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anubianwrites · 7 months

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3. Lover's Fear

Glory’s lungs burned as he ran down the cobblestone streets. He turned down Samhain Street towards the Towers of Seasons, where some of Martha’s friends lived. The towering structure loomed at the end of the road, gleaming in the dim gloom of day, the dilapidated looking towers flying their colored banners. Here the Seasonal Coven dwelt, five sisters, five hags of power. He entered the grounds, a neglected garden of weeds and dead trees, moldy stone benches and tables. Pots whose plants withered away ages ago. Within the grounds were four archways scattered around the central structure. A large castle-like mansion with four bannered towers flying flags that represent each season a hag ruled over. He passed one of ice and blue steel, past one of rusted metallic heart shapes painted pink, chipping and decaying. He came to a large wooden archway carved with designs and wrapped in burned maypole ribbons hanging limping as a soft breeze moved them.

Glory entered the summer gateway entering into another realm, a pocket world where the summer hag lived that he sought. He stopped to catch his breath as his chest burned, heart thundering in his chest. He struggled to draw breath in the hot air of the summery world. It was hot, grass grew wildly, beautiful summer flowers bloomed and wafted. The scent of burning wood was potent and mixed with the floral scents. A dirt trail leads deeper into the realm, lined by a colorful series of painted staves and rope. Glory stalked the trail as he recovered his breath. Far along the trail were two buildings, a large estate home that was crumbling and surrounded by large bonfires. A field creating a scorched volleyball field where five heavily muscled demons wreathed in flames were playing volleyball with ferocious competition. Several feet away, a comforting bungalow farmhouse with a large garden painted in summer colors. Glory squinted his eyes in the bright sunset summer light, he could make out a bonfire by the house, and a lounging area where two people were sitting watching the volleyball game.

Glory moved towards them, the heat was intense. A stark difference to the cooler and dark dank of the Darklands usual environ. He shook off the temperature differences and stormed over. A large lawn chair is set out under a sagging melted decrepit beach umbrella, a small table holding it aloft over the chair, a pitcher of lemonade and several glasses sit on the table. A beautiful young woman dressed in a colorful and floral patterned orange, yellow, red, and other summer colors, a witch, she wore sunglasses and a large witches hat that was altered to be a sun hat. She was sitting on her boyfriend's lap, a handsome young looking fire demon named Cal. He had his arms wrapped around her waist and they were cuddling as they watched the game. She was Haggie Darksummer, one of the seasonal coven hags. Haggie spotted Glory approaching and waved to him. The demon called out “Glory, my man! How's it going bro?! You here to play? We can sub ya in man!” Glory smiled and waved.

“No no, I need help! Martha’s gone missing!” The tone turned serious as Haggie and Cal jumped up, their faces displaying their concern.

“What do you need, sweetie? How can we help!” Glory explained the situation to them, Haggie took off her sunglasses and called the other fire demons over. Cal issued the marching orders to find Martha, find where she is. Haggie took Glory by the hand “Come with me. We’re going to use the big map.”

She led him inside as Cal and the fire demon frat boys ran off to scour the city. The little door to the cozy cottage opened as Haggie and Glory entered. A flaming rooster crowed as they entered, disturbed by the stranger. “Quiet, Frank, you know Glory. Go fetch my casting bones, now.” Haggie commanded, the rooster shot Glory a dirty glare before fluttering off to obey his mistress’ command. Haggie led Glory through a red bead curtain into a dark sitting room with a large round table covered in a yellow tablecloth. The entire cottage was painted in bright summery colors, giving the lair a sense of warmth and friendly ambiance, despite the true nature of the young woman who lived here. Haggie claps her hands, magical crystal globes come to life emanating a cold light throughout the room. The large round table changed as the young witch touched it and tapped it with a crystal wand from her sleeve, morphing from a yellow tablecloth covered in green and darker yellow sunflower patterns to a map of the city. Haggie handed out a hand as the rooster flapped into the room from a darkened hallway on the other side of the room. He carried in his talons a red sunflower studded cloth sack which clanked in her hand. The rooster then took a perched stance on the table as Haggie stroked his head and back thankfully. The proud rooster trotted up her outstretched arm and settled on her shoulder. The witch then took a seat in a thick wooden chair upholstered with red velvet seats and gestured to Glory to do the same.

Glory’s heart beat in worry and anticipation, hoping this would yield some result. He watched intently as the witch whispered magic words as she rubbed the bones in her hands before casting them across the map. She applied little effort in tossing them, they clattered on the map and rolled around as if lost before crashing off the table. Haggie snapped her fingers and called them all back to her hand and tried again, the same result, the clattering bones spread across the floor. Glory kept a calm veneer but his heart was hammering in fearful worry for his sibling, he clenched his fists in his lap, he could feel his nails have pierced flesh. Haggie tried again, for a moment the bones reacted differently, something was happening, they rolled across the map and began collecting near the western side of the city map before whatever caught their attention faded and the bones again clattered to the floor. Haggie was silent, she laid back in her chair deep in thought. Glory stared at her with intense purpose. The silence between them was deafening. Glory was impatient, too much time had already passed.

“Well?! What’s going on? What does this mean!?” the tiefling demanded, the frantic worry rang loudly in his angry tone. Haggie’s yellow eyes snapped to look at him, the rooster cawed in offense at his tone, but remained silent, as if puzzling an answer to give him. Glory shot to his feet, “Haggie what does it mean?!” his voice broke. The woman finally sighed and answered.

“I don’t…I don’t know…I felt nothing, then something flared, pulsed…like a heartbeat for a moment…but it was gone as quickly as moving through a door…I sensed some sort of energy…I just cannot place it, like the hint of a flavor and it’s one I’ve not felt. I almost want to say it was demonic but it tasted neither infernal or abyssal…I can’t place it. If I can’t place it, I cannot search for it, let alone find it again.” She sighed. “I’m sorry Glory, but I’m not going to stop trying, I have a few other ideas. Maybe that will yield some results.” She tries to reassure him as she puts the collected bones back into her pouch and places them on the table. She stood up and took his hands in hers, looking into his crimson eyes. “We’ll find her. I won’t stop trying, ok!” she squeezed his hands. Glory sighed, calming himself as he nodded, she was right. But he felt so useless here. He felt like he could be doing something more, and he was lost as to what he could do.

“What can I even do…I feel useless, I worry Martha’s hurt or worse…I wish no harm to my sibling, she is precious, all my family is precious. What can I do, Haggie, how can I not be useless.” Glory sank down into the chair and slumped over. He wasn’t a magical genius nor as skilled in sorcery as his father. He sighed. Haggie knelt and took his hands in comfort and pity.

“You can ply your skills. You are her blood, and you have the power of your family in you, you don’t nurture it enough and you don’t listen to it. It has a will and a voice, if you calm yourself and learn to tap into it…maybe you can hone in on her better.” Glory sighed, dismissing the idea.

“Grandmother and Mother are far better skilled at that, they search the city even now, Mother’s using her craft to try and find her. There must be something more I can do.” He said meekly. Haggie contemplated.

“There is a blood rite you could try. It’s powerful but easy to conduct. Let me find it, Frank, fetch my book with the green cover.” The rooster chirped and fluttered off to his task. Haggie moved to a desk on the other side of the room and fetched a few sheets of parchment. She outstretched her hand as the rooster returned and dropped it into her hand. She flipped through it and with a few words and a wave transcribed the ritual onto the parchments. She then bound them with ribbon and presented them to Glory who watched with hope. “You’ll need at least two others to help anchor you as a conduit. A familiar is best but two people you have a deep connection with will work fine as well.” Glory perked up and accepted the bound sheaf, hugging Haggie tightly.

“Thanks Haggie, I hope it will work!” Haggie smiled and hugged the tiefling back.

“Of course, anything for you and your family, sweetie.” She smiled brightly. “The moon will be full tonight so you’ll be best equipped to utilize Noctis’ energies for this. The instructions are all there, you should hurry and gather your conduits before it rises!” Glory nodded, hugged the witch again and took off. Haggie watched him run down the road, a smile on his lips. But she couldn’t watch long, she had work to do to try and help find and secure Martha.

Cal shouted at the fire demons as he ran ahead of them out of their lair. “Come on dudes, move it!” Pyraeus brought up the rear of the squad, he hid it well with his stoic expression but he too was deeply worried. Martha’s always gone out of her way to be nice to him despite she was nice to all of them. He adored her and secretly was madly in love with the young tiefling. If he ever felt down she would just appear and talk to him, though how she could tell he felt anything behind his stone face is a mystery. There she was to uplift his spirits, and he listened to her, intently, he loved hearing her voice and whatever she spoke about. She’s the only one that manages to make him smile. Martha made him feel emotions like happiness and love, adoration, and compassion. He liked that she brought this out of him. He liked how it felt, what he imagined Cal felt and why he was so protective of Haggie despite being bound to her. Pyraeus felt protective of Martha. Even though Haggie was always nice, helpful, compassionate, loving and always made sure the fire demons had anything they needed, she was more like a mom for them or an older sister then a lover.

Cal commanded them to stop as they entered the city proper. He turned to them like a general, their leader, their team captain. “Ok dudes, fan out through the city, use those demon instincts bros! Just like that time we got hired to find that succubus for Maconthent! No gangbang this time though!” The fire demons bellow and fist pump as they chant in infernal. “Ok bros, fan out!” Cal barked. He clapped his hands with a gaunt of flame bursting from them, they all went their separate ways.

Pyraeus had an advantage, he secretly marked Martha with an energy tether so he could always find her. He worried for her, she was so kind, and he wanted to ensure she was safe. His fears were justified now, as she was missing. He turned down an alleyway and made his way to a large empty space he knew was abandoned. The flagstones smooth with traffic. He knelt down and began tracing mystic symbols into them, infernal demonic signs, complex geometric shapes forming interlocking rings and squares. Finally he took position at a large demonic sigil and began to center himself. He felt out the threads of energy. Focusing his mind as he body wreathed in intense flames. The sigils around the circle glowed and sizzled. He began chanting the demonic words of power. His mind faded into a complex web of connections, some led back home to the infernal planes, or other pocket realms he connected to. He focused as the tether felt…distant…strangely distant. He reached out to feel it, to tug at it, his mind flew down the tunnel of energy, he heard a whimper, he saw darkness. So far away. Something resisted him, something felt familiar, something demonic…but not a signature he has known. He pushed past the resistance, it didn’t expect him, it didn’t know him. His consciousness emerged in a dark place, he could see Martha, he could feel her, trapped, he could feel the chains on her wrists, the ache in her arms as she hung there. He could taste her terror and fear as she was trapped. The tears rolled down her cheeks as she cried. He looked around the chamber, seeing a withered body on a stone slab, and a large empty dank dungeon. It stank of death. He saw a male figure in the darkness attending to something. Pyraeus watched, he knew this man, it was Malachai the sorcerer Martha fawned over. Someone the fire demon hated for capturing the tieflings' attention. Now he hated him for hurting the woman he treasured. He stowed the fury as his connection began to waver and reestablish. The man then straightened up. Like he heard something. Malachai turned around with a start. “I can feel you.” he said, looking around the room as if searching for an invisible enemy. Pyraeus could see his face, it was not human, it was twisted, a mask, a facade his demonic eyes peered past. Now he saw why it was so familiar, so strangely known to him. Pyraeus gritted his teeth and clenched his massive fists. Malachai focused on Pyraeus and smirked “I can feel you…little cousin.”

The connection broke and his vision went black. Pyraeus didn’t waste a moment. He held the connection and began chanting something new. Fire gathered around him, swirling, wrathful flames licked from the ground as he tore the veils. He found the creature’s lair, and now he had a hole to burrow through. Reality tugged at his enraged will, red energy crackled as he ripped the boundaries asunder in sheer stubborn determination. The strange realm Martha was caught in resisted his access but could not defy him. He was a creature of fire, energy, rage and now…love. He could not be denied. He was ready to tear the creature to ribbons. The portal opened as he made his somatic gestures, a howling void like a tunnel in the world drawing all things into it like a void. Pyraeus didn’t care. The dark moon glared down from above as he stepped through ready to show this abusive beast the wrath of Avernus. His massive frame vanished into the howling abyss and snapped behind him like a hungry maw.

#october challenge #writing challenge

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daydadahlias · 3 years

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Remind Me

omg me?? writing a lashton body worship fic about Luke’s thighs after that new video dropped?? idk sounds super out of character. This is literally just a 4.6k Body Pos. PWP that I wrote today while watching my chickens lmfao but please enjoy anyway.

Summary: Ashton catches Luke frowning to himself at Calum’s pool one afternoon, and decides to remind him how pretty he is.

Words: 4,602

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin

Read Below

—Remind Me—

It’s as Luke is getting out of Calum’s pool that Ashton notices it.

They’re all together, as they often are—for marketing reasons only, of course, seeing as they secretly despise one another—at Calum’s place, Cal and Mike inside doing whatever it is those dumb shits like doing, leaving Luke and Ashton alone in the backyard.

Ashton is lounging out by the side of the pool, a book in hand—because he just hasn’t been in the mood to swim and would rather read—while Luke has been taking careful laps.

He’ll look up every so often to catch Luke leaning against the edge of the pool, his pale arms folded over the top of it, huffing like he’s out of breath, a frustrated pout drawn on his features, but Ashton figures it’s better to not ask why he looks so irritated.

If Luke wants to tell him, he will.

It’s only when he fully pushes himself out of the water and gets out of the pool that the problem arises.

Ashton can see him start to climb out, bracing his arms on the asphalt, and of course, he looks over the top of his book to get a better view; to watch how Luke’s back muscles shift beneath his skin, how the sinewy veins of his biceps strain to hoist himself up.

Luke has never been the strongest of them but he isn’t poorly built. Granted, with quarantine, he has added on a couple of pounds but nothing too significant. It’s healthy weight if anything, brought on by him eating better food he’s learned to make himself, working out a little more to get his arms larger.

He looks good, there’s no disputing that.

When he gets out of the water, Ashton’s eyes successfully trail the line of his back, the way his swim trunks have sagged to make his hips more visible, the slight heave of them over the waistband of the swimsuit, how it clings to his thighs enough to look like the fabric is straining to stay closed.

Yeah. He looks good.

It’s as Ashton's gaze is hovering on said waist and thighs that he notices Luke give an awkward pinch to his side, the squish of a love handle beneath his fingers, glancing down at himself with a deep grimace, before he walks to retrieve his towel, looping it up around his waist higher than it needs to be.

Now Ashton is the one who's frowning.

Because he knows Luke well enough to know what that means.

Luke hasn’t always been the proudest in his body; even when he was a fucking pipe cleaner back when the band first started, he was still nervous about what people thought of him in terms of his weight.

It’s always upset Ashton that it seems no one could ever dislike what Luke looks like as much as himself.

And so to see him, with that telltale distaste on his handsome features, scrunching his nose up as he adjusts the towel to cover as much as he can... it's enough to make Ashton's mood dip.

He turns to walk back and almost instantly notices the way Ashton is looking at him, stopping in his tracks. He asks, skeptical, “What?”

Ashton tries to uncrease his brow the best he can, and he shakes his head, knowing better than to say something about it now. Instead, he merely flattens his smile and says, “Nothing. M’thinking.”

“Penny for your thoughts?” Luke asks and Ashton chuckles.

“Yeah, unless you’re hiding a penny up your ass right now, I don’t think you have one to offer.”

“It’s a metaphorical penny,” Luke replies, walking to sit beside Ashton’s legs on the pool chair.

He shifts the towel up further when he sits and Ashton doesn’t miss how he tries to keep his posture straight so his stomach won’t fold.

Ashton’s frown deepens.

“Is something wrong?” Luke asks him.

“Not with me,” he answers.

That seems to confuse Luke more than anything else and his eyes widen as he says, “oh.” He softens in a moment and it’s nervous as he opens his mouth before he closes it, giving Ashton an anxious glance. “It’s not… me, is it?”

Ashton cocks his head, smiling to reassure him, closing his book. “Of course it’s not you.”

Even though it is. But he’s not about to say to Luke, ‘yeah, something is wrong. The way you’re looking at yourself is wrong. Why did you pinch your side and grimace like that?’ Because he knows Luke will make an excuse. Luke will brush it under the rug and won’t want to talk about it and will avoid Ashton and his eyes to the best of his ability.

Ashton respects Luke's choices and he’ll always respect them. But he certainly doesn’t want Luke thinking like that. Doesn't want him thinking he's anything less than beautiful.

He informs, “I’m just thinking like I always do, you know how I am. You ready to head out?”

Luke raises his brows. “Now? We just got here.”

“Uh-huh. I'm ready to go.” Ashton smiles, reaching out to tug at the corner of Luke’s towel. “Wanna take you back to mine.”

Instantly, Luke’s expression shifts and he adjusts the way he’s sitting, sending his blue eyes hurriedly to the open door of Calum’s house to make sure no one will hear them.

He glances back at Ashton and his lips hint up at their corners almost cautiously. “You do?”

“Mhm.” Ashton hums, scooting closer to him so he can press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, and he doesn’t miss the way Luke stiffens to the touch, tilting his chin up to give Ashton more access to him. He says against Luke’s jawline, “Wanna get my hands on you.”

Luke takes in a sharp breath. “Yeah?”

Ashton briefly opens his mouth against Luke’s neck, drawing his tongue over his pulse point, and says, “Yeah.”

He continues to kiss along Luke’s neck and when he sucks at the bend of his shoulder, Luke lets out a soft whimper that has Ashton's dick twitching in his own shorts.

“Wanna hold those nice hips of yours against the bed when I fuck you,” he says to Luke’s shoulder, “I’ll make you feel so good, Lu, I promise.”

Luke inhales roughly, fingers clenching at the fabric of his towel and he squeaks, “Okay. Yeah. Nice. No complaints here.”

Ashton chuckles as he moves away, briefly cupping Luke’s cheek before he does, pulling him in for a soft kiss on the mouth. He loves how smooth Luke’s lips are, how they open up so easily for him every time, always asking for more in just the way they form something as simple as a smile.

He says, brushing his thumb over Luke’s cheekbone before he draws away, just so Luke knows, “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

Luke’s cheeks go pink and he coughs, darting his eyes away. “You’re the cheesiest guy in the world, I’ll give you that.”

“You say cheesy, I say incredibly charming, that’s fine.” Ashton shrugs. “Also, it’s your turn to give Cal and Mike an excuse as to why we’re leaving early.”

“Sounds good.” Luke stands up, adjusting his towel. “Nothing’s gonna beat that time you told them we were going chocolate taste testing though.”

“I’m a musician,” Ashton replies, “not an actor.”

Luke smiles at him, and he reaches out to brush his fingers under Ashton’s chin in a gesture of fondness. Ashton loves his fingers. Thin piano playing fingers that look so good when they grapple to get a hold on bedsheets or when they dig into Ashton’s shoulders, sink their nails into his back. Just one of the many things he loves about Luke's body.

He grins back and says, leaning his face into Luke's hand, “Maybe just say it’s past our bedtime.”

Luke giggles. “It’s five in the afternoon.”

“Practically midnight.”

Luke doesn’t do much but snort before he turns away, fingers slipping from Ashton’s jaw as he trails inside. He fixes the towel once as he goes, holding it tighter to himself, and it makes Ashton frown again.

While he really does want to fuck Luke for the obvious reason of, well, getting to fuck Luke, there’s an ulterior motive for this evening.

He wants to show Luke just how pretty he is.

They say their goodbyes to Calum and Michael before they leave, who look like they don’t believe for a second that Luke really has a zoom meeting to get to at 5:30 but don’t make any protest.

They know Luke and Ashton well enough to know if they want to leave, they're going to leave. So they allow it.

The entire drive home, Ashton keeps his hand on Luke’s thigh in the passenger seat, lightly rubbing his thumb against the inside seam of his jeans, and Luke’s blue gaze stays on his hand the entire time.

Ashton wonders if Luke is thinking the same thing he is. That even Ashton’s large hand isn’t big enough to cover his whole thigh.

It’s all Ashton’s thinking about if he’s honest. He's honestly having a hard time paying attention to the road with how much it's dominating his thoughts. How fucking wide Luke’s thigh is. How much he wants to grab it in his hand, squeeze it and feel the soft flesh sink beneath his fingertips. How much he wants to smack it just to watch it shake.

Fuck, he’s already hard.

He practically drags Luke through the door when they get home, and the second it closes, he shoves Luke back, loving the way a surprised yelp pulls from Luke’s chest as he’s pinned against the door by Ashton’s body weight.

“Been wanting this all day,” Ashton grunts, tucking his face into Luke’s neck to start mouthing at his skin. “Looked so goddamn good today, Lu. Wanted you so bad.”

Luke gasps, exposing his neck more, eyes slipping shut as Ashton works at sucking hickeys into his throat. He chokes softly, like he's unsure it's the truth, “Really?”

“So bad,” Ashton affirms, a hand working between their bodies to force itself beneath Luke’s waistband into the stretchy shorts he’d changed into before they left Calum’s house. “Wanted to get you home all afternoon. Get you beneath me; get to see all of you. Almost fucking grabbed you right there when we were changing and put you on Cal’s sofa, spread you out right there.”

Luke moans, pushing desperately against the hand in his pants that's wrapped around his cock and he fucking begs for it, voice high and cracked, “Oh God. Please.”

“Uh-huh,” Ashton says, hooking his fingers beneath Luke’s shirt and helping him haul it over his head.

Caught in the heat of the moment, Like scrambles to get it off and shimmy out of his pants and underwear as Ashton does the same, leaving the clothes in a messy pile beside the door before Ashton returns, grabbing Luke by both sides of his face to kiss him.

“So lucky to have you, Lu,” Ashton mumbles against his lips between kisses. “Tell myself all the time.”

Luke bites at his lip, muffling a groan when Ashton takes him back into his hand, jerking him slow and purposeful.

“Such a pretty boy, Lu. Look at you. What a pretty boy.” Ashton kisses him deeper as he fists Luke’s cock, reveling in the wanton sounds Luke lets out.

He moves his hand away a second later, putting his thigh in place of it, pressing it up between Luke’s legs, and he grins instantly when Luke starts to rut against it.

He chuckles quietly to himself at the sight, mouthing at Luke’s jaw once more, his hands moving to Luke’s hips to tug him closer against his leg and he says into Luke's ear, “Couch. Now. Want to put you on my thigh and watch you ride it.”

Luke moans loudly, and follows without a second of hesitation when Ashton pulls away and gets to the sofa, sitting down into the cushions.

He swings his leg over Ashton’s like he's in a rush, straddling his thigh and they both let out sharp breaths at the feel of Luke’s hard-on against Ashton’s bare leg.

Luke hisses out a strained, “oh, fuck,” and instantly begins rubbing himself against Ashton’s thigh, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

Ashton can’t help but smile to himself, watching how Luke swallows thickly, his throat bobbing, and he says quietly, “God, Lu, fucking gorgeous.”

Luke whines and Ashton takes that as the incentive to reach out and take a hold of Luke’s waist, forcing him to go slower, controlling the roll of his hips against Ashton’s thigh.

“Slower now,” he says, holding Luke down against him, eyes flitting over his body. “Wouldn’t want this to be over too fast, darling.”

Luke clenches his teeth, swallowing again like it pains him to do so, but doesn’t protest, letting Ashton guide his movements.

“There you go,” Ashton praises in the same low voice as Luke’s thrusts slow down to smooth rolls of his hips against Ashton’s leg, and Ashton is drawn to the hard red cock that keeps grazing his thigh. He wets his lips, watching it twitch at his words; how much affect he has on Luke. “Perfect, Lu. Just like that, baby. You’re so pretty for me. Such a good boy.”

Luke chokes, “Want to be.”

“You are,” Ashton promises, smoothing his palms down Luke’s sides to his hips and he hovers there, grinning to himself.

Luke is truly a fucking vision like this. Something out of mythology. Something to be written about, songs and poetry and prose. Something to worship. The blonde loops of his curls around his ears, the hot blush on his cheeks that brings out the speckling of freckles over the perfect slope of his nose.

He’s made of fucking stained glass, this boy. Made of beautiful fragile art and Ashton wants to sit and admire him all the time, give him whatever he needs whenever he needs it. Do nothing but kiss Luke and touch him and praise him every moment he can.

Luke pushes his hips down more desperately, even with Ashton’s hands holding onto him, and Ashton directs his eyes from Luke’s face lower to where Luke is grinding against him, and he notices the quiver of Luke’s large thighs and takes in a sharp breath.

God, he’s gorgeous.

And as his eyes wander, it makes Ashton aware of his stomach, the soft fold of his tummy with how he’s sitting on Ashton’s thigh, the way his body shakes, the ripple of his skin as he moves. Ashton grabs at his hips roughly, pulling him harder down, feeling how Luke’s wide thighs clench around his own leg, how the muscles in his abdomen clench beneath the soft layer of fat that covers them.

“Luke,” he huffs, eyes trained on the soft body on top of him, the way Luke trembles as he hurriedly rubs himself off against Ashton’s thigh, ignoring Ashton’s recommendation to go slower, needy to get himself off. “Luke, honey, you’re goddamn gorgeous. Prettiest boy in the fucking world. Can’t believe I get to have you like this. M’so lucky.”

Luke whimpers, head dropping as he ruts down faster at the words, making the shaking that much more pronounced and, seriously, what is Ashton expected to do but gently slap the side of one of Luke’s thighs to watch it wobble when he does?

“Love these too, you’ve got no idea,” Ashton murmurs and he puts his hands down on Luke’s fat thighs to massage them, digging his fingers into their soft flesh. “Can’t even get my hands around them, Lu. Goddamn. Can’t wait to watch how they’ll shake when I fuck you.”

Luke comes hard onto Ashton’s thigh, panting as his mouth falls open, hips rocking against Ashton to ride the feeling out and Ashton gladly lets him, using his hold on Luke’s thighs to grab him roughly and help him move.

“There you go,” he says as Luke comes down, chest flushed and heaving. “Now, c’mon, let’s get you in bed, baby. Wanna feel every part of you. Get all of you under my hands.”

Luke bites his lip and lets Ashton lead him back to his bedroom as he has so many times before, still trembling slightly from coming.

“Under the covers,” Ashton tells him and Luke does so, slipping beneath the sheets and blinking up at Ashton with big baby blue eyes. How pretty he is. How absolutely stunning.

Ashton eases in after him, bringing the lube with him to coat his fingers and he watches Luke carefully as he does. Watches the soft rise and fall of his panting stomach, how soft it looks, the beautiful flush that’s decorated his pale skin, making him red and lightly shining with sweat, like he’s a flower dressed in morning dew.

“Have I told you how lucky I am yet?” he asks while pushing one of Luke’s legs up.

Luke snorts, smiling at him breathlessly. “Only a couple times. I’ll hear it again.”

Ashton dips down to kiss him, grinning as Luke opens up easily and lets Ashton taste him, tongues pressing together. He says between a kiss, “I’m ridiculously lucky. Luckiest guy ever.”

Luke closes his eyes and he takes in a deep breath as they kiss, one of Ashton’s hands sliding up and down his bent leg.

“Gonna finger you now,” Ashton says, listening to Luke’s breathing hitch. “Nice and slow now, okay, show you how much you mean to me. Show you just how pretty you are.”

Luke huffs and his brows arch up slightly. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” Ashton wonders, as if he's surprised.

Luke stares up at him. Such big blue eyes. “You saw what I did at the pool.”

“You mean how you pinched your side and made a face like you’d eaten a lemon?” Ashton asks. “Yeah, I saw that.”

Luke chews at the inside of his cheek, directing his eyes away toward the wall of Ashton’s bedroom, the expression he sports nothing short of embarrassment.

Ashton tries to draw them back with a soft, “Hey. Luke. Look at me, sweetie.”

Luke mumbles, refusing to look back, “You don’t need to do this.”

“Do what?” Ashton asks him while he continues to rub at Luke’s leg in a tender motion.

“Try to… make me feel better.” Luke swallows. “About being fat.”

Ashton draws his brows in tightly, scowling at the word. It's not even the word, is it? It's more that Luke's given it a bad connotation.

He’s known Luke long enough to not jump right in and tell him he’s in no way fat. It wouldn’t help anything, because once Luke’s gotten something in his head, he’s not going to get out of it.

This kid had himself convinced he was fat back when he was 16 and was as skinny as a rail. Luke’s always had problems with his body. Ashton, sadly, doesn’t think there’s gonna be a time when he fully embraces how beautiful he is. And while it devastates him, it just means he’ll have to try harder to make Luke see it.

“That’s not at all what I’m doing,” he replies curtly, pulling at Luke’s thigh. “I’m not trying to make you feel anything. I’m just doing what I always do.”

Luke finally glances back at him, confused.

“I’m fucking my boyfriend and I’m telling him how beautiful he is, nothing abnormal about that, because guess what, Luke?" Ashton gives him a pointed look. "You’re beautiful and I’m not taking any arguments on that fact.”

Luke opens his mouth like he’s going to protest but Ashton doesn’t let him, abruptly pressing a slick finger inside him, cutting off whatever words he was going to say with a shocked gasp, Luke's thin fingers clawing at Ashton’s shoulder as he exclaims, “Fucking shit!”

“Yeah, you’re full of it if you think you’re anything other than gorgeous.” Ashton thrusts the finger in and out, feeling Luke’s fingers dig into the muscle of his shoulder, searching for purchase as his hips move down against Ashton’s hand without a beat of thought. “Look at you, Luke, see? Look at how pretty you are. You’re unreal. You’re fucking otherworldly.”

Luke chokes on air when a second finger is pushed in, his hips jerking down on the stretch, and Ashton scissors them apart, tracking the way Luke shudders with a small smile.

The way Luke keens at the touches, how his body arches and he groans quietly, trying to bite it back by sinking his teeth into his plump lower lip, and that makes Ashton finger him more purposefully, hoping he can pull one of those sweet little moans from him; the ones where his voice squeaks with it, where it sounds so overcome with need.

“Love your body,” Ashton says gently, fucking his fingers in and out to make Luke whimper, slow and with intent, memorizing how Luke’s fingers grip harder at him. “All of it. Love the way you feel, Lu. All soft beneath me. Love these hips, love these thighs.”

For emphasis, he uses the hand not fingering Luke open to pinch at the handle of his hip, squeeze the soft skin in his hand, feel how it sinks beneath his fingertips.

Luke groans, one of those hitching, squeaking sounds Ashton fucking loves, and he presses in a third finger as a reward for the noise.

“Gorgeous boy. Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen, Lu, you know that.” Ashton slides his hand down Luke’s hip, grabbing his thigh, biting back a sound from his chest when he feels how it gives under the pressure, how goddamn easily it gives. “Fuck. You know that.”

Luke’s legs give a violent twitch when Ashton finds his prostate, Luke’s head falling back on the pillows, eyes squeezed shut, his hair splayed out so elegantly behind his head and his voice so high when he whispers, “There. Oh, God, right there.”

Ashton pushes in against the same spot, proud of himself beyond belief when Luke mewls at the sensation, grinding down onto Ashton’s hand, his thighs shaking as he does, and Ashton has to watch the way they move, the way they tremble, unable to tear his eyes away.

He says, “Love being between these thighs, Lu. Can’t wait to have them around my waist. Can’t wait to feel them squeeze my sides when I push my cock in.”

Luke cries out quietly as Ashton’s fingers press into his prostate and his voice is hoarse when he pleads, eyes shut tight like it would hurt to pry them open, fingers sinking nails into Ashton’s shoulder, “I’m gonna come. Ashton, please, I have to. I’m gonna come.”

“Not until I’m inside you,” Ashton replies simply, slipping his fingers out, reveling in the way Luke sobs desperately at the loss.

Without another word, Ashton gets the condom on and slicks himself with lube, lining himself up, and there’s no warning but a light grab of Luke’s hip before he pushes in.

“Fuck! Yes, yeah, fuck, oh, fuck me,” Luke groans, hips moving towards Ashton as he eases in, clenching his teeth at how warm Luke is, how good he feels, and he lets out a rough moan thinking about how he’s the only one who gets this from Luke. He’s the only one who gets to feel him like this, gets to see him so wrecked and worn down, so fucking needy for more, so needy to be told how beautiful he is.

Ashton mutters through clenched teeth, putting his head to Luke’s shoulder as he bottoms out, their hips flush together, “Feel so good, Lu. So fucking good.”

“Uh-huh.” Luke is breathing in whimpers. “You—fuck, move. Please, please, Ash, move.”

“Get those thighs around me, baby, and maybe I will,” Ashton replies, biting at Luke’s throat, feeling how fast his heart is going, how his breath heaves. “Want to feel them. Want to feel them shake, Lu.”

Luke lets out a broken moan and he raises his legs, wrapping them around Ashton’s waist, altering how Ashton is pressed inside him, and Ashton groans at the shift, a hand going back to grab one of Luke’s thighs tightly, hoisting it up higher, clutching onto it.

He feels the way Luke’s thighs squeeze his waist and he groans, fucking forward, moving Luke’s body slightly up the bed as he does, and Luke’s returning moan is cracked and loud.

“Pretty boy,” he grits out as he pulls Luke onto him by his thigh, sinking his fingers into the soft skin. Each word is punctuated by a thrust that has Luke whining. “So beautiful for me. Love you. Love you so much.”

Luke wraps his arms around the back of Ashton’s neck, legs growing tighter around his waist, and he babbles out, “Ash, I can’t. I can’t. Gonna come. Have to come.”

“Then fucking come,” Ashton replies simply, a hand going between them to wrap around Luke’s leaking cock.

Luke’s body spasms at the words, spilling between their bodies, and his thighs clench around Ashton’s waist like a vice, making Ashton impossibly aware of their softness, how wide they are, how cushiony against his sides and he comes too with a groan, burying his face into Luke’s neck.

“So beautiful, so so pretty,” Ashton continues softly as they come down, panting together, bodies damp with sweat, Luke still beneath him, and when he lowers his thighs, they quiver, and Ashton’s hips respond with a gentle thrust into him that makes Luke whimper.

As he pulls out, Luke lightly wincing as he does, he presses a quick kiss to Luke’s forehead.

He mutters, running his hand down Luke’s side, “Pretty boy. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

Luke laughs quietly, watching Ashton move away to lay beside him and he says in a huff, his cheeks a hot shade of red, “The same goes for you. I love you.”

“Well, that’s to be expected,” Ashton replies cockily to cover up how it makes his heart stutter in his chest every time he hears Luke say those words. How perfectly they flow from his mouth, how nice they sound on his plush lips. “I’m me. I'm very loveable.”

Luke laughs, reaching to pinch Ashton’s bicep. “Asshole.”

“I think I’m charming.” Ashton shrugs, smiling, thoroughly out of breath.

“You would.” Luke rolls over on his side to give Ashton a gentle kiss and Ashton tries to not act surprised by it.

He says quietly when their noses bump, “I love you.”

“I know,” Luke replies, kissing him again. "I'm very loveable."

“Oh, so you agree?” Ashton asks. “You think you’re very pretty?”

“Don’t quote Mean Girls to me.” Luke's dimples have appeared. "You have to earn that right."

“Admit you’re pretty then,” Ashton demands in a whine and Luke laughs. “C’mon. Say it for me. Please, for me? Admit you’re beautiful. Admit it.”

Luke takes in a shallow breath, eyes darting over his face. “I think you’re beautiful.”

Ashton simpers. “Was that ever up for debate?”

“No.” Luke kisses the corner of his mouth. “But it’s nice to be reminded every now and then.”

And he’s right.

Which is one of the many reasons Ashton turns over and pushes Luke back against the sheets, leaning over him to join their mouths in a tender kiss.

Because he’s more than happy to remind him again.

#lapis #this was fan service #yeah but uh this is my first time writing body worship guys #super out of my comfort zone #little wierd #not really into it #://#k love you all #don't judge me for being a pornbot pls im going thru a phase

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bang-tan-bitches · 4 years

Text

MONSTER MASH 2020 ENTRY 1

It Wasn’t Me

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This idea hit me while I was playing Among Us with a group of my friends. The only thing going through my mind at the time was “What if Among Us was scary? And put Bangtan in it?? And so, this story was born. This is my lousy attempted at thriller/horror, so sorry if I couldn’t get the feeling across just right. BUT I hope everyone who reads my story will at least have a little bit of fear striking their heart while reading this :> Also I apologies in advance if you’re upset at how the story plays out. Sadly, this is a horror story, based on a game about killing people and shitty decision making.

Words: 5.8K

Warnings/Triggers: A lot of dark places, lots of noises, OC Death, Character Deaths, Some gore (but not extremely descriptive), False accusations, Swearing (lots of it), One or two people have a panic attack (not extremely descriptive), Blood gets mentioned quite often, BTS MEMBERS DO DIE (You have been warned), Talking about dead bodies (I tried to keep it down on describing them), Memory Loss, My really shitty attempt at Horror/Thriller XD, Sorry if I missed anything :(

Music: I was listening to this while writing https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HmTkm_o9Glo

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Everyone was quiet. No one making eye-contact, everyone except for Namjoon that is. He was pointedly staring straight at Jungkook with a harsh glint in his eye, or that could just be from his helmet visor reflecting the low light of everyone's flashlights strapped to their shoulders.

“I know it was you Kook, you can give up pretending like you were actually doing something” Namjoon’s words cut through the dimly lit cafeteria. His cyan coloured glove easily scrolling through his tablet searching for Jungkook’s name, the prompt for voting appearing.

“It wasn’t me! Guys I swear it wasn’t!” Kook pleaded to the others, giving up on trying to convince his elder.

“How isn’t it you JK? We last saw her with you!” Taehyung pipes up from his corner of the simplistic dinning bench. “We don’t even know where the body is guys, so everyone calm down we don’t really have time to throw around accusations with no substance to them.”, Yoongi’s apprehensive gaze looks over Jin’s shoulder, a red digital watch blinking as seconds go by threatening to cut their communication with each other.

“Hobi?”, Jimin looks in Hoseok’s direction. Nervous red gloved hands fiddling, his erratic breaths leaving his lips as he tries to keep it together. Tears turning his eyes glassy and unfocused, his mind recalling seeing your body ripped in half on the floor. “It was in Naviga-” his words faulter, a sob running through his entire body, tear stained face falling into his shaking hands.

Everyone looks on with heartbreak in their eyes, Taehyungs leaving the crying man to look at where you would have been sitting right across from him. He bites his bottom lip, swallowing down a sob of his own. Namjoon speaks up again, “Hobi, could you tell... tell if it was fresh?” “Namjoon!” Jin’s voice raises a few octaves, hand ready to slap the younger one behind the head but his arms are restricted by an unknown force and his pink gloved hand returns to his lap. Hoseok wails even more, but he shakes his head a faint mumble of ‘I couldn’t tell’. Jimin looks on, desperate longing to comfort Hoseok.

“Well then, where was everyone? State your current position, one at a time” Yoongi eyes the ticking red digits again, nerves clearly showing in his tone.

“I was busy here in cafeteria, I had to fix the wires!” Jungkook was quick to respond, desperation in his voice. “I was busy redirecting our power source through to our defences, I saw Taehyung with me. But it was dark, I don’t know what he was doing.” Jimin’s shaken voice calls through shortly after, his sad eyes resting on Taehyung. Everyone’s gaze shifted towards him, awaiting his answer. “I was busy downloading Electrical Bay logs, never got to it though so now I need to go stand there again.” A shiver runs down his spine, with his restricted vision in a place as isolated as their electrical bay, he’s sure everyone can relate to his distaste.

“I was with Yoongi in Medical, busy preparing the vial tests. I’m sure he was doing his scan behind me so he must be clear.” Jin’s voice echo’s through the dark room, his nod towards Yoongi is recuperated with a nod back. “Yeah, I was almost done but the... The... Y/A’s body got reported.” Yoongi fights with himself, unable to bring himself to refer to you now as a thing. A dead thing. Fuck, you were alive only minutes ago, he saw you run past Medical. You still gave him a wave of acknowledgement. His black gloved hand lifts out of its own, his fingers mimicking the wave he sent back your way at the time. Namjoon clearing his throat breaks Yoongi out of his trance. Unfocused eyes looking towards the man calling all attention.

“So then that leaves Jungkook, Hoseok and myself as the possible killer. I was in our administration room busy swiping myself into the system. Hobi I need you to pull it together man, what were you doing that side of the ship?” Hoseok’s body doesn’t stop shaking, but he tries to answer through his broken voice. “I just finished cleaning out the oxygen filters, I was on my way down to defences when I saw the blood trail leading to... to her...” His voice finally giving in, nothing but harsh breathing leaving his dry lips.

“Namjoon, I know you’re convinced it might be Jungkook but it’s not enough. It’s risky to vote someone out now. There's still the possibility the monster could be anyone, we don’t even know if there’s more than one. Keep an eye on JK for now, but it would be foolish to vote now.” Jin’s voice is soft, trying not to make his friend fly off the rails again with accusations. “Fine, this is a warning then Kook.” Namjoon’s cyan coloured gloved fingers cancelling his pending vote on Jungkook. Out of the corner of Taehyung’s eye he could see the visible relief in Jungkook’s body, his shoulders sagging and a held breath being pushed out through his nose.

Soon everyone scrolls to the bottom of the list of their names, all casting their votes on passing this meeting off as inconclusive. The digital timer behind Jin fades out, a scratchy robotic voice playing through the intercoms throughout the ship.

“5 votes Inconclusive.” The five crewmembers who voted, their eyebrows shoot into the sky in shock.

“1 vote Namjoon”, this made his heart race, someone is suspecting him? But who? His eyes dart into Jungkook’s direction seeing the youngest already looking his way, sweat gathering by his temples. It must be Kook, he’s trying to get rid of him!

“1 vote Hoseok”, dread colours his face, how can anyone suspect him of killing you? No, nonono this isn’t right. He was your friend; he could never bring himself to breath a bad word in your direction much less be able to kill you! He needs to partner up with someone, he possibly has a target on his back now. He needs to prove how innocent he really is.

“All members return to your duties.”, And with that the intercoms shut down with a muted screech. As if their suits come to life, their helmets start shutting, visors sliding over their faces and locking in at the latch by their chins. Restricted vision in the already darkly it ship with nothing but a low powered flashlight, everyone starts leaving the dinning bench. Jungkook’s purple helmet disappears into the shadows towards the upper end of cafeteria, Jimin and Taehyung running together towards the southern hallway. Namjoon still idles by the dinning bench, the emergency button tempting him into using his one and only use of it. His hands fist by his sides as he has an inner battle with himself, but finally he decides against it and follows Jin and Yoongi’s retreating figures that ran towards the west side of the ship.

Hoseok thought he was going to starts hyperventilating, he found himself alone in the dark. His mind repeating over and over again “target on your back... target on your back...” hesitatingly he runs towards south hallway in search of Jimin and Taehyung. Taehyung... he said he would be in electrical bay. Hoseok finally know his exact destination he disappears into the shadows as he searches for his green helmet friend.

Unable to speak to each other, Jin and Yoongi trod along towards Medical bay again. Not close enough to touch each other with stretched arms, but close enough to still make out each other's body in the shadows. Yoongi doesn’t know how long they’ve been on the ship, his memory completely wiped. But he does remember doing his duties and that was the only thing driving him at this point. He can only vaguely recall all his supposed friends faces but even that gave him a headache if he focuses to long on it. The faint thumping of boots can be heard behind them but that soon fades away, sounded far as well so neither of them grew concerned.

The green flickering lights of Medical bay soon lights up the entryway, the letters ‘cal’ completely busted and the letter ‘i’ flickering on and off. Here Yoongi stops and gets ready to turn, but Jin doesn’t follow him. Yoongi’s stress levels spike at this, Jin just continues walking further down the hallway throwing Yoongi two fingers over his shoulder, ‘Peace’. Jin is abandoning him. Before Yoongi could run after, he was gone from his sight. Just the faint thumping of his boots getting softer and softer till the only thing he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears and his panicked breathing.

“You can do this Yoongi, just do your scan and leave. All it takes is 10 seconds, more than enough before anyone can catch you alone.”, he tries to encourage himself, knowing no one can hear him over the busted communications in their helmets. Slowly he walks into the supposed Medical Ward. It was anything but that in his eyes.

The room looks like it hasn’t seen anything human in over 50 years. Ward beds lay toppled over or stacked against the wall to his right, some with wheels, others with what looks to be constraint-straps. This room wasn’t as frightful when he was in here with Jin. This ship is a lot better to handle in general when you're with someone else, he thinks to himself.

He accidently kicks over something that looks like a bedpan, nearly shitting himself at the loud clatter that echoes around him. His heart thundering in his chest, he shakes out his hands in front of him. ‘Fucking calm down Min Yoongi. Since when were you the biggest pussy on this ship?!’ With a neck roll he walks in deeper, passing the discarded beds he eyes the floor. There he sees it, the fucking vent. The second thing that drives a knife through everyone’s hearts. He hastens his steps towards the body scanner, he's been in here longer than he would like already. He hears boots running on top of the steel flooring close to the entrance, he holds his breath. The thumping gets louder but he can’t seem to pinpoint if it's from the left or right, just that it’s getting louder.

Deciding not to stand around and look like he’s not doing anything, he turns away from the door and jumps up onto the filthy podium. He can see his boot prints in the dust from when he was standing there previously before discovering your fate. His hand darts out and starts typing in his crew ID, the old machine groaning as it boots up. “Come on, come on, come on... Fuck switch on already you piece of shit!” as if the scanner could hear him it boots up, what used to be lime green lights settling on his form and so the program starts running.

Yoongi could see nothing, the scanner’s lights bouncing off his visor, barely able to see his own intel on the little black monitor in front of him. The whirling and beeping of the machine are deafening, drowning out the hurried footsteps he heard coming towards him. By the time he’s done, a simple 10 seconds he wishes never to experience again, he was climbing of the podium and sending his scan towards admin. Not waiting to see if the scan goes through, he goes running out of Medical while checking his right wrist for his remaining tasks. He heads east, thinking he’ll shortcut through cafeteria. There he bumps into a nervous Jungkook heading the same direction. They stood and stared at each other for what seemed hours. Yoongi could hear footsteps coming from south hallway, Jungkook’s head snapping towards it as well. Yoongi signals east and beckons Jungkook to follow and continues on with his journey. Weather Kook followed him or not, he doesn’t really care because he wasn’t going to look behind him.

Hoseok nearly ran head first into a stack of boxes when he entered Storage Bay. This room always gave him the creeps. Boxes of God-knows-what stacked high to the ceiling. He hates it, he hates it so much here. ‘I just want to go home’, he thinks to himself. ‘Where even is home? Do I have one? This place can’t be my home... right?’, his steps faulter, inner monologue interrupted by movement. He swears he saw someone’s boot out the corner of his eye. “Buddy system Hobi, look for a buddy and stick by them”, he reminds himself, blinking away something wet from his eyes, not sure if it’s tears or sweat at this point. He slowly makes his way between unmarked boxes, vaguely remembering this is the path to the garbage shoot. He sees the silhouette of someone. His heart in his throat, he nears apprehensively, a yellow helmet coming to life. Jimin turns around and his mouth opens in horror when his eyes land on Hoseok so close to him. He goes tumbling to the floor, his arms thrown up in a defensive manner in the hopes it will make the killing blow less painful.

When nothing happens Jimin opens one eye and peaks through his arms. Hoseok just standing there waving his arms telling Jimin to get back on his feet. With a huff Jimin drags his body back into a standing position and eyes Hoseok warily. He dusts of his white spacesuit's pants, doing nothing but spreading the dust and grease over himself even more. Hoseok points towards the west, asking Jimin silently if he would go with. Jimin shakes his head and points east, he has tasks to do that side of the ship. Hoseok clasps his red hands together, contemplating if he should stick with Jimin or continue on his search for Taehyung. Lifting his right arm, he checks his task list. He needs to be at reactor. He waves to Jimin and leaves his yellow friend behind and continuous looking for Taehyung.

Jin leans back in the rickety chair inside security. The chair is missing two wheels and an arm rest but it’s the only comfort he can indulge in right now. He watches the security cameras in a bored haze. He was curious as to why Yoongi left Medical and went back to cafeteria and not come looking for him. Jin leans back as far as the chair will allow before hearing the plastic cracking. He didn’t like having his back turned to the doorway, much less the vent. He eyes the grated hole in the far corner away from him. It’s barely hidden in the shadows but he could still see the dry blood-stained metal in the low light. The room was practically empty except for a lone broken desk, document debris scattered on its top and the floor around it. He already searched through those notes; he still doesn’t know anything. If anything, he was even less wiser than what he was ten minutes ago. He turns back to the cracked monitors in front of him. He needed to find a way off this damned ship, even if it killed him while trying. He knew he had a family somewhere out there, he needed to get back to them. He watches on silently, his right wrist beeping red. He swears he could hear the creaking of metal on metal.

Jimin having turned his back on Hoseok, walked towards defences. The hallway felt longer and darker when he was alone. He could only hear his erratic breathing and his foot falls on the steel below him. He paused. The entrance of communications greeting him. He peered in but saw no one. The room was filthy. Nothing short of looking like a hurricane tore it apart. Electronic equipment shattered and broken litter the floor. Confusi9on clouded his brain, “What happened on this shi-?” A splitting headache seized him between his eyes at that very moment. He fell to his knees screaming himself hoarse. The feeling of hooks tearing his brain apart, membrane from membrane, he tries clutching at his helmet trying to pray it off of himself. Not soon after Jimin’s vision turns black, his body shutting down and his head bangs against the steel floor.

Jungkook walked quietly behind Yoongi, far enough to just see his elder’s boots in his line of vision. He wasn’t even sure if Yoongi knew he was still following him. He watched as they passed the ship’s gun room. It was more a laser shooter in Kookie’s eyes but he felt the time to bring up the debate of room names was not now. He looks down to his right wrist, red light beeping silently. He continues following Yoongi towards what looks like Navigation Room? Jungkook decides it was best to break off there and head into the oxygen maintenance room, his eyes following the cracking glass plant tank, from there he follows the banged-up pipes all along the walls. He remembers Hoseok saying something about cleaning out the filters here. He looks over his shoulder, hoping Yoongi would have paused and waited for him. No one but darkness greets him. With a shake of his head and shoulders he tries to calm himself down, he disappears deeper into the room in search of a small leaver.

He flicked open his left wrist, opening the small red map on his visor. He wonders if his brother has feasted yet, the idea makes his stomach rumble. He growls jealously at the idea, no, he needs to feed before he becomes unbearable, before he starts slipping up, before he gets caught. He goes for the easiest option, a low grumble of ‘Lights’ sets the mood just the way he likes it. Everyone plunges into darkness. All power gets cut in seconds, flashlights, wall lights, even monitor lights die.

Multiple running footsteps can be heard heading in his direction, he smiles and sticks to the boxes in storage. One set of footsteps are the closest to him, he focuses on the south hallway.

When Jimin comes to he realises he's on the floor, his face clammy and an incessant throbbing inside his head. Slowly he climbs back onto his feet, a shake of his shoulders makes himself feel dizzy, the feeling of vomit coming up his throat makes him turn green. After a few deep breaths Jimin tries to remember what he was doing, lost in thought standing in the even darker hallway. This makes him blink a few times, slowly realisation hits him, the faint blaring of an alarm ringing in his ears. He needs to head to Electrical Bay, hoping he chooses the right direction, he sets off.

Jungkook has never been scared of the dark, not that he can remember that, but he's never been plunged into this type of void before. His hands outstretched in front of him, making sure he won't bump into any walls on his way to see why the power system is failing. He calls out for Yoongi in desperation forgetting that they have no way to communicate with each other. He continues calling out regardless, some messed up way of soothing himself. His shin hits the cafeteria bench, he curses and bends down to rub away the pain. ‘Fucking stupid Kook, why are you even here? You’ve done nothing but make yourself look like an idiot, now you’re walking into shit as well! Fucking useless!’, his internal monologue deafens him from hearing footsteps approaching. The last thing Jungkook saw was sharp white teeth coming straight at him as he stood back up as the lights faded on.

All remaining members were seated at the dinning bench. One by one their visors opened and they quickly saw who was missing. Jungkook and Jin. The vacant seats mocking them.

“WHAT THE FUCK?! WHO THE FUCK KILLED JUNGKOOK? TELL ME NOW YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” Yoongi tried to jump from his seat but he struggled against his suit, as if he was glued to his chair. He was losing it, Kookie was right behind him. Right behind HIM. That means the killer was close by. It could have been him. It SHOULD have been him. He was to chicken shit to look out for Jungkook. He’s responsible for the loss of a crewmate. He breaks down, elbows slamming onto the table, black gloved hands flying to his hair and desperately starts pulling at his strands. Tears freely running down his face.

“Yoongi, it wasn’t Jungkook that I saw in there. I... I saw... Fuck... I saw Jin. He was... He was everywhere... I...”, Taehyung’s voice wavers, he’s staring at the table top but his eyes were watching something else entirely. Just blood, so much blood... was everywhere.

“Where TaeTae?”, Jimin wants to reach out towards his friend. Comfort him and clean his mind from the horrors he witnessed.

“Was in security. I didn’t see anything but I was with Taehyung. I had to go to reactor, Tae came with me so I wouldn’t be alone. He went right and I left and... now we’re here.”, Hoseok’s voice sounded lifeless. His skin was pale and ashy, dark rings decorated his eyes and his nose was raw and red.

“Jimin where were you?”, Namjoon’s eyes darts towards the yellow crewmate. Jimin quickly throws his hands in the air. “No, NO! It wasn’t me! Hoseok can confirm I was in storage and I went east towards defences. Hobi please tell them! There’s no way for me to get to security even with using the vents!” Jimin grabs at the sides of the dining table, his entire body shaking with unshed tears. “Hobi please!”

“Namjoon, he’s right. Even if it was... recent or not, there’s no way it could have been him.”, Hobi hangs his head, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake by defending Jimin.

“Where the fuck were you Namjoon? Huh? WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU MOTHERFUCKER?!”, Yoongi tries again to lunge over the table but still he was held to his chair. “YOU HAD IT OUT FOR HIM FROM THE GET GO! JUST ADMIT YOU FUCKING KILLED KOOK!” he was seeing red, the veins on his forehead and throat looking as if they will pop any second. “He has a point Namjoon... Where were you? I was in storage on my way to Electrical to check the switchboard and I didn’t see you in there”, Jimin tries to rub away one of the grease stains on his yellow glove, eyes refusing to look up.

“Yeah Joon, Taehyung and myself fixed the lights, you weren’t in Electrical Bay area at all.”, Hoseok’s the one with the pointed glare now.

“Why are you looking at me? I was back in administration, where the fuck were you Yoongi?” Namjoon was bringing up his defences, he puffed out his chest and tightened his hands into fists on top of the dull table. “I was busy in Navigation you fucker, WHY WERE YOU IN ADMIN AGAIN?”, Yoongi’s voice echoed all around them. Creaking of metal could be heard around them. The darkness filled with silence reminding the crewmembers where they were. A jarring reality compared to the screaming that engulfed them mere seconds ago. The scratchy robotic voice on the intercoms greeted them.

“Voting ends in 10 seconds” The faint blaring of an alarm sounds, slowly getting louder as the seconds tick by.

2 seconds was all it took. 2 seconds of making split-second eye contact and the crewmates were voting.

“1 vote Inconclusive”, no one was making eye-contact. Some breathing louder than others. Jimin could swear he heard Hoseok letting out a sob, or was it Taehyung?

“1 vote Yoongi”, Hearing this made him snap in Namjoon’s direction. “YOU MOTHERFUCKER, YOU THINK I WOULD KILL HIM? HUH? FUCK YOU, PRICK! YOU FUCKING MURDERER, FUCKING MONSTER!”, Yoongi was barely keeping himself together, feeling of rage taking over his being, that is till he hears the last casted voting announcement.

“3 vote Namjoon”, Yoongi breaks out in hysterical laughter. HIs voice bouncing back against the broke walls of the cafeteria. “Looks like you’ll be getting what you deserve after all!”

“You guys made a mistake, it’s not me. If you kick me out now, all of you will die. Please think about this, we can still go ba-”, “Like hell we are! Filthy scum trying to fool you all into trusting it!”, Yoongi was finally freed from his suit’s constraints to the bench. “Come on everyone, the votes have spoken.”, He stalks over to Namjoon, showing him to get up and start walking towards the airlock at the top of the cafeteria. Hoseok gets up and joins him in ushering Namjoon off the ship. Taehyung and Jimin remain at the table, refusing to partake.

Yoongi pulls the latch down, the solid metal doors sliding open with a hiss. With no protest Namjoon steps in, back still turned towards them as Yoongi pushes the latch back up. The doors creak and struggle to close, but seal after a few minutes. Hoseok has moved towards the windows looking out into the vacant space way outside. “This is for Jungkook. Rest in Hell.” With as much strength that Yoongi could muster he slammed his fist down on the eject button. His head barely had time to rest on the cold dirty metal of the airlock panel before their helmets started shutting again.

“Namjoon’s gone.” Those are the last words Yoongi heard pass Hoseok’s lips before they were sealed back into their spacesuits, voiceless. Little did Yoongi know he meant that his body disappeared.

Jimin was the last to leave the table this time. He was unsure of himself. Unsure if his crewmates made the right choice. His right arm beeped red, sighing he flicked open his task list. The flashing of the Reactor Room bouncing off his helmet visor. He didn’t even know which direction the rest of them went in. Slowly he got up, heading west. He heard faint footsteps getting louder the closer he got. The hallway was a mess, broken glass crunched under his boots. ‘Where did this even come from?’, His thoughts distracting him, not even noticing the creaking of metal on metal behind him.

Yoongi walks out of Electrical Bay with confidence, just finishing his tasks and not a soul knew he was in there. Deciding he should check out the security cameras and see where everyone was hiding, but before he could take a step towards the west side of the ship the alarms were blaring again. Oxygen was depleting, and fast. ‘Fuck!’, ignoring his original plan he made a dash for the administration room, hoping someone would already be at the top for the second half of the system reset. It was practically impossible to run into Admin. The number of boxes of files thrown everywhere had Yoongi nearly tripping five times just to get to the back of the room. Finally, he was able to get to the keypad, ripping the yellow sticky note off the monitor. He was squinting as much as he possibly could, barely able to make out the numbers. ‘Is that a six or an eight?’, smashing his thumb on the green button he got the code in with four seconds to spare. He didn’t even realise the depleting oxygen was making him dizzy. He stood in Admin for what felt like an hour, just taking deep breaths. “Where in the ever-loving fuck is everyone else?”, he asks this to himself out loud with no answer returned.

Jimin was a broken mess on the floor, not only did he get a fright when the alarm went off, but once he turned around to go towards the emergency, the doors sealed him in security hallway outside reactor. He pounded as much as his body could against the door, eventually cowering against the corner crying for help. He was convinced he was a goner. His eyes refused to look down the long empty and dark hallway. The only sounds around him the ticking timer of the doors, his sobs and the sound of dripping water.

When the alarm stopped screaming in his ears, not soon after the doors opening, Jimin was astonished that he was still alive. Counting his lucky starts he moved towards his final task in reactor. This room had more light than any other room on the ship, making Jimin squint for a few seconds trying to adjust his eyes to the brightness. Jimin stepped in a pool of water, the soft splash making him jump out of his skin. Jumping back, his eyes fall to the floor. But what Jimin sees might scar him for the rest of his life. He saw a red glove next to a red puddle. Jimin bends to pick it up but drops it instantly when he feels there was weight to it. He felts as if he was going to throw up again, his vision going double and he stumbles back, hitting the reactor door frame. “No, please no, not Hobi... Please not Hobi!”, His voice is scratchy to his own ears. His throat raw and painfully hot.

He heard the tapping of something wet hitting the top of his helmet. Slowly he lifted his head. His eyes were greeted with the horribly mangled body of his beloved elder handing from the wires dangling from the ceiling. Jimin not being able to tell the red blood apart from the red on Hoseok’s suit, he let out a deafening painful scream only his ears could hear and flicked his left arm, with panicked fingers he fumbles to press the report button on his suit.

One by one the visors open of the remaining crewmates. Jimin’s the last to open. Taehyung just lifts his hand and points at Jimin. “Yoongi, it was Jimin all along. I saw him, I caught him with Hoseok’s body. HE WAS STILL TRYING TO GET RID OF THE BLOOD ON HIS SUIT!”, Taehyung’s voice slowly raised into hysteria. Yoongi was confused, his head moving from Taehyungs direction and then Jimin’s and then back to Taehyung.

Jimin’s eyes widening, seeing how Taehyung could have seen this as a misunderstanding. “No! NO, IT WASN’T ME! Tae please you don’t understand what you saw! I found Hobi’s body there, I was freaking out BECAUSE HE WAS LITRALLY ON TOP OF ME IN THE CEILING! I wasn’t cleaning blood off of me I was trying to press my report button! Please this is just a huge misunderstanding, Yoongi, you believe me, right? Right?!”, Jimin’s eyes brimmed with tears, his words stumbling as he’s trying not to cry himself into hysterics while trying to plead for his life.

“Jimin... How... How could you?” Yoongi was speechless. It all made sense now. It was never Namjoon that killed Jungkook, it was Jimin. How did he not figure this out? He’s been quiet in every meeting. Used Taehyung as an alibi. He was in defences when he and Jungkook went to Navigation. Lights were killed and he could have easily offed Kookie behind his back. And now, Jimin wasn’t stopping the oxygen depletion because he was busy feasting on Hoseok’s body.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes?”

“Where were you this whole time?”

“I was busy in Weapons. Oxygen emergency popped up and I walked down to Oxygen Room and typed in the reset keycode.”

“And before that?”

“I saw Hoseok leaving cafeteria towards the west. You left south. Jimin stayed in cafeteria for a while, I stayed with him, but after a few minutes I decided to go do my last task so I left east towards weapons.”

Yoongi sat there for a long while, the digital timer in front of him placing pressure on him.

“Jimin?”

“Y-yes?...”

“Can you confirm anything Taehyung just said?”

“I-I can’t remember... Honestly I can’t! I left cafeteria going west, I didn’t see anyone passing me on the way back. As soon as I got into Security Hallway, all the doors shut on me. I went and hid! I thought I was going to die!”, Jimin was a blubbering mess at this point, he couldn’t see clearly, he could smell the blood on his suit drying.

“I’m not convinced... Die with the rest of your kind, monster. Your fake tears won’t work on me any longer!”

“NO WAIT!”, Jimin’s last plea fell on deaf ears. Taehyung and Yoongi placed their votes and Jimin had no other choice but to place his as well. The scratchy robotic voice lulled to life over the intercoms.

“1 vote Taehyung”, Taehyungs eyes widen at this, his eyes quickly darting between Jimin and Yoongi in panic.

“2 vote Jimin”, and at hearing his final fate Jimin wails. He screams and cries as loud as he could. Yoongi could feel the release on their suits from the bench and proceeded to walk towards the airlock. He pulled the latch down, the sealed doors opening with a creek and groan. Jimin refused to get up from his seat, holding on to the table as tightly as he could. He will make one last fight for his life.

Taehyung huffs at him. “You traitor. Hoseok trusted you. I trusted you. Every single one of us trusted you. How many did you kill while my back was turned to you? Huh?” Taehyung’s words cut through him like a knife, each lashing with his tongue made Jimin’s heart bleed. “Please Tae, please, please, please, it wasn’t me. What you saw was a misunderstanding! PLEASE YOU MUST BELIEVE ME, DON’T DO THIS!”, Taehyung walked up to Jimin and hooked his arms in under his armpits. He dragged the kicking and screaming man to the airlock. Yoongi was watching all of this unfold. His eyes never leaving Jimin, hoping that his disappointed face would burn into his mind. Taehyung threw Jimin on the ground in the middle of the airlock as if he weighed nothing. There Jimin stayed on his knees, elbows on the ground hunched in on himself, quietly sobbing.

Taehyung nodded in Yoongi’s direction, signalling him to do it. Without thinking twice, Yoongi pushes the latch up, waiting for the old doors to seal back up. The last words Yoongi hears from Jimin are, ‘It wasn’t me I swear’. He pauses, his finger just above the eject button. “Yoongi, do it. Do it so we can go home.”, Taehyung’s voice sounds stern, Yoongi follows through. He joins Taehyung by the window to watch Jimin disappear into space.

The first thing Jimin feels is cold. Extremely cold. He feels nothing at the same time, just his body floating in nothing. He tries to hold his breath for as long as he possibly can. As his body twists and turns away from the ship, his sight quickly fading, the last thing Jimin witnessing is Yoongi’s body against the window. Soon followed by a large splatter of blood and his lifeless body falling to the floor of the cafeteria. Jimin closes his eyes in a final goodbye, a single frozen tear stuck to his cheek as the void swallows him whole.

#btb: monster mash challenge #monster mash challenge 2020 #horror #bts fanfiction

26 notes · View notes

sunshinehighway · 4 years

Note

Not a prompt as such but could you write something fluffy and nice for Ballum please?

hey anon!! thanks for the prompt!!! here’s some post-kidnapping bathtime fluff <33

The light is soft over Callum’s cheeks.

That’s the first thing Ben notices when he nudges the bathroom door open, so gentle that it stays blessedly silent from it’s usual creaking, so tentatively that Callum’s eyes don’t flicker open. They’re alone in the flat, Stuart had whisked Rainie away for a Valentine’s Day surprise and even thought of it is enough to have Ben’s stomach churning.

It’s hitting evening-time now, sun setting down between the trees and pouring dappled, milky reflections through the window, splayed along the tiles, just a hint of wintertime hanging onto it’s last breath.

“Hey,” Ben whispers. The door closes behind him without a click.

Callum shifts, eyes flicking open, almost translucent where the light hits, like pale, stained glass. There’s something so delicate about the way he blinks, lashes tangled together by droplets, his brows mused, hair sticky on his temples. The water laps mutely against his skin when he lifts an arm to brush a loose curl from his eyes, a heady silence draped around them.

“Hey,” Callum says. His voice sounds loud in the quiet.

Ben lets himself drift towards the bath, the water is pink, a summer sunset on it’s last breath before the burn of sunlight flares up in ambers and golds. The bath bomb is one of Lola’s, she’d given it to Ben and told him to relax, yet there was someone who needed it more. He dips his fingers in the bath and watches as the colour swirls and the bubbles rift among them slowly, absently, water baying and moulding under his touch.

There’s a vulnerable haze to Callum’s tired eyes, so young-looking with his hair dripping and clumped at his forehead.

“How’re feeling?” Ben questions, not able to hide the wobble in his voice. He settles himself on his knees, reaching a hand out to trace his fingers over Callum’s shoulder.

Callum leans into him, like instinct, and Ben lets out a tiny sigh at it, the comfort of touch, of Callum letting him whisper his fingertips over the outline of his bones. He glances up at him, from under his wet lashes, under his messy brows. Sunlight dances on one side of his face, pale strips of it that bring a white glow to his temple and the tip of his cheekbone.

“Alright, I suppose,” he echoes for the umpteenth time that day, shifting forward to lean his arms on the edge of the tub, torso stretching, ribs just poking through the delicate skin there. Water slides in droplets along his arms, a soft rhythm as it drips from the tips of his elbows. “Just tired, you know?”

“Relaxed?” Ben asks softly, dipping his own fingers into the bathwater, lukewarm.

“Mm,” Callum leans his cheek against his arm, sleepy. “Thank you for this, you didn’t have to go to all this effort.”

“It’s only a bath, babe.”

“Still,” Callum lets linger.

“Well, there’s no need to thank me,” Ben replies. He tucks a stray piece of Callum’s fringe back in place, letting his fingers linger and watching the way Callum’s eyes flutter shut again, butterfly wings as he breathes in deep. Ben rests his fingers among his hair, scratches gently, both of them silent save for the muted sound of the water pressing up close against Callum’s side. “I’d do anything for you, remember?”

Callum’s breathing is steady, cheek squished against his forearm, the delicate skin of his cheeks so pale compared to the callus of his fingertips and the defined bones of his hands. Slowly, Ben trails his fingers to Callum’s jaw, thumb pressed up against the hinge of it, stroking in minute little movements, nails still scratching gently at the wispy hair behind his ears.

“Gonna fall asleep and drown if you keep that up,” Callum murmurs, almost sighing the words on a quiet breath instead of speaking. A tiny smile tugs on the corners of his mouth, content, and Ben’s heart warms, thaws like hot coals are brushing over his skin.

Ben pulls his hand away slowly, but Callum whines and reaches for him, loops his long fingers over his wrist gently and places his hand back against his cheek, so that his palm cradles it now. He nuzzles into it, eyes still closed. Ben wants to rest his fingertips so carefully by his eyes, by the scar there, a wipe it away with just one brush. Erase Callum’s pain and all the memories it brings. Callum holds them like that, his hand lined up against Ben’s, long fingers overlapping his shorter ones.

“How’re you always so warm?” Ben says. He presses his thumb gently under the cradle of his eye, where his skin is shadowed and bruised, a thin veil of lavender.

“`M warm on the inside,” is Callum’s reply, muffled against Ben’s palm, finally opening his eyes. His lips are wet, scraping over his skin, peach dusted and soft.

“Yeah?” Ben laughs softly, finally leaning close enough to let their foreheads touch. Callum’s skin is wet against his own, hair leaving thin streaks of water over Ben’s temple. “Suppose one of us has to be.”

“Shut up,” Callum lets out in a breathless laugh. He reaches his other hand out and guides Ben’s palm to his chest, holding it over his heart, fingers brushing against a scar, deep and red and frightening. But all Ben can feel is the thump-thump of Callum’s heart, the pulse of warm blood in a warm body, his world beating steady and sure. “You are warm Ben. You’re warm, and you’re kind, and you’re fiercely protective. It’s why I’m with you. It’s why I’m still here.”

They’re curled together now, Ben’s elbows folding over the edge of the tub, fingers firm over Callum’s cheek, where Callum’s fingers are curling into his own.

“Cal,” Ben says, and it’s a hiccup of breath, noses bumping together, Callum shifting closer, as close as he can.

Their lips brush, but they’re still just breathing, just feeling the warm air settling around them, feeling the warmth of their limbs tangled together. A tiny droplet of water falls from a strand of Callum’s hair and lands on Ben’s cheek, streaking down his face in a race with the stray fallen tear. Callum brushes it away with his lips, the drag of his mouth barely a kiss, just a gentle touch, to feel. “You are* good Ben, you’re good and you're warm and you make my world all soft and bright.”

And finally, when their mouths do meet, when Callum dips lower towards him and tucks Ben’s bottom lip between his own carefully, all is blessedly quiet, like the world is just for them, just for this moment. Wherever Ben’s hands trail, wherever his fingers spread of curl, Callum follows, fingertips a whisper over the fine bones of Ben’s wrists, holding on, palms encasing. It’s been far too long since they’ve had this, and Ben’s shoulders sag with the weight of the last few days, falling into the touch helplessly.

Callum is a rose beneath him, unfurling his first petals, soft and pink and shadowed at the edges, mouth so open and wet against his own, droplets pinging against the pastel bathwater like shiny pearls. He presses closer, curls over the tub to cup Callum’s jaw gently, that forgiven feeling of stubble nearly pulling him under once more, searching for the feeling he knows they’re both craving. He wants to open him up entirely, card his hands through the softness that’s settled around them, care for every fragile, vulnerable whisper that Callum is breathing into his mouth.

Finally, he feels the whisper of his lashes, wet and heavy, feels Callum’s shaking breath when he tries to clamber closer, clinging to Ben’s hands so desperately, despite how soft their lips fold, how careful their tongues touch.

Ben slides both his hands over Callum’s jaw, tilts his head back and soothes his thumbs back and forth along the line of it, fingertips stroking among the short hairs around his neck. Callum makes a quiet sound in his throat, and there, with the sag of his shoulders and the sigh that he breathes between Ben’s lips, Ben finds his comfort, his home.

“Love you,” Callum whispers, quick and swallowed straight up by a kiss. Ben fumbles their mouths together, breath stuttered and short.

“I love you too,” Ben whispers, but it catches in his throat, choked on a cry. “Should’ve told you that ages ago, but I do. I love you. So much.”

The words are smudged against Callum’s bottom lip, his chin, and then their lips are just brushing again, just feeling skin while they breathe. When he opens his eyes, Callum is staring up at him, wide open and vulnerable, cheeks flushed the same colour as the bathwater, this tinged peachy pink that matches his lips.

It still scares Ben, how much he feels for him, how this boy makes him feel so soft, like his skin is puddy, ready to be taken apart, petals torn from a flower. He-loves-me. He-loves-me-not. He-loves-me. He-loves-me. He-loves me.

“Stay,” Callum whispers, voice tightly coiled like there are fingers pressed up against the curves of his throat. When he speaks, the words flutter over Ben’s lips. “Please.”

“Always,” Ben drops a firm kiss to his lips, turns his palms to tangle their fingers together properly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t want to be alone again,” Callum says thickly.

“Hey,” Ben soothes. “You won’t be, not ever. Besides, I ain’t ever letting you out of my sight again.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?” Callum questions, a delicate, teasing edge to his voice.

“Whatever you want it to be.”

The bathwater is cold now, the bubbles sunken and drifting aimlessly with the waters heartbeat, thumping along with their own press of whispers. The light outside is changing, sunset pulling an array of colours on its way. It gives Callum an aura of bronze. All is soft and quiet, Ben’s mind settled, his heart in rhythm with Callum’s, his fingertips grazing the pink flush on his soft cheeks, content and warm.

You’re safe. We’re both safe. I love you.

#ben x callum #ballum #ballum fic #eastenders #mywords

186 notes · View notes

xxgothickxx · 3 years

Text

It Wasn’t Me

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I also just want to take this time to say a big thank you to @bang-tan-bitches for the opportunity to partake in their Monster Mash competition. I had so much fun writing this and reading the other stories that partook with me! I can’t wait to read any future stories from you :D and also a big thank you to @nomimits7 for letting me bother her so much for ideas and corrections on this story. I wouldn’t have had the balls if you didn’t push me to send it and post it!!

Words: 5.8K

Music: I was listening to this while writing www.youtube.com/watch?v=HmTkm_o9Glo

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“It wasn’t me! Guys I swear it wasn’t!” Kook pleaded to the others, giving up on trying to convince his elder.

“Well then, where was everyone? State your current position, one at a time” Yoongi eyes the ticking red digits again, nerves clearly showing in his tone.

“5 votes Inconclusive”, the five crewmembers who voted, their eyebrows shoot into the sky in shock.

“All members return to your duties”, and with that the intercoms shut down with a muted screech. As if their suits come to life, their helmets start shutting, visors sliding over their faces and locking in at the latch by their chins. Restricted vision in the already darkly lit ship with nothing but a low powered flashlight, everyone starts leaving the dinning bench. Jungkook’s purple helmet disappears into the shadows towards the upper end of cafeteria, Jimin and Taehyung running together towards the southern hallway. Namjoon still idles by the dinning bench, the emergency button tempting him into using his one and only use of it. His hands fist by his sides as he has an inner battle with himself, but finally he decides against it and follows Jin and Yoongi’s retreating figures that ran towards the west side of the ship.

Hoseok thought he was going to starts hyperventilating, he found himself alone in the dark. His mind repeating over and over again “target on your back... target on your back...” hesitatingly he runs towards south hallway in search of Jimin and Taehyung. Taehyung... he said he would be in electrical bay. Hoseok finally knowing his exact destination he disappears into the shadows as he searches for his green helmet friend.

Deciding not to stand around and look like he’s not doing anything, he turns away from the door and jumps up onto the filthy podium. He can see his boot prints in the dust from when he was standing there previously before discovering your fate. His hand darts out and starts typing in his crew ID, the old machine groaning as it boots up. “Come on, come on, come on... Fucking switch on already you piece of shit!” as if the scanner could hear him it boots up, what used to be lime green lights settling on his form and so the program starts running.

Hoseok nearly ran head first into a stack of boxes when he entered Storage Bay. This room always gave him the creeps. Boxes of God-knows-what stacked high to the ceiling. He hates it, he hates it so much here. ‘I just want to go home’, he thinks to himself. ‘Where even is home? Do I have one? This place can’t be my home... right?’, his steps falter, inner monologue interrupted by movement. He swears he saw someone’s boot out the corner of his eye. “Buddy system Hobi, look for a buddy and stick by them”, he reminds himself, blinking away something wet from his eyes, not sure if it’s tears or sweat at this point. He slowly makes his way between unmarked boxes, vaguely remembering this is the path to the garbage shoot. He sees the silhouette of someone. His heart in his throat, he nears apprehensively, a yellow helmet coming to life. Jimin turns around and his mouth opens in horror when his eyes land on Hoseok so close to him. He goes tumbling to the floor, his arms thrown up in a defensive manner in the hopes it will make the killing blow less painful.