#half life blue shift beta

[hev-mark-iv]

G-Man's cameo in the unfinished outro for Half-Life: Blue Shift, found in the recently released September 10th, 2000 build of Half-Life's cancelled Dreamcast port

[times-chu]

New crossover concept: "Who The Fuck Is This?"

crack team of experts i’ve assembled to kill the entire cast of overwatch

[sunandflame]

An Angel in Human Form

Warnings: It's so tooth rotting fluff, thats the only warning I can give.

Word Count: 1458

Pairing: Photoprapher!Kyojuro x Reader

A/N: As the poll has decided here is the second part of Kyojuro as a photographer. I really love how it turned out and I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did! I also wanna thank my beta reader and editor @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi ❤️

Part 1 (drabble) / Part 2

"Can I see it?"

He looked at you with his big owlish eyes. "What?"

"Can I see the pictures you took?"

Oh. Now he understood. A foreign anxiety spread through him, and he didn't know how to deal with the situation. He wasn’t usually speechless, rather the opposite was often the case, but now - he could only stare at you.

"Did you not take some of me earlier?" You cocked your head while giving him a soft smile and he could feel the heat in his cheeks again. Nothing like this had ever happened to him and he was usually not the shy type.

"Yes, yes I did!" His voice was boisterous, and he bit his tongue, hoping he didn't startle you, but the opposite seemed to be the case. You smiled patiently and shifted your gaze from him to his camera.

He stood next to you to show you the pictures on the small screen. The sudden closeness had his throat tightening up. "Wow... These are beautiful. I like how the light falls here and how you captured the mood..."

"My photo exhibition is in 2 weeks! I would be very happy if you could come." He almost shouted at her and rummaged around for a small invitation card that he’d actually wanted to give to his friend Tengen today - but that could wait as he could get him another later. "All you have to do is show them this card and they'll let you in."

You took the card and read the name on it out loud. "Kyojuro Rengoku..." His name on your lips sounded like angelic dream and he wanted you to repeat it, but you simply looked up. "I promise I’ll come! But I have to go now, so have a nice day!" You gave him a bright smile before turning and walking away. He looked after you and at how the wind blew around your white dress. Kyojuro was unable to move, still awestruck from the beauty of your smile.

2 weeks later...

Kyojuro was nervous and Tengen wasn't used to see his friend in such a state. "Hey calm down. You will see, your exhibition is going to be flamboyant!"

If only it were that. It had been 2 weeks and in those 14 days he hadn't spent a second not thinking about you and your beautiful smile. It probably didn't help that there were three big pictures of you on the wall. One was how you were having a friendly conversation with a homeless man who too seemed stunned by your beauty and the other was how you crouched down, petting a stray cat with a gentle smile, and let her ensnare you. The last picture was the first he shot of you. How the wind blew your hair and you tried to stroke it away from your face with a gentle movement. These pictures of you turned your inner beauty outwards. Pictures that showed what a kind nature you were. The portraits were hanging side by side with the caption 'An angel in human form'. That might have seemed a bit exaggerated, but not in the eyes of Kyojuro, because that was what Kyojuro saw in you and these pictures, and he wasn't ashamed of it either. Of course, there were other pictures in his exhibition. Pictures of traditional Japanese still life, and kendo and sumo fights that showed the beauty and simplicity, but the eye-catcher was the three pictures of you.

Several hours had passed since the opening and there were still no signs of you. The hope in Kyojuro that you would eventually come was slowly fading away since there was only half an hour left. He was talking to someone when he heard a familiar voice. His head jerked toward the entrance so quickly that someone might think that he twisted his neck, and he couldn't believe his eyes.

You were wearing a red dress that gently caressed your hips. Your hair in an improvised updo wearing a subtle makeup. He took in every detail of you, inhaled it and saved it for eternity like his photographs on the walls. All the doubts he had before vanished. He saw your apologetic smile towards the security man while you searched desperately for the invite card in your purse, which he had given to you 2 weeks prior. It seemed that you couldn't find it, but you remembered the address and his name all this time?

"She is a VIP guest of mine." Kyojuro stepped in and signaled the security that he can let her in.

"Oh hello!" Your face blossomed into a sunny glow when you saw him, and he felt his heart leap at this sight.

"You made it. You came." It was like the sight of you in that beautiful red dress took his breath away.

"Yes of course!" You took a step towards him giving him a big smile. "I promised you, didn't I?"

Kyojuro looked at you in surprise at first before giving you a gentle smile and reaching out to take your hand. "Yes, you have." You took his hand and felt the warmth he radiated. His hand was so comfortable and big that you didn't want to let go. Kyojuro showed you around and you studied his works enthusiastically. You were amazed by the beauty he captured with his lens. Tengen watched his friend from afar and gave him a thumbs up and wink while he took care of the rest for Kyojuro so he could spend time with you. It was good that you came late, there weren't many people left and you had all the time in the world to look at his works in peace.

"You are so talented! I love how you captured the beauty of the people and the environment. Is that you in that Bōgu, by the way?" You stood in front of the photograph with the kendo warrior and stood in front of it for a while. He wondered how you came up with that because the kendo mask made the warrior anonymous.

"What makes you think that?" He chuckled. He didn't want to answer you right away.

You moved and gave him a mischievous smile. "I can't quite explain it. It's maybe the stance of the person. It's very-" You stopped mid-sentence, your gaze past his face at the three large portrait of yourself.

Kyojuro turned around to see where you were looking at and immediately felt the heat in his cheeks. Shit, he hadn't considered how you might feel about this and now he felt bad. What if you didn't like it? What if you thought he was a creep? His heart was pounding, and he wasn't sure what to say or what to do. He watched you nervously as you approached the pictures with slow steps, looking at them with wide eyes. You were silent for several moments and Kyojuro was getting more and more nervous. "I-"

"Is that how you see me?" You interrupted him as you turned your gaze from the pictures to his golden-red hues.

"How I see you...?" For the second time in his life, he wasn't sure what to answer. And only you brought out that side of him.

"You really see me as an angel in human form...?" Now it was your cheeks that blushed.

A stone fell from his heart. He walked up to you and took your hand in his. "I don't just see you like that, you are one to me. The first moment I saw you." He lifted your hands to his lips and kissed your knuckles gently. The blush that shot up your face was so adorable in his eyes; he wanted more than to kiss your hand. You looked at him and bit your lower lip, unsure of what to say.

"Would you like-" "Would you like-?"

You two had been talking at the same time and all you could do was giggle. "Would you like some miso soup with sweet potatoes? I know a good place not too far from here."

"I love sweet potatoes!" His smile radiated such warmth.

"Me too! I could eat it every day" You laughed at the coincidence.

He leaned towards you. "How about we go now? I am starving."

"Can you leave exhibition?"

"Yes, that's no problem." He looked around for Tengen and nodded to him. The tall man seemed to understand and just grinned.

You watch the two of them and smiled from ear to ear. "Then let’s go." Your hand didn't let go of his. "I'm Y/N by the way! I thought you should know."

Kyojuro couldn't help but laugh. "Your name even sounds like that of an angel!"

[luciferism]

"Husband Series I: A Week is Too Long"

Male Top!Reader x Lucifer

Summary: Lucifer missed his spouse like a void in his soul. His husband was away on a work trip, and he was all alone. As the week wore on, Lucifer's longing for him grew more and more intense. He could not wait for the moment when he was to return home to his embrace again.

Tags: Fluff and Smut, Sensuality, Porn with Feelings, Married Couple, Married Sex, Married Life, Bottom Lucifer, Sub Lucifer, Soft Lucifer, POV Lucifer, Anal Sex, Office Sex, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Aftercare, Healthy Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Sex, Reader Is Not Main Character, Not Canon Compliant, Gay Sex, Gay Male Characters, Reader is a Demon, Top Male Reader, Soft Dom Reader, Reader has a big dick and Lucifer loves it, Not Beta Read, Men In Love

Word Count: 4K words

》 Husband Series: Part II

[ Masterlist ] | [ Archive of Our Own ]

A/N: Hello! This is my first time writing and posting a fanfiction because I have nothing better to do. This is dedicated to those who wants to peg Mr. Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride! I just want too have an x reader with Lucifer as the bottom.

Lucifer missed his spouse, you, like a void in his soul. His husband was away on a work trip, and he was all alone. He found himself wandering around their home, taking in all the little mannerisms you had left behind.

He took a seat behind his desk, staring at the pictures you had taken together on your wedding day. The memories brought a smile to his face, but also made him crave your presence. As the week wore on, Lucifer's longing for you grew more and more intense. He could not wait for the moment when you were to return home to his embrace again.

Little did Lucifer know that you had teleported behind him. You smile at the sight of your husband working diligently on his mahogany desk. With bouquets of blue roses in your hand, you step closer and lean down to kiss Lucifer's inviting nape.

He feels your lips brush his neck. With a sigh, Lucifer's body yields to the sensation. He pauses his work, leans his head back, and takes in the caress entirely. You proceed to pamper kisses on Lucifer's nape, shoulders, ears and jaw while your hand hands him the flowers.

Lucifer lets out light moans as your tender lips make contact with his body. Lucifer looks at you with his head turned to one side and his eyes half-closed, letting you know he wants more.

You smile at your husband and cup his cheek to keep Lucifer in place. The tender kiss feels so good as your lips touch together. It was gentle and full of passion for each other after not seeing each other for a week. Lucifer leans closer to you, craving deeper and more vigorous kisses. He brings a hand to your collar to hold you firmly at arm's length, while your hand is on Lucifer's nape. Lucifer closes his eyes tightly, savoring the moment with every fiber of his being.

You shift from the back and move beside Lucifer's sitting figure without breaking the kiss. You are leaning down, a knee rest between Lucifer's thighs and on the chair, your one hand rests on the chair's backrest for support while your other hand pulls Lucifer's back to bring him closer.

Lucifer wraps his arms around your neck, pulling you closer and tightening the embrace. He lets his head rest on your shoulder without breaking the kiss. Every one of Lucifer's senses is alert to your touch, the heat of your bodies pressed against each other, the scent that lingers from your hair, the sound of both of your breathing that is becoming increasingly urgent with every second. He wants to have more.

You begrudgingly pull away, your eyes are shut and your breathing is heavy. You look at Lucifer's glazed eyes and smile at him. You stand and unbuckles your belt and zippers.

"On the desk, love. Bend over." You command firmly with a slightly eager tone in your voice.

Lucifer's breathing is rapid. His body trembles with excitement, his blood boiling with a carnal lust that has been building up for the entire day.

"You want me to get a little dirty with you in front of my precious paperwork, love? How naughty."

Lucifer does as you ask: he sits on the edge of his desk and bends forward, lifting his suit skirt to put his pert ass at your disposal. He looks back at you with a flirtatious smirk.

You lick your lips as you close the distance between you and your husband. Lucifer's flirty behavior fuels the burning desire that you are feeling right now. You put your hands on both of Lucifer's clothed butt and caressed them under your palms.

"I miss this…" You drag a sigh at the sensation you feel in your palms, the texture of Lucifer's pants and the softness of his round butt make them the perfect stress balls as you massage them firmly.

Lucifer moans when he feels your strong palms cupping both his buttcheeks. His body sags forward, but his legs hold the position as if they were steel rods. His thighs clenched, his breathing becomes shallow. He is so turned on that he is nearly panting. This position of submission makes him feel vulnerable.

"Yes... Oh yes... Do that again, just like that, love. Please."

Lucifer's lips are parted and the tip of his tongue is sticking out. He enjoys your touch immensely, your warm hands firmly rubbing his backside. Lucifer sways his butt left and right to meet your strong strokes.

Lucifer's body trembles with a mix of desire and anticipation, and he feels his breath catch in his throat as you continue to caress his rear. Lucifer is in his own heaven, his senses are overwhelmed by your touch but there is no other place in the world he would want to be right now.

"Love, I, ah, I need you so badly…"

Lucifer whimpers as he feels your palms rubbing, kneading his buttcheeks in circles. He looks back to you, who is looking at him with an expression of insatiable lust. Lucifer raises his head with a small smile, making sure you know he is enjoying the massage. He looks at your bulging pants with a hungry expression on his face, implying his desire for more than a massage.

You spanked his buttcheeks with enough force and caressed them gently. You chuckle, eyes are full of lust and passion towards Lucifer. You lean down, pressing your body above Lucifer's back, kissing and licking your husband's nape and ears. Pair of eyes shut when you inhaled all of Lucifer's scent and perfume – so alluring, it makes you want to take your husband right here and then. Your hands roam around Lucifer's back and butt, alternately caressing the soft flesh covered by clothes.

Lucifer's body quivers under the soft yet aggressive caresses. He squirms under all the attention his butt is receiving, making his movements increasingly frantic as he desperately wants your touch to go deeper and deeper. He lets out a satisfied grunt when he feels your hands on him, exploring every inch of his body.

"You know how to touch me…"

Lucifer gasps softly, as you hit every right spot on his body, giving him goosebumps up and down his spine. The sensation of your hand kneading his ass is intoxicating, making Lucifer wiggle his own hips against the grip of your hands.

You hold Lucifer's jaw to keep his face turned to you. His dazed expression turns you on more than you already are. Your lips capture Lucifer's in an electrifying kiss, full of love and lust, sipping and nibbling on his lower lip and tongue. Your free hand presses Lucifer down the desk by grabbing his waist.

Lucifer's hands hang limply and he doesn't try to escape your grip on him. Both of your lips are tangled together as your passionate kisses consume Lucifer, leaving him feeling dazed. Lucifer gasps from the pressure applied to his waist, his mouth still occupied by your lips. Your tongues clash with each other, your saliva mixing together in a show of lust-fueled passion.

The heat and passion of your kiss is overwhelming for Lucifer. He arches backward, bending forward again, giving you more access to his soft flesh and butt. Lucifer pushes his hips backward, silently asking for more of his husband's attention.

The sensation of Lucifer's ass hitting against your bulging erection makes you groan in the slight pleasure. You grind your hips forward as your lips and tongue continue to burn Lucifer's skin.

"Keep doing that…" You gasp as you command.

Lucifer obeys and keeps wiggling his ass, his eyes shut tight with pleasure as his body is getting more sensitive by the second. The intense heat and pressure on his butt is making him squirm against your touch, his breath quickening, his heart racing. Lucifer looks back at you who looks as if you are about to devour his body and soul.

Lucifer feels his body shaking with the overwhelming sensation of pleasure as you stimulate his buttcheeks, the kiss on his lips and the grinding of your hips. He lets out little whimpers of excitement, your passionate touch driving him insane with lust.

"Yes… that's it." You hum in approval.

Lucifer's eyes are closed tight. His lips are parted, his breathing is shallow, his chest is heaving, and his head is spinning. His hands are grabbing the desk, gripping his papers in an attempt to stay grounded. He is moaning softly under your assault. The friction and heat on his ass are making him want to scream out your name.

You pull away from Lucifer's neck, slightly bending over Lucifer's back. Your arms encircle his waist as you unbuckle Lucifer's belt and open his fly, freeing Lucifer's hard on first. With a swift motion, you trace the hem of Lucifer's boxers and trousers, slowly dragging the fabric downwards his thighs, completely exposing the pale, smooth round buttcheeks of Lucifer.

"So alluring…" You exhale through your mouth as you watch Lucifer's pinkish entrance pulse around nothing. You laugh softly and free your own aching manhood from the constraints of your boxers, leaving yourself still fully clothed except for your open fly.

Lucifer's breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest. You have revealed his bare butt, and Lucifer feels the heat rising to his face. Lucifer squirms a little, hoping your hands would finally touch his bare ass. His eyes are glued to your gaze, hoping you will give him the pleasure he's been thirsting for the whole day.

"Oh, love…" Lucifer moans, the tension in his body becoming unbearable.

He tries to reach for your manhood with his hand still gripping the desk, but you have already locked the position of Lucifer's arms above his head, grabbing the papers and using them as an anchor. Lucifer feels vulnerable, exposed, with no way to break free from your grasp, and his body trembles with anticipation.

"Please…" Lucifer whimpers. He can feel himself going over the edge, the sensation, the pleasure, the anticipation becoming unbearable.

You groan at the pleasure you feel as you rub your manhood in between Lucifer's buttcheeks. It is warm and soft to touch. Your hand holding your own arousal for guidance and your other hand pushes Lucifer's body down the desk.

"Ahh... Lucifer... I miss you." You groan and sigh between words.

"Oh, my love, the feeling is mutual." Lucifer is in ecstasy, his body shivering, his head spinning, his breathing heavy and fast.

"More… please."

Lucifer's hands are trembling, trying to pull on the papers he is holding onto, trying to keep himself on the desk. His pelvis is grinding frantically against your erect manhood.

"Ahh... Ahh… my love" Lucifer's lips are parted in a silent moan of your name. He is on the verge of losing self-control at the sensation of your hand pinning his back and your manhood rubbing against his entrance. His body arches backwards on the desk, his free arm reaching for your arm to pull you closer towards him.

With you on top of him, pinning him to the desk, Lucifer whimpers softly and lets out little gasps with every subtle movement. His legs are trembling, the muscles on his ass are clenching tightly, and his breathing is getting faster and faster. The sensation is too much for his body to handle. Lucifer lets out a little scream of pleasure, and his hips push back slightly against you. He is close, he is so, so close.

"Love, I'm not in yet…" You tease Lucifer's contracting entrance with your leaking tip, still rubbing and "missing" the right spot where Lucifer needs you the most.

"But it's okay, you can let go." You permit as you continue to rub your weeping cock on Lucifer's clenching butthole.

Lucifer is holding his breath and gripping the desk with all the strength in his hands. He is letting out tiny breaths, trying to hold back his release when you tease him.

"No, no, no... please…"

Lucifer moans, a loud and long sound, but holds back. The urge is there, just beyond his grasp, he wants to let go, to surrender, to release, but you have complete control and Lucifer is afraid of disappointing you if he comes too early. He struggles against your restraint, but all in vain.

The anticipation was too much. Lucifer lets out a loud moan, his eyes shut tight. He trembles, his body shakes, and he feels the rush of orgasmic pleasure flood through his veins. His body shudders, his legs tense up, and his whole body spasms. Lucifer is spent. His mind is still spinning and he struggles to keep conscious. Lucifer's heavy breathing is laced with small moans and groans.

"There you go." You chuckle, still rubbing yourself against Lucifer.

Without giving your husband a warning and a break to recuperate, you shove your entire length inside Lucifer's flesh. Your eyes flutter open and close, moaning and gasping softly, due to the tightness you feel around your manhood. You stand still for a moment and kiss Lucifer's nape.

Lucifer gasps and exhales sharply, his legs kicking in a moment of shock and surprise. He looks back at you, his face a blend of pain and pleasure he couldn't have imagined.

"Ah! It's... too much."

Lucifer lets out a soft scream, his whole body shaking, his mind is in a frenzy. His head is spinning and he is still recovering. Lucifer's body tenses up, his muscles clench. He feels his skin stretching in ways he has never felt before, his breath grows ragged and his eyes flicker open. He is torn in between pleasure and pain. The mixture of pleasure and discomfort is overwhelming. But he wants more, and he wants to give it to you in return.

"Sorry, I'll let you get used to it first." You do not move except for your pampering kisses on Lucifer's back. Lucifer moans softly and nods to let you know you can now move. However, you are focused on kissing your husband's back to let him adjust fully.

Lucifer's muscles loosen, giving you free access to his ass. His breathing slows down, his body begins to relax, and his heart rate slows.

"Oh my…"

Lucifer closes his eyes, still catching his breath. As the sensation ebbs, a sense of peaceful calm overtakes him and he smiles. He reaches for you with his free hand and grabs your forearm, feeling your manhood being completely inside him.

Lucifer takes a deep breath. His body is slowly relaxing and accepting your presence inside. He feels you moving slightly, and he moans softly. Lucifer opens his eyes and looks back at you, his expression filled with lust and passion.

"My love…" Lucifer whispers, his voice strained. He looks you in the eyes, his eyes filled with love, and a small smile spreads on his lips.

Lucifer leans in closer to the desk until his arms are resting on the edge. He tilts his head back to give you more access to his neck. He takes deep breaths through his nose. The sharp sting has subsided a little bit and he feels more at ease with your lengthy and girthy dick inside him. Your kiss on his neck feels incredible, like a warm blanket of sensual pleasure.

"You're killing me." Lucifer whispers. He looks at you with his eyes half open, his lips in a small smile, and his breathing is even.

Your thrusts gradually increased in pace. You finally remove Lucifer's coat and vest, leaving your husband's black button shirt and tie on. The soft yet muscular back of Lucifer feels intoxicating against your hands as you caress him under his shirt.

Together with both of your hips moving in a right rhythm, you lift up Lucifer's shirt to have better access to his back. You kiss, bite, and lick every part – leaving trails of reddish and damp portions on the pale skin of your husband.

Lucifer lets out a moan with every thrust of your body. His muscles are tensing up again with the increased pace, and he gasps for breath every time you sink into him. His breath is growing shorter and his eyes are shut tight, but he struggles to keep them open as your caresses and thrust become rougher, more intense and forceful. Every nerve in his body screams with pleasure.

Lucifer's expression morphs into one of pure pleasure. His legs start to buckle again, his body tenses up, his muscles shake, and his eyes start to roll back. His breath becomes shallow and his moaning progressively becomes noisier. Lucifer's fingers curl up as he wraps his hands around the wooden desk, grasping the papers underneath. He is unable to speak, but his feelings are quite obvious.

Your caresses turn into tight grips on each either side of Lucifer's waist, grabbing him firmly until it forms faint handprints on the supple smooth skin. You let out soft grunts and groans as Lucifer's muscle contracts around your manhood with every thrust. Your nails dig on each either side of Lucifer's waist as your thrusts become frantic.

"Lucifer... you're incredible."

Lucifer groans softly, he can't take it anymore. Your rough grip on his waist is so attractive, your nails are digging into Lucifer's skin, leaving faint red lines. Lucifer's mouth is open, his eyes are shut, and he is breathing heavily.

Every thrust of you makes him moan and his eyes flicker open until they shut again. His hands grip the desk tightly, his muscles clenching and relaxing in rhythm with your thrusts. His body is in a state of euphoria, and his pleasure is rising with each thrust.

"Ahhh..." Lucifer lets out a loud groan, his eyes shut tightly as he struggles to keep his sanity. With each thrust of your body, the pleasure becomes more and more intense. His muscle responds by squeezing you tighter, pleasuring him even more. He can feel each of your movements inside him and all of the sensation he feels from it. His legs shake, his breathing is uneven, his heart is hammering in his chest, and his whole body is quivering with passion and euphoria.

You throw your head back and briefly stare at the ceiling, your eyes shut and quickly open again. The perverse sound of your lovemaking — skin slapping against each other and the desk creaking underneath both of your weight — mixes together with your moans and gasps and echoes throughout Lucifer's office.

You gulp, still thrusting deeper and faster, and look down on Lucifer's disheveled yet pleasured state. The sight of your husband being completely vulnerable beneath you lit a fire to your dominant nature. You chuckle for a bit and your hand proceeds to reach for Lucifer's manhood, massaging and stroking from the tip down to the base, as you continue to thrust wildly from behind.

"Ohhh!" Lucifer's words get lost to his own pleasure. His body is in heat, you are making every nerve in his body sing. With the lovemaking growing more intense, Lucifer's words are nothing else than little sounds coming out of his exhausted mouth. His breath is ragged, he is on the brink of losing his sanity and losing his mind. In pleasure, he completely forgets the paperwork on his desk, the room, and any sense of time. You are the only thing that exists in Lucifer's world, and he loves that idea.

"Please, please, please…"

Lucifer says between gasps for breath. He is completely disoriented and has lost sense of space and time, but he loves every single second of it. His breathing is ragged, his body is shaking, his mind is blank, and his mind is a frenzy of sensations assaulting his body. Lucifer's eyes are shut tight and he is on the verge of screaming out. He can feel each of your thrusts and moans. He can feel your manhood pulsating inside him and the warm sensation filling him up beyond words.

"I can't... I can't take it anymore…"

Lucifer gasps, moans, his voice growing softer with every word, his body shaking from the excessive pleasure and the strain it is facing. His muscles are sore from all the constant contraction, and his eyes are fluttering. Your grip on him is tighter, your thrusts are quicker and smoother, every single sense in Lucifer's body is concentrated to the feeling of your body inside him, your bodies moving together in a steady rhythm.

You drag a long guttural moan, you feel so amazing inside Lucifer. Your breathing becomes quick and shallow as you feel an upcoming explosive sensation by every thrust.

"Love... Let go."

Lucifer whimpers and his body tenses up again. His voice is raspy and his eyes are rolling backwards. His whole body is in a state of sensory overload. Lucifer lets out a small whimper and loses any control of his muscles, the pleasuring sensation being too much for him. His breath is shallow, his muscles are constricting even without his command, and his body is shaking under the pleasure overload. A small smile appears on Lucifer's lips and he lets out a series of loud vocalizations as he reaches his climax.

The wave of pleasure washes over your body and all you can do is let out a long moan. You continue to stroke Lucifer's manhood through his climax as you desperately chase your own. Sweat builds up on your brows and your chest is heaving with each breath. Your breathing becomes shallow and the look in your eyes is pure bliss.

You look down at Lucifer's jiggling buttcheeks and how he swallows your manhood in every thrust. The erotic sight made you tremble. It seems impossible, but your manhood grew harder and harder inside your husband from the lewd sight alone. A few erratic thrusts of your hips sends you to overdrive as you reach your own euphoric climax. You press your body on top of Lucifer's back as your thrusts become slower, your semen dripping from Lucifer's flesh while your manhood is still inside.

"Love…" Lucifer's voice is exhausted and panting. You are the only thing he has eyes for right now. He closes his eyes fully, letting the sensation of your presence wash over him. His body is limp, his muscles have relaxed, and no thought has crossed his mind but the pleasure and the bliss he feels right now. His eyes are still half opened and he reaches for your arm, holding you tightly. The feeling of his husband's body all over him and inside him is intoxicating, even more so after he has spent himself completely.

You cup your husband's chin from behind and kiss him on the lips. You smile as you slowly pull out of Lucifer, making your semen drip down to his thighs and pools on the floor.

"I love you, Lucifer. I've missed you so much."

Lucifer can feel your warm hand on his chin but doesn't have the energy to open his eyes yet. The feeling of your fingers caressing his lips and the taste of your kiss make him tremble in pleasure. He swallows, breathes in a couple of times before he manages to open his eyes.

"I love you. I've missed you so much too."

Lucifer smiles. He turns his head to look at you, grabbing your arm and dragging you down beside him. He kisses your cheek and caresses your face, his fingers slowly moving deeper into your wet locks.

You step back and sit down on Lucifer's mahogany chair and pull his half naked body on your lap, letting the paperworks drop anywhere near the desk and on the floor. You kiss him once more and give him his needed aftercare.

"That was amazing." You smile at Lucifer with a satisfied expression.

Lucifer groans softly and settles down in your lap. He feels the comfort of your touch and the warmth of his breath wash over. He shuts his eyes and enjoys your hands running through his hair, caressing his shoulders and back, even though his body is still sensitive and he can feel the tingling of the small handprints. Lucifer sighs contently and opens his eyes, leaning into your chest, holding you tightly, his head resting on your shoulder.

"I love you so much." Lucifer whispers. No other words are needed.

[arcielee]

Our moonlight drive.

Summary: A night drive with your boyfriend. Paring: Modern Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 700+ Warnings: Modern Aemond fluff to soothe the soul.  Author's Note: This story is dedicated to the lovely, the talented @babygirlyofthevale 💜 This is a drabble, sweet piece inspired by the masterpiece in motion Comet Donati by @inthedayswhenlandswerefew (chapter2, oh my goodness). A big thank you to my darling beta readers for your help! Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond​ @annikin-im-panicin​ @watercolorskyy​ @schniiipsel​ @sylas-the-grim​ @aemondx​ @fan-goddess​ @httpsdoll​ @theromanticegoist​ @hb8301​ @lovelykhaleesiii​ 

Night is coming with its amber smear of burnt oranges and yellows overwhelmed with the purple hue swallowing the last of the day’s light. The route is familiar, a routine drive towards your favorite sweet spot, and the windows are down, letting the cool air knot your hair.

It isn’t far and Aemond parks further back, quickly out and moving to grab your door; you smile with the gesture as he shows that he is firstmost a gentleman, especially when it comes to you. You follow his steps and he reaches for your hand without looking back, knowing fully well that you will take his hand, enlacing your fingers with his own, a perfect fit. 

The ice cream parlor is a town antique, with a window opened for the late night crowd to come by. You order first and he leans against your backside, over your shoulder with the shimmer silver curtain of his locks spilling forward.

You feel the warm rumble when he adds, “She also would like sprinkles on top,” and reaches to take napkins from the dispenser. 

You peer up at him, a warm glow of pleasure that he remembered, that he knows your simple pleasures. 

There is a stone bench that you both straddle, facing one another with your treats in hand; he offers you a spoonful of his ice cream and leans forward to lick your waffle cone. The napkins he grabbed come in handy, helping the failing battle against the muggy night, the sweet spill of sprinkles over the cone’s edge. 

Once done, more napkins are needed to clean up and he takes your hand again, leading you back to the car. 

This is the only time you willingly place yourself in his blindspot, whenever he would drive but Aemond does not seem to mind it. He likes how you play the role of reconnoiter during daylight, but tonight the roads are empty and this allows you to sink comfortably into the passenger’s seat, enveloped in his scent of leather and his cologne, with a hint of smoke, and you enjoy the press of his large palm into the softness of your thighs, his thumb drawing small circles on the outside.

His vehicle is an imported stick shift, sleek and meticulous, allowing him the control he strives for in every aspect of his life. Aemond is careful, calculated, and you see this in the mirrors added, an extension and a reminder to his half vision; he always turns his head fully to check before a lane change, and this allows him a moment to look at you. 

And you are looking back, ever watchful, ever aware of him. In this moment, the blue lumination from the dash gives an iridescent shimmer to the sapphire stone set in his scarred socket, an ethereal glow to the sharp contours of his face.

You feel the warmth return to your cheeks when you see the curl of his lips into a smile that only belongs to you. 

“Do you trust me?” the low timbre of his voice asks. 

And you do, with everything you have to offer, with every molecule wrapped within you thrumming with a loyalty that began from the moment you met. You remember the play of his perpetual smirk, both inviting and enticing, and what you felt bloom with the first kiss shared, sparked from the touch of his soft lips against your own. It is a feeling that grows still, a sense of comfort and safety with his intimate touches, igniting something that you were not aware existed within your heart. 

You keep this to yourself though, and hum your acknowledgement, your grin gleeful. “Where you go, I go,” you remind him. 

He does not turn homewards, but instead his long fingers curl around the wheel to rotate, to follow the vacant weave of road lit by his headlights and the settling nightglow. Aemond looks forward and you can see the dimples that line his cheek; only after he settles into gear does he reach for your hand, bringing it up to his lips for a gentle kiss and nestles the hold onto his thigh. 

Your fingers curl around in response, a perfect fit. 

arcie’s masterlist

[sauron-kraut]

Summary: At the break of dawn, Mairon shares some kisses with Khamûl and the Witch-King.

As always, the witch for the Witch-King of Angmar is inspired by @lvsifer's glorious fic Night Moth, and so is the scar on his throat. 🖤

If you'd like to know more about my Khamûl or in case he sparked your interest, I humbly recommend reading my other fics I have with him. ;)

Pairing: Mairon x Khamûl, Mairon x Witch-King of Angmar, Mairon x Khamûl x Witch-King of Angmar

Words: 680

Warnings: non-explicit sexual content

As always: If you like this little piece, comments on AO3 are appreciated! 🖤

Not beta read!

Find it here under the cut.

Glory

When Mairon wakes, warmth is the first thing he senses. Hot lips kiss him to life in a timidly blossoming dawn. It always comes crashing in when night is the darkest, bereaving him of serenity.

It has been long since Mairon slept, his eyes open sluggishly, reluctantly. A realisation. Mairon feels comfortable. It has been long since he felt comfortable. He lets out a sigh; teeth gently tug at his lower lip. Mairon’s mind traces his body. Warmth, he swims in it. Bare beneath the sheets, between two others. Facing the boy, and the witch behind him, his arm loosely wrapped around Mairon’s waist. Mairon listens to the man’s even breaths. His mind wanders to the hours before they slumbered, and he smiles. With half-lidded eyes, he watches candle light flicker across the lovely face before him, and languidly kisses Khamûl back. He tastes of sleep. They always do. Khamûl presses himself closer, chest to chest, hip to hip. He deepens the kiss, slides his tongue over Mairon’s, feverishly. He tastes of greed. They always do. Delightful. The boy keens softly against his lips, and Mairon pushes his thigh between Khamûl’s legs for him to grind against. He does. Like a hound.

Their short lives make them ravenous. For different things.

Heat leisurely rolls through Mairon. He breaks the kiss, leans forward; his lips graze a bite mark on Khamûl’s neck, mottled skin in black and blue. The boy shudders in his arms. A sharp inhale and more eagerness as he continues pressing himself against Mairon’s leg. Mairon brings his lips to Khamûl’s ear, and feeds him sweet obscenities. A small moan against his neck and wetness on his thigh.  Mairon moves to look him in the eyes, smiles, and Khamûl chuckles, quietly, as though not to wake the other. Softly huffing a laugh, Mairon shifts close again to briefly lick at the tip of his tongue.

The arm resting on his hip stirs slightly, elegant fingers come to life on his skin and almost cautiously move over his hip bone. The witch has woken up. Warm heaviness spreads throughout Mairon’s chest, and he rolls over, now half on his back, half on his side, to welcome his waking. Khamûl moulds his body to Mairon’s, his chest flush against his back. Mairon pulls the Witch-King into his arms, and feels Khamûl’s hardness against his buttock.  It is the witch who draws him closer now, who caresses Mairon’s cheek; his fingers painting calm worship on skin. Dark brown eyes regard Mairon, unreadable as ever, if Mairon did not know his heart. He cups the Witch-King’s chin, tilting it towards him, and clasps the boy’s hand on his waist. Their lips touch slowly, Mairon’s lower lip dragging over the Witch-King’s mouth, the witch opens it, opens wide, and takes Mairon in deep, deep, and is so quiet. Mairon half sighs, half moans into the kiss, the Witch-King’s hot wet tongue on his, and Mairon licks at his palate, wants to devour, chases faint remnants of himself on him; the tang of his own lust. They part, Mairon’s lips trace the Witch-King’s chin, then trail down to his neck. With abandon, open-mouthed, Mairon kisses the ragged scar across his throat, a reverent hunger that makes him want to part the skin and thrust his tongue inside, taste the bloodied secrets that lie entombed within the crypt that is his mind. And use them, use them, use him. Mairon smiles and buries his head in the witch’s shoulder. He receives a lingering kiss to the forehead and relaxes into the man’s embrace.

Khamûl’s arm and the Witch-King’s come to rest against each other on Mairon’s waist. Mairon smiles. Two putrid flowers he could crush under his boot, yet raises to glory. Two of nine.  The boy sighs and nuzzles Mairon’s nape. Mairon presses himself back against Khamûl’s hips. Heat between his pelvic bones. A long lost feeling rises in Mairon’s chest and sweetly spreads throughout his limbs.

Peace.  

Mairon rests his golden head on the witch’s chest, and listens to the still-beating, soon-stilling heart.

[lilacxoz]

Sneaky Neighbors - Kuroo Tetsurou

F!reader

Heavy degradation, creampie, cheating!reader, timeskip, semi-publicsex, almost getting caught, spanking, pain, dacryphilia, oral(reader receives), not really mention but drunk sex, you guys are just plain nasty, no beta read we die like daichi.

I am not responsible for people under 18 who read this. minors or ageless bloggers please dni!

Your neighbor was a hot older athlete. He was in his mid twenties while you were just turning nineteen. You knew he was a sports manager, but his muscular and lean body said he did a lot more than that.

You had a boyfriend of three years, but all you could think about was your hot neighbor. You one that was wrong, but the idea of having to sneak around to not get caught thrilled you. Maybe you were sick in the head, but you didn’t care.

You were sitting in the flower field in front of the apartments community garden that you’ve helped curate along with the other older ladies who started the communal space. You had fallen asleep in the flowers from what was supposed to be a relaxing reading session. You woke up to the sound of laughter, looking over to see your hot neighbor sitting on the bench right by you.

“Kuroo I- oh!” You scrambled to your feet, your hot neighbor wearing nothing but a black tank and red sweats. He looked like he had just come from the gym, a gold necklace hanging from his neck.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, it’s just you were singing in your sleep-“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence before laughing again. A blush forms on your face as you wipe some grass off your face and dress. This wasn’t how you wanted your crush to see you, you felt so embarrassed.

“What’s happening?” You looked over to see your boyfriend walking by from coming home from work, stopping to see the scene. Your boyfriend looked at your face and appearance, putting the puzzle together. “Ohh, she was singing in her sleep again? Yeah, it’s kind of odd..” he says before holding out a hand to you. You look back at Kuroo, his laughter completely gone and replaced with a hard expression.

The next day you prepared a gift basket for your neighbor. Your boyfriend was at work for an extra long shift in the hospital, which meant you had the day and night to yourself. You had planned on getting to know Kuroo better. You knew your real intentions were wrong, but a big part of you just didn’t care.

You wore a white summer dress with blue floral print, tights, and white heels. You walked to the end of the hall to your neighbors place. You knew he was home because you heard him playing music earlier. You brushed off your dress before softly knocking on the worn out white door, the white paint chipped and cracked.

He opened the door a few seconds later, hair wet as he wore nothing but a grey sweatpants. You noticed the tattoo on the side of his torso of a crack of lightning roots, trailing down and under his sweats. You gulped as you met his golden and curious eyes.

“What’s got you at my doorstep?” He asks, a hand on the door frame as he leans on the other side. You tried to hold back a blush, holding out the gift basket containing baked goods and beer. “Baked goods and beer? Where have you been all my life,” he jokes, “why don’t you enjoy them with me?” He lowers his hand, motioning for you to follow him. You do so, your stomach exploding in butterflies.

His place smelt like his expensive cologne, a complete mess but in a good way. He had some clothes on the floor along with a few dirty dishes. His place just looked lived in, and you liked it that way. He took you to the balcony, a soft warm breeze passing by. He set the gift basket on the balcony, handing you one of the White Claws. You both cracked your own cans open, a small smile on his face as he leaned against the balcony.

You tried your best to keep your eyes to yourself, but it was hard when his washboard abs were right in front of you. A small smirk formed on his face as he chugged half the beer. “What made you so kind today?” He asks, his eyes not hiding the way he looks you up and down.

“Just felt kind I guess?” You say, giggling softly. He smiled at your answer, settling his beer down as he crossed his large arms over his chest. You felt like an entire butterfly enclosure was settled in your stomach, a blush taking over your face and ears.

“What’s got you so red in the face?” He points out, almost teasingly as if he already had his own answer for it. You just shrug as he takes a few steps closer to you. “You don’t know? Oh but I think you do,” he says through a smirk. Suddenly, your caged to the wall by his muscular arms in such a way that makes you face him. Your lips were merely inches away, his breath smelling of the sweet beer he just drank.

“We shouldn’t,” you breath out ad your hands slowly train down his body. The rest on his abs, his head tilting as he raises an eyebrow.

“If we shouldn’t,” he leans in close to your ear, “then why are you touching me y/n?” You felt so vulnerable, and the factor of getting caught is what only heightened your arousal. “Oh, don’t tell me,” amusement laces his voice as he says, “does the wrongness of this make you aroused?” He deeply chuckles, “little pervert.”

“I-I’m not a pervert!” You say, looking up to be met with his beautiful eyes. He takes your jaw in his hand, crashing his lips to yours. He takes your breath away with the softness of his lips on yours mixed with the rough and passionate kiss. He skillfully slid his knee between your legs, moving down to kiss at your neck and jaw. You mewled out a moan as you became painfully aware of the second heartbeat between your legs. Your hips moved against his leg, desperately trying to get relief. Your hands rested on his shoulders and he moved further down your body, pulling your dress up as he kisses your stomach and hip. You groaned at the loss of friction from his leg, your breath heavy and unsteady.

He kissed down your thighs until he helped you out of your heels and tights. He looked at your lack of panties, giving you an amused look. “Wow, looks like you knew this would happen, fuckin’ dirty girl.” You only whined in response, his hands gripping onto your thighs as he begins to lick your spit. He helps guide a leg over his shoulder, gaining better access to your soaked pussy.

Your body shivered when he slipped his tongue in all the right places, your hands fisting his jet black locks while your head rolled back. You felt weak in the knees, letting him slowly unravel that deep part inside you. You relaxed against the brick wall, letting the much needed itch you had finally get the attention it needed. Sex with your boyfriend was rare, and when it did happen, he always finished too early and never took the time to pamper you when you did take the time to pamper him.

You felt so close to your euphoric high, body tending up as he helped you get there by pumping his fingers inside you. You let out a whiny series of moans as your body shook against him. You’d never felt so much of an intense orgasm before, your vision momentarily going blank.

He carried you inside, bending you over the kitchen island. You felt a harsh slap to your ass as he kisses your neck. “Tell me how you want it,” he whispers, planting one more slap to your ass.

“Rough and raw,” you breath out, a dark chuckle escaping him. You felt his hand fist your hair as you felt his tip kiss your entrance.

“What a dirty pervert you are, you wanna get fucked rough and raw? Filthy whore.” You only moaned at the degradation, hands curled into fists on the cold counter. You let out a screem-like moan when he bottomed out inside you, completely taken aback at the size of him. Tears fell from your eyes as your mouth watered, he filled you up so nicely and you didn’t know half of the emotions that were crawling from the deepest parts of you.

His brutal thrusts kept your voice loud, your head being yanked back by your hair as he kissed and sucked on your neck. You didn’t care about the hickeys, if anything, it only heightened the fear of getting caught. “Oh god, I-I can’t, oh-“ he slapped your face, a grunt coming from him.

“You won’t speak unless it’s my name or how much better I make you feel than your stupid boyfriend,” he demands. You nod, mascara running down your cheeks as you cried from the pleasure, he let your hair go, your hands quickly taking off your dress over your head. You were completely bare against the cold countertop, your nipples hard pebbles from the contact.

“Kuroo! Ah~ so-so good!” You moaned, legs starting to shake as an orgasm slowly approaches. He helps you through it, bringing a hand down to rub your clit. The added stimulation was the perfect combination for an intense blended orgasm. Your legs shook as you let yourself go, cumming all over his cock as you screamed his name.

“You really are pathetic, cumming all over your neighbor like that? Slut.” You only felt more aroused by his insults. He paused at the sound of a knock on the door. Your heart pounded against your chest as scenarios ran through your head. He smirked, taking you and pushing you up against his front door. Your back was to the door as he held on of your thighs up against his hip. It was a perfect position for him to be able to stick just half of his upper body into view. Your heard pounded as he slowly grinded into you while opening the door. You covered both your hands to your mouth, trying your best to keep in your moans.

“Yaho!” A voice said from the other side, “ready for movie night?” You hear Kuroo groan as his knuckles turn white from how hard he was holding the door. You reach a hand down, fondling his bald which earns a shaky breath from him.

“Kuroo-bro, you okay?” You hear another voice say.

“‘M fuckin’ fine, give me a couple minutes, yeah?” He didn’t wait for a response before slamming the door and you with it. He crashed his lips to yours as he pounded you into oblivion. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, his free hand covering your mouth to muffle your sweet moans,

“Fuck,” he groaned. He knew he couldn’t fuck you against the door without them finding out. They knew of his crush on you and the situation, it would make him look really bad. He slipped out of you, forcefully dragging you to his bathroom. He turns on the shower before placing you on top of the countertops you wrap your legs around his waist as he slips himself back into you. He plants kisses along your jaw and neck as he pounds into you at an inhumane pace. It leaves you breathless, another orgasm forming along with his.

“Baby, ‘ma cum, you’ll let me fill up your dirty pussy?” You just moan, nodding as you let your orgasm take you over. Your legs shake violently against him, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you feel him shoot load after load into you. It takes a minute before you both catch your breaths and he finally detaches from you.

“Get in the shower, I’ll get you clothes for you,” he says.

“What about the guys?” You ask, lips purple and swollen.

“Don’t worry, when you come out I’ll explain your shower broke and you needed to use mine.” You nod, a small smile forming on your face.

“Can we do this more often?” You ask, he nods before slapping your ass.

“You come to me when that cheap asshole can’t make you scream like I can.”

[cyanbugremix]

Sleepover - Stories of the Shaw Pack

Characters: David/Angel, Asher/Babe, Milo/Sweetheart, Darlin'(Tank)/Sam

CW: None; Fluff

Written in July 2023

Summary: The end of an evening get-together with the 4 pack members (David, Milo, Asher, and Darlin) and their mates. The house feels quiet, safe and like home.

Can be found ✨here on Ao3✨, written by moi (cyan_bug37 on Ao3)

~~~~

The quiet atmosphere was something David hadn’t had in awhile. Not that nights weren’t quiet and peaceful. Many of them technically were. But this time he had the people he loved, safe in his home, relaxing with their loved ones and a random movie playing in the background. He looked outside at the sky. A faint tinge of blue still colored the lower half. It wasn’t quite midnight yet, but it was getting there. Earlier, Sam and Tank had gone outside for a walk, or alone time, truthfully. They hadn’t walked very far. He could hear them laughing on the porch.

David looked over to his right at the sleeping couple. Asher lightly snored, and his mate slept on his chest. The couple looked very comfy, though they would probably be stiff in the morning.

Sweetheart and Angel were quietly muttering at the kitchen table. They were at one point painting each other's nails, but that activity eventually turned into them talking. Angel looked over their shoulder as they felt eyes on them. David was staring at them.

“One sec,” Angel said to Sweetheart. They walked over and leaned on the back of the couch.

“Yeah, sweetie? Is something wrong?” Angel quietly asked and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“No. Just watching everyone. . . Asher and Babe fell asleep.”

Angel turned their attention to the duo and smiled. “I’ll go get them a blanket.” They went over to the hall closet and carried out one. They slowly draped it over the two. Babe shifted slightly, but seemed to go back to sleep.

“They are so cute,” Angel muttered once they returned to David. Angel knew Babe had been working overtime to get a project done, a project that could hopefully earn a promotion, and was exhausted. Babe had bags under their eyes for days, and Asher had mentioned how they had a hard time falling asleep. He’d be asleep for about thirty minutes, then he’d wake up and notice Babe working on stuff or just sitting out in the living room.

Angel also had known that Asher was struggling, well in general. Asher started picking up more work, according to the alpha, and Babe said that he had Inversion nightmares almost every night. David had mentioned how Asher began to take naps at the office, which was strange coming from Asher who was usually quite energetic. David had been getting concerned that his beta was burning himself out, and was planning on having a talk with Asher soon. But for tonight, the couple were finally getting some rest.

Milo seemed to have nodded off at some point during the third movie they were watching. Sweetheart walked over to the couches and took their phone out. The glow from the TV gave enough light so they could take a picture of their sleeping mate. Sweetheart chuckled to themselves, “New lockscreen.”

“Do you wanna go take him to the guest room?” David asked. He would have offered their other guest room to Asher and Babe, but they had already fallen asleep, and he didn’t want to wake either of them.

“Probably a good idea. He already says I knock off a few years of his life when I jump scare him. I can’t have him complaining about being an old man just yet,” Sweetheart replied. They gently shook Milo’s shoulder. Milo blinked, though it looked like he could fall asleep again at any moment.

“Mmh? Sweetheart?”

“C’mon. We’re going to bed,” Sweetheart grabbed his hands and carefully dragged him up. Milo managed to say goodnight, and they went down the hallway, disappearing into the guest room.

David sighed and stretched.

“You can go to bed if you want,” Angel rubbed David’s lower back.

He closed his eyes for a moment at the gentle caress. He was tired, but not that tired. “And know that you will probably stay up until 4 in the morning completing some random project? I don’t think that’s the best idea, Angel,” David replied and wrapped an arm around them.

“Well, I gotta do the dishes,” Angel murmured.

“Then I will do them with you,” David leaned over to kiss the top of Angel’s head. Angel hummed in agreement. The two decided that Angel would wash the dishes and David would dry them. They quietly talked between each other about each other’s days, what they wanted to plant in the garden this year, and why a hippopotamus would win against a bear.

“I’m glad we could all get together like this,” Angel said at one point.

David gave a subtle smile, “Me too. I’m glad that everyone seems to feel comfortable here.”

The sliding door opened to reveal Sam and Tank coming back in. They looked around and noticed the new positions everyone was in.

Tank wandered over to the kitchen with Sam trailing behind. “Hey. I noticed the two sleeping beauties on the couch. Where’d the other two go?”

“I sent them to the guest room. Milo fell asleep,” David briefed.

“How was it outside?” Angel asked either one of them, still focused on a pan from breakfast.

“It’s very nice. Not too chilly but not too warm. You got lots of crickets here, David,” Tank said. They leaned back against the counter.

“I know. I can hear them almost every night,” David agreed. He wiped around the edges of a bowl and sat it down. They hadn’t accumulated a lot of dishes because of Asher’s idea to order pizza for dinner, and for that, David was thankful.

Angel handed him the last dish and turned around to wipe their hands on a towel.

“Would you and Sam like to stay the night? We have another room available and I have an excess of pillows and blankets for guests,” Angel offered, tucking the towel back onto the stove’s handle. Originally Sam and Tank hadn’t planned on staying, but the offer was still there.

“What do you think, Darlin’?” Sam looked over. Tank looked at their partner and Angel could see the debate going on in their head.

“If you want to, then it would be fine,” Tank finally said.

Sam gave a small smile, “Then we accept and appreciate the hospitality.”

Angel smiled back and went to grab a couple blankets and a stack of pillows. Once the two were settled, and the TV turned off, Angel and David left to head upstairs to their room. Before Angel shut the door they heard Tank say, “You talk like such an old man sometimes.”

“It was called being polite, Darlin’,” Sam replied as the two walked down the hall. They definitely would be staying up for longer, but at least they were comfortable.

Angel grinned to themselves and closed the door. David had already changed into a pair of sweats and flopped himself on the bed. The window was opened a bit, so the room wasn’t too stuffy. Angel went into their ensuite bathroom to get ready for bed. After they finished, Angel slipped under their sheets and settled down. Their body sank as they relaxed into the mattress. David shifted and laid one arm over Angel, and shifted closer. They breathed in the scent of David’s shampoo and the night air, and drifted to sleep.

~~~~

And my usual disclaimer: As always, I have no ownership or rights to these characters, stories, or franchises. I write this to appreciate the content Redacted ASMR/audio makes. Anything I write is not official in their stories, other than using moments from the original story line. I make no profit from this.

Please don't steal.

~~~~

Got brave enough to start posting some of my favorite short stories that I've written over on Ao3 onto here, and this is one of the first ones. I hope you like it :)

[pretty-batty]

On Your Side

Eddie x Original Female Character Pt 9 of Eldath's Priestess 2870 Words

Warnings: Descriptions of surgery, references to Vietnam, Mentions of small town Antisemitism and Racism. Now on ao3 Thank you @anakinkshamer for being my beta reader. Notes: Judy and Margie, as expected with the names Sondheim and Abrams, are Ashkenazi. I wrote their household as a reflection of my own. As one of the five Jews at my high school long ago, I know a little something about the life of small town Jew.

Summary: Vignettes of Hawkins.

There were seven moveable lamps in the Sondheim-Abrams-Munson household. A tiffany lamp from Judy’s bedside, a glass lotus from Margie, and a blue shaded lamp from Wayne. Without the shades, added to the overhead light above the dining table, provided plenty of light. Enough to perform the much-needed restitching of Eddie’s maw.

It had been two days since the frenzy’s end, the skin around Eddie’s fissures had calmed with continuous care from Judy. There wasn’t a moment where she wasn’t fussing over him. Though having her on Eddie’s lap was incredibly satisfying for the both of them.

Wayne couldn’t do it. His nephew laying on the dining table, barely flinching as the needle neared his skin. And in his desperation, he compromised his nephew’s safety. Judy called Gareth, and Gareth brought his stepmother.

Sheryl Kaufman was not always a homemaker. That was a post war choice, receiving VA benefits for her service in the Army Medical Corps. There are only so many kids you could sew up before you broke. For Sheryl, it was no doubt in the hundreds.

Eddie’s face was nothing she hadn’t done before. In fact, she was relieved he still had skin to sew. They had applied ice to his face in the 15 minutes it took for her to arrive. All of the supplies were ready, sterilized and laid out on a dinner plate. Judy’s slender fingers rested on either side of Eddie’s head. It took Sheryl an hour. All four were set and secure, the stitches barely visible.

But the most daunting task was his chin. It had remained undisturbed since the frenzy. The state of the wound was less than ideal, and everyone knew the pain would be difficult to manage. With each snip of the scissors, the thread clumped and stuck to the blades. Eddie’s head shifted in Judy’s hands, only calming him with a lasting press of her lips against his hairline.

The ordeal took another half an hour, giving Eddie a small break before replacing the stitches. But when all was completed, Eddie was given a hand mirror. His eyes shimmering with tears for a moment before sucking in a breath.

“How hard was it to fix?” He asked.

Sheryl stretched, rolling her shoulders, “not too bad. That chin was the worst of it.”

Judy gave Sheryl’s miracle hands a squeeze, “Thank you, Sheryl. And please don’t-”

“I won’t tell anyone your secret. I don’t think Gareth could ever forgive me if I did.” She looked to the kitchen, “now, I was promised peppermint tea. I hope you can deliver, Abrams.”

“Of course, how could I deny my PTA partner in crime?” Margie answered with a smile.

Judy and Eddie retreated to their bedroom, Sheryl’s voice calling out to them, “don’t you mess with my work up there.” Her warning was met with a set of giggles and the sound of a closing door.

------------------------------------

Tuesday morning, Judy had received a phone call from an Associated Press reporter, only by the name of Gillespie.

“I want to set the story straight with Eddie.” He said. Of course, Judy knew better. It was a salacious story that remained untouched. People hounded the parents of the victims, even Wayne, but no one ever thought to ask Eddie’s peers. His real peers.

To Judy, he was the last Jewish boy in Hawkins.

“And that’s the story you’re giving them?” Eddie asked, zipping up the back of Judy’s sundress. Her head was flipped over, tying a gold and white bandana around her hair.

“I mean, you are.” Judy’s fingers fumbled with the ends of the cloth, trying it in a tight knot before flipping her hair back up.

He blew the wayward strands out of his face, smoothing the back of her dress out and pressing his lips against her shoulder.

She turned opening her arms, “so? Is it frum?”

Eddie gazed upon her pretty white sundress, adorned with sunflowers. The scarf over her hair allowed her bangs to peek through, holding the rest of her hair from her face. Such a beautiful face. “Yes, baby.” He said, “Very modest, very Jewish.”

Judy took a step forward bumping her nose into Eddie’s, grinning as she hummed “I love you.”

He matched the coyness, lips curling into a smile, “I love you too, baby. I can’t wait until you get home from this thing.”

“And what will you do, Mister Munson?”

“I’d make you a sandwich and get you a cold coke. Then I’d take you to the backyard and lay you in a field of flowers.”

“Oh, we have a field of flowers now?”

“Oh absolutely, I will get you flowers. Even if it means using my little buddies to get them for me.” He scooped her into a quick kiss.

“Don’t be so cruel to those kids. They have like…things to do.”

He hummed against her smile, “Oh no, not them. My bat buddies.”

Judy’s expression shifted, a bit of disbelief. She laughed a little. “What?”

“You already know that I got superpowers, princess.” His lips pressed against her skin again, keeping any questions in her mouth. “God, I can’t stop kissin’ you. Go on and git before I make you late.”

Judy parted from him, poking her finger into his chest, “this isn’t over.”

“I’ll tell you when you get home.”

Judy hoped he would keep his promise. A sandwich would be nice too. Judy sat in the square, waiting for the interview to begin. Gillespie was younger than she expected, but there were still speckles of gray peppered his black hair and goatee. He was from the Bronx, but he actively tamped down his accent during the interview. The borough still poked her head out though, in little vowel mutations and bent consonants.

“You mentioned that he wasn’t a Christian.”

“Yeah, his mother…her parents were Jewish.” Technically one parent, and not the one that counted. “She wasn’t very religious, and Al wasn’t either, ya know. And Wayne, he never wanted to impose. So, compared to the other people in this town, Eddie’s lack of religion was basically Satanic. And he went along with it. He thought it was funny. I mean…you do what you have to do. I played in to the witch thing since people called me a hag. This town doesn’t know what to do with Jews. But historically, not a lot of towns do.”

That was her angle. He wasn’t a satanist, that much she knew for certain. But the US had no love for atheists either. With his blessing, Judy took the position she knew very well. She would call upon the memory of that southern cantor Eddie never met. The father of his late mother, Cantor Ben Lewis.

Besides, Eddie was already willing to convert before they got married. He was half-way to Jewishness already: joining her for Yom Kippur services, sitting Shiva for Joe when he died, lighting the menorah, asking one of the 4 questions during the Seder, insisting that he not “work on Shabbos”, and if he did, he’d complain about it.

Sure, he never got a b’nei mitzvah, but neither did Judy. Her family couldn’t afford one, and her mother was too prideful to ask for help.

His Hebrew was terrible, and yet his rendition of the Kiddush was perfection.

So yes, in Judy’s eyes, Eddie was Jewish.

“When I left, I was scared for him. He liked poking the beehive sometimes. I mean, these people are nuts. God forbid you listen to Iron Maiden or play a fantasy boardgame. Add the fact that you wouldn’t get him to step foot in a church, it was easy for them to turn him into some sort of demon.”

“Was he against organized religion entirely?”

“Oh no, he would attend High Holy Day services with me. Honestly, he was like the rest of us. Just show up for the big ones.” Judy pushed at her cuticles, “he was sweet. He was poor. He was…easy to blame, because he’d always take it upon himself. The whole devil may care shtick was just that, a shtick. In the end, if you dumped a bowl of soup in his lap, he’d apologize and get you another one.”

Gillespie simply nodded, “he seems like a good kid.”

“He’s the best. Eddie deserved better.” There was a pause, “why do you care so much? I mean, according to the current narrative, Eddie is still a suspect.” Judy believed that Eddie had no part, but she got the information directly from the horse’s mouth. “Is this like…a tactic to get more information out of me?”

Gillespie chewed on his words, ruminating on his answer. Judy could feel it. He knew something. “I can assure you, Miss. Sondheim, that narrative is about to change very soon. And with your testimony, the public will get the clearest picture possible of Hawkins, Indiana.”

A rumble started from the end of the street, growing in intensity as a jeep passed the public square. Slowly, the menacing expressions of the young men within it came into view.

“You’d think these rich kids have better things to do than patrol.” Judy said, lips pursed in disgust. “Some of the same kids that tried to hurt that little Black girl, Erica Sinclair, the night of the earthquake. Her folks pressed charges, only to get a written apology no doubt constructed by the perps’ parents. Tried to pass her off as a ‘young woman’, she’s like twelve.” She ran her hand along the nape of her neck, “sorry sometimes I just talk.” She looked back up to Gillespie, matching his eyes as he finished jotting down more notes.

More ammunition, she thought, good.

---------------------------------------

Judy had forgotten about Eddie’s promise of a field of flowers. So, when Eddie woke her from her sleep to show her a surprise, it was just that.

The screeching danger of Hawkins dusk, she walked through her kitchen to reach the back door, Eddie’s clawed hand on her waist. “Try not to scream, you’re safe with me.” He said quietly.

She opened the door, the storm door hinges squeaking as the two walked into the night. Eddie stood behind her, hands on his hips. The night echoed with wings and the purring of carnivorous bats. Judy watched as Eddie reached his right hand to the moon, his fingers flexing and pulling the air in a swift motion.

The first swoop and light thump of something being dropped at her feet. Judy’s mouth opened, air filling her lungs for a scream. Eddie’s left hand quickly slid over Judy’s lips, pulling her against his body. “Shh…it’s okay. They won’t hurt you.”

Judy’s eyes closed the moment her back met his chest. She had only left that position a minute before. His claws were nowhere near her mouth then. Now she could smell the lemon hand soap and lingering nicotine between his fingers. She wasn’t going to pull away. His body was the only thing keeping her from scrambling back into the house. Another swoop down from the opposing tree.

Fluth. Another soft plant landed on the ground. Followed by a gentle roar of falling objects in the moonlight, landing with a bounce on the grass below. The final bat landed on the flower covered yard, a stem of a wind geranium in its petalled mouth. It made its way to the two of them, gently laying it at her feet with a purr before backing away and taking flight into the night sky.

As Eddie drew his hand away from her mouth, she finally spoke. “You know I can’t see the flowers, right?”

“I know, just wanted to show you my buddies. You’ll see them when you wake up.” In the dark, Eddie could see it perfectly. The cascading rows of flowers. Some loose blossoms, others were whole plants torn from some person’s garden. He should have been more specific. He reached down, picking up the light blue geranium in his claws. “This one was from Sam.”

“Sam?”

“Samwise. He was the one who saved me in the upside-down, brought me food when I was too weak to move.” Eddie handed the flower to her before guiding her back inside.

She had rarely heard about his experience in that place. The only time he spoke about it, the pain in his voice would choke him. But not this time. Maybe he was healing, or maybe Samwise the demo-bat provided the experiences he could speak on without shame.

--------------------------------------------

Judy hadn’t expected someone to answer her call so soon. Less than half a ring and she heard his voice over the phone.

“Gillespie here, what can I do for you?”

“Hi, this is Judy Sondheim, I know this is a weird thing to ask about. But I don’t know who else to approach.” She took a moment, pausing to collect her thoughts mid-sentence. “You seemed to indicate that you might have…information that is outside the current realm of public knowledge.”

She could hear his smile over the phone.

“Well Miss Sondheim, I’m not sure I know what you mean. There is nothing I know that isn’t already available to the public at this time. Sadly, I don’t even know where to send you if you had those questions.”

“Oh…” Judy’s teeth pulled at the skin from her bottom lip. “Well, I’m sorry that I bothered you.”

“No worries, Miss Sondheim. I hope you have a wonderful day.”

Click. Then the dial tone.

Judy did the same, hanging up the phone before taking off her glasses and setting them on the table beside her. Her hands ran up her face and through her hair, pulling it back slightly and blinking at the sky. She let go, pulling at her fingers to make them pop before sitting down on the couch. “Fuck.”

Not five minutes later, the phone began to ring. Judy put her glasses back on to reach for the phone without missing.

“Hello?”

The sound of busy traffic and hordes of people tinted the voice that came over the receiver. “Miss Sondheim, it’s Gillespie. Sorry about the confusion back there, but you can never be too careful. You seemed to have questions.”

“It’s about the bio lab in Hawkins, and their experimental treatment that they synthesized in the mid-seventies.”

“If I believed in ESP, I’d say you have it.” He laughed, “I was just about to call you. Three of the four deaths before the earthquake line up. It’s deeper than what we initially believed. Cunningham, Benson, and McKinney were connected by more than just circumstance.” He continued, “They were the youngest living three kids treated by the Hawkins National Lab in seventy-six.”

“But in their pictures, Chrissy and Patrick didn’t wear glasses. Everyone who got the treatment experienced vision loss.” She heard another ring of coins fall into the bank. It had been three minutes.

“They were athletes. They wore contact lenses.” He continued, “it also explains why Mayfield was the only survivor. She wasn’t subjected to the treatment, so her immune system was able to counteract the tetanus infection better than the others.”

Judy knew a different truth. That Vecna’s hold was more psychological in nature. But if there was a scientific explanation that would be more readily accepted, she’d take it.

“In fact, that’s why I made that little ESP joke, uh I was gonna reach out. You were on that list.”

“Yeah.” She found her eyes wandering to a spot on the wall, where the paint bubbled slightly.

“Maybe we can reconnect sometime. If you’re willing to tell your story, I know it would do a lot of good. I can understand if you need time.”

She nodded, clearing her throat, “I mean, it wasn’t anything memorable. They took me to another floor, put me on a different drip, and kept me for observation for a week. Once I could see again, they sent me back with the other kids.”

“I thought I’d need to drag that out of you.”

“Oh no, it’s like…the least interesting thing in my life.” She shrugged.

A hammering from the phone booth door and muffled shouting rang from the other end. “Damn, I gotta go before this dude shits himself with rage. Hey, Judy, thank you for your time.” His voice sank slightly with sincerity. “You’ve done a lot by just talking to me. Take care.”

“Of course, buh-bye.” Her last word came out almost like a whisper and she hung up the phone.

“Hey,” Judy body jolted at Eddie’s voice. In her daze she hadn’t heard him sit down on the other side of the couch. “Whoa…you okay, babe?”

“Yeah…I just…did Vecna say anything about me?”

Eddie let out a gentle puff of air from his nose, “he wasn’t the talking type, babe.”

She felt the silence curl and fold in her mouth, eyes still trained on the paint bubble. “Do you wonder what happened to the other kids in the ward?”

“Not really, I mean, most of them got the hell outa dodge. The ones who stayed, I got no clue.”

“I gotta know.” She finally brought her gaze from the wall, lashes wet from strain. “Because I found out what happened to three of them.”

Yiddish and Hebrew definitions Frum- from the German word for pious. Yom Kippur- Day of Atonement. Final day of the Days of Awe, beginning at Rosh Hashana (New Year) and ending on Yom Kippur. Both are High Holy Days. Shiva- Jewish funerary practice, household mourns for seven days. Seder- Implied to be the Passover Seder, the ritual dinner held on either the first or second day of Passover. Shabbos- Yiddish for Shabbat. Kiddush- Prayer over Wine. B'nei Mitzvah- the non-gendered term for a Bat or Bar Mitzvah

Thank you so much, my dears, for being so patient with me during this dry spell. Tag list: @loserboysandlithium, @secretdryrose, @usergeta

[cxcloves]

Evening star

Summary: It’s been half a year since they return from Mount Tantiss and settle on Pabu. Crosshair is suffering from a migraine and missing someone. Lucky, one visitor makes things better.

(Theme: Forehead kisses and reading to partner.) Paring: Crosshair/Echo Tags : Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Soft CT-9904 | Crosshair, Soft CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, Batcher saw crosshair and decide to be his therapy dog, Forehead Kisses, Tenderness, Comfort Reading, no beta/haft beta

It’s been half a year since they return from Mount Tantiss and settle on Pabu. Crosshair has faced a lot of hardship, but never except that learn to have a normal life would be the worst one. Suddenly they have choice about what they want to be, what they wish to do with their freedom. Hunter, Wrecker and Omega have found their place and doing their best to help him find his, yet something he needs to do it by himself.

Good days are more frequent than the bad ones, but still someday the stress and memories of the events since the order 66 randomly hit him like a ton of durasteel in the chest.

One those bad days he would often get sick mostly with migraine and go hide in his room. He is blaming the reflections of the sun on the sea around the island. He knows his brothers and sister don’t buy it but respect his need of space.

Contrary of Batcher. The lurca hound would spend those days sleeping at the end of the bed. He wants to be annoyed by her, but her warms presence anchor him to reality.

But he is craving someone else presence

The sound of familiar steps pulls Crosshair from his thoughts. He might not have Hunter’s hearing but that one sound he couldn’t forget. Batcher make a small happy bark and jumps down the bed to meet their guest.

“No one told me you were coming,” Crosshair says keeping his eyes closed and turn his head toward the noise. As much he wishes to see his visitor, he doesn’t want to risk having his migraine spike again. “Or did Hunter call you?”

“Because no one knew.” The natural grumpiness in Echo’s voice is softer than normal that one tone he only uses for Omega and Crosshair.

The ARC trooper talk too quietly at Batcher for Crosshair to understand him but the lurca gently licks his arm and she walks away. The mattress dips at Crosshair’s hips as the cold hand rest on his head making him sigh in delight. He has craved this touch so much.

“Something happens?” He mutters as he turns toward Echo and nuzzling the calluses hand he knows so intimately.

“No. I am okay. We are all. I was missing you guys,” Echo answers before he presses a kiss where his hand was resting a moment ago. “I was missing you.”

Crosshair cracks his eyes open to assure himself that Echo is telling the truth. He only gets a glimpse of a white, black and blue armor before the palms block his view. “Just rest. I will change and joins you in a moment.” Echo promises gently.

Crosshair only nods and listen as Echo move around his room. He could nearly see him since he always has the same routine every time he visits. Echo will shred his armor piece by piece and put them in the footlocker that he keeps for him, each having a specific place. The sniper is tempted to open his eye to watch how Echo’s muscles shift under his black. How the dim light of the room makes the ports on his head shine like the evening star.

If Omega had been the light that guides him out of the dark. Echo is the star chart that brings him home.

“The reading pad is still in the last drawer.” Echo asks softly.

Crosshair simply hums.

Echo moves around the room a little more before he climbs back to the bed. Crosshair barely let him time to get situates before he wraps himself around him.

“Miss me that much?” The ARC trooper teases as he rests his head in the middle of his chest.

“Shut up and read.” Echo snorts. “So bossy…”

He presses another kiss on his forehead before starting his reading. “In a galaxy engulfed by the perpetual turmoil of war, amidst the clash of lightsabers and hum of starships, two souls found each other against all odds.”

Between Echo’s smooth and steady voice and the specific sound of his heart, Crosshair find some peace of mind as his migraine lesser. As always Echo guide him away from his personal hell and back home in his arms

[theharrowing]

Dollhouse 25 💛: Chasing ghosts

Hoseok’s job is simple: He enters the host’s body, he confiscates or terminates the target, and he gets back into his own body by dinnertime, easy peasy. Until a client comes along who becomes as obsessed with his life as he becomes with theirs, and the lines between their realities begin to blur.

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💛 Hoseok x Namjoon, Hoseok x Taehyung x Jimin 💛 word count: 13.4 words 💛 hired assassin au, sci-fi, body swapping, graphic violence, infidelity, body dysphoria, lgbtq, smut, fluff, angst, poly, nsfw, smut, 21+ 💛 chapter warnings: tripping on acid (time becoming disjointed and scenes switching abruptly; hallucinations), heavy feelings & crying, infidelity (kind of), smut (sex while high, mmm threesome, you know the drill), minor character death (kind of), unhappy & unresolved ending!!! i warned you before, and i am warning you again!

💛 listen: i feel an immense amount of emotional connection to this fic, having spent over a year and a half writing it, and reaching this point has been so bittersweet. i struggled a lot writing this last chapter, and i have realized it is because of two reasons. 1.) it makes me sad to say goodbye. i think i have been grieving the end for months. 2.) this chapter is completely unnecessary. with the way i plan to "resolve" things, i could have done it easily at the end of the last one, without dragging it all out. but we're here and i decided to give Hoseok one last trip. i feel like i am pulling a neon genesis evangelion, and that because this fic has been such a reflection of my depression and anxiety and gender confusion, that it won't have the ending anyone likes. i'm okay with that, but i hope you at least have fun one more time. 💛 beta read by @neoneunnajimin 💛 posted july 2023 | read on ao3

There is something about this strange, dimly-lit whiskey bar that sits along a busy tourist street, with tons of foot traffic, 7,000 km from home that makes Hoseok feel nostalgic. The place is cramped with loud customers, the music is tacky and awful, and the vibe of the place is—for all intents and purposes—off. 

But as Hoseok slides into a booth along the back wall and a glass of neat mid-tier whiskey is set in front of him in a round tumbler, he takes in the cracked burgundy leather and golden glow of the light fixtures, and he remembers sitting in a booth just like this the day Jeongguk suggested they partner swap. 

What a strange memory to hold onto so dearly, Hoseok thinks, chewing on the inside of his lip. 

It feels like a lifetime ago.

Jimin scoots in on Hoseok's right, closer than Hoseok would have expected. He wears a faint floral and citrus perfume that is inviting and not too cloying, and a plain black tee tucked into tight black jeans with a light blue denim jacket over top. A light shimmering pink is dusted over his eyes, which Hoseok has a better look at sitting this close, and he wears sunglasses on his head that push his hair back, as well as silver dangling earrings, a black leather belt, and black Chelsea boots. 

Taehyung sits across the table, in a chair. His outfit is all warm tones and flowy fabrics, with an oversized honey shirt unbuttoned low to reveal a generous amount of skin, and a hint of low-cut beige fabric, all of which is tucked loosely into tan slacks. His brown loafers disappear under the wide-cut pants, and his neck, ears, and fingers are adorned in silver. An earthy musk hangs around Taehyung, greeting Hoseok as he leans over the table to rub a thumb just under Jimin's eye. 

"You have some mascara where it doesn't belong," he mutters while Jimin swats his hand away with a pout. 

The leather upholstery whines and bounces as Jimin shifts around, facing Hoseok. He pinches the fabric of Hoseok's floral bomber jacket in his fingers, eyeing it up as if he wants to ask about it, but then asks, "What brings you here," instead. 

It takes a second for Hoseok to catch up, reeling a little over Jimin's proximity. He tries to respond while looking at the man, but those wide, curious eyes dusted in pink and lined in black make it hard for him to think, so he turns away, glances at a curious Taehyung, and lets his gaze drop to the caramel-colored drink in his hands. 

"Honestly," Hoseok sighs, lifting his glass toward his lips. "I don't know. I was on a work trip but plans changed, and now I'm just…chasing ghosts."

Taehyung hums, catching Hoseok's attention, then nods in understanding, wearing a beautifully sad smile. "Sounds lonely," he mutters, and Hoseok chuckles. 

"Yeah," he admits, "it is."

Now that they are seated, and Hoseok is able to fully take in the appearances of the two men, he struggles to wrap his head around the fact that they really do exist. Both Taehyung and Jimin are anomalies in their own right, and Hoseok cannot put his finger on whether they are genuine or not. They are both strikingly beautiful with curious smiles, and they both look so sad. 

Taehyung shifts and leans forward, resting both elbows on the table with his left arm stretched all the way forward as if pointing to Jimin while he speaks, but with a relaxed hand. He mutters something low and soft in a dulcet tone impossible to pick up on from across the table, and Jimin hums in understanding, nodding his head. 

Hoseok does his best to alternate between glancing at Taehyung's lips and staring at his drink while listening, curious if he can pick up on even one word, but it is almost as if the man is speaking an entirely different language. The rise and fall of syllable tone sounds like a Gyeongsang dialect, especially when he speaks clearly, somewhere between Busan and Daegu. But although he can make out hints of pattern and drawl, he cannot pick up on a single word the man is saying.

"I feel like a ghost sometimes," Jimin says with a sigh, pulling the conversation back as if they never stopped. 

Taehyung, with his arm still outstretched, turns his head to Hoseok, hanging loose as if it is on a string—as if he is not in full control of his body, dangling awkwardly. He pulls his lips into a strange, toothy, rectangular smile that Hoseok cannot quite parse, and then he sits up tall, rolls his shoulders back, and begins to drink.

Hoseok heavy-blinks and turns slightly toward Jimin, whose wide eyes are watching him intently. Jimin almost appears to be searching for something—mouth tugged down into a frown—but then he blinks and smiles, as toothy as Taehyung but far less forced. 

"You should let us dose you," Jimin mutters softly with a sudden sparkle in his eye.

"Dose?" Hoseok asks, looking between the two of them, wondering if they mean LSD or something similar.

"We're gonna start coming up kinda soon," Jimin says, placing a hand on Hoseok's thigh that feels warm and inviting, which Hoseok looks down at quickly before pulling his eyes up to Taehyung. "It might be weird for you if you're the only one who isn't high."

"Do you ever take acid?" Taehyung asks, and Hoseok shakes his head, looking between the two of them. He has taken acid back in college, but not enough to hallucinate. Never enough to hallucinate.

"But you've taken ecstasy before," Jimin states—not asks. 

Hoseok turns to him, knitting his brow and searching his face, muttering, "How do you know that?"

Jimin squeezes Hoseok's leg and says, "Everyone has, silly!" with a bright, infectious giggle. 

Yes, Hoseok thinks, but if you are who I think you are, then you know firsthand that I have.

"Are you afraid of taking drugs?" Taehyung asks, but Jimin squeezes Hoseok's thigh again before Hoseok can turn to respond, keeping his attention on him. 

"I bet there are things you want to ask us," Jimin says sweetly, leaning in as if telling Hoseok a secret. "And we will tell you absolutely everything you want to know. But only once you're high."

With a pounding heart and curious mind, Hoseok swallows thickly and considers the proposition.

"What kinds of things do you think I am curious to know about you?" Hoseok asks, causing Jimin's smile to widen and become more dangerous. 

"Anything," Jimin mutters, leaning in close, wetting his lips with a bubblegum pink tongue. "What are two beautiful, enigmatic men doing on the wrong continent, for starters."

"But you can't have all the fun," Taehyung adds, pulling Hoseok's gaze to where he rests his chin in his hands, with his cheeks squished cutely, both elbows on the table. "We get to ask you questions, too."

Taking a somewhat unknown substance in an unfamiliar place with two potential strangers feels dangerous. Every instinct tells Hoseok that it is the wrong thing to do, and that he should not agree to do it. 

But if this is Yoongi and Jeongguk, he knows he has to. Maybe they only feel comfortable with revealing their identities to Hoseok while he is high. All he has to do is hold onto the memory…how hard can that be?

"Alright," Hoseok says, watching as Taehyung grins wide and feeling Jimin's excited hands claw at his thigh. "But I don't know what to expect. You guys…you have to look out for me."

Fingernails scratch at Hoseok's scalp, and he turns to find Jimin grinning as he musses up Hoseok's hair, then drapes his arm around his shoulder, saying, "We are going to take such good care of you," while using his index finger to boop Hoseok on the nose.

A chill runs down Hoseok's spine, and he attempts to get his bearings, but the atmosphere of the bar is overwhelming, and these two are acting very strange. But also very fun. He cannot seem to keep his eyes off Jimin, and the way he is acting—very touchy and smiley—does not help.

"I hate this place," Taehyung announces with a sigh and a pout. "It was more fun the other night."

"I hate it too," Jimin whines before picking up his whiskey and slamming it back. He sets his glass down with a thud and says, "Bottoms up! Let's move."

Without thinking twice, Hoseok picks up his glass and slams its contents back, swallowing it all too fast to second-guess the oily quality of the liquid, and the bitter taste and smell that is so slight, it is barely detected. But Hoseok does detect it, and he licks his lips, eyes trailing between the two of them. 

"Did you already—" Hoseok begins to ask, but Jimin is yanking him by the arm out of the booth, and in a frenzy, he complies, getting onto his feet as best as he can while scooting sideways past the table at his hips. 

When he is on his own two feet, standing without obstruction, Jimin takes him by the hand and pulls him through the crowded space, to where Taehyung is already walking ahead, toward the exit. 

"Did he already dose me?" Hoseok asks, to which Jimin giggles loudly without looking back. 

The evening air hits Hoseok and he scrunches his shoulders high. It is not necessarily cold, but everything feels heightened—anticipatory—making him shiver as gusts of wind blow through his hair. Jimin's hand is warm and holds firm, and their pace seems somewhat rushed as they make their way down the block, snaking through pedestrians on the sidewalk, to a nightclub that Hoseok has walked past but never entered. 

Taehyung shows his ID at the door, and Jimin rummages through his pocket for his, letting go of Hoseok's hand only long enough to pull the card from his wallet and allow Hoseok to do the same. Once security has scrutinized their foreign cards and compared them to their faces, Jimin has Hoseok's hand in his, tugging him through the dark entrance. 

"I liked the first club we went to," Jimin pouts as a short hallway opens into a larger space packed with writhing bodies. 

Loud house music thrums through every inch of the space, into Hoseok's bloodstream, and the rainbow lights that flash colorful beams throughout are somewhat disorienting. 

"I did too," Taehyung responds over his shoulder. "But it's too soon to go back there."

"Why?" Hoseok asks without thinking.

Jimin shrugs and looks over his shoulder to say, "Just 'cause!" as they continue leading the way. 

They walk past the main dance floor, to a tall, muscular security guard near the back bar. Taehyung lifts a hand to whisper something into the ear of the man, who nods his head to the side and then nods his head to Jimin. 

Taehyung leads the way through a black door that is almost indistinguishable against the black wall, into another hallway, which stretches about twenty feet before curving to the left, at a set of stairs. As they walk up, Hoseok surmises that this must be some sort of VIP section, and he wonders what kind of pull Taehyung has—how does he have access to places like this? If they have only been in Sydney for a little while, what kind of connections does he have?

The space they enter is a mezzanine that overlooks the club. There are tables along the railing and a bar off to the left. Past the bar are booths with privacy curtains, and Jimin leads Hoseok in that direction while Taehyung veers off toward the bar. 

"You guys must have connections," Hoseok shouts over the music once they are close to the booths and seem to be out of earshot of most people. 

Jimin pulls Hoseok to the last booth, checking each one they walk past and seeing that they all appear empty, with their curtains open, and then he holds out his hand, motioning for Hoseok to get in. 

Hoseok hesitates, then has a seat on the round black leather cushion and begins to slide toward the center. Jimin follows suit, sitting very close despite how much room there is. Once they are settled, Jimin lifts his arm, resting his elbow on the seatback between him and Hoseok, and begins running his fingers through Hoseok's hair. 

"Are the two of you a couple?" Hoseok asks. 

Jimin's eyes widen and shimmer as he says, "We are."

Hoseok nods, wetting his lips while looking around at the black leather and velvet enclosure. "How long have you two been together?"

Taehyung arrives with a round black tray balanced on his hand, holding three glasses of caramel-colored liquid. "Forever," he says, as he sets the tray down and slides it to the center of the table. 

"Forever, hmm?" Hoseok challenges playfully, glancing between Jimin, who stares at Hoseok, to Taehyung, who closes the velvet curtains before having a seat and sliding in on Hoseok's other side. 

There is a small, purple overhead light, and a candle encased in a red glass cup in the center of the table, giving the space an eerie glow. It feels as if Hoseok's senses have suddenly dulled, and the dizzying pounding of his heart certainly does not help. 

Taehyung does not scoot quite as close, but Hoseok can feel his warmth radiate, and as he sits back, staring forward at the small golden flame, an odd sense of discomfort settles over him.

"Did you dose me already?" Hoseok asks, turning to Taehyung, whose features almost appear gruesome in the dim light. 

"I did," Taehyung responds sweetly. "But only after you said yes."

Hoseok nods and accepts the response, though he would have liked to know how much of the substance he was given. Anxiety buzzes through him, just under his skin. He shrugs from his jacket, suddenly feeling too warm, and looks ahead at the three untouched drinks on the table, asking, "So, now what?"

"So," Jimin responds sweetly—emphatically, "now we drink these drinks, and we wait."

The anticipation of a high is often so nerve-wracking that Hoseok already laments the idea. But what choice does he have?

"And after we wait…?" Hoseok tries, glancing between Taehyung and Jimin, who both watch him. 

"You seem tense," Taehyung says so low it is almost lost beneath the loud club beat. Oddly, Hoseok had been unaware of the music blaring until he struggled to hear soft, dulcet tones blending through and beneath it. 

With a nod, Hoseok rolls his shoulders back in an attempt to relax. "I have that habit," he responds. 

Fingertips dig into Hoseok's shoulders in deep, slow circles and firm lines, tugging him to and fro, making his eyes roll back. Jimin is surprisingly good at massaging, and while Hoseok shifts around to give him more access, his mind flashes to a certain bathtub all those months ago, with a certain set of hands. 

"Relax," Jimin purrs close to Hoseok's ear, dragging the syllables long as warm breath wafts against his skin, turning the path to goosebumps. "Taehyungie and I got you for tonight. Don't let any other outside stressors cloud your mind."

As Jimin's hands move down Hoseok's back, he blurts, "I'm married," unsure why the information feels pertinent to share, aside from how intimate everything feels. To his surprise, Jimin's hands do not pause. 

"Hmm?" Taehyung hums as the weight in front of Hoseok shifts physically and audibly. He hears a glass getting set down on the table close to him. Taehyung's voice is playful as he adds, "And where is your husband?"

Hoseok's eyes flutter open, and he blinks Taehyung into view, finding the man sitting closer than before with his torso facing Hoseok, one leg crooked on the seat, cradling a glass between long fingers. 

"How did you know my spouse is a man?" Hoseok asks, feeling his heart grow heavier by the second. 

With a shrug and lift of a brow, Taehyung mutters, "Lucky guess," and Hoseok frowns, feeling unsatisfied. After a moment of tracing Hoseok's face with his eyes, Taehyung adds, "Straight men don't usually allow other men to drag them around and give them back massages, let's be honest."

"I suppose that's true," Hoseok mutters as Jimin's thumbs rub up his neck, causing his head to tip forward and his eyes to close. 

"So," Taehyung begins, paused by the sound of him taking a drink from a glass. "Why were you searching for us?"

Hoseok feels startled as his eyes dart open once more. He instinctively tries to sit up and adjust his posture, but Jimin's small but strong hands hold him in place.

"It's fine, darling," Jimin purrs sweetly, squeezing and rubbing Hoseok's shoulders and biceps. "You were just…not very discrete."

Hoseok sighs, then reaches for the drink that Taehyung had set closer to him. His glass feels colder than usual against his palm, and condensation drips down his wrist. Although Jimin's hands remain on Hoseok, his touch is much lighter, trailing fingertips up to his neck and back down, dragging the cloth of his white t-shirt. 

"I thought you were someone," Hoseok admits before taking a long sip of his drink. The whiskey is sweeter than expected, and he lets it settle on his tongue before swallowing it back. 

Jimin responds, "You thought we were…someone else?" 

"It's…a long story," Hoseok says, taking one more drink and setting his glass down.

Taehyung leans close and smiles, and for just a moment his pouty rectangular mouth sharpens. His eyes become wide, round galaxies, and Hoseok's mouth hangs around the name Jeongguk.

"You'll have to tell us all about it," Taehyung says, deep voice lilting high and sweet, familiar in a way that makes his heart ache. 

Hoseok blinks, and Taehyung is himself again. A surge of emotion fills him, and he swallows a lump, ignoring the way the vines that squeeze him so tightly sharpen with thorns. He almost feels guilty for wishing Taehyung were Jeongguk. 

"It might seem too strange to believe," Hoseok says, attempting to change the topic. 

"We'll circle back to it later," Jimin says, giving Hoseok's shoulders a squeeze before scooting away, leaving Hoseok feeling alone. "You're about to come up, and I don't need you stressing out about silly little details at a time like this."

"Oh," Hoseok mutters, nervously gripping his glass tightly. He wants to ask how Jimin knows he will be coming up soon—what coming up even entails—but he agrees that this may not be the time to stress about silly little details. 

Not to mention, the space they are in is beginning to appear foggy, and Hoseok is unsure whether that is a product of an actual fog machine, or if it is just a trick his brain is playing on him. Either way, he can't stop thinking about it.

"How does the music feel?" Taehyung asks—and it is strange that Taehyung should ask this, because right in this moment, the bass of the loud club music feels visceral and enrapturing, throbbing and pulsating through him, changing the nature of his nervous system, in synch with his heartbeat. Somehow, the music has found a home buried under his skin, and he thinks the way the candle flickers gently on the table must be tethered to his soul.

What the fuck did he drink?

"Good," is all Hoseok can bring himself to say. "Feels…" his mouth is dry, and he lifts his glass, muttering, "good," before taking a final gulp. 

"Should I get us water?" Jimin asks as the sound of him sliding away can be heard. 

Panic strikes Hoseok, who looks to Jimin worried, but Jimin smiles sweetly at him and then at Taehyung, nodding as he continues to slide. 

"Thanks, hyungie," Taehyung says, blowing a kiss in the air. 

When the curtains part for Jimin to exit, blue and purple beams of light enter the booth, and Hoseok's heart soars. He thinks that he would like to see more of the lights, but once the curtain is drawn, he is washed over with relief. It was glorious but too much, he thinks; likely to overwhelm him quickly.  

"Is he okay?" Hoseok asks, lurching slightly between words; he feels gassy, like he is belching, but only the tiniest pockets of air seem to be rising to his throat, and he finds it unsettling. He swallows thickly, wetting his lips. "Uh—out there alone, I mean."

"Oh, he's fine," Taehyung responds with a wide smile that morphs back to a familiar one that Hoseok has to blink away. "Not his first rodeo. And the bartender is a friend."

"Oh?"

"Mmhmm."

Time seems hard to grasp, or maybe Hoseok is overthinking it. For all he knows, Jimin left two minutes ago or an hour ago; all he can fully comprehend is that his heart is pounding and he feels antsy. 

"Hoseok," Taehyung prompts, after an amount of time that could have dragged but maybe not. 

"Hmm?"

"Be honest," Taehyung drawls slowly and easily. 

And Hoseok sits up straight, readying every fiber in his body to being honest. He may not be aware of too much at this moment in time, but he is sure that he wants to be honest, come what may. 

Taehyung smirks easily—lips tugging widely, showing more teeth than Hoseok thinks he may have ever seen. When he opens his mouth, Hoseok leans in close, ready to listen. 

"Do you think this haircut suits me?"

Taehyung's hair is a tuft of waves hanging over his forehead, framing his face beautifully with the sides and neck cut tight. Hoseok does not have to inspect it, but he does, leaning forward and nodding his head. 

"Yeah," he responds somewhat slowly. "It does."

"I wasn't too sure about it," Taehyung pouts, running his hands through it. 

Hoseok mirrors the pout, asking, "Oh?"

"I'm not used to wavy hair, so it was a challenge to learn how to style."

"You're not?" Hoseok asks, tilting his head, inspecting the hair. There is no way this is a perm, he thinks; it looks natural.

Rather than respond, Taehyung just sits back with his arms crossed over his chest, and he smiles widely. Something glimmers in his eye that Hoseok thinks he should be able to interpret, but he finds that he cannot. Suddenly, he feels like he is forgetting something. No, not forgetting—missing. 

Hoseok wants to ask, but how would Taehyung know what he is missing? It makes no sense. Still, Taehyung knows something, with how he studies and smiles.

"Where are you from?" Hoseok asks. His mouth feels terribly dry, and he looks around, disappointed to only see empty whiskey glasses. Three. There is a third person…where is Jimin?

"The countryside," Taehyung responds, "near Daegu."

"Daegu," Hoseok mutters under his breath, reprimanding his heart and mind for both thinking about Yoongi. Don't think about him, don't think about him, don't think about him.

"Jimin's from Busan," Taehyung says, lifting an eyebrow.

Busan trails into Jeongguk trails into the letters that they forged. Why did they make those letters? Who were they hiding from? Were they trying to hide from me? Hoseok squeezes his eyes closed, lifts his heavy, heavy arms, and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

"You alright?" Taehyung asks, and the words sound slow, like they are sinking deep, deep, deep into wherever Hoseok feels like he is dropping. 

"Thirsty," Hoseok mutters, holding back the rest. How can he tell Taehyung that he thinks he may be missing something very dear and important? Would Taehyung understand?

Loud house music plays, and Hoseok allows himself to hear it. It feels sleepy and awake at the same time—a quick drum beat over something dreamy and slow. Hoseok drops his hands down, but his eyes stay closed, and he imagines stars swirling across a dark sky, dancing and leaving a trail of glitter in their path, illuminating the heavens brighter and brighter. It feels hopeful. 

But then he thinks of Namjoon and how much he has fucked up being a good husband to his big dumb cutie in the last year. Will Namjoon be home when he returns? He continues to dwell on it—thinks he wouldn't deserve it if he was. Even if the thought threatens to suffocate and swallow him whole—suck him up into the glittering, swirling, unforgiving sky—he cannot stop thinking about it.

"Water!" Jimin sing-songs, and Hoseok opens his eyes to find him standing in the open curtain, shrouded in a halo of purple light. He looks angelic, covered in a sheen of sweat with wide, high pupils. In his arms, he hugs six water bottles, and when he bends to place them onto the table, they tumble haphazardly and begin to roll in all directions.

Hoseok half-stands and reaches for one that threatens to go over the edge close by, and he stands it on the table before assisting with gathering the rest. Although the music is louder and the lights are bright, Hoseok kind of likes having the curtains open. He begins to ask if they can keep them there, but Jimin begins to dance, and Hoseok loses his words. 

"I love this song," Jimin sighs as he runs his hands up his neck and into his hair, swaying his body slowly from side to side. 

His jacket is gone, and he only wears a black tee tucked into black pants, and although it is dark, the material hugs Jimin as he sways and swishes. Hoseok would try not to stare if he were in his right mind, but he finds he simply cannot help himself. Jimin is a sight to behold, and with the bright purple glow of the lights, he is magnificent. 

"You should dance with me," Jimin says, and Hoseok continues to watch him, expecting Taehyung to get up and join him. But then, when nothing happens, Hoseok glances around and realizes that Taehyung, and now Jimin, are looking at him.

"M-me?" Hoseok asks, shifting in his seat, unsure whether he could stand, much less move his body, in his current state. 

"Yes, you, silly," Jimin giggles, holding out his hands. 

And it is not that Hoseok would deny someone like Jimin anything, but he needs to adjust to his current situation first. Hoseok nods, but he reaches for the closest water bottle and twists the tiny plastic top. The water is cold—so cold it takes Hoseok by surprise, and he has to stop and catch his breath for a split moment before continuing to drink. 

Water is a gift. Suddenly, Hoseok feels recharged—a new man! He replaces the little plastic cap and then places both hands down on the booth to slide along the curve to freedom. Jimin continues to sway, holding his arms open wide for Hoseok, who finally scoots close to the edge and holds his own arms up. 

Jimin's hands are cold and soft when they grip onto Hoseok's wrists and yank with a surprising amount of strength. Hoseok chuckles as he is tugged on, and he stumbles onto his feet, nearly crashing into Jimin in the process, making Jimin's giggles turn into full-body laughter. 

"There you are," Jimin says sweetly, wrapping his arms around Hoseok's shoulders and slowly swaying his body for him. "How do you feel, baby?"

Jimin's face shifts and morphs ever so slightly as he speaks, tugging hard at Hoseok's heartstrings. He can almost hear the question asked in a deeper timber, grazed with a rasp. The vines suffocate. 

"Good," Hoseok lies, because physically, he really does feel good despite the treachery his mind is playing on him.

"Are you sure?" Jimin asks, dancing his fingers into Hoseok's hair. "You look sad."

"I am," Hoseok admits with a smile that he can feel tugging down into a frown. He is filled with the sudden urge to cry, and he shakes his head, doing his best to stay present and sway his body along with Jimin. At some point, the song must have changed, but the beat is similar, and he likes how it makes him feel floaty and soft and a little bit heavy. "I miss someone. Two someones. And you two sort of remind me of them. But that's fine. Missing people is another part of loving people, right? It's just life."

Hoseok knows he is rambling, but he finds it hard to stop once he has started. And Jimin is so patient, watching with an expression that looks so sad despite his attempt to smile. 

"Where are they now?" Jimin asks sweetly, tilting his head to the side.

Hoseok laughs through a sob, realizing suddenly that he has been crying. Hot tears pour as he blinks, but he allows them to fall freely as Jimin sways him to the music, letting his arms hang at his sides. 

"I don't know," Hoseok says, searching Jimin's face before letting his gaze fall to some spot on his shirt. "I thought perhaps they would be here, but…"

"But you found us, instead," Jimin responds so quietly, it nearly gets lost in the music. 

"Why did you dose me?" Hoseok asks, lifting his gaze to find Taehyung standing behind Jimin, leaning against the edge of the booth with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. 

Taehyung shrugs. "Because we thought it would be weird if you were the only one sober."

"But why me?" Hoseok has no idea what he is asking for; he simply refuses to believe that all of this is random. 

"You came with us," Taehyung simply responds. 

"Hmm," Hoseok nods, but he does not accept the answer. 

"You let me come with you," Hoseok continues, thinking about the conversation moments ago—maybe hours ago, "even though you thought I was looking for you."

Jimin laughs, leaning forward with enough force that it pushes Hoseok back, and he stumbles slightly. The more time he spends with Jimin, the less he finds it likely that he could be Yoongi or Jeongguk…except every once in a while, he says something that Yoongi would say, and it throws him off. 

"We were avoiding you when we realized you were looking for us," Taehyung teases as Hoseok attempts to get his balance back and Jimin continues to lean into him, laughing. "But you didn't seem like much of a threat, so—"

Before Hoseok can stop himself, he blurts, "Are you hiding from someone?"

The laughter dies, and Jimin straightens out and turns back to Taehyung, who continues to stand stoically and watch them. With a lift of his brow, Taehyung mutters, "Aren't we all?"

Hoseok considers it. He is not hiding from anyone, necessarily, but he was also not completely forthcoming with Namjoon about his whereabouts. 

"Maybe not hiding," Jimin adds with a disarming smile. "Maybe some of us are running."

Hoseok nods, accepting this addendum. "I am running," he admits. "But I'm not sure in which direction."

"What do you mean?" Jimin asks, tilting his head while watching Hoseok with wide, eager eyes. 

"I'm not sure if I'm running to someone or away from someone."

Hoseok's arms are lifted, draped over Jimin's hips. He has no memory of positioning them this way, but it feels nice. He notices Taehyung's gaze drift to his hands, and he wonders what the man is thinking. Luckily for him, Taehyung seems to always blurt out whatever is on his mind. 

"You don't have a wedding band."

"No," Hoseok says with a frown. "I'm not allowed to wear one at work, so I have grown accustomed to not wearing one at all.”

"And your husband?" Taehyung asks.

Come to think of it, Hoseok has no idea whether Namjoon wears his band anymore. Although it is not prohibited for him to do so at work, he prefers not to. They used to wear their bands on the weekends, but it has been months since Hoseok has removed his from the little gold dish that it rests on, atop their dresser. 

"I don't know," is all Hoseok says, swallowing thickly, mouth running dry. 

He is grateful when they do not ask for more information. And, when he drops his arms from Jimin's swaying sides and turns to grab for a bottle of water, he is grateful that Jimin's hold loosens before falling away entirely, giving Hoseok full mobility. 

Hoseok's pulse is heavy, and he feels dizzy as he stands as steadily as possible—feet planted hard onto the floor—and puts his focus on another tiny white cap. He must be squeezing the bottle too hard because water flows from the mouth once the cap is free, dribbling onto his hand. 

His hands shake a little as he lifts the bottle to his lips, and the water is so cold that it takes Hoseok by surprise again. He wants to gulp it back quickly, but he takes his time, one frigid sip after another until he feels sated enough to set the bottle down. Maybe he should have taken a drink from the one he had already opened, but that one is far away, and he is unsure whether he can trust his body to bend at the hips and not topple over completely. 

"Are you overwhelmed here?" Jimin asks at the same time fingertips dance in the hairs at the nape of Hoseok's neck. 

"I think so," Hoseok responds, suddenly acutely aware of just how intense the bright lights and booming music are becoming.

"I know a place," Jimin says, leaning in close enough that his breath is warm and inviting on Hoseok's neck. His voice is so low when he asks, "Do you trust me?" that Hoseok once again lets his mind wander to someone else. 

"Yes," he responds without hesitation. "I trust you."  

Hoseok barely keeps up with the rush of movement, but suddenly Jimin is wearing his denim jacket again, and he is putting water bottles into pockets on the inside of the jacket that are large enough to fit two each. Hoseok climbs into the booth on his knees to stretch forward and get his coat, then he slides his arms into the sleeves and holds onto the bottle that he had just been drinking from. Taehyung must grab the others, and Jimin takes Hoseok's free hand and tugs him along, causing him to stumble as they make their way past the booths to the stairs. 

Although he enjoys their company, Hoseok hopes that they do not continue to bounce from place to place. He feels heavy on his legs but also too light—like his body is made of boiled rice cakes that wobble in an attempt to hold him steady. Hoseok shoves his water bottle into a jacket pocket and grips the railing tightly as they go down the stairs, watching as the shadows and light bend and move beneath him, focusing instead on trusting his legs to know the right size steps to make because watching his feet is impossible and borderline terrifying. 

The music warps and sways around him, twisting and pulling in strange, disorienting syncopations—dizzying and hard to follow. He can feel that his hand is sweaty in Jimin's grasp, but Jimin continues to hold tightly and guide Hoseok through the hallway, into the main club, and to the front exit. 

Briefly, Hoseok's feet stop, causing his hand to partially slip from Jimin's grip. He watches the dance floor, taking in the lights and the sounds and the writhing bodies, and he thinks very briefly that he would like to be part of that. But imagining himself in the hot throng of limbs, bass, and sweat makes him nervous, and he shakes his head, dispelling the thought while gripping onto Jimin's hand a little tighter and muttering, "Let's go."

As soon as Jimin tugs Hoseok out into the street, everything in the world shifts. The sky is a strange murky, mossy green that skies never are, and the sidewalk feels too soft underfoot and far away. Hoseok stumbles and struggles to get his bearings, and when Jimin lets go of his hand, his heart beats too heavily in his chest, and he feels like curling into a ball and crying. 

"Piggyback?" Taehyung asks, crowding in front of Hoseok and bending low. 

"I don't…feel…" Hoseok begins, and Taehyung turns slightly, and says, "I know. It's okay, I'll carry you."

Although Hoseok is no stranger to piggyback rides, getting onto Taehyung's back is extremely precarious. Hoseok flings his arms over Taehyung's shoulders, but he cannot, for the life of him, seem to be able to pull himself up and lift his legs. Two hands on his ass gently but firmly shove him upward, and then arms wrap around his thighs in a haphazard tangle that has Hoseok gripping onto Taehyung for dear life.

People pass them by on the street, and the sounds of their voices are too loud, too high, too conspiratorial. Hoseok buries his face into the nape of Taehyung's neck and attempts to breathe, but his breath is sticky-hot against Taehyung's skin, and he finds that his hair smells oddly familiar. 

"What shampoo do you use?" Hoseok mutters with his lips grazing over the salty-sweet neck.

"Hmm, good question," Taehyung says softly—almost too soft to be heard over the incessant loud clattering of the busy street. "Whatever the hotel supplies."

"I don't think so," Hoseok mumbles, rubbing his nose against the short hairs at Taehyung's neck, detecting hints of something that he knows very, very well—something distinct. 

He wonders if his behavior is odd, but decides he does not want to put Taehyung on the spot to ask. If it is, he finds he does not really want to stop, anyway. If it is not, that may be a strange thing for someone like Taehyung to have to admit to him. 

"Who do I smell like?" Taehyung asks, taking Hoseok by surprise. 

"Jeongguk," he says without giving it a moment of thought.

"Jeongguk," Taehyung parrots, squeezing at Hoseok's heart because to say a name aloud gives it power, and Jeongguk is the kind of man who—Hoseok surmises—has had a little too much power at his fingertips. "Pretty name. Who is that?"

"Someone I love," Hoseok says, resting the side of his face against Taehyung's shoulder and daring to open his eyes. All the lights on the street vibrate and trail, vivid and abnormal, almost oppressive in their glow. "Someone who broke my trust but who I would give anything to see again."

Hoseok thinks he hears Taehyung hum; he thinks he feels it. And then Taehyung carries him off the main stretch and into a quieter area. Hoseok lets out a deep exhale, thankful for the barrage of sounds to end. Even without glancing around, he can smell pollen and tree sap, and he thinks he knows where he is.

"The botanical gardens?" Hoseok asks. 

"Clever, clever," he hears Jimin respond. 

Hoseok closes his eyes and sighs, and when he opens them, he is standing on his own two feet, staring up at the night sky through large panes of rectangular glass. The stars and clouds twist and sway like a Van Gogh painting, and he blinks slowly, curious when they change form and disappointed when they begin to smudge and wither away. 

And then he is sitting on a wooden bridge beside a pond, watching koi fish walk by. They all hold briefcases and wear little top hats, and Hoseok giggles at the thought of them all leaving to go to their day jobs. What would koi fish do for a living, dressed that way? Stockbrokers? Too droll for something so pretty and lucky, he thinks, but it is perhaps a prosperous enough career.

"It was overwhelming," Hoseok hears himself say, and then he realizes he is holding his hand out so that giant, mutant moths and butterflies might land on him. They have fangs and many eyes, but there is something in their body language—their gentle wingbeats—that tells Hoseok they are not to be feared. Or, perhaps, he is too trusting. "It felt like the start of an action film scene when the music comes on, and everything is just…culminating to something big and scary and…overbearing."

Hoseok forgets what he is talking about until Taehyung says, "That can happen sometimes, but I had you safely on my back."

Oh, right, Hoseok thinks. He must have been talking about the walk over here. He wonders how long ago that was.

So many things occur, and Hoseok lies on his back and simply experiences them. He thinks he sees Yoongi's face in everything—the flowers, the trees, the make-believe butterflies and woodland creatures with too many eyes. Hoseok thinks he sees his parents, and he even gets up and chases his mother around along the wooden bridges that go over a small river, laughing and singing her name. But then he is returned to his back in a large patch of itchy grass, in between two bodies.

"Is he one of the ghosts you are chasing?" Taehyung asks.

Hoseok turns to Taehyung and asks, "Who?" and as soon as Taehyung responds, "Jeongguk," his face morphs, causing Hoseok's eyes begin to well up with tears.

"Yeah," Hoseok says. "It's a long story."

"Chasing ghosts," Jimin mutters to himself, and Hoseok hums.

Hoseok's palm snags on wood, and although it does not hurt too much, when he looks at his hand, blood that morphs into flowing red glitter pours from his skin and into the river below, causing all the water that he can see to begin to shimmer and glow. He laughs so much he cries, and then he turns to tell the others what he saw, realizing he is standing on a bridge at the center of the garden, alone. 

Jimin and Taehyung are true to their word of answering Hoseok's questions, but he struggles to fully wrap his mind around too many of the details. Everything looks so strange and silly—currently drawn in crayon and wiggling as if the pages of a sketchbook are being flipped quickly from frame to frame.

"...chasing us," Taehyung's voice says. 

"Have you ever heard of cryogenic freezing?" Jimin's voice asks. 

"It is not as if your body dies fully," Taehyung's voice adds, "it just rests for a long period of time, somewhere safe."

"...one day, but for now, we like these ones," Jimin mutters softly. Then, he adds, "Hmm, I think he's too high for this."

Hoseok opens his eyes, attempting to sort out what they are talking about, but finds he is standing at the foot of a small waterfall alone. He stumbles away from the whooshing water, down semi-familiar paths that seem to be made of dirt until he blinks and they become stone and then he blinks and they become the large scales of a massive snake, or maybe a dragon, then the clearing opens, and he finds the other two standing with their arms stretched out at their sides and their heads tipped back. 

"Oh," Hoseok says, feeling uncomfortable with disturbing their peace, muttering much more quietly, "I found you."

Jimin drops his hands and runs over with a smile so bright, Hoseok has to look away. 

"There's my favorite boy," Yoongi's deep voice rasps as Jimin presses his warm hands into Hoseok's hair. Hoseok thinks he is sweating a lot, but Jimin does not seem to mind. 

As Hoseok watches Jimin, he tries not to feel too sullen about how easily he can morph into Yoongi and back. When it becomes too much to bear, he closes his eyes.

"My dad owned it," Jimin says, and Hoseok stares at the sky with teary eyes, unsure what they are talking about. 

"And then what?" Hoseok asks in an attempt to catch up.

"He died," Jimin says, "and I inherited it. I don't know what to do with it…what does one do with a botanical garden? I might sell it. It's in a good spot, being on the harbor. I think that's why my dad owned it."

"What do you mean?" Hoseok asks, blinking heavily—dizzy.

"Ugh, this conversation is boring," Jimin pouts, rolling over and draping his arm over Hoseok's body. 

Hoseok realizes, from Jimin's touch, that he is lying in the grass naked—no, not on the grass, but maybe on his clothing. When he looks up, Jimin, on his left, and Taehyung, on his right, are also naked. 

"I'm—we're—naked," Hoseok points out, and Taehyung chuckles. 

"Don't worry, we didn't do anything. The grass was just getting itchy and the clothing felt constrictive. Do you feel better now?"

Hoseok says, "Yes," but he is unsure how he felt before. 

"Good," Taehyung says, voice closer than Hoseok expects. Fingertips brush through Hoseok's hair, and he closes his eyes. 

Time passes, and voices speak to and around and beneath and inside him. Hoseok struggles to keep up, only able to focus on the fingertips that occasionally lazily play with his hair. 

"I miss him," Hoseok croaks, feeling tears rise. Around him, vines and branches twist and crowd, closing in on him—suffocating. He is still naked but sitting up. "I miss him so much. I shouldn't love him; I know I shouldn't love him. But I do."

Jimin reaches up and gently grabs Hoseok with both hands, cupping his cheeks and thumbing at his tears. His features twist and shape, soft to sharp to soft, clenching at Hoseok's heart. He asks, "You love him a lot, hmm?" and Hoseok sobs a laugh that is wet and disgusting, stuck in his throat. 

"He saved my life," Hoseok mutters, staring Jimin in his ever-shifting eyes. "I was shot and the order was to wait until our team called all clear before they would come and assess me. But I was bleeding a lot and he…he stormed in and he killed the man right in front of me—the one who shot me—and he carried me out. Nobody would have…nobody could have ever done that for me."

Hoseok does not fault Namjoon for not being able to, and he hates that his brain considers the notion at all. Namjoon has neither the training nor life experience to have handled a situation like that; it all happened under unique, specific circumstances. But the truth stands that without Yoongi, Hoseok could have been in critical danger that night. There is a chance he could have died.

"It's unfair," Hoseok mutters, feeling as if the air is thickening around him and crushing him down into a pulp. "I didn't mean to love someone else. It's not fair, and what I did was not fair." Another sob works its way up into Hoseok's chest, and he leans forward into Jimin's hands, forehead resting against his. "I love him so much. I love him so much, Jimin; I don't know what to do. He's gone and a piece of me feels empty and I don't know what to do."

"What would you say to him if he were here?" Taehyung asks, making Hoseok gasp; he had forgotten briefly that there was a person sitting beside him, despite feeling the consistent warmth that Taehyung emits. 

"Just that I love him," Hoseok mutters, sinking further down until Jimin's arms are wrapped around him, and his head is resting on Jimin's shoulder, warm skin on warm skin. "That I'm sorry. I'm sorry to him. I'm sorry to Namjoon. I'm sorry to Jeongguk. Everything is a mess that I cannot handle on my own, and I am sorry."

Hoseok continues to cry. He worries about being a burden and bringing the others down—after all, this could not have been what either of them hoped for when they set out to do drugs tonight. But he cannot help himself. 

Briefly, it feels as if all the vines in the garden wrap around and lift him, slithering and writhing, holding him pliant—oppressive, but comforting. And then he opens his eyes, and he is laying on his back with his hands under his head, looking upward. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Taehyung asks, and Hoseok watches as the night sky flickers into view, stars twinkling in full display.

"Yeah," he mutters, licking at his dry lips. "Really beautiful."

There are moments as he stares at his surroundings when Hoseok watches everything twist back to normalcy. He thinks he may finally be evening out a little. The sky above looks a faint blue, as if light is beginning to seep into the dark but only ever so slightly, and he wonders if so many hours have passed that night is ending.

"How do you feel?" Taehyung asks so close that hot breath wafts over Hoseok's bare shoulder. 

"Good," Hoseok says through a sigh, limbs loose and mind contented. There is still a buzz on the periphery of everything, and his eyelids flutter and tremble, but Hoseok thinks he is beginning to return to normalcy once more. 

Jimin stands and stretches his limbs out, letting his head loll back as he sighs in a way that nearly sounds like a moan. Hoseok is stunned by the taut, firm muscle and soft, supple skin that makes up Jimin's form. He looks like someone who trains hard physically to stay in shape, like a dancer. 

"It's rude to stare," Jimin drawls deeply, forcing Hoseok's eyes to his face. 

"S-sorry," Hoseok begins, and Jimin grins mischievously as his hands rub over his pecs and down to his hips.

"Don't worry, baby," Jimin says sweetly, dropping to his knees and crawling to Hoseok, slotting his body beside him. "I know you like to look at me; you've been doing it all night. It's been hard keeping my hands off you, but…you know…the drugs."

Hoseok does not fully know, and he shakes his head, "What do you mean?"

With a soft chuckle, Jimin says, "I wanted to fuck you all night, but it's hard to consent when you're tripping, so I held my tongue—didn't wanna ask."

"Oh."

Suddenly, Hoseok's body sings with excitement, and he takes a deep breath. Fingertips trace over Hoseok's hip at the same time lips touch his shoulder, and he turns his head to find Taehyung's long, golden limbs cuddled very close. 

"Glad I wasn't the only one thinking it," Taehyung mutters against Hoseok's skin, giving him goosebumps.

"But you're married," Jimin audibly pouts, forcing Hoseok's attention back to him. 

"I'm—" Hoseok begins. He closes his eyes and attempts to get his head set straight, but fireworks burst brightly behind his lids, causing his entire body to feel electric and warm. 

"What if we were them?" Taehyung asks so softly, Hoseok wonders if he imagines it. 

"You could pretend," Jimin responds so close to Hoseok's face, he can smell his warm, tangy-sweet breath.

When Hoseok opens his eyes, the gardens tilt and sway—he is definitely still high, but not nearly as much as before. Jimin kisses his neck while Taehyung kisses his shoulder, and he shudders against the feeling and sighs. 

"Don't you want me, Seokie?" Jimin asks, only the voice does not belong to Jimin—the words do not belong to him, either. Hoseok gasps and looks at him, finding Jimin's pretty round eyes going sharp once more. 

"Yes," Hoseok mutters without giving it too much thought, drunk on the idea of fucking someone who can so easily look like Yoongi. "Need you."

"Are you consenting to just one of us?" Taehyung asks against Hoseok's skin. "Or both of us?"

"Both of you," Hoseok whimpers, eyes fluttering closed again, desperate to see Jeongguk one last time, "please."

"Sure you're not too high?" one of their voices asks.

"I am high," Hoseok admits, "but I don't think I'm too high."

"Tell us to stop if you get overwhelmed," the other voice says, "call your safeword if you need to."

Hoseok nods, says, "Yes, okay," and opens his eyes to Jimin hovering close, shifting and sharpening and softening. 

When Hoseok reaches up and gently takes Jimin's face to pull him close, he feels an electric spark snap between his and Jimin's mouths. Jimin is pillow soft and salty-sweet, and Hoseok falls pliant at the feeling of a tongue and teeth scraping gently at his lip. 

Limbs twist and tangle, and Hoseok cannot keep up with the warmth that engulfs him, moaning and sinking to the feeling of hands and mouths. Taehyung swallows his cock in one swift motion that has him sobbing into Jimin's open lips, and his body feels pulled taut, and ready to burst, each feeling magnified almost to the point of driving him mad. He is dreadfully hard but not sure whether he could actually come, chasing and chasing his high as Taehyung audibly gags around him, covering him in drool. 

Jimin is gone but Taehyung is still here, and he has Hoseok flipped onto his stomach and is eating him out like a man starved. He keeps muttering shit like, "You taste so fucking good," and Hoseok's head absolutely spins. He is grateful the two of them are so intent on pleasing him; although he is returning to himself more and more, little by little, the thought of using his hands and mouth to make someone feel good is daunting, at best. 

When Jimin returns, he gets between Hoseok's thighs and begins to prod him open with lube-slicked fingers. Hoseok could swear that with each moan, the flowers around him open a little wider and bloom a little brighter. 

"Color?" Taehyung asks sweetly, petting the hair away from Hoseok's sweat-slicked forehead with a smile that shifts from rectangular to something almost resembling a long-lost friend. 

"Green!" Hoseok sobs, feeling prised open and prodded at in a most delicious way. Jimin's movements are perfect, almost as if he knows Hoseok's body by heart. 

Hoseok whimpers into Taehyung's open mouth, face held tightly in place as Jimin eases his cock into his ass, carving him slowly. The pleasure that bursts through his limbs causes him to tremble and shake violently.

"Color?" Taehyung mutters while sucking on the tip of Hoseok's tongue.

"Green," Hoseok responds as best as he can. 

Blunt fingernails scrape down Hoseok's back, then Jimin grips tightly to his hips and slams forward, spearing his cock nice and deep, and asking, "Does this feel good, baby boy?"

"Yes, daddy," Hoseok whimpers into Taehyung's lips, fisting the loose, scattered clothing beneath his hands nice and tight, barely registering his own words. 

Jimin sets a punishing pace, fucking Hoseok so hard and good that the only sounds he can make are choked sobs. When he finally gets the courage to sink Taehyung's cock into his throat—pleased with the lack of gag reflex—Taehyung grips tightly to Hoseok's hair and moans, "F-fuck! I'm still not used to how good this feels."

Hoseok is full and sated in the best way possible, and he sits pliant with his ass held high as Taehyung shifts onto his knees and begins to fuck his face. Tears, drool, and lube drip cool and sticky, making Hoseok feel used and dirty—elated.

"So fucking needy, baby," Jimin grits as if the words are hard to say. His hands squeeze and slap at Hoseok's flesh, making him tremble and whine—sputtering choked sounds and drooling around Taehyung's thick cock. 

"I don't know if I can come, but I don't ever want to stop fucking you," Jimin whines. 

"Same," Taehyung cries. "Holy fuck, this feels so good!"

Hoseok is certain that he will also be unable to come, and he has no desire to stop. He hardly feels sore where he is fucked or firm-touched, and his jaw is relaxed. 

They change positions. Hoseok is on his back, watching with wide, greedy eyes as Taehyung lifts his ankles onto his shoulders and presses a lube-slick cock nice and deep and slow into him. Taehyung is much bigger than Hoseok expects and the pleasure-burn of the stretch has him fisting handfuls of grass and fabric while he pants through the feeling and sobs. 

Jimin disappears and returns again shortly. "Danm, you two look so fucking good," he groans, making Hoseok blush and bite his bottom lip, feeling giddy. 

As Taehyung begins to set a steady pace with his thrusts, Jimin crawls over Hoseok and wiggles his ass in his face. Hoseok grips onto Jimin's hips and pulls him close, lifting his head to lick and suck at Jimin's pretty, puckered rim. He tastes like heaven—heady and ever so slightly salty-sweet—and Jimin moans pretty and deep as he leans forward and trembles in Hoseok's grasp.

Hoseok only stops to gather clothing beneath his head like a pillow to support his neck better in his efforts to eat Jimin out. Taehyung fucks Hoseok hard and fast, and the three of them create a symphony of sounds between choked and screamed syllables, and the slapping of skin against skin. 

Time is still an elusive thing, but it feels more tangible now than it has in hours. Hoseok is more able to stay in the present, although he seems to lose track between eating Jimin's ass and swallowing his cock nice and deep.

Sun begins to shine ahead, and as their bodies slow and begin to gradually wear down, they become less of a machine meant to fuck and please and take, and more a writhing tangle of limbs—heavy and tired. 

"Let's sleep," Jimin mutters into Hoseok's drool-covered neck. 

"Sounds good," Hoseok responds through trembling lips. 

They gather their clothing and stumble naked through grass, along paths Hoseok hadn't taken, into a door that says Employees Only. Inside is a large room with a bed, a television, and more amenities that Hoseok is unable to fully comprehend—a coffee pot, maybe. Perhaps a microwave. 

The three of them fall into bed, and Hoseok closes his eyes, thinking only of Yoongi and Jeongguk. And when he wakes up alone beside a pile of folded clothing, his heart sinks, and he misses the two of them more than ever before. 

Hoseok is not one to wear out a welcome, and he gets dressed quickly. He is exhausted, and his thirst and hunger are so intense, his body feels like an empty husk. Although he trusts that Jimin and Taehyung have not robbed him, he pats down his pockets for his phone and wallet, and then he leaves, checking to make sure the door locks from the other side, in case the others will not be back until later. 

People meander around the botanical garden, which feels a bit strange. Hoseok glances around, taking in the paths that lead into trees. He thinks about the small waterfall and wooden bridges; of the little river, and the koi fish. Vaguely, he remembers the fish on their way to work, and the mutant moths and butterflies, and the glittering blood shimmering into the stream. He looks at his palm and sees a tiny wooden splinter surrounded by pink, angry skin, and he picks at it for a few seconds before determining that it will need to be dealt with later.

As he makes his way to the exit, he tries to remember more, but the conversations are too hazy, and he struggles to make sense of much. There is a sinking feeling that the two of them told him something important, but all he can do is hope that it all comes back to him, at some point. 

Hoseok feels strange in his body. Discombobulated, as if he is in someone else's skin for the first time. This sensation is not foreign, but it is not usual for him to feel this way without being jumped into a host. He has a looming sense of dread and loss that, no matter how much he tries to distract himself with people-watching and searching his surroundings, he is unable to shake.

He comes to a café that is between the botanical garden and his hotel, and he has a seat on the patio. When the server brings him a menu, Hoseok finds he struggles to read it, having a hard time focusing on the English words in front of him, breathing with his eyes closed so he can get a grip. He orders an omelet and coffee, and then grips tightly to a tall glass of water which he nearly finishes in two gulps. Then he fishes out his phone, eager for the first time in what seems like ages to know what time it is.

It takes Hoseok by surprise to see that it is three in the afternoon, but that would explain why the sun is so bright and hot. On his screen are two notifications, one from Namjoon and one from an unknown number. He assumes the unknown number belongs to Seokjin and opens Namjoon's first, noticing it has come in several hours ago, and responds in earnest. 

Namjoon: Hey, Seok! Just checking in. Do you fly back soon? I want to discuss something with you when you have a chance to talk. 

Hoseok: I fly back tomorrow, home probably some ungodly hour on Monday, but I will let you know when I know more. Do you want to call or wait until I'm home?

As soon as Hoseok opens the other message, it becomes clear that it is not from Seokjin, and his heart begins to thump wildly.

[Unknown]: Sorry we have to say goodbye this way, but our flight is soon. What will you be doing at precisely 8:30, tomorrow morning? There is something we want to discuss.

Hoseok: I will be here, likely waiting to board my flight home. Call when you're free, and I will make sure to be available.

Hoseok does not expect the others to respond so soon, and actually gasps at the sight of three dots bouncing, watching intently for the message to come.

[Unknown]: Sounds good. ;] Will call when we land. Thanks for the fun night, Seokie! 

Hoseok's heart sinks, and he smiles through the urge to cry. How can he possibly miss the two of them so much, when he hardly spent any time with them—when the time spent was so strange and disorienting.

Hoseok: Thank you, as well! Safe travels!

Half of Hoseok's omelet is left uneaten. Although he still feels like a shell of his former self, he is also somewhat nauseous, and he sips at his coffee until it becomes too cold in the afternoon air, then he pays his check and leaves. Rather than make his way back to the hotel, Hoseok doubles back and begins to meander the streets, taking in the sights and sounds and allowing himself to remember them a little more. 

Hoseok: My flight is tomorrow morning at 10:12, and I should be home just after midnight. Namjoon: Ok. I'm gardening with my mom right now, and we have dinner plans for later. Mind if I call around 6:30 in the morning, your time? I want to take my parents to breakfast, and you know they like to wake up really early.

Hoseok: Sure. That's fine. Namjoon: Great. Talk to you soon, Seok!

Hoseok: Sounds good.

Hoseok has restless sleep. He dreams of Yoongi and Jimin morphing into one another, speaking in tongues too soft and convoluted to understand, always just out of reach. He dreams of searching high and low for Namjoon and never finding him, and of Taehyung holding up a deflated, empty version of Jeongguk's skin in his fingers, fiddling with his facial features and commenting on them as if they used to be his. 

When he wakes up in a cold sweat to the sound of his alarm blaring at 6 AM, he sighs and rolls over onto his back, blinking the room into view. The sun has yet to begin rising, but the sky that he can see hints of through dark curtains is a faint dark blue of twilight. Hoseok thinks of the sky through the glass ceiling of the botanical garden, and rolls onto his side as the urge to bawl snakes up into his throat and eyes, rocking through him in devastating waves. 

Hoseok misses everyone he has ever loved so dreadfully, and he has no idea what comes next.

By the time his phone rings, Hoseok has stopped crying. He smiles at the photo of Namjoon on his screen—a picture taken so long ago, showing a crescent moon eye and deep, happy dimple. 

"Hey," Hoseok mutters, voice sounding rough.

"Seok," Namjoon responds. "Sorry for calling so early."

Hoseok sits up against the headboard of the bed and pulls over the snot-stained pillow to hold against his chest. "It's alright, I wake up early, anyway."

"True."

Silence hangs, and Hoseok gives Namjoon time to gather his thoughts. Although he is eager—antsy, even—he has no reason to rush him.

"I took a job in Busan," Namjoon finally blurts.

Hoseok's eyes widen, and he sits up taller. "What?"

"I…listen…" Namjoon sighs. "I love you, but everything has been too much for me to handle. I'm getting angry and taking my anger out on you, and I can't stay focused at work. I just need a little space. I'm sorry for springing it all on you, especially over the phone, but…I don't know. I haven't been able to say it to your face. It's a temporary position training people at a new facility, six months at most, but I think it will be really good for me—for us."

"Okay," Hoseok butts in when it becomes clear that Namjoon will continue to ramble and spiral if he is not cut off. "I don't blame you for needing space. I'm sorry…about…everything."

With Namjoon's next words, his tone has shifted into something more stern and resolved. "Things have been weird between us, and I know that we won't fix them unless I take a step back."

"Okay."

"I don't want to date anyone else," Namjoon adds quickly, "and I don't want to get a divorce. I just need to take a little time."

The old familiar vines of guilt twist and twist as the memory of letting Jimin and Taehyung fuck Hoseok begins to seep in. "Alright."

"Have you heard from…you know?" Namjoon asks. "Them?"

"No," Hoseok says quickly, then sighs. "No, I haven't."

Namjoon's voice sounds sad and somewhat small as he asks, "Will you tell me if you have?"

"Of course," Hoseok lies, unsure what the circumstances could be, should he hear from them—unsure whether Jimin and Taehyung truly were not them, somehow; unsure which parts of his trip were real and which were not, struggling to grasp onto what they discussed throughout the night. "Of course, I will."

"Okay," Namjoon mutters. "Thank you, Seok."

"Anything you need," Hoseok says, feeling somewhat numb. Although Namjoon insists that it is all temporary, there is a finality in his tone that Hoseok detects. He knows Namjoon well enough. And, try as he might to feel sad, he struggles in this moment to feel much at all.

"I have to go. Mom wants to try a new breakfast spot, and dad is fussing about getting there before there's a crowd."

"Of course," Hoseok says with a sad smile; he misses Namjoon's parents. "Tell mom and dad I say hi."

"Will do."

"And let me know how the new position goes. I'm rooting for you, Joonie."

"Okay," Namjoon says softly. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Hoseok mutters, chest tightening. "Just take care of yourself. We'll talk soon."

"I love you, Seok."

Hoseok says, "I love you too," in a choked voice, hanging up before Namjoon can hear him cry. Suddenly, all of his emotion floods back, threatening to drown him.  

This is the end, he thinks to himself. 

Namjoon has a new job, and soon he will have a new life. Soon, with clarity of mind, he will fully understand the gravity of Hoseok's actions, and he will not forgive him. And why would he? Hoseok knows that what he has done is unforgivable.

This is the end, and everyone he has ever loved is gone. Hoseok cries into the pillow, sobbing loud and terrible as his body quakes, weathering the storm inside him. When crying becomes too much, he drifts off to a short, dreamless sleep, feeling both heavy and gutted all at once.

At the sound of his phone ringing, Hoseok rubs his snotty, tear-streaked face on the pillow and groggily sits up. He knows without looking at the screen who is calling, and he sniffles as he answers with a raspy, "Hello?"

"Hoba," Jimin's voice—Yoongi—says on the other line, making Hoseok's heart sink. "Hey, baby."

"Y-Yoongi?" Hoseok croaks, practically no sound coming out as his head spins.

"I'm sorry we couldn't fully be honest. Do you remember anything we told you last night?"

"No," Hoseok sobs, and tears rise, clouding his vision. 

"It wasn't safe for you to know while we were there. It's still not safe. You need to break communication with Seokjin and turn your company's sights on him."

"What do you—"

"He's my brother," Jeongguk says in Taehyung's soft but deep voice; they must have him on speaker. "He's been tracking us down and trying to kill me. I didn't realize until recently that he and dad have been working together. It's…a long story. He's been on the run for so long, I didn't think he would come back, but when Yoongi's father died, it seems he got paranoid. I think he's been protecting dad. We had to change our identities. Now do you understand?"

"I think so," Hoseok mutters, "but why—"

"It all happened so fast," Jimin's voice responds. "It was my idea to run. We wanted to tell you, but we were unsure which lines of communication were safe."

"Not to mention," Taehyung's voice adds, "since you did so much to help us, you deserve to know that this was the reason we wanted the implants, all along."

"Oh," Hoseok responds, remembering back when he and Yoongi were in the hospital, and Yoongi said, You're our hope.

"I'm sorry we had to leave without saying anything," Jimin's voice chimes in, deep and sad, with a slight rasp that feels familiar. "We knew all along that we would eventually have to say goodbye, and we tried not to get too close, but…well, you guys made that pretty difficult for us.  And when your company began to look into us, as Jimin and Taehyung, I knew that Seokjin was at the heart of it."

"We started appearing out in public a little carelessly, hoping he would lead you to us," Taehyung's voice adds, "we wanted to see you one last time."

"But we had to keep hiding," Jimin's voice says. "He knows my dad owned the botanical garden as a drug front, staying close to the harbor. We've had our own security team tailing us while trying to be as public as possible, for you to notice us."

"We were weary at first," Taehyung's voice adds, "spending a little time watching you to make sure you were alone."

"Sorry we had to keep so much a secret," Jimin's voice continues, sounding sad. "I love you, Hoba. You know that, right?"

Hoseok attempts to respond—wants to tell Yoongi so badly that he loves him more than he could ever put into words. But the syllables choke and fail, and he sobs so hard his chest feels as if it might be caving in. He tightens up into a ball, hugging the pillow and his knees tight to his chest, squeezing the phone against his ear. 

"When the coast is clear, we can come back," Taehyung's voice finally says. "Our bodies aren't dead, they're just…"

"Resting," Jimin's voice adds. "Frozen. If you can help us get rid of Seokjin and Jaebeom, we can come home."

For all he knows, the two of them could be using him again—toying with him in some new scheme, just as they had been in the beginning. But Hoseok cannot bring himself to care. Not when there is a goal. Not when he has a chance to see the two of them again. 

"Can you submit a formal request?" Hoseok asks. "If The Boss knows it's you, she'll—"

"We can, but we don't want her to know," Taehyung's voice responds. 

"Wait, why?"

"We're not fully sure we can trust her," Jimin's voice adds sternly. "She seemed to know my dad well, and although she was willing to call the execution order, she always seemed to have ulterior motives…something she was not telling us. When she almost left you in the warehouse to die, it opened my eyes. We'll be contacting her with agents who we have been working with, once we have our story straight, but only you will know that it is us."

"If you can do this one last job, it will all be over," Taehyung's voice says. 

"We can return to our former selves, and you can take that vacation you talked about," Jimin's voice adds. 

"I could retire," Hoseok mutters under his breath. 

"Maybe the four of us—" Taehyung's voice begins, and Hoseok scoffs, cutting him off.

"Namjoon's gone."

In tandem, one voice asks, "Huh?" while the other asks, "What do you mean?"

"He took a job in Busan. He's been staying with his parents. We've…we're not getting along anymore. He says he wants to clear his head and have some space, but I know him; I could hear it in his voice. I don't think he's coming back."

"Hyung," Taehyung's voice says in a comforting tone, but Hoseok shakes his head for no one to see. 

"It's fine. Regardless, I can't look forward to him coming back. I can't keep my hopes up. If he does, then I will do my best to be there for him, but I have already fucked up so much that I can't look forward to it."

"I'm sorry, Hoba," Jimin's voice mutters sweetly. 

With a sigh, Hoseok begins to feel antsy to pack his suitcase and get to the airport. He just wants to return to his empty home, climb into bed, and close his eyes to the world. 

"Submit your request when you're ready and I'll see what we can do," Hoseok says, sitting up, feeling his tear streaks finally begin to dry. 

"Will do," Jimin's voice says. "Safe travels, Hoba. We're going to head off to another continent soon. We'll try to keep in touch."

"What about the real Jimin and Taehyung?" Hoseok asks, unsure whether he wants the answer. 

"Ah," Jimin's voice says, "they're…dead."

"Dead," Hoseok responds flatly.

"They were in a coma," Jimin's voice continues, "and their families were going to take them off life support. The hospital had been working with my father in some shady dealings…essentially handing over nearly-dead people as test subjects whose bodies could be jumped into—pretending to take patients off life support in front of their families, faking identities, and so on."

"How does the company fake open casket funerals?" Hoseok asks through a dark laugh.

"Artist renderings," Jimin's voice responds with a sardonic chuckle of his own. "You would be amazed what they can do with wax, clay, and paint. I touched one of the fake bodies once, and the texture was uncanny…I wouldn't be surprised if they were using real, human skin. I didn't want to ask. It's morally grey at best…pretty fucked up, honestly…but we saw an opportunity and we took it." 

Taehyung chimes in, "Jimin and Taehyung were a couple. They went into a coma while using cocaine that was laced with fentanyl…ironic, considering that was the charge we were using to put a stop to our dads, in the first place. Jimin was pronounced dead first, and then Taehyung three days later. We left Korea, and their families have no idea."

"You know I have to shut that program down," Hoseok mutters, feeling both disappointed but relieved that they had such a convenient way to escape.

"We'll add it to the file," Jimin's voice says, smile evident in his tone. "Give us a few days…a week at most."

"Alright," Hoseok says, feeling a strange sense of resolve. "Submit your request as soon as possible, and I will do whatever it takes. And keep in touch, please?"

"Of course," Jimin's voice says, "I love you, Hoba."

"I love you, too. Both of you. Very much."

"Be safe," Taehyung's voice says, clenching at Hoseok's heart. 

"You too. And thank you for the trip. It was…strange. But perfect, too. I can't pinpoint why, but it was exactly what I needed."

"I know," Jimin's voice says. "I know you."

Silence hangs on the line, and Hoseok holds his breath, counting the seconds. For the life of him, he cannot bring himself to end the call. 

"Alright," Jimin's voice says, "This is goodbye, for now. I don't know when we will be in touch, but I promise you, we will."

"Okay," Hoseok responds sullenly. "Goodbye. I love you."

"I love you," the voices say, followed by, "Goodbye."

Hoseok hangs up and clenches his phone tightly to his chest. Everything feels final in a way, but also hopeful. He at least has something to set his sights on, and although he laments on how events have happened, he is just glad to know that everyone who he holds dear is safe. Despite how everything hangs in the balance, shrouded with so many unknown factors that only time can unravel, he has a goal, and he feels hopeful. 

Despite his deep loneliness, he feels loved.

"Alright," Hoseok mutters to himself, stretching his limbs and kicking the hotel bedding away. The sun shines brightly through the dark curtains, and he glances around the space with a sigh. "Time to go home."

Tuesday comes and goes with Hoseok barely leaving bed. Namjoon had already packed and moved out many of his belongings, and everything feels too fucking weird to comprehend.

On Wednesday morning, Hoseok returns to work bright and early. 

The Boss waits for him beside his office door, clutching a manila folder in her grasp. She wears a black satin shirt with a ruffled neckline tucked into a bright red pencil skirt and sharp, black high heels. Hoseok wonders what new client she is trying to impress. 

"New case," she says as Hoseok approaches. "Seems the guys Kim Seokjin were after are pulling an uno reverse and filing a claim against him."

"Oh?" Hoseok asks, taking the file and unlocking his office door. 

When The Boss says nothing, Hoseok turns and finds her standing with her arms folded over her chest, regarding Hoseok with a lifted eyebrow. 

"Yes?" he asks, making her scoff. 

"What did you find in Australia?" she asks after a moment.

"Nothing," Hoseok says, schooling his features to appear impassive. "I spent the weekend chasing ghosts. I have a hunch the two of them caught onto me being there and fled; perhaps they knew Seokjin was asking me to look into them."

"Hmm," The Boss responds, unconvinced. "So you don't think Jimin and Taehyung could be Yoongi and Jeongguk?"

With a shrug, Hoseok flips through the file, catching onto keywords on the first two pages, and then says, "If it is them, we likely won't know until Seokjin is removed from the equation. Maybe your earlier hunch is correct, and Seokjin is protecting his father from Jeongguk. If these two are Yoongi and Jeongguk, then the hit on them may have been real, rather than a decoy…but for now, there is no way to know."

"Well, I want you on this case as the point person, so once you are ready to meet with the agents who have filed this report, let me know and we can discuss the details. Unfortunately, it seems our Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung have fled to the United States, but we have a phone number on file in case we need to get in touch with them."

"Sounds good," Hoseok says, turning to make his way to his desk. 

"If you think it really is them, then I want to treat this case with the utmost urgency," The Boss adds, and for the first time, Hoseok thinks he might detect something like fondness, maybe even worry in her tone. "If it really is our boys, then I have a feeling that key players from Min's former team could be helping them out. Maybe they know something about the technology that could help us. Either way, I want our boys home safe."

"Okay," Hoseok says, resolved with his new task, feeling hopeful. The sooner he kills Kim Seokjin and Jeon Jaebeom, the sooner he can bring Yoongi and Jeongguk home. Luckily for them, nobody is better at this task than Jung Hoseok. "We'll do whatever it takes. We'll bring our boys home."

wow. here we are, at the end. when i set out to write this fic, all i wanted to explore were the messy feelings and the body swap smut/selfcest. i kind of intended for it to be a whirlwind that has no solid ending, but then i became too busy to update frequently. i hope that this ending, after all this time, does not feel like a letdown. i rather like the idea of everything being up in the air and hopeful. i can't, in good conscious, give them a truly happy ending after everything they have put each other through, but giving them a concrete sad ending also breaks my heart. like yoongi and jungkook, i set out on this mission to perform a quick and dirty job and get the fuck out, but i grew attached.

thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for reading this fic. my writing style has completely changed from chapter 1...it hardly feels like the same person when i look back at it. i love this story a lot, and it is an honor that you have spent time reading it with me. it is one of the more experimental ones on my list, and despite its longevity, it gets very little love compared to my other fics. if you have ever read, commented, reblogged, or liked, you mean the world to me!!! i am so sad to say goodbye to these four, but a massive weight has been lifted. it has been so long, and we are finally here, and i am very grateful. 💛💛💛 stay hydrated!!! i love you!!! if you have any questions involving the characters or events, or if you want to discuss possibilities about their futures, i am happy to wax poetic day and night!

maybe one day i will write an epilogue. we'll see.

please don’t be a silent reader! feedback & reblogs do so much to help content creators! and likes are nice too!!!

tag list: @codeinebelle, @dasexydevitt13, @giriiboyy, @jminssiii​ @m1sss1mp​​, @mgthecat,​ @moonleeai, @spookyminyunki ✨

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Dollhouse is copyright 2022 - 2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved.

[hlcevr-tech-support]

NEW AI Calling List as of the version 1.6.0 Beta (with NPC Counterpart Names)

Bubby (Glasses)

Coomer (Einstein)

Darnold (Luther)

Tommy (Slick)

Tim (Rosenberg)

Tedward (Keller)

Benrey (Barney)

Odin (Otis)

Forzen* (Beret)

Eugene* (GasMask)

Jimmy* (Balaclava)

Tower* (Cigar)

Dave* (BandanaW)

Mike* (BandanaB)

Eddy* (Medic)

Jackson* (Torch)

Lydia** (AssassinF)

Adam** (AssassinM)

CUSTOM01***

GMan (GMan) [Not Selectable]

*These AI can be selected either as a Companion in all games OR can be selected part of the AI Rival System in HL, BS, or D.

**These AI can be selected either as a Companion in all games OR can be selected part of the AI Rival System in all games.

***This AI is intended to be programmable and, based on its utilization, is the only AI capable of being selected multiple times (provided that multiple AI do not share EXACT data).

Do note that AI 20, while available within the Calling List, is intentionally not selectable within the customization menu. Calling in this AI as a companion must be done with the Command Menu or through external code manipulation.

OLD Calling List Under the Cut

Half-Life

Bubby (Glasses)

Coomer (Einstein)

Darnold (Luther)

Tommy (Slick)

Benrey (Barney)

CUSTOMO1

Forzen (Beret) [Not Selectable]

GMan (GMan) [Not Selectable]

Opposing Force

Odin (Otis1)

Forzen (Beret)

Eugene (GasMask)

Jimmy (Balaclava)

Tower (Cigar)

Dave (BandanaW)

Mike (BandanaB)

Eddy (Medic)

Jackson (Torch)

Lydia (Assassin) [Not Selectable]

Adam (AssassinM) [Not Selectable]

GMan (GMan) [Not Selectable]

CUSTOMO1

Blue Shift

GMan (GMan) [Not Selectable]

Forzen (Beret) [Not Selectable]

Bubby (Glasses)

Coomer (Einstein)

Darnold (Luther)

Tim (Rosenberg) [Scripted]

CUSTOMO1

Decay

Tim (Rosenberg) [Scripted]

Tedward (Keller) [Scripted]

Benrey (Barney) [Not Selectable; Scripted]

GMan (GMan) [Not Selectable]

CUSTOMO1

[emeraldzephyr]

Some Cyberpunk Cowboy Steddie inspired by @trashpocket and their excellent art

The only thing for miles was sand. Rolling dunes, shifting and dancing in the wind, the twin suns scorching the earth and reflecting the heat back into the atmosphere. Luckily, Harrington Model #85 only suffered minor damage when he crash landed on the planet's arid surface. His thermoregulation system sputtered to life as soon as he clambered out of the ship pod's wreckage, perspiration beading on his forehead.

"Birdie, what's our status?" He grunted out, hauling his recon bag over his shoulder.

"Looks like we unceremoniously crash landed on Beta Earth 83, Steve" the navigational matrix chirped out, using the moniker she dubbed him with, "it's an arid but uninhabited planet. Should be safe here assuming you don't fry under these suns. Or get eaten by some creature. Or fall in quicksand. Oh, that reminds me! I should probably scan for quicksa-"

"Birdie" Steve says,"Let's maybe scan for water or food first."

"Says someone completely and blissfully unaware of the dangers of quicksand!"

This draws an eye roll from Steve, who decided that the direction he was facing was a perfectly good way to start looking. He hoisted the bag higher on his shoulder, pulled his wide brimmed hat lower over his eyes, and pulled his handkerchief up around his nose to block the sand and wind.

"Hey Steve?"

"Yeah Birdie?"

"You may want to course correct 15 degrees north. There should be some aquifers we can tap around there."

-

The sand stretched for miles and miles around him, no relent from the scorching rays. He felt his nose and cheeks beginning to blister, and the servos in his arm were beginning to grind from the sand worming its way into the joints. He flexed his inorganic hand, feeling tightness in the joints, electing to grab his canteen with his organic hand instead. He gave it a shake and upended it into his mouth. A small trickle was all that was left. He savored every bit, swishing the tepid water around in his mouth.

"Birdie, we close to those aquifers yet?" He croaked out, feeling the burgeoning pressure in between his eyes that signaled an incoming migraine.

"I don't understand," the voice trilled out "they should be right here..."

"Well all that's here is sand, so unless you can suddenly make water out of that, we may be out of luck."

Most cyborgs didn't believe in the concept of luck. Outcomes were a consequence of probability matrices and a complex web of cause and effect. Whether it was because he was only half cyborg, having one too many head injuries on recon and rescue missions, or his unceremonious crash landing into the planet knocking some circuits loose, Steve Harrington was not like most cyborgs. And perhaps referencing the Lady Luck was all that was needed to draw her favor as his boot thunked down onto something metallic.

Steve instantly clicked on his own personal range scanners, causing his single inorganic eye to glow blue with light. It outlined a hatch, buried beneath a layer of sand.

"Birdie... Thought you said that Beta Earth #83 was...uninhabited... "

"It's supposed to be! The data is-"

"Rather outdated, and I'd love for it to stay that way" a voice drawled from behind him.

Steve moved to turn but instantly felt the cold iron of a revolver press into his spine between his shoulder blades.

"Now could you do us the honor of dying," the voice crooned in his ear, dark curls falling over Steve's shoulder from the proximity, "That would be splendid, sweetheart."

[soulsuckrrs]

open to: m/f/anyone connection: the alpha's son/daughter/child of a rival pack👀👀, another supernatural. plot: after several centuries of searching, Richard has more or less given up on the idea of his mate being out there, not everyone found their mate but the fact that he was now newly appointed the alpha of his own pack, it is a heavier weight upon his shoulders. no alpha in the history of his pack has been without a mate, even his uncle. running into your muse flips his world upside-down. hmu to plot more if you'd like! editor: using beta

Parties weren’t an unusual place for Richard, he was a social butterfly and was often times on many people’s guest lists. That didn’t always mean he attended every event he was invited to, especially since obtaining leadership of his Uncle’s pack, however, Richard’s responsibilities had brought him to this party in particular. A mating ceremony, or in a more modern term, engagement party. He was dressed to impress, a black suit tailored just for him with accents of baby blues and whites that made his piercing blue gaze even sharper as he meandered through the reception of the party, champagne flute in one hand. It was always nice being reminded that he was one of the few alpha’s attending that had not found his mate just yet. His sisters were already settled down and happy, why he hadn’t discovered the other half that so many of his kind believed in just eluded Richard. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, Richard simply lived an extremely active life and the things he did to seek out another rush of adrenaline wasn’t always that welcoming to those that wanted to settle down or mate. 

Shifting through the crowd further and towards the bar Richard eyed those around him, happiness and lust was thick in the air and it reminded him the days such events were more or less orgies instead of simply parties to celebrate a coupling. He sighed and swiped two fresh flutes of champagne before he downed one and took a large gulp from the other, almost finishing it as well. He moved around to where the bar was and finished off the champagne, eyeing the empty glass thoughtfully as he waited for the bartender to order another drink. The pressure since he had taken over for his Uncle had been great and it didn't help he still wasn't sure what had happened to his Uncle, whether the other man was dead or not perplexed Richard and kept him awake most nights-- that along with the crippling guilt he'd failed the only man he'd ever considered a father, Richard hadn't been there when he was needed and now he was left picking up the pieces, cleaning up the mess he'd been left with.

So his thoughts were heavy tonight but the only thing that gave that away was the tension in his shoulders as he leaned against the bar, blinking out of his thoughts to glance around, see if he'd missed anyone he knew aside from the mated couples-- he'd said hello to them first before wandering through the thick mass of people, it seemed every pack for a several hundred locations had been invited but it wasn't a surprise to Richard. Royalty among wolves walked this crowd and Richard knew he wasn't the only one, it would be disrespectful to let the connections his Uncle kept to wither. Eyes so blue they resembled the ocean scanned over people with a lazy manner, not really bored but not truly engaged until his eyes met theirs and a jolt of energy rippled throughout him. Richard smiled instinctively and the action did well to hide his slight surprise.

[deniisu-sims]

Get to Know Me - Sims Edition

Tagged by @puffkins2000 and several others!

What’s your favorite Sims death? Never thought very well about the death types but I'll go for Time Anomaly because the ghost actually looks kinda creepy!

Alpha CC or Maxis Match? MM clothing, semi-realistic Asian-made skins, ALPHA HAIR ONLY. Furniture is a mix, really, but I can't stand MM hair in TS3 AT ALL.

Do you cheat your sims weight? Not at all - if I want to change their weight, they'll go to the gym! Now, for other physical features (read: getting rid off EAxis cartoonishness) Edit in CAS is my best friend :P

Do you move objects? But of course?????? XD

Favorite Mod? The NRaas suite in general + Lazy Duchess ones, but if I need to choose JUST ONE I'll go with DebugEnabler just for the item spawn function and the shifting up/down walls without Decorator's Best Friend (which I like a lot too)

First Expansion/Game Pack/Stuff Pack? I... found this game in the seven seas so I got them all at the same time...

Do you pronounce live mode like aLIVE or LIVing? The former - never figured out people considered the "live" from "live mode" as a verb until NOW.

Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made? Melody Hills, the cute Black girl with natural hair I often put on my previews (she's the youthful one often with protective hairstyles). Minato Hawthorne (half-Japanese guy with glasses and blue eyes that often goes for my more... twinky stuff) and Lise Béranger (the one with the really pretty long curly hair) are close runner-ups.

Have you made a simself? Yeah, but I ended up not liking it (not a case of self-consciousness) and deleted her x_x

Which is your favorite EA hair color? Eeeeh the dark brown is useable I guess...

Favorite EA hair? NONE, I HATE THEM ALL

Favorite life stage? I readily admit that I'm part of the Millennial Party Simulator school of playing and 90% of my Sims are Young Adults.

Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay? I don't BUILD per se, all my lots are downloaded, some build tools are still a bit intimidating, but I rotate between (re-)decorating and playing.

Are you a CC creator? A converter, actually XD Quite balanced between objects and CAS.

Do you have any Simblr friends or a Sim Squad? I'm closer-ish with the Brazilian TS3 Simblr guys and EAxis 4t3 converters but to call it a squad is a tad too much! But I'm on friendly terms with the folks from the Creator's Cave server, yes.

Do you have any sims merch? / A Youtube for sims? Nope and I don't intend to.

How has your “Sims style” changed throughout your years of playing? I actually find very difficult to let go of my powerplaying and shift to a more roleplayer style :P THAT SAID, in my decorating I finally found a balance between bare and overcluttered!

Who’s your favorite CC creator? it's a secret to no one that @joojconverts and I have very similar styles and we often suggest and beta test stuff for each other, and @bellakenobi and I are friendly outside Simblr too, but to say I have a Favorite CC creator wouldn't do justice to my 28GB CC folder 8D

How long have you had Simblr? I actually wanted to make a simblr for TS2 first but it never went forward (at the time I only did some mailbox recolors that I never released), so it's older than I believe, but I started getting active in TS3 around 2017-2018 I believe?

How do you edit your pictures? I cut, resize and add text ONLY. I have no patience for extra editing.

What expansion/ gamepack is your favorite? Can't choose between Ambitions and Supernatural XD

I tag everyone!

[topgunruinedme]

Daggers Daycare||o.6

Synopsis: Maverick finds himself in a situation he cant explain. The daggers are unavailable, and he finds himself in need of help from his old crew. Of cause this wasn’t the reunion they expected.

“Did you kidnap an orphanage Mav?”

Warning: age regression (they get turned into children), slight whump mostly fluff, slight swearing, homophobia and 5 idiots with no knowledge on kids caring for some.

Word Count: 2.8k

Read on Ao3

Previous chapters: Chapter||o.1, Chapter||o.2, Chapter||o.3, Chapter||o.4, Chapter||o.5.

Note: I'm self beta-ing this chapter.

Secondary Notes: Hello everyone, I'm leaving this important note to notify you all that I will be posting less in the next few month, as I will be returning to school . My weekly posting will now be once a moth, this means that I will only post an update to each book every month (don't worry this does not mean only one update per month but rather one update per book). Thank you for understanding.

Spanish translation: Buccaneer- Pirate.

Javy believes that Jake is a pirate who will rule the sea, this is mainly just a Drabble of children’s imagination.

//

There was a faint pounding in his head as a headache attempted to sneak up on him, Ice scribbled down a number onto the paper as he moved through the display aisle. The trolley squealed as he shifted it to the side, it made a soft thud as it nudged into one of the displays. A light blue cot that had a canopy and a mobile of animals, Ice grimaced. It was way over decorated, it was a place to sleep not a throne. Would the sheer drapes from the canopy strangle the child? Wasn't that dangerous?

“So why are we here again?” Wolf asked, lounging  back against one of the giant teddy's in the bed section. He had somehow managed to find three of them and had collected them and created a bed for himself. 

Ice sighed insufferably, “Wolf” he gritted his teeth, “For the fifth time, were marking them down to be delivered”. He rubbed his face tiredly, why had he been so confident in taking Wolf? Why hasn't he taken Slider? At least then the man would have helped him, Wolf whined far too much. 

He should have remembered that from his wedding when the man had complained that Ice had been leaving them for a hot chick, the man had whined for hours and then cried at his wedding.

The man who had made him promise that night to not stray too far away in marriage life. Too bad he had broken that promise too. If he had known that night that it would have been the last time he saw them for years. The suffering and all the struggles he would go through alone, too afraid to reach out to them. Too ashamed to reach out for help with his failing marriage, he wouldn't have gone. He would have claimed to have cold feet and he would have ran. 

“Why can't we just get them now?” Wolf whined, pulling the arm of the teddy bear over his eyes dramatically. The man had dropped there after he decided Ice had been taking too long to look over the section of Cot’s. 

He had since moved on to toddler beds and mattresses, carefully marking down the names on the chosen items on a small piece of paper and small pencil; that he had snagged from one of the dispensers from the display. 

“Because they wouldn't all fit in your van. We have more stuff to get, oh and we don’t have a place to put them yet”.

Wolf flushed as Ice dragged his hand across his face tiredly rubbing his eyes, “I’m almost done alright? Then we'll move on”.  

The man grumbled slightly before pressing back into the bear and scrolling on his phone muttering about it being the ‘worst shopping trip ever’.

Dear lord, he hoped children were easier to deal with then Wolf. 

//

Maverick looked down tirelessly when someone tugged on his jeans, they were looser at the bottom apparently. He stared down at Natasha, she was holding Bob’s hand who looked half asleep still. 

“Yes Nat?” he looked up to glance around, Wood had disappeared he could hear Slider and Wood arguing in the kitchen. He frowned before glancing back down at her, Bob blinked slowly at him there was an imprint of his glasses on his face from where he had been sleeping on them. 

She frowned at him, “I’m hungary, Bob needs to eat” she said firmly tugging the smaller boy forward, he was tugging the large blanket behind them, it was clutched in his fist as the boy rubbed it against his face with a small whine.

A tactile child then, they would need soft blankets for him. Maverick tried to think if they had any in his house, he doubted it. Mickey had dropped slime on the only one he could think of last week. It had been thrown out an hour later. Apparently slimes really had to get out of stuff.  

Bob grimaced as he pulled the blanket away, his lip trembling, Mavericks eyes widened in panic. Sure he had dealt with Bradley crying but that was nearly two decades ago, he had seen Wood do it with Reuben earlier. But this was Bob. 

If he stuffed up Bob of all people, he would have everyone after him. He didn't want to be the one responsible for accidentally ruining him. The boy was too innocent for this world.  

“Slider” he called out nervously his eyes not leaving Bobs as the boy pulling the blanket closer letting natasha pull it around him to keep him warm but refusing to let it touch his skin, pulling away with a small whine when she attempted to push the fabric against his face in a mimic of what Maverick assumed was a stress prevention. A coping mechanism that had re-emerged due to the sudden situation. 

“Busy pipsqueak” Slider called back as he started to hassle Wood about…Oven temperatures? They were fighting over an oven? Why the hell was no one helping him?

“Hungry kids” he called as he stepped away from them wearily, “They might start snapping at your ankles if you don't make them something soon” he said nervously. 

Natasha seemed to be getting more stressed the more distressed Bob became. Frowning heavily as she attempted to help the tactile child. Bradley had been clingy but he had never been tactile. This wasn't his area of expertise. 

His eyes darted around nervous at the rest of the kids. They would be fine if he left them alone for a minute right? They were old enough to know right from wrongs? Right?

He gave them a slightly concerned glance before carefully stepping around them, giving the toddler a wide breadth. Once he had safely retreated to the other side of the room ignoring Bob's pouty but slightly confused glance. 

He slipped out of the room scrambling to his bedroom, pulling the old basket out of the top of his closet. He dumped it all out on the bed hoping to find a softer blanket. He had dumped all of the things from the house in this box. All the blankets Carol owned. 

His hand paused over the baby blue of Bradley’s baby blanket, his fingers trailing over his name and date of birth with a small smile.

He blinked back the tears and pushed past it, placing it carefully to the side as he looked deeper into the box. He had to have something here. Carole could have owned a blanket store with the amount she owned. He could have sworn there had been another box somewhere. 

He groaned in frustration as he tipped the box fully when his eyes caught an emerald green blanket, he dropped the basket in an attempt to catch it.

The soft fabric settled in his hand, he remembered this. Faintly. It had been a gift to Bradley from Goose, it was when they had been on a 8 month deployment. But Bradley had hated it for the moment he spotted it, resulting in it being buried deep in the basket. He ran his hand over the fabric absently bringing it to his cheek to rub against his skin he closed his eyes and let out a calm breath.

It was soft, perfectly so. Not a single stiff patch to find. Bob would love it, he didn’t bother 

repacking the blankets as he retreated to the main room blanket safely in his hand.

Bob was hiccuping tears sliding down his rosy cheeks as he stomped his foot, Slider was standing in front of the toddler on the edge of a melt down looking panicked. He was staring at Bob wide eyed looking terrified. The man’s head shot up to him when he entered “Where have you been?”

“Getting this” Mav shoved the blanket off and Bob looked at it curiously. His cheeks were flushed red as the tears trailed down them, his eyes were slightly swollen and his classes were fogged up.he breathed in shakily in a half breath that made Mav frown in concern, it sounded wet. It shouldn't be like that. The boy sounded slightly congested. 

He chuckled lightly, kneeling down next to him, “Here you go. That’s better isn’t it?” He smiled as Bob took the blanket in replacement as his abandoned one, pulling it close to his face.

Maverick winced as Bob whipped his face with his dieting it with snot. “Oh no let us-“ he paused at the look Bob gave him, he backed off slightly “No. It’s ok, I’m not going to take it from you” he sighed.

Gently reaching out to take Bob’s glasses, they would need to get them resized, or at least a new pair. He rubbed the lenses with the bottom of his shirt silently tememind himself to get a proper glasses cleaner rag so he didn’t risk damaging the lenses.

He placed the loose but now clean lenses on the boy's face watching him blink and smile slightly at the color of the blanket.

“You like green?”.

Bob nodded slightly pulling Nat closer to rub the blanket on her skin. She sat silently watching, letting him, content as long as he was happy. 

“I like green too,” he said softly with a smile, not noticing that Slider had abandoned him once again to return to the kitchen. He didn’t notice the small smile Wood had as he ducked his head out to look. The two men gave him time to connect with his kids.

They were still the daggers, he reminded himself. They were just smaller now. Younger. More sensitive.

No more war stories, he decided. He didn’t want to be at the end of Goose's unhappy scowl. These kids may not have a Goose but they sure as hell had an Ice. He was far more terrifying. 

Did you notice anything wrong with him? He seemed different. Distant. Woods' concern echoed through his head. 

He worried his lip between his teeth, it had been a while. It had been a while since he had seen Ice in person,the man preferred to talk over messages or call and even then they were short and curt. Recently the man hadn't been answering at all, taking weeks for a simple good morning message. 

Was something going on?

//

Wolf grinned around the pacifier, he wiggled his eyebrows at Ice. “They really do taste like nipples, we should get some of these for home”. 

Ice ran a tried hand down his face “Get that out of your mouth before someone sees you”. He turned his attention back to the row of bottles, would they already be weaned of them? 

His eyes narrowed when Wolf became suspiciously quiet. The man couldn’t shut up a minute ago. “Put it back,” he snapped at the man without turning. 

He heard an annoyed huff of breath and then the tell tale sign of shoving being shoved back into the shelf. Wolf pushed his trolley past pouting as he muttered to himself. 

Ice wearily turned back to the aisle he rolled his eyes at the sight of a box filled with pacifiers shoved onto the shelf hastily. This had to be worse than shopping with a toddler. 

He wasn't sure what he had expected, bringing the man into a shop like this, a place that literally had the word nipple on every box.

It was like asking for a terrible dad joke. He thought he would have been safe due to the man's horribly hidden homosexuality.

Unfortunately that didn't prevent the man from taking every opportunity to make Ice regret bringing him. 

//

Slider yawned as he laid his head on his hand heavily against the kitchen table, keeping one eye on the kids. Maverick had dozed off on the couch half an hour ago, since Rueben, Bradley and Mickey had joined him in some odd puppy pile. The three boys are sleeping around the man. 

Wood shook his head in amusement sharing a small grin with Slider who tiredly gave him a lazy wave, looking close to nodding off himself. They were not young anymore, not as much as they were. 

Wood checked the oven, studying the potato gems carefully before turning off the oven and pulling them out, careful not to burn himself using the tea towels to place the tray on the cutting board on the bench. Slapping Slider’s hand away from the hot food as he shut the oven door. 

He heard yelp and a spluttered cure from behind him and sighed, “It's hot” he said dryly. 

Why did Mav even have potato gems in his freezer to begin with, he was an adult?

He heard small feet run on the ground and gave Slider a meaningful look, the man sighed before walking off to investigate the  sound. Wood placed the hot food into four separate bowls for the kids, some of them could share.

He squinted when he saw Slider walking around with a large grin on his face, dear lord what did he do now?

There was something hanging off of Slider's arm. The man had it flexed out like a monkey bar, was that? No. That couldn't be Bradley. Wasn't he asleep just moments ago? If Slider woke the kid just so hee had someone to play with he was going to murder someone. A 6ft tall someone. 

He had forgotten how energetic Bradley used to be at this age. 

Slider was walking around with a kid hanging off him. Wood squinted was that Bradley? Dear lord, he had forgotten how energetic the kid used to be. 

He rolled his eyes, nothing he could do about it now, he’ll just rat the man out to Ice when he got back. He wondered how they were going, if they were having any better luck then they were here. At least Ice got Wolf, if only he could trade Slider or Mav for Wolf, then he would have someone useful as well as an eye candy to look at. 

Once he was confident the food wasn’t too hot he carefully balanced three bowls in his arms as he started distributing them. Placing a bowl in front of Natasha and Bob who had curled up in his blanket looking somewhat like a burrito and yet had somehow managed to drape some of the blanket over Natasha’s lap. She looked oddly possessive over the corner of the blanket she had been given. He steered clear of it as he dropped a bowl off with Bradley who barely wasted any time rushing over at the promise of food, abandoning Slider who pouted at the loss of play partner. 

He placed a bowl with Reubon who was sitting just in front of the other group of boys playing with the cards that had been left by some trying to spread them as far across the floor as he could. 

He dreaded having to find them all later, he placed the last bowl in front of Jake and Javy, leaving some space between them due to Javys critical gaze. They didn't trust them, he knew that. He didn't want to provoke them. He nodded his head over to Reuben when Mickey frowned.  

Jake was flipping through a book, he wasn't sure where the boy had gotten it from, but Javy seemed content pressing buttons on the remote randomly until it hit the children's channel. The boy stared at it nudging Jake who scrowled before sitting and watching with him passing the book off to Micky who beamed at the boy. 

The two boys happily eat the food in front of them watching the cartoon as Mickey flipped through the book occasionally, waving his hands in Jake's face who leaned back with a troubled look when the boy attempted to get his attention and started babbling at him.

When Jake made no attempt to talk back to him he frowned, and got up to get food from his shared bowl with Reuben before sitting back over with Jake trying to communicate by pushing the book between them pointing at the boat on the page. 

“Bakaner- Bakeneer” Mickey screwed his face up in frustration as he butchered the world.

Slider turned to look at him in confusion, dragging his phone in an attempt to figure out what the boy was saying. 

“Backaner” Mickey huffed jabbing the book beige pointing at Jake. Jake tilted his head silently watching the boy. 

Slider let out a laugh of amusement, “Buccaneer” he attempted to pronounce, apparently well enough that Mickey cheered. 

Vibrating in experiment as he pointed to Jake and the ship “Bukaner! Bankener!”.

Slider shook his head, “No, no bud, he's not a pirate. No Buccaneer”. 

Mickey stared him down determinedly pointing at Jake, “Bukaner!” He said firmly, crossing his arms.

Slider smiled, relenting “Ok Jake is Buccaneer” he huffed. 

Mickey beamed in excitement, “Jake. Bukaner! Bukaner steal! Rich!” he wiggled in excitement. 

Slider's eyes widened. “Wait no-'' he groaned at the annoyed look Wood gave him. “Look” he tried to defend himself “You went much of a help either”.