going to make him die from second-hand stupidity first; and Jimin is caught in the middle of a love triangle that he’s not ACTUALLY a part of, one that he actually is a part of, and that fact that no matter how much Jungkook tries, Jimin will always be absolutely terrible at Overwatch.“

Vocal Princess (chaptered, complete, yoonmin) crossdressing on a dare au, yoongi is very gay and very confused, Jimin is embarrassed and trying his best

“Fed up with his inability to understand women, Jimin's sister dresses him like a girl. Jimin finds himself working with a producer, Yoongi, and donning his disguise for much longer than he intended. Jimin wonders if he’s losing his mind or if he’s really falling for a guy. Meanwhile, Yoongi is VERY GAY AND VERY CONFUSED WHY HE’S SO ATTRACTED TO THIS WOMAN IN HIS STUDIO. aka Jimin dresses as a girl and Yoongi has a heterosexual crisis.“

City of Stars (chaptered, complete, namgi) hanahaki au, so so good, but fr, FUCK THE ENDING

“hanahaki disease: an illness where the victim regurgitates and coughs up flower petals when they suffer from unrequited love. this can only be cured through surgical removal, however the victim's romantic feelings for their love disappear along side with the infection. yoongi starts coughing petals for namjoon, a witch with a constellation of stars glowing on his cheeks – except, flowers aren't the only things ripping his insides apart.“

jung hoseok writes instruction manuals (while stupidly in love) (series, complete?, sope) so so fluffy and cute, list au

listen to my heart (can you hear it sing) (chaptered, complete, namjin-centric) abo au, namjoon is a big dummy but we love him

“Seokjin wasn't his, but he was still as every bit of 'his' as the rest of the wolves in the pack, and Namjoon was going to have to learn to live with that.In which Namjoon constantly, to everyone's disappointment, fucks up.“

delta (chaptered, complete, namgiseok) very very good poly rapline, canon divergence?, angst but happy resolution

“He was the last person Namjoon expected to hear from - thought he was dreaming when he saw the email in his work inbox. It was short and simple, typical Hoseok. Just: We saw what happened. We’re so sorry. If you need get away for awhile, you’re always welcome to come stay with us - JH. He wonders now if Hoseok was surprised when he said yes. If Hoseok only extended the invitation because he didn’t think Namjoon would actually come.(Or: Namjoon chose a solo career and left Yoongi and Hoseok behind. Seven years later, after being outed by a Korean tabloid, he ends up on their couch in Queens, trying to face an uncertain future. And confront feelings that have persisted for nearly a decade.)“

Good Friends (series, complete?, yoonmin, namjin, taekook, vhope) hilarious, misunderstandings, college au

“Yoongi likes to brag to his friends about his boyfriend. Jimin likes to brag to his friends about his boyfriend. Little do they know there's actually crossover in their friend groups.”

Just Another Game (chaptered, incomplete, yoongi x everyone, many side pairings) a n g s t, I am a beta on this fic, great writing, author is interactive

“Set during 2019, after their world tour and after Answer's release. Min Yoongi's career has put him in bisexual hell: living with six hot bandmates who think it's really funny to flirt and get handsy with him and with each other all the time. Between constant struggles like not knowing whether he and Jimin nearly made out while drunk, to bed sharing with Jungkook every other night, to not being sure how to stop imagining what it'd be like to kiss Namjoon, it's only a matter of time before he loses his mind as he realizes he's in love with six perfect but very straight boys. After Yoongi drunkenly comes out as bi, he can’t remember the confession the next day. Taken by surprise, the boys lightheartedly start a competition to see who Yoongi finds the most attractive in the group. The objective is set to getting a kiss from Yoongi before he finds out about the competition. Though they mean well, things go downhill fast for all of them. As they each realize they are attracted to Yoongi, they start taking things too far beyond what they’d signed up for.”

eternal sunshine (oneshot, complete, sope) canon au, i commissioned this fic!!, I love it so much, slight angst then fluffy sexy times

“Yoongi is having a rough day at practice. He's not focused on the choreo, and no matter how hard he tries he just can't seem to get anything right. But luckily for him he has Hoseok, and he always knows how to put Yoongi's broken pieces back together. “

offer me your deathless death (yoongi is a serial killer!AU) (series, incomplete, yoonmin, namjin, vhope) a bit of an odd read but I loved it, dark, not what you think, pulls at heartstrings

“a peak into the lives of the rich and the powerful (non-linear; no specific order of stories)Notes:mainly yoonmin, but there's namjin and vhope too! :D (also known as the jimin is a ceo!AU and the namjoon is a hospital-owner-person!AU)”

to the moon and back (chaptered, complete, vmin, vminkook) vmin are supernatural hunters, poor kookie, something’s not quite right in this town 

“"The other kids think that Jimin is strange. And he is, to be fair. Sometimes Jimin talks to people that aren’t there. Sometimes he starts crying, randomly, and then a moment later the wailing siren of an ambulance or police car can be heard outside. Sometimes he just shuts down and won’t talk to anyone." Jimin and Taehyung are basically professionals. When they're called in to deal with a werewolf terrorizing a small town, they know the deal. Things are rarely as they seem.”

Spine Breaker (chaptered, complete, sope, namjin, taekook) hunger games/ready player one au, video game brought to real life, plot twists, angst but a happy ending

“The clock is ticking, Jeon Jeongguk only has two bottles of water, one lunchbox, and ten bombs with which he has to kill six people if he wants to live. He's just eighteen and the only experience he has throwing bombs includes sitting in front of his screen, smashing buttons on his controller and swearing at his longstanding in-game rival, VforVictory. Someone has recreated the hit warfare videogame, Spine Breaker, and although Kim Seokjin is the mascot of the game, he knows nothing about how to play it but now finds himself launched in the middle of a stranded island, his bombs missing, his glasses smashed, and a pursuer who wants something more sinister than just his death. Min Yoongi knows why he's here. He knows why everyone is here, but his battles had begun long ago. The clock is ticking and Yoongi is running out of time, but he knows that zero is not the end. It's kill or be killed.”

The Shaman and the Exorcist (chaptered, complete, namjin-centric) SO GOOD, ghost hunter au, seokjin is a fake bitch and namjoon is pissed, angst angst angst, ok ending though

“Seokjin doesn't believe in ghosts. Which would cause a huge uproar if everyone knew since he's kind of a big deal at his university; he's a shaman who protects people from evil spirits. He doesn't remember where he got the idea to do this from, all he knows is that superstitious people pay good money. Namjoon does believe in ghosts. Better yet, he can see them and he can expel them. But there's a certain phoney shaman at his university who's stealing all his clients in his exorcism business, and he's not happy about it because haunted people pay good money. So, what do they do? Figure out whose closet is holding all the skeletons, of course.“

charmed (oneshot, complete, namjin) very cute, existential, seokjin got tricked boo hoo

“"So you’re not going to eat me?" Seokjin asks, just to confirm."Why would I eat you?" "Because you’re a dragon," Seokjin says slowly, because it should be obvious, despite Namjoon not looking very dragon-y at all. Namjoon looks unimpressed. "I may be a dragon, but I’m not an animal."”

Monster Private Eye (series, incomplete, namjin, vhope, jikook) funniest thing ever, namjoon is a detective and kook is his assistant, tae is a mess, jimin is an idol, solve crimes be gay 

“Kim Namjoon (klutz, genius, poet, private investigator) solves cases for the unusual and secretive clientele of Monster Private Investigator. His assistant, Jeon Jungkook (big muscles, bigger heart) helps out. Each story revolves around Namjoon taking on the request of a different member (noted in the title), for a total of 7 cases in this collection, all from Namjoon’s POV. Members also appear in chapters that are not focused on them. All works can stand alone, but I suggest that you read them in order to fully enjoy the characters and relationships as they grow. Enjoy!“

bts hogwarts au (series, incomplete, vmin, namjin, sope) my other favorite HP au, set in the same time as the books but focused on the boys instead with their own storyline, angst, fluff, dealing with coming out and accepting yourself and others

“a series of non-linear snapshots of bangtan’s life at hogwarts. [all ships are main ships] green: yoongi, jimin, jeongguk. red: seokjin, namjoon. yellow: hoseok, taehyung.”

creating a home (series, incomplete, namjin) foster parents namjin kids all the other members, heart wrenching, fluff, would read again and again, follows them as they grow up

“A BTS Foster Care AU”

the professor’s family (series, incomplete?, namjin, taekook) professor! namjin, jungkook is his student, poor kookie, he has the hots for tae

“Professor Kim Namjoon is married. He doesn't have a wife. They have a sort-of son. And Jeon Jungkook just crossed paths with them.”

More to be added!!

[ourlastbastion]

Embers Ch. 11

AO3 Link

FFNet Link

Haru wanted little more at that moment than to curl up and to be swallowed up by the void. To cease existing and disappear from life and reality. Instead, he settled for sinking deeper into his seat.

Never had a train ride felt this terribly long.

“It was pretty boring in the end. But the snacks were really good!” Patty continued, chattering on with that child-like excitement. She had not stopped talking since her group had boarded the train, intent on talking to Haru like he was some old friend. “But the stuff that happened before and after the conference were pretty fun!”

She kept going on and on about that fucking DWMA public conference going on in London, and Haru wound up learning far more about how it went, what it was about, and why it was so fucking important than he ever wanted.

Which, granted, wasn’t a hard point to reach seeing as he wanted to know absolutely nothing about what the DWMA was doing, or anything that had to do with that school.

But Christ! This woman could talk!

She talked and talked about some guy named Oxen or something and the crush he’s had on some girl since he was like twelve, and how he has yet to give up, constantly making various attempts to win her heart and sweep her off her feet, just determined to not give in despite how nothing he was doing was working and the girl was probably gay anyways because “have you seen how she is with her weapon”? They have to be dating, there’s no way they aren’t!

She talked about how the new students lacked the same flare and energy that her year had, and how this year had half as many new students as her first year had. How this conference went over how to react when a civilian was crossing paths with a witch or Kishin Egg. Which boiled down to running away and finding a phone to contact the DWMA. Which itself did absolutely nothing to solve the immediate problem of a powerful non-human being trying to and possibly actually succeeding in killing people. But it was the DWMA, Haru couldn’t expect them to actually save the day before people got hurt.

She talked about herself and her sister, about their fucking meister and how weird he could be but that “He’s still a swell guy!”. She talked about how they were obviously the most awesome meister-weapon team because they worked directly with the big bone daddy himself and were the weapons of Death Jr., son of the aforementioned big bone daddy. That Death was essentially their adopted dad and that they were also a family as well as a team (Gag!).

The woman talked about how Kid had his own speech he got to make at the conference about how brave the British meisters and weapons have been and continue to be, and how proud the world is of them for doing their part in keeping the world safe.

“You’re going to Paris, too, right? Are you staying there, or just stopping cause you gotta get somewhere else?” she had asked, somehow, miraculously, beyond all matter of reason, logic, and physical possibility, not out of breath even a little after how much she had been talking.

And Haru, being the magnet of absolute horrendously, terribly, disgustingly shitty luck had answered without really thinking, just wanting the conversation to end and for her to shut up. “Stayin’ fer a lil’ while.”

He shouldn’t have said that. Should not have said that.

The woman fucking squealed so loud that other passengers turned to look at them, that the older blonde looked over her magazine and the mini reaper frowned in a way that showed he’d long since accepted this life of headache, and Haru sank deeper into his seat, wondering how much farther until the cushions just swallowed him.

He should not have said anything, should not have responded at all.

Because then the woman just went off about how fun it was that they were both spending time in Paris, that maybe the five of them could do sight-seeing together, and oh, hey, does Haru know French? Ah, right, his name’s Auclair or something, he’s probably from France, right? Yeah, of course he’s from France! She knew a little French, but she wanted to see how they’d react if she just spoke Italian. Cause she knows Italian. Maybe she could make them think she’s Italian and not American. 

They’d never really gotten to visit Paris for fun, it’s always for a mission, but this was the first time they were going to get to stay there for vacay time, and she was going to use it to the full advantage. Oh, they should all go to Disneyworld together! Or was it Disneyland? Disneyland, Paris? Ah, who cared! They’ve also got a big fancy art museum, Kid might like that, but it might also drive him absolutely mad. It'd be funny to see him trying to straighten everything until it’s at the perfect angle, and that’d take days. They might spend their entire vacation in the museum if he did that!

The worst part of it all? Not even an hour had passed. There was still over an hour left of this fucking trip.

It went on and on, her chattering and talking, not even caring that Haru wasn’t responding, just talking about whatever came to mind.

Eventually—the universe finally taking a look at Haru and thinking it’s screwed him over enough that it was time for a small, tiny, microscopic mercy— she somehow fell asleep mid-sentence. Which was for the best, because it had reached the point that had Patty not stopped talking, Haru was going to get locked up for a murder he actually did commit.

Good God she was annoying!

As if sensing his misery and fury with some bullshit Shinigami powers, Death the Kid had turned to him and offered Haru a sympathetic, understanding smile. “Sorry about her,” he said, nodding to where the blonde was snoring. “Patty can be a bit overwhelming at times, and she had a bit more coffee today than she should have.”

Haru snorted, at least he could take comfort that he wasn’t the one stuck living with her.

It was a blessing the gaiter covered his mouth; he would have been baring his teeth with how angry he felt. But his mood lightened and his expression softened as he looked to Bea.

Somehow she had been able to fall asleep too, not that he blamed her, she had been up all night, the poor girl must have been exhausted. She looked so peaceful sleeping, leaning against the side of the train, using Haru’s jacket as a pillow. How could he keep feeling angry when looking at her like that?

“She’s your sister, right?”

His mood spiked a bit, negatively, and he turned his attention back to the other side. This time it was the older sister, Liz, or something. She had looked over her magazine to the two, brow raised but a knowing look in her eyes. “I know that look, you clearly care about her a lot,” she explained.

A pause, long and thoughtful as Haru turned to look away from the two, his eyes falling back on her sleeping form. “She’s my family,” he said, reaching over to brush some stray strands of hair from Beatrice’s face. “She’s my everythin’.”

He didn’t know what he would do, what he was supposed to do, if he lost her. It had only been two years, and already she had thawed out some of the shards in his heart and wormed her way in, taking hold of his heart and soul. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have accused her of being a witch, of having used witchcraft to bring him under her spell.

“I get what you mean,” Liz had agreed, and Haru saw her look to Patty. “She might be hard to handle, but I’d do anything for my sister, to keep her happy and healthy.”

Ah…

What was this feeling rumbling deep inside of him? Camaraderie? Yes, that must have been it. A sense of camaraderie with a fellow older sibling, to meet someone who understood his love for Beatrice, his willingness to do what it took to keep her safe and happy.

Perhaps this group wasn’t quite as bad as Haru had initially feared. Sure, the baby reaper was a threat, and the younger blonde was more annoying than Ichiro could be, but… maybe they weren’t so bad. If Haru was careful, maybe they could spend time together, just a little. Perhaps he could arrange for them to just casually cross paths at Paris’ Disneyland park, not actually hanging out, but just crossing paths so why not stop and chat, maybe have lunch together, once everything’s calmed down and they’ve gotten settled in. 

Or maybe at the Louvre. Patty had mentioned that in her rambles and, well, Haru wanted to show Beatrice the Louvre. And the Eiffel Tower. Maybe take a little boat on the Seine. There were so many sights in Paris that she would love, and he wanted to show her all of them.

But that brought up other questions, too.

Haru would need to figure out some kind of income source once they got to Paris, he’d have to find a job, the kind where no one would really pay him any mind, the kind where he’d just blend in. There was little doubt that Rosie would offer them shelter, but he was not going to depend on her for finances. He could take care of Beatrice and himself without handouts.

They’d just need a room for a short period, until Haru got enough money to afford the two of them their own apartment. Housing was a bit on the expensive side in Paris, a lot more so than his apartment in Pocklington had been.

He could fall back on being a bartender, Haru felt he did a pretty good job of it in Pocklington. It wasn’t stressful, but not the worse. Maybe go back to being a cook, no people interactions, less people would see him while working, and he wouldn’t be as stressed.

Hell, he’d work as a character actor at Disneyland if it paid. He could put on a smile, play nice and be friendly if needed, he was a fairly good liar, after all. Plus, they paid well if he remembered the articles right. Well, as well as they could for people without any degrees.

Or, he had better not. Attraction characters were a bit too public. He didn’t need his face on the internet, and they’d make him take his mask off. So, no, he could scratch that off the list. The two of them needed to lay low, especially if mini-death was going to be in the city.

But, once he and his weapons were gone?

Haru smiled beneath his mask as he looked to Beatrice, running his fingers through her hair, his chest feeling warm.

Once Kid and the sisters were gone, they’d be safer. They were out of Pocklington, no one was going to know them, recognize them. They’d have to lay low, but that doesn’t mean imprisonment.

Beatrice wouldn’t be recognizable, no one in Paris was going to look at her and think that she shares the same face as some girl who went missing in a small English town two years ago. No one in there was going to care about the news of some nowhere town in another nation. Beatrice would be able to go outside and play, she wouldn’t need to stay holed up all day and go outside in disguises. She could even step outside without him at her side—okay, maybe not that. Cities were dangerous, he wasn’t going to risk her being out on her own without him there to keep her safe.

But she’d be free. She’d have more freedom no longer having the pressure of someone maybe noticing and recognizing her. No longer worried that the police would bang on the door demanding that she come with them and be sent back to her parents.

Don’t be too careful. Police are looking for you, his mind warned.

An officer and a weapon attacked; his crime discovered. People dead. The police were looking for them. Being in another country would help, but the DWMA was not hindered by borders like the cops of Pocklington were. Maka was probably going to want to hunt them down after what they did to Soul, being in Paris would only help for a short while.

They’d need to move again. They couldn’t risk getting too comfortable, dropping their guard too much.

But this was a respite. Paris would be a moment of peace and safety. Then, they’d plan their next move, where to go to next, where to hide next.

This was their life. It had been Haru’s life for so long and now it was Beatrice’s. He felt guilty about that, that she’d never have a normal, stationary life, that she was going to be on the move, always looking over her shoulder. But she was safer now than she had been before, and she’d see more of the world than she ever would have before.

This was for the best.

“Has she considered enrolling at the academy?”

Haru’s blood froze, those daydream thoughts gone like clouds on the wind.

He turned back to Kid, his expression turning cold, hard, staring at those yellow eyes as the hate and rage boiled under his flesh. “Excuse me?” Of course, of fucking course he would know! He’s a Shinigami, he can see souls! He can probably tell each type apart with a single glance. The man must have known the moment he saw them the moment he set his eyes on her, that she was, that she—

If he noticed the animosity, Kid did not show it.

He merely shrugged, looking back to Beatrice, and then turning his gaze back to Haru. His posture polite enough, nonconfrontational, annoyingly, infuriatingly calm. “She’s a weapon, is she not?” he asked, as if he hadn’t already known. His tone curious, as if wondering if Haru hadn’t known—of course Haru would know! “She could benefit quite a bit from joining the DWMA.”

What went unsaid was, of course, that the DWMA would benefit having another child to send off to hunt killers and monsters. To die for a God that was too afraid to step foot outside it’s castle.

He almost snarled. “An’ give up ‘er life for a fight that ain’t even hers?” Haru challenged, moving so that his entire body blocked Kid’s view of Beatrice. “Sorry, but we ain’t fans of yer schtick, try solicitin’ some other weak-willed sap.”

“That’s not what—” Kid had begun, raising his hands in an offering of peace. He looked surprised, as if he were unused to someone being so vocal in rejecting such an enticing offer of a fancy suicide. “I only meant that—”

“That yer so in need of new students that ya gotta ask rando’s on a train.” With an angry huff, Haru twisted to look away from them, only keeping an eye on their reflection in the mirror. “Ask someone else, we ain’t interested.”

He didn’t respond to that, thankfully. It would have seemed that the young God had realized that there was no point pestering Haru and had gone quiet.

Quiet.

That’s how the rest of the train ride went.

Quiet.

Haru couldn’t let go of his anger as he sank into his seat, not looking back to the reaper and twins as the last hour of the trip went by. Instead he tried to keep himself in control as he wove his fingers through Beatrice’s hair. It was shorter. In the two years he had known her, her hair had grown to be quite long and healthy. It was a shame that he had to cut it, but it was for the best.

It was still soft to the touch, nothing like the dry, wiry texture it had when they first met. Her face full and soft.

His anger began trickling away.

By the time the train had pulled into Gare du Nord, his anger had faded away, almost completely. It still lingered, it would always linger, but he felt relaxed.

He had roused Beatrice and led her out, carrying their bags himself while allowing her to hold onto his sleeve to stay with him. Haru made sure to veer away from Kid and his group, not wanting them to try asking Beatrice directly. Not that it was needed, as soon as they were off the train, he had lost sight of the three in the crowds.

“Hang on tight, Bea,” Haru said, loud enough to be heard over the chatter of the crowded station. “Les’ jus’ get ta exit. An’ then we’ll go lookin’ fer Rosie, kay?”

Beatrice answered by drawing closer to him, hanging on tighter. “It’s as crowded as St. Pancras,” she mumbled.

“That’s cause London an’ Paris are both busy cities. Nothing like Pocklington.”

He hope this wouldn’t be too much for her. They had only stayed briefly in London, long enough to get a change in looks and get on a train. But they’d be here in Paris for a short while. It’d be a contrast to something as small as Pocklington.

But that’d be for the better. So many people, no one is going to really stop and notice them, remember their faces. They’re just a couple more bodies in the crowds.

He gently wrapped an arm around Beatrice, careful not to bang her with a bag, and held her close as they made their way through the train station, shouldering past people to make way, the air livid with French words and conversations. Haru understood it, though it had been a couple of years since he had actively spoken it, he still understood. ‘Welcome back!’ ‘Have a safe trip!’ ‘Of course the train’s delayed. It’s always delayed!’ ‘I could have sworn I put my charger in there, where’d it go?’

His throat clenched, but he kept them walking.

He held Beatrice closer, tighter, his heart a drum in his chest, a thunder in his ears.

The sun was bright, blinding, the air thick, suffocating. His fingers itched to dig into something, to grind his nails into something. To—to—to—

“Ah, there you two are!”

Hearing Rosie’s bell like voice fill the air, the air grew lighter, and Haru felt the weight on his shoulders ease away as the familiarity embraced him.

Souls ears were ringing.

For a moment, his thoughts spun in disoriented circles, trying to replay what had happened, but spinning and glitching like a scratched CD struggling in a player. Repeating the same bits over and over, skipping over parts. A song made of dissonance. He struggled to recall where he was, where he should be, tried to recall everything.

Then he noticed Maka, and his mind found it’s anchor.

She was watching him from one of the armchairs, a book open in her lap, green eyes wide with concern, the want to run and hug him and the knowledge that she shouldn’t battling it out on her face. There was a tremble to her lips, the bags under her eyes darker than they had been when she had gone to help the detective.

Maka took a breath, “Good…” she glanced to the clock on the wall, briefly, and then back to him. “Afternoon. Good afternoon, how are you feeling?”

“Like I can sympathize with all the eggs we’ve eaten now. I know how they’ve felt whenever broken open for consumption,” he said with a cracked smile and a twinge of shame. Shame for ending up hurt and in the hospital. For letting his guard down and letting someone get the drop on him. “I’m feeling fine. More or less. A bit of a headache. Got a stubborn ringing in my ears.”

The rest of him felt surprisingly intact. He expected some stab wounds, maybe some organs to have been cut out and currently circling the black market. But he felt like everything was still there.

He hadn’t realized that he had spaced out until the added weight to the hospital bed brought his attention back to his meister as Maka watched him, still concerned, still afraid.  Sorry, he wanted to say, but refrained.

“You catch the guy, at least?” Soul asked instead, chuckling a little as he pushed himself up to sit. “I’d like to share a few words with the bastard, let him know I don’t really appreciate being knocked out like that. Seriously wasn’t cool.”

With a sigh, Maka shook her head, “No. Haruto was long gone by the time we arrived,” She admitted, folding her hands on her lap. “You’ve been out for twelve hours. Grace—Watson, she’s not woken up yet. You got off pretty easy in comparison.”

Shit. He thought. How much time had passed between Haruto fleeing and them arriving? Again, Soul found himself berating himself, scolding himself for having let his guard down, for having let Haruto get the jump on him and flee. Even worse, someone got hurt because of it. Maka wasn’t going into the details of what Watson’s condition was, but, it wasn’t hard to get it was bad by how she had reacted.

With a groan and a sigh, Soul fell back against the pillows. “Any other bad news?”

Maka smiled, strained and forced, “Well, a lot’s happened. Elijah and I made some discoveries. I don’t know if it’s necessarily good news, but it’s progress,” she offered, tightening her hold on her own hands. “And, well… before we get into that—what were you doing there?”

Ah, she wouldn’t have known, Soul realized slowly. He hadn’t been quite that forthcoming when he took Watson and made orders to the cops, had he even explained to the other officers why he had them rushing to find info on the guy? His head was too fuzzy to remember. He had called Maka, had sent her a couple of texts, but he didn’t quite explain what was going on, had he?

“The witness identified Haruto at the scene of the murders,” Soul said, not bothering to raise himself up again. “He was quite bloodied and had the knife. We did some digging while you and Elijah were doing your thing, found that ‘Haruto Arakawa’ was a fake name, that he’s been using a fake name for both jobs and his apartment. I thought that if he were the killer, we didn’t have much time to waste, he could up and run off—he knew there was a witness who could identify him, there was no way he could stay in Pocklington.”

Maka leaned closer to him, running her fingers through his hair, grazing the bandage wrapped snuggly around his head. “So you went to chase down a killer, just yourself an a cop?” The way she asked was accusatory, but then she deflated and sighed. “I can’t blame you, you tried calling me.”

He grunted, leaning into her touch, eyes falling closed. He could fall back asleep right here and now, drawn to slumber by her gentle ministrations. But, he stayed awake, with some effort. “Found something else out when I went into his apartment.”

She hadn’t said anything to suggest that she knew the full story, had she not seen the apartment? Not heard about the photos?

Maka scratched him right at the base of his head and Soul felt a rumble in his throat. “What’d you find?”

“Photos.”

“Oh? Oh! Oh, wow, just—wow. I didn’t, Haruto hadn’t seemed like the sort to be into those kinds of things.”

Soul leaned away from her touch as he snorted, he didn’t even need to look at her to see the blush. “Not those kinds of photos,” he corrected. “Photos of Amanda. All safe for work, don’t worry,” he added before Maka could speak. The humor was there, but then he let it die down as the severity of the situation sank back in.

He turned to look at her, red eyes staring into green. “Maka, there were a lot of photos. The wall was covered entirely in them. A lot of them were from when she was twelve, before she got kidnapped. But—A lot were current. Like they could have been taken last week kind of recent.”

There was a pause of silence, Maka had gone rigid as she looked to him, and Soul waited for what he said to dawn on her. “There were no photos recovered when the officers searched the apartment,” she said, slowly. Soul had been worried that’d be the case, it’d make sense for Haruto to hide the evidence of his involvement in the kidnappings. Still, Maka’s brows furrowed together, her lips pulled back into a tight frown.

“Haruto kidnapped Amanda.”

He dipped his head, nodding in agreement. “Can’t see any other way he’d have so many photos of her. She looked happy, but—looking happy for a photo is one thing, it doesn’t mean much. What we do know is that he has Amanda,” Soul said, reaching out to take hold of her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Right now he’s our only living known link to these kidnappings. We need to find him.”

Maka groaned, leaning, and pressing her face into his shoulder, twisting her hand to hold his in return. “Soul, I love you, but you don’t know how much more that complicates things right now.”

“Eh?”

Maka looked like she wanted to say more, but refrained as a quiet, nervous knock came from the door. Both weapon and meister turned to the doorway, the gentleness gathering on Maka’s face not going unnoticed by Soul. He was curious, though, to see who could be coming to visit him. Elijah surely wouldn’t have gotten such a warm expression from her unless something happened while the two were checking out corpses together.

He ran his hand through his hair, trying to make it look maybe not so much of a sloppy, lame mess for whoever was coming in, still curious. But his curiosity was answered quickly enough.

Soul dropped his hand back to his lap, staring at the doorway, surprised and just a bit happy, though mostly just surprised. “You’re awake,” Crona was standing awkwardly in the doorway with, oddly enough, a bouquet of flowers, though some looked missing, like a certain weapon took to plucking from the bundle just to be a nuisance. “I can go, if you were in the middle of something.”

“No,” Soul said, smiling and offering the other side of his bed for them. “Come on, stay. You’re not interrupting anything too important, and your company would be a breath of fresh air compared to hers.” He jabbed his chin in Maka’s direction, his grin growing at her insulted injection.

Crona looked relieved, stepping into the room, and still holding onto the flowers with long, trembling fingers, like they weren’t quite sure what to do with them now that the bouquet was in the room. “I brought—I thought I would bring you something. Carnations are okay, right? Ragnarok wanted to eat the flowers, he, ah, got a few, sorry.” They were rambling, edging closer to the bed, to Soul and Maka.

“I was trying to save him the embarrassment of having to accept such a lame gift!” Ragnarok sprouted from Crona’s back, leaning lazily against their frame as they made an attempt to swipe the bouquet again, only for Maka to reach out and swat his tiny fist out of the way. The weapon stuck his tongue out at her as she took the flowers from Crona, placing them in an empty vase beside the bed and let his unnatural eyes fall back on Soul. “You look fine. What, you got so soft that you’re hospitalized by just a single hit?”

Soul rolled his eyes, despite Ragnarok’s word, there was no animosity to it. “Sorry, not all of us are made of black blood,” he retorted, before patting the side of the bed once more, waiting until Crona had taken a seat. Ah, both S. O’s with him again, he’d missed that. Would have been better if it hadn’t taken a hospital trip for the early reunion. But beggars can’t be choosers. “What are you two doing here? You didn’t fly all the way down here just for me, did you?”

There it was again. That tension. The same one Maka had before they had been interrupted, the kind that told Soul that he was horribly out of the loop of something big.

“You don’t know yet?” Crona asked.

Maka sighed, burying her hands in her face. “I was about to tell him,” she said, and then quickly, apologetically, held a handout to Crona before they could say anything. “No, no, you didn’t interrupt. It’s actually better that you’re here for it.”

“R-Really?”

“Yeah!” She confirmed, reaching over Soul to hold Crona’s hand. “You know more of the bigger picture than I do. You’ve got more you could tell him than me. Save him from the whole debriefing he’s going to need from the Captain.”

Soul normally wouldn’t mind it. Maka was better at boosting Crona’s morale when they got into the self-blame territory than Soul was. But maybe right now wasn’t the best time when their conversation was only leaving him with more questions. “Okay, can someone explain to me what’s going on? I’d like to not be out of the loop.”

A squeak of surprise and a muttered apology, the two separated. Soul rolled his eyes and nestled into his pillows, trying to find a comfortable way to sit before turning to Maka. “You said the whole thing with Haruto is complicating things,” he said, and then turned to Crona, “And the way you’re acting, I don’t think you came down just to check up on me. So, one of you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Only a pause, and then they told him. Maka explained the connection the murder had with a case Elijah worked a few years back, Crona explained the similarities the murder had with the killer his team’s been chasing after. They told him of the missing hearts, the torture, of the profiles Interpol made, and the victims from the London case. Of the differences they had, but how the similarities were too much to just overlook.

They told him everything they had known.

And when they were done, Soul’s head was spinning more than it had when he awoke.

He stared at them, and took in a deep, even breath, and stared at them some more. His mind was still processing, the loading bad still inching along like an old internet browser. Then, he raised his head to stare ta the ceiling, at the fan lazily spinning above.

“You weren’t kidding when you said this complicates things,” Soul confessed.

The Podcast Killer. Possibly the culprit behind the London murders some five or so years back. Notorious international serial killer who neither Interpol nor the DWMA had caught yet. A sadistic, violent killer. Who may very well be Haruto Arakawa. While Haruto himself may even be involved in the kidnappings going on in the region for the past few years.

Child kidnapper, international serial killer.

Were the cases truly by the same man? Or had they simply crossed paths and become intwined? It was hard to accept that they had been around a serial killer, that they had crossed paths with him multiple times and never once actually, genuinely suspected him of anything.

But that was the point of the mask, was it not? Whoever the guy was, ‘Haruto Arakawa’ was never meant to arouse suspicion.

But, if that was the case—why hadn’t he killed Soul? Why hadn’t he killed Watson? He had the opportunity, and he was already identified as a killer by a witness, there was nothing for him to lose, just kill the two and flee, take on a new name and a new face, and he could easily slip into hiding once more.

Souls head began hurting once more. This was too much to think about so soon after waking up, too much to process. Too many theories, possibilities, too many what-if’s racing through his head.

“Soul, get some rest,” Maka said, gentling pushing him back to lay down as she and Crona got off the bed. She must have noticed his tiredness, though it was probably a side effect of whatever painkillers the docs had him on. Was he on painkillers? “Just, get some sleep, we’ll come back to this once you’re up and ready again.”

Crona pulled the blanket up to his shoulders, offering a small smile, worried and concerned, but a smile. “We’re going to find him, okay? We’re not letting him get away, not—not after what he’s done. So you need to rest, so that you can join Maka in the field.”

He groaned, but his eyes were already feeling heavy. “Got it,” he muttered.

Their voices began to drift away, though they were still in the room with him. His head ached; his ears had an incessant ringing to them. His mind flashed to that moment in the apartment, to those vivid green eyes he saw before passing out, the pain as the bat struck his skull, the wild look in those eyes.

Who was Haruto?