#yeah that red rectangle is a gun | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

platypanthewriter · 3 years

Text

The Devil Looks After His Own Ch.4

Chapters One | Two | Three

Little Steve Harrington is so lonely he tries summoning a demon with a ritual advertised on TV–but luckily, it doesn’t work, and a buff, non-human nanny hired by his mom shows up minutes later. Years later, they’re best friends, and Steve still doesn’t know the truth. For @magniloquent-raven!

Since Steve’s mom and dad had basically stopped doing anything around the house, Steve helped Billy with things like scrubbing the bathroom, and doing laundry, and vacuuming. They listened to music very loud if Steve’s dad wasn’t working, and if he was, they played charades with each other as they worked. That meant Steve sometimes got the parmesan cheese when he wanted the Ajax cleanser, and Billy got Steve yelling and climbing up the furniture, looking for a huge cockroach rat hybrid, when all he wanted Steve to do was move so he could pick up the rug, but it was pretty funny.

“They are paying you, right,” Steve asked one day, as he and Billy laid on the floor of his room, exhausted from scrubbing the entire kitchen after Billy accidentally boiled a pan of chili over the whole stove and proceeded to drop it on the kitchen floor. Steve’s stomach growled—it’d actually smelled pretty good, for something Billy cooked, and he rolled to bury his face in Billy’s shoulder, groaning.

“...I don’t have a lot of use for money,” Billy said thoughtfully. “They’re giving me some, though, yeah.”

“Let’s order pizza,” Steve moaned, stretching. “I mean, if—can you get the money? Do you know how?”

“I have a bank account,” Billy muttered, but from the red his ears had turned, Steve suspected it hadn’t been that easy, at first.

“...do you have a card?” Steve asked, holding his fingers up in a rectangle, and Billy rolled onto his side to tickle him.

“Yes, you little jerk, I have a debit card, and I can get us pizza,” he told Steve, as he giggled and kicked the air.

“You should use it to do things you want,” Steve told him, relaxing into the hug, once he smacked Billy enough times that the tickling stopped. “Buy—things. Things you want. Or—or go somewhere.”

“Where would I wanna go without you?” Billy asked him, laughing, and Steve’s face heated.

He snaked his arms around more of Billy, and squeezed him, sighing contentedly. “...we could go together,” he mumbled. “To—to the, um, like, the water park. Or somewhere. They have slides.”

“Oooo,” Billy said, but it felt like he was laughing.

“They’re really cool,” Steve huffed, and Billy noogied his head.

“What about, like...Disneyland,” he whispered, and Steve’s heart thudded in his chest. “Or like...Hawaii? Is that a thing kids like? Go snorkeling?”

“Holy shit,” Steve muttered, because it seemed like the situation deserved a swear. “C-can you pay for that?! That’s—that’s a plane ticket, Billy—”

“Two of them,” Billy said, and Steve nodded, his heart pounding with excitement, because vacations would be completely different with Billy—Billy wouldn’t leave Steve in the hotel room all day, or expect him to just sit on a bench for hours at the mall.

“I-if you, um, if you want,” he squeaked, and Billy rolled on top of him, squishing him, and being annoying, and saying things like ‘Oh no, gross, did I roll onto a bug?’ “Get off!” Steve yelled, kicking and laughing.

“Too tired,” Billy groaned. “I’m just gonna lay here on this gross bug.”

“I’m not a bug!” Steve yelled back, cackling helplessly, until Billy finally took mercy, scooped him up, and let Steve order pizza with anything he wanted.

It turned out kinda gross, actually, because Steve had ordered everything he hadn’t tried before, but they picked off the fruit and the weird fish. The fried eggs and sunflower seeds were actually pretty good.

“I didn’t know you were such a good cook,” Billy told him, and Steve kicked his leg, snorting a laugh, as Billy flipped through channels.

He paused on a news show, the news person holding the microphone out to a being that was mostly fire and horns. “What do you think of this talk of requiring a license from both sides to summon demons?”

“It’s ridiculous,” said the guttural voice in flames, and Billy shivered, his face weirdly blank, like he got at the beginning, when Steve ordered him around. “Expecting my people to agree not to tear anyone’s face off, or steal their soul, when they’ve been summoned and enslaved for millenia? Don’t make me laugh.”

Steve slid his hand into Billy’s as the news person interrupted. “Well, it’s supposed to end that—”

“My own son has been missing for nearly a year,” said the harsh voice, and Billy trembled again, lowering his slice of pizza to the plate. “Are you suggesting I report the summoner to the authorities, instead of punishing them for my son’s captivity myself? How would a slap on the wrist help us more?”

“...fuck,” Billy whispered, rubbing his face, and Steve squeezed his hand.

“It stands to reason that if there was oversight on who could summon demons—” the news person persisted, but the fire demon slammed a flaming appendage against the table, and ey jerked back.

“I will burn them from the bones out until their skin cracks off in lumps of char,” said the demon, “—and then I will reclaim my son,” and then the TV clicked off, and Billy was sweating and shaking, tears welling up in his eyes.

Steve dropped his pizza on his plate, sat it aside, and stood up to hug Billy, petting his hair like he was the neighbor’s cat as Billy laughed and shuddered against him. “Billy,” Steve whispered. “Are you a demon?”

“You think I’m like him?” Billy gasped out, his fists tight in Steve’s shirt. “You see him and you—you’re like—that’s Billy,” he choked off, crying, and Steve petted his hair some more, biting his lips, and trying to figure it out.

Before Billy, he’d never thought of teenagers as being just another kind of kid—they’d always seemed basically like grownups—but he was wondering more and more whether teenagers were just children who could drive. Steve wasn’t sure how he felt about that idea, it sounded kind of...bad.

“Do—did you used to summon demons,” he asked, cautiously. “Is—is that why you—is that why you’re magic—is—is—do you know a demon,” he tried, wondering what could have made Billy cry.

“Doesn’t matter,” Billy mumbled, and Steve raised his eyebrows.

“It matters,” he said, but then he felt Billy start to pull away, and hugged him tighter. “But, um. You—you don’t have to...tell me. Okay?”

“...are you serious,” Billy whispered, and Steve nodded, running his fingers through Billy’s curls. Billy sighed, squeezing him back.

“If, um, if you don’t...want to talk about it,” Steve told him, “—um, you—you don’t have to...tell me.”

“...sorry,” Billy sighed. He sounded exhausted. “I just...it’s, um. It’s sort of...safer. If you don’t know.”

“Okay,” Steve told him, wondering. Billy was right, he thought—even if he did have horns, the Billy that swung him around in the air, played LEGO, and bought him weird pizza was nothing like the fire demon that had threatened the news person, which he thought he should probably tell Billy. “You’re not like that,” he said quickly. “He was scary. He wanted to be scary. He wanted to hurt somebody. He...I know you’re not like that. I didn’t—I didn’t mean you were like that.”

Billy nodded, sighing. “I don’t want to be like that.”

“Who would,” Steve wondered, making a face. “What a jerk.”

“...yeah,” Billy said, laughing softly.

“Do you...know him...somehow?” Steve couldn’t help asking. “Is—is that why you yelled at me about demons? When you first came?”

“Demons are dangerous,” Billy bit out, “—and they will kill you. Don’t you fucking dare try that summoning shit again—”

“I wasn’t going to,” Steve said, shaking his head, and trying not to smile, because Billy’d turned to glower at him, wiping his eyes. “I mean it, I won’t—”

“You better not,” Billy growled, his mouth quirking as he slid his hand along the back of the couch to tickle Steve’s side, and Steve yelped.

“I won’t! I won’t, I promise, I won’t!” he yelled, squawking and giggling, and Billy yanked him in close for a hug.

“You’ll get eaten,” Billy said quietly, frowning like he was still worried, and Steve flicked his earring.

“I won’t do it,” he said again. “I won’t. I promise.”

“...okay,” Billy sighed, resting his face against Steve’s hair.

It started to get hot and uncomfortable in Billy’s arms—he was squeezing really tight, and they were both sweaty from cleaning, and Steve was hungry— but he waited, petting Billy’s hair until he let go on his own.

“I promise not to kidnap anyone and get eaten,” Steve muttered into Billy’s curls, sighing, and Billy started snickering, and blew a raspberry on his neck with a loud farty noise. Steve’s dad stomped out of his office and yelled at them to be quiet, and they snuck the pizza into Steve’s room, and had a picnic on the floor.

A couple weeks later, Steve and Billy were leaving the LEGO store at the mall—Steve with his head stuffed with ideas and his hands on the Jungle Raider vehicle he’d finally picked up for his Ninjago set, Billy with the new bonsai tree set, because he and Steve had decided to add it to his house—when they heard screams. Steve was still looking at the cover of the box when he registered Billy shoving him behind Billy’s back, and a woman ran by yelling “Run, get out of here, there’s a man with a gun!”

Steve froze, clutching his Ninjago set, and Billy scooped him up, and frowned back atinto the LEGO store, and then down the corridor of the mall. More people were running by, and some of them were making phone calls, which was good, Steve thought dazedly. He should have thought of that, calling 911, like in a movie.

“Kiddo,” Billy said softly, “—those sets you gave me. They really mine?”

“There’s a man with a gun,” Steve said shakily. “Billy.”

“Yeah,” Billy said, sitting him back down. “And I don’t know where he is, or what’s going on, but if you—” he bit his lip, thinking.

“Billy, can you help?” Steve hissed, wide-eyed. “Don’t get hurt—”

“Pick a set to really never play with again,” Billy said, glancing back into the mall. “You have to—to throw it away, or break it, so nobody can use it again. Can you do that?”

“I can’t break it from here,” Steve whimpered, starting to panic. “I can’t—this one’s too small and dumb, isn’t it, it was only ten dollars—” he held up the Jungle Raider vehicle, his eyes blurring with tears.

“That would work,” Billy said. “You’ve never even gotten to play with it. You can’t just buy it again, though.”

“O-okay,” Steve said, nodding. He lowered it slowly towards the ground, and then jumped and dropped it as they heard a gunshot. He stomped on it a few times. There was a crunch, he flinched, and Billy yanked him into a quick hug, kissing his cheek, and then went all... pretty.

He grew, it seemed like, even from the tall horned man he’d been when he’d come to work naked that first day, and he had muscles everywhere, and Steve tried not to giggle nervously, because Billy was naked again, and Steve could see everything.

“Go hide behind the counter, or in the back, as far back and low as you can get,” Billy told him, and Steve nodded, grabbing Billy’s hands.

“Don’t get hurt, Billy,” he whispered, trying to let go, but he’d started to cry, and he couldn’t make his fingers let go of Billy’s.

Billy yanked free to squeeze him close, but they heard another scream, and Steve pushed him away and ran into the store, trying to cry quietly. He found the nice counter person hiding behind the counter, and yanked them into the back like Billy had said, then crouched with his arms over his head like in an earthquake because he didn’t know what else to do.

The counter person had a glittery they/them pin that caught the light from the front of the store as they panted, staring over his shoulder, and Steve watched it, remembering how genius he’d thought it was back when they first started working. One of the centaur twins in his class used ey/em like their art teacher did, but the other one used fae/faer, and they were identical palominos—and Steve had been so grateful when one of them started painting faer hooves and he could get it right.

He hoped he got to see them again. He hoped Billy got to see them again, and started to cry harder, thinking about Billy dead somewhere, full of bullets. The counter person yelped as Steve started to crawl away, asking him where he was going, but Steve couldn’t help it, he scrambled out of the store, and hid under a bench in the corridor, listening.

There were a bunch of gunshots, at least five, and Steve shuddered, covering his mouth so he didn’t make a noise, but then everything went quiet. He waited, tears dripping down his cheeks, until Billy stumbled back around the corner of the corridor, leaning heavily against the wall.

There was blood, smoking as it dripped over his jewelry. Steve scrambled out with a yell and ran to him, gathering him into a hug as Billy slid down the wall to curl up with his head in Steve’s lap. “I-I’ll call 911,” Steve sobbed, wiping his tears away to try and see, and Billy shushed him.

“S’fine,” he mumbled. “S’okay, mmm...m’fixin’ it. Need...need you…”

“What,” Steve asked him, petting his flamey hair, and patting his horns nervously.

“Talk to me,” Billy breathed, with a noise like he had snot or tears in his throat, and Steve realized it was probably blood, the blood soaking into his jeans from Billy’s chest.

Steve bit his lips together to keep from making a noise as his lungs jerked with sobs. “Y-you’re gonna be okay,” he whined unconvincingly, then yelped as he realized Billy was smoking a little all over, and he felt a little smoky, too soft under Steve’s fingers on his shoulder, and not nearly heavy enough leaning against him.

“Tell me about the picture, that first night,” Billy whispered. “How’d it go. Dis-distract me.” He reached out and ran his finger through his blood on the floor, drawing some of a circle, and Steve pulled Billy’s hand back.

“Don’t move,” Billy growled, pretty certain that made things worse. He drew what he could remember—the castle, and the horse—trying not to think about the sticky chill of Billy’s blood on his fingers. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and kept drawing, as Billy asked questions like ‘Wasn’t it in a circle?’ and ‘I thought there were symbols or something.’ Steve would have stopped, but it sounded like it was helping, as Billy got heavier.

His voice sounded stronger. “...what are you drawing?” he asked, sounding like he wanted to laugh, and Steve felt a strong temptation to do something annoying, like lick his ear.

“I don’t remember the symbols!” Steve hissed, guiltily, trying not to sob. “Hearts are good,” he sniffled. “I-it’s the Eu-Eurovision logo! And I love you.”

“...yeah,” Billy whispered, staring at the picture, as Steve added some clouds, trying not to think about how much of Billy’s blood there was on the ground to draw with. “...save me with the Eurovision logo, kiddo.”

Steve sniffled hard, wiping his nose again, and used his clean hand to stroke Billy’s hair at the base of his horns.

“Tell me why you drew that,” Billy whispered, and Steve hugged him, trying not to get snot in his pretty hair. “The—the first time. That first night.”

Steve could hear sirens. “W-wanted a friend,” he whispered, his lungs juddering so he kind of gasped it.

“Wanted me?” Billy asked, whispering, and Steve nodded, hugging him tighter, and drew another circle around the one Billy had started, and wrote some stuff in there, ‘I’ and a heart and ‘Billy’, and Billy snorted a laugh, relaxing into him. He felt more solid, less like Steve’s fingers were going to press through him, and Steve dropped a kiss on his shoulder, his tears coming even faster in relief. Billy’s wound was smoking still, but he pushed himself upright—as Steve waved his hands in panic—and took a deep, slow breath, and shrank a little back into grown-up nanny Billy, in a t-shirt and jeans, still clutching at his stomach. The blood on the ground was smoking away. Billy took another slow breath, closing his eyes, and the blood on his shirt smoked away too.

Steve reached over—gently—and tugged Billy’s shirt up to see smooth unbroken skin, and wondered whether it was real. “Is—is it gone? Or are you hiding it?” he asked, around the lump in his throat, and Billy leaned in to kiss his head.

“I’m okay,” he whispered, as the sounds of shouting got closer.

“How did you get hurt,” Steve asked, rubbing his eyes again as they spilled over. “You’re magic, how—how did you get hurt, Billy, you—you promised—”

“I didn’t promise I’d never get hurt,” Billy laughed, and Steve punched his shoulder, and Billy grunted, wincing.

Steve scrambled closer, patting at him more gently. “It’s still there,” he realized, crying harder. “You’re still hurt, Billy, you’re hurt— we have to go to the hospital—”

“No, no, kiddo,” Billy laughed, gritting his teeth. “I’ll be okay. I’m just...hungry.”

“How did you get hurt,” Steve breathed again, his brain stuck on the memory of blood on the floor, and on his fingers. He clenched them, clean now, but he could still feel the stickiness.

“Well, he was human,” Billy said slowly, trying to push himself to his feet, “—and I’m not, so I was trying not to hurt him.”

“He had a gun,” Steve squeaked, stumbling to his feet to try and help Billy heave himself to his feet. “He had a gun, Billy—”

“But he’s human,” Billy said softly, glancing up with the smile he put on when he didn’t want to smile. “Like you. I can’t go around hurting humans.”

“You can if they have a gun,” Steve growled, steadying Billy as he stood, finally, staggering.

“Naaah,” Billy said, hugging his head. “You might stop and think twice about being my friend, seeing me do something like that.”

“I would not,” Steve insisted, huffing. “Not if they’re shooting at you—”

As they walked out, around the EMTs and a man in cuffs, screaming about demons, Billy flinched. Steve turned on his heel to go yell, because Billy was nice, and pretty, and he’d gotten shot, but Billy grabbed him up around the waist and kept walking, telling everyone that stopped him that they hadn’t seen anything, and they were fine.

“I hope they put him in jail forever,” Steve muttered, squirming to get down, because he was starting to get why parents got mad when they were worried. He wanted to shake Billy for not understanding he was important. Steve couldn’t stop snapping at him, either, even when he tried to be nice, stopping for a milkshake on the way home—Billy asked what kind Steve wanted, and tried to suggest vanilla when Steve paused, and then Steve went and said strawberry, just to prove him wrong, and he didn’t even like strawberry. Billy’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he drove, and Steve tried not to cry over his gross strawberry milkshake, and the remembered feeling of Billy’s blood dripping between his fingers and soaking into his jeans.

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to keep quiet about this, okay?” Billy told him, and Steve laughed, wetly, because it wasn’t like he could tell anyone anyway. Steve’s parents would have questions if Steve told them Billy had been naked.

“I won’t tell,” Steve said thickly, and Billy grinned at him, like everything was fine.

It was weird, being really, really mad at Billy. Steve wasn’t used to being so angry at somebody he loved, and it spilled out, everywhere, at his parents, his teacher, at his friends—and particularly at Billy, who glared in confusion as Steve stomped past when he offered a hug, or ignored Billy saving him a seat in the cafeteria, or refused to eat the awful food Billy cooked for dinner.

It was worse that he couldn’t even tell anyone—there was nobody he trusted enough, except Billy. It seemed so obvious, now, that Billy could be hurt— everyone could, Steve told himself, and it had been stupid to think Billy couldn’t be hurt just because he could do magic.

He wanted to scream because Billy would hurt himself to save Steve, or that he almost died, and acted like that was normal, and he yelled into his pillow until he cried.

“Don’t be pissed,” Billy hissed, yanking Steve around the back of the gym during recess, after Steve had picked Tommy first for his soccer team. “You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” Steve muttered, his eyes stinging, because being angry all the time made him want to cry all the time, which made him angrier.

“You are fine,” Billy whispered, sighing, like Steve was being a brat.

Steve figured he probably was being a brat, if Billy thought so, and kind of wished he could just say thank you, but it stuck in his throat, and he shoved Billy away.

“I protected you, you’re fine, I’ll always protect you,” Billy groaned, like Steve was stupid, and Steve pushed him again.

“What about you,” he yelled back, too loud, and started to cry again. The shouting of three classes at recess pretty much drowned him out, but it was still embarrassing. “Y-you keep saying I’m fine, what about you?!”

“I’m fine too,” Billy told him, rolling his eyes. “I healed, I’m okay, Stevie.”

“Don’t call me Stevie,” Steve said, and Billy blinked, probably because Steve had always kind of liked having nicknames, just like normal kids.

“...Steve,” Billy corrected, watching his face, and Steve realized he’d given Billy an order, and felt worse.

“Y-you keep saying it’s fine and it’s not fine,” Steve shouted at him, and Billy frowned harder. “It’s not fine if you get hurt,” Steve tried to yell, but his throat closed, and he kind of choked it out.

“It’s okay if I’m helping you,” Billy said, smiling like Steve was being funny, and Steve wanted to hit him.

“No,” he rasped out, and Billy cocked his head. “If,” Steve started, not sure how he was going to finish, “—i-if—if you keep saying—if you keep saying you don’t matter,” he forced out, swallowing hard, “—I—I’ll—”

“You’ll what,” Billy laughed, raising his eyebrows, and Steve set his jaw.

“I’ll believe you,” he threatened, lying, and Billy went still. “I—I’ll believe you. That you don’t matter. L-losing you doesn’t matter. M-my best friend doesn’t matter. If I—” he sniffled hard, wiping his face, “—if I don’t like you anymore, it won’t be so scary—”

“No,” Billy interrupted, wide-eyed, grabbing Steve’s arm. “No, no, no— Steve —”

“It’s fine if s-some—if something...happens to you! R-right?!” Steve insisted, crying too hard to pretend he wasn’t, and pushing Billy, who staggered back. “If you’re just gonna die I—” he cut off as his lungs seized at the idea of Billy dead, Billy in a pool of blood, still on the floor, Billy gone. “I-if you’re gonna die,” he started again, miserably, “I don’t wanna be your friend, I—I can’t—”

“Fucking hell,” Billy muttered, his hands twitching towards Steve, and then flinching back. “I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry, please—please don’t—”

“Wh-what if you die and it’s my fault,” Steve moaned, hiccuping sobs, and trying to wipe his face, and Billy stepped in close again, grimacing uncertainly, wiping Steve’s face with his sleeves. He smelled like smoke, a little, like he did when something scary was happening, and the laundry detergent from when Steve helped him out at the laundromat, and Billy had chased him around and tickled him on one of the dryers. “What if you’re gone,” Steve wailed.

“No, no, no, c’mon, no, no—” Billy muttered, pulling him into a hug. Steve tried to pull away again, but Billy held on, warm and strong, and Steve finally just bawled into his shoulder, sobbing so loud everybody came to look, two different teachers, and all three of the classes at recess. Steve buried his face in Billy’s shoulder, and Billy hugged his whole head as Steve’s new favorite teacher squeezed both their shoulders, and whispered that she was glad they’d made up, and then ushered everyone away, even Tommy, who looked torn between triumph and worry.

“I’m s-still mad at y-you,” Steve told Billy, gulping for air. “I-I’m so mad at you—I—I’m so mad—” he wheezed out, his breath gone from crying, and Billy squeezed him tighter.

“Sssh, ssh, ssh, I’m sorry, I was wrong, I was wrong,” he whispered, and Steve relaxed, a tiny bit, wondering if Billy got it, finally.

“You c-can’t do that again,” Steve told him, feeling a sick guilt for ordering Billy around, but pushing on, because it had to be okay to not let Billy get shot.

“I don’t think there’s probably gonna be that many shooters at the mall, kiddo,” Billy whispered back, laughing, and Steve stomped on his foot.

“You have to promise,” he hissed, and Billy laughed again, but when Steve shoved away to glare at him, Billy was crying too, his eyes red and wet. “...you promise?” Steve asked, softening a little, and reaching up to wipe Billy’s tears off his round, freckled cheeks. Billy nodded, smirking a little, and Steve frowned. “You can’t just—get hurt. Not for me.”

“Because I’m so important,” Billy said, his smile widening a little as his eyes spilled over again. “And you’d be super sad.”

“Yeah,” Steve told him, narrowing his eyes, because he wasn’t sure Billy was really getting it, yet. “I’d probably cry for— forever.”

Billy made a weird noise in his throat as he laughed, leaning in and kissing Steve on his cheek, and his ear, clumsily, and squeezing him tight again until his fingers hurt against Steve’s arms and sides, but Steve didn’t care, because he was hugging back just as hard. “I—I’ll be more...careful,” Billy mumbled, sniffling. “Since I’m...important. So you don’t have to get so scared.” He took a shaky breath, burying his face in Steve’s shoulder. “...just...because of me.”

“You’re the most important person I know,” Steve told him, his breath going shaky again. “Just—just you, you have to—you have to be okay—”

“I gotta make sure I’m okay so you’re okay,” Billy whispered, nodding a little, and Steve groaned, but it was close enough, he figured, so he sighed a ‘yeah’. “Because I’m important,” Billy said, laughing a little, like he didn’t believe it, and Steve growled into his neck.

“I’m not lying,” Steve growled.

“No, no, yeah, I know,” Billy told him, giggling, and Steve pulled back to stare at him. He was laughing and crying, pink-cheeked. “I-I know. I’m—I’m important.”

#harringrove #eventually #Steve accidentally summons a demon #Billy was horrified to be summoned by an unattended child #they're BFFs now #Sorry if anything's weird formatting-wise #kitten kept walking across the keyboard trying to keep an eye on the roomba

25 notes · View notes

bisexualdaemon · 4 years

Text

Cake

a/n: when tipsy meets twitter, all bets are off

hello! I woke up three days ago like I’d been reborn in my love for this kid, so I wrote this filth 😅 i’ve posted a few times recently about this video but if you haven’t seen it, scroll my blog or search cake lol trust me it’s worth your time.

(masterlist is linked in my description)

warnings: 3.9k of absolute filth

Movie night had ended hours ago, giving way to sleepy rideshares and drunken footsteps into the second bedroom. Brian was passed out and snoring in the giant armchair across from you. The Top Gun drinking game had gone wrong at around the eighth high five and completely derailed at the sixth “Iceman,” which became a salud of sorts in the room. Beer cans, mango White Claws, and the occasional tequila bottle littered the kitchen island.

“Psst, are you awake?” a toe poked your side from above. Shawn looked down at you with a cocked eyebrow from under his crooked elbow. You’d taken residence behind his legs, resting your head on his hip to watch the movie, bowing out of getting totally trashed. Your lips were still tingly enough to be dangerous.

“Yeah,” you croaked, clearing your throat and stretching, “I’m awake.”

“Are you suuure?” he slurred, tired and tipsy. The smirk was audible, “I thought I felt you drooling through my sweatpants.” His breath came out in a whoosh when you punched him in the abs with your outstretched arm.

“How’s that for awake, fucker?!” He chuckled and caught at your hand, unfisting your fingers and playing with them as he pulled out his phone. You let him. You even opened your hand fully so he could trace little patterns on your palm.

It had been like this for a few months, the flirting, the touching. A drunken night of 20-somethings playing spin the bottle had ended with multiple people clearing their throats with wide eyes as Shawn kissed you.

My God, he had kissed you. Fingers splayed against your neck, his lips gently interlocked with yours. It started out chaste, just two mouths touching, but as soon as he swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, it was game over. The people, the voices, your friends, all melted away and it was just the two of you. His top lip between yours. Gentle sucking pressure. His body heat radiating onto your skin. It was everything you never knew you wanted. Until Connor clapped Shawn on the shoulder and ripped him away, turning the two of you into human embarrassed laughing emojis.

Since then, it had been like this. His hand on your lower back at the coffee shop, lazy naps together after midday movies, play fighting and fake indignation after one too many shots at the bar. Your friends all shared sideways looks and snide smirks every time you hung out but you hadn’t crossed any lines again and you definitely hadn’t talked about it. Whatever it was didn’t need conversation. It was fun. It was nothing. He was busy. He was a globally-famous popstar. You were normal. The last thing you wanted was one of those embarrassing tabloid articles, “15 Things You Need to Know About Shawn Mendes’s New Fling.” So, in the quiet moments, you let him trace patterns on your palm and send shivers down to your toes.

“Hey, come up here, I’m scrolling Twitter,” he swept his fingers down to your wrist and gave it a tug, a little giddiness in his tone. He made space for you in front of him on the couch, giving you his bicep as a pillow. You settled back against his hard chest and let your legs weave into his. He’s so goddamn warm. It was a mistake wearing jean shorts to his condo. There was a part of you that wondered if he turned the A/C down on purpose but you didn’t want to think about why.

Scrolling Twitter, where Shawn saw the most fan activity, was one of your favorite pastimes. Seeing the reactions to this dude you knew in real life was occasionally shocking, sometimes horrifying, but always amusing. He held the phone out in front of you and thumbed through his feed.

Most of his mentions were about missing him. He’d been on a break since the end of his last tour, taking some time to himself without a schedule for every minute of every day. For a guy who had been taking photos with fans pretty much everyday for the last seven years, you understood why they might be freaking out. He’d broken the pattern. Thank God for that.

You tried to keep your eyes from crossing at the repeated “I miss Shawn @shawnmendes” tweets and the feeling of his alcohol-warmed fingers against your hip. I shouldn’t want this.

“Wait!” you snapped a finger at his phone, “what was that?”

“Oh, that?” he scrolled back, “it’s just an old video.” His voice broke a couple octaves on the last bit. The tweet was accompanied by the wide-eyed blushing emoji. Curious. You raised an eyebrow and watched. He was eating a guitar-shaped cake...with his hands. Mouth wide open, his face buried over and over in thick pieces of chocolate cake with some kind of blue frosting on it. It was fucking filthy. You rubbed your thighs together absent-mindedly.

“What do the comments say?” You poked at his phone before he could move it away.

“Oh, nothing really,” his voice was still high, which meant he knew what the comments likely said. You huffed and grabbed at the phone. “Shawn, you know I have Twitter, I’ll see it whether you like it or not!” You rammed your hips backward, pausing for a second when you felt something you weren’t expecting, but not for too long. He sucked in a breath, coughing, and dropped his phone—right into your waiting hands.

“Hahaha!” You jumped up and ran to the other side of the big white couch, kicking your legs in victory, “I win!” He tripped over his own oversized limbs before he got to you, falling to the floor within reach of your feet. He reached out and pulled your legs toward him, framing his face between your thighs. Your giggles stopped short and your face flamed.

“Can you assholes get a room?!” Brian was awake and fussing at the thin fleece blanket he’d scrounged off the back of the couch. He rolled over mumbling something that sounded like just fucking fuck already but you were too busy thinking about Shawn’s head still between your legs to be bothered by it.

Shawn slowly lifted his finger to his lips in the universal sign to be quiet and untangled himself to stand. He reached out a hand and you didn’t hesitate to grab it, leading you to his bedroom down the hall. You held his phone in a death grip, unwilling to let go in case he caught you off guard.

The room was dark, save for his phone, the rectangle reflecting a solid white off the wall of glass facing the city. The CN Tower lights flickered in the late night sky, seemingly suspended in midair. His unmade bed was the biggest and brightest thing in the room. A white comforter hung half on the floor at an odd angle off the corner of the mattress, his white sheets completely exposed. The pillows were all scrunched up at the headboard, like he’d been kicking and pushing all night long. Like he hadn’t slept soundly in weeks.

“Okay, so what you’re about to read…” he shut the door behind him, scrubbing at the back of his neck, “it’s gonna be weird, but like it’s fine I’m used to it. They’re...a little invasive.” Weird? Invasive? Curiouser and curiouser…

You walked over to his bed, picking up the comforter and tossing it haphazardly back onto the bed, and sat on the edge staring at the video and letting it play a few more times. Then you swiped down.

@canadianmendussy: ALEXA PLAY BIRTHDAY CAKE BY RIHANNAAAAA

@perfectlyru1n: oh my goD does he really go down like thAT?!

“Oh...my God,” you covered your mouth to keep from laughing, “you’ve seen this before?”

He bounced on the mattress facedown, mumbling something into the sheets.

“What was that?” you asked, with Southern sweet tea levels of sugar. You ruffled his hair, brushing through his curls. He turned his head, his face flushed with more than just alcohol.

“I said yes, I’ve seen it before…” he opened one eye and looked up at you, “I usually just ignore them.”

There were over 400 replies on this tweet, some people chiding the horny stans for posting something Shawn can see, others just piling on.

@illuminateruin: is that cake gluten-free?

@kidinlover: @illuminateruin idk but I know pussy is

@particularbenito: CAN HE EAT PUSSY LIKE THAT?!?!?!

“Can he eat pussy like that...” you read out loud under your breath, your mind conjuring up that image of his face between your thighs. Shawn’s head shot up, eyes wide.

“What???” His face was practically magenta at this point, “is that a serious question??”

“What? Uhh, no. Not serious. A reply actually,” you rushed, giving him a sideways look. I mean...maybe it was a serious question? The curiosity was going to kill you. Oh, no. No, no, no. Your lips tingled.

“Well, I mean….can you?” You could hear the glint in your eye.

Fuck it all.

“Can I….w-what?” he stuttered, the air crackling between the two of you. He looked like a cornered animal, like the wrong move would get him killed.

“Can you,” you pushed a loose curl out of his face and nodded toward his phone, “eat pussy like that?”

Oh, God, did I just…?

“I’ve never gotten any complaints,” your head popped up at his self-satisfied tone. Gone was the red-faced shy boy talking about embarrassing fans. The Shawn in front of you was...confident. Hungry. His fingers grazed your ankles resting beside him. It didn’t escape your notice. You shivered.

It wasn’t cold.

“M-maybe they were just too afraid to tell a big, famous rockstar that he sucked,” you were the one stuttering now, face heating by the second.

“Oh, sucking was definitely part of it,” his fingers traced the indent in your calf. You refused to pull away even though you should, even though part of you—a small, shrinking part—knew that if this went where it was definitely going, things were going to change. You snuck a finger under his chin to pull his gaze to yours.

“Is that a promise?”

“I don’t know,” he flashed a toothy smile, gravity and sheer force of will pulling his body toward yours, “is that an invitation?”

I’m probably gonna regret this in the morning.

Your lips crashed into his, giving him your answer. His mouth was hot, his breathing heavy. Tongues and teeth and lips wrestled together, refusing to part while he made his way above you, crawling on hands and knees between your legs as you settled against the pillows. He licked up into your mouth just before nibbling on your bottom lip, forcing a moan from deep inside you. This was primal, the need you felt with him. Like once you came together, nothing could break you apart.

His hands moved up your body, scratching gently at your exposed legs and slipping beneath your hoodie. He broke away from your lips to shuck off your top and expose all your delicate skin. His fingers slipped beneath your lace bralette and he played with the tiny clasp between your breasts.

“Is this okay?” he asked, a little out of breath, his thin t-shirt pressing against your skin.

You nodded so quickly you thought your neck might snap. He popped the clasp and spread his calloused hands across your chest. The friction was glorious. Your body chased his fingers involuntarily, bowing up off the high thread count sheets.

“Be still, baby,” he whispered, dipping his head and placing an open mouthed kiss just above your belly button. Your eyes rolled back at the pet name, another moan escaping your lips. Warmth rushed between your legs.

“Shawn,” you gasped, trying to control your breathing so he didn’t know just how fucked you were, “when I gave you an invitation, I didn’t expect you to be late to the party.” You rocked your hips up into his chest pointedly.

“Well, I can't just jump to the entrée, can I?” He fiddled with the button on your denim shorts, loosening it with a little pop. Teasing, he licked at a freckle just above your hip before sucking at it with enough force to leave a mark.

“Fuck!” Your hands shot down to his mop of curls, fingers buried in the thick locks. He pulled and nibbled at that spot over and over, all while grazing his fingers just beneath the waistband of your simple cotton cheeky panties.

When he pulled away, an angry red violet half-moon colored the skin. He took one last lick, smiling at your gasp in response.

“I love that sound,” he sat back on his heels between your legs, looking down at your heaving chest.

“I’ll make it again if you take that shirt off,” you reached for him with grabby hands, trying to Harry Potter that shit. He laughed and did the boy thing, grabbing his shirt at the back of his neck before tugging it forward off his body.

The gasp came again. Not even on purpose or because you’s promised him, but because he was so stupid gorgeous in the low light of the city you couldn’t help yourself. You’d seen him in hot tubs and at sweaty summer parties and in those fucking Calvin Klein pictures, but none of that compared to having him shirtless between your thighs just a few inches from your outstretched fingers.

His chest was flushed, some combination of adrenaline and alcohol. Little freckles dotted his lightly tanned skin all the way up his torso to the dusting of chest hair that colored his chest. His perfect pink nipples were hard against the cool air of the room, begging for you to touch or kiss or bite. Or all of the above. You reached out to trace his appendix scar where it peaked out of his low-slung sweatpants. His body danced away from you as he caught at your hand.

“Don’t,” he growled, weaving his fingers between yours and pressing his lips onto the back of your palm like a fucking Victorian gentleman. Like he wasn’t staring down at your hardening nipples thinking about how good they would feel pinched warm between his fingers. He tipped forward, bracing himself against the mattress, his mouth just a few centimeters from your skin. Dragging flesh against flesh, he left kisses at random in the valley between your breasts. Moving farther and farther down your body, he paused, sitting up on his heels.

“Are you sure?” He was breathing heavy, looking straight through you, both hands hovering around the edges of your shorts. You were nodding before he even finished his question.

He curled his fingers around all the fabric in his way, denim and cotton both, and dragged the offending pieces of clothing down your legs, lifting them off and tossing them against the wall across the room. You breathed steady, looking at him looking at you. His mouth hung open in speechless wonder.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he whispered, settling back between your thighs, a mirror of his earlier pose on the couch. Another wave of heat rushed straight to your clit, silently screaming for him.

“I know,” you brushed through his curls, giving him a suggestive grin when he looked up at you, “I taste good too.”

That was all the permission he needed. A second later, he buried his face between your legs, nudging your knees over his shoulders. His tongue swirled in circles around your clit finishing in random flicks. He moaned into you, his lips closing around your swollen folds with gently sucking pressure.

“Shit, Shawn!” you shouted, praying to the gods that everyone still in the condo was too drunk and passed out to hear you. The white sheets bunched in your fists, arms spread wide. Your thighs clamped down against his ears.

He continued his licks and flicks, snaking his hands up your legs and gently prying your legs apart. You clenched hard as he pinned your thighs to the mattress, holding you open with his forearms. Filthy sounds echoed off the walls, wet sucking, moaning from both of you. He dipped his chin and circled your entrance with his tongue, lapping at you.

“Christ!” your hands shot into his damp curls. He was working hard down there, flexing and moaning and fighting your spasms. You looked down and saw his hips impatiently rutting into the mattress. It only made you wetter, gushing onto his waiting tongue. He drank everything you gave him.

“He’s not here,” he said in a low and gravelly voice, a little breathless. He pulled back, the bottom half of his face shining in the dark. His fingers toyed with your sensitive, wet lips, watching as you twitched and trembled, so close to the edge. A firm circle around your clit had your back bowing, contorting backward off the bed. A single tear rolled down your temple.

“I’m so close,” you panted, trapping his outstretched hand against your skin.

“Shawn, I need you.”

“Need me?” His fingers paused, “need me where?”

“Oh, God, don’t stop,” you choked out, a sob threatening. Your back arched up off the sheets again to find friction. “I need...I need you inside me.”

At some point between your words and the needy moan that followed, he’d removed his sweatpants and a black pair of Calvins. You heard him rustling his hand inside the bedside table followed by the metallic sound of foil and the sharp scent of latex. Thank fuck he’s prepared.

When he dropped down onto his forearms, hovering an inch from where you needed him, you were dripping onto the sheets, grinding down into the mattress waiting desperately for him. He ran his nose over your collarbone, peppering kisses along your neck. It was slow and deliberate. A fucking tease.

“Shawn,” you pulled his face up to yours, all squished between your hands, “if you don’t fuck me right now, I swear I will…”

He pressed inside to the hilt in one swift motion, cutting off your threat.

“What are you swearing to do, princess?” he asked, a smirk and a fire in his eyes. The moan that escaped you in response was embarrassingly loud. He stilled and closed his eyes, allowing you to adjust. You took even breaths, relaxing into his hips, holding on to his shoulders for dear life. His cock was perfect. He was perfect.

I am so fucked.

He moved, slowly at first, stroking all the right places. When his hips separated from yours, pulling almost all the way out, he rutted back inside. It was deep, long thrusts touching some place inside you weren’t sure you knew was there. Your head thrashed against the pillows. Your grip on his shoulders turned sharp, clawing long red-raw marks into his pale skin.

“I’m not gonna last long,” he hissed into your ear, “fuck, you’re so tight.” His abs scraped against your body like a washboard, the tension clear in his muscles. He was wound up, ready to shatter. He crashed into you, repeatedly slapping skin against skin. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight, slow circles in contrast with the punishing rhythm of his hips. He lifted one of your legs over his hip to change the angle, to make you even tighter around him. A bead of salty-sweet sweat dropped from his chest into your mouth.

“Right...there,” you groaned, your eyes rolling back, “I’m gonna come!”

“That’s right, honey,” he grunted, flattening his fingers across your clit with intense pressure, “come for me.”

The room went white. The sound of your hips colliding was replaced with a high-pitched ring. Your world seemed to implode, your muscles moving independently. He wrapped his arms around your middle and held you as he fucked you through the waves, his weight the only thing keeping you from being swept away in the current.

“Stay here with me,” he cooed, sweet but taut in his throat. Your heart slammed against your ribs in rhythm with his hips. He grunted once, twice, three times with his final thrusts and came undone, pumping into the condom. Biting down on your shoulder to stifle his sounds, he sucked hard enough to leave an angry mark. You contracted around him, both inside and out, curling around his thighs and back and neck, letting the full weight of his completely spent body bring you back to full consciousness.

“Hey,” you fingered his frizzed and fucked curls, “Shawn?”

“Hmm?” he nuzzled into your hands and squeezed you a little tighter.

“You’re crushing me,” you exhaled, strained.

“Oh, fuck! I’m sorry!”

He shifted to his side, accidentally pulling out too quickly, making both of you wince.

“Shit, shit, I’m so sorry,” he was so cute when he was scrambling. He got up and threw out the used condom, quickly returning from the adjoining bathroom with a damp cloth.

“Come here,” he held his arms out, making a perfect you-sized place in front of him. You slid into it easily and let him press the cloth between your legs, wincing again.

“Did I hurt you?” There was so much concern in his voice.

“No, no, I just…” you held onto his arm, glad to be facing away, “I haven’t been fucked like that in awhile.”

“Glad to be of service.” You didn’t have to be looking at him to see his smug smile. Reaching back, you slapped his thigh in retaliation. He caught your hand and kissed it like a Victorian gentleman again, like it made up for his cockiness. You tried to convince yourself that it didn’t, flushing even harder than your just-fucked body should have allowed. He wrapped his arm around your front and intertwined your legs, snuggling his face into the nape of your neck.

“So, uhhh, are we gonna do this again?” he asked, barely concealing the hope in his voice.

“Shhh,” you said, yawning for effect, “we’ll talk about it in the morning. Just sleep.”

He exhaled against your back, placing one last kiss on the mark you were sure he’d left in the midst of his orgasm. You stared out into the Toronto skyline as his breathing evened, his quiet snores barely audible against the screaming voices in your head. As the light crept into the room, as morning dawned on your sleepless night, you repeated his question over and over again.

Are we gonna do this again?

There was an easy answer: yes. Yes, yes, yes, my God, yes you were going to do this again. But there was another, harder question to answer beneath it. If we do this again, will we ever be able to stop?

***

taglist: @justanotherfangurl272 @siennarossi @trustfundshawn @alone-in-madness @harryandmolly @thatindiannerdygirl @fromthicctosticcc @softmendesss @sinplisticshawn @nedthegay @september-lace @itrocksmysocks @disaster-rose @mendesoft @luvluvxx @i-play-video-games @ihearthemcallingforyou @gentleshawn @kitykatnumber @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @ijustreallylikeshawnokay @shhhawnmendes @shawnsblue @imaginashawnns @mendesficsxbombay @shawn-youth @kerwritesthings @starlightsivann @lavenderhoneymndes @begginyouformendes @fallinallincurls @shawn-youth @linanilssonfurberg @lostinshawnsmemory @bucky-ish

(as always let me know if you want on/off the tag list...I realize I don’t post regularly and like half of these people could be out of the fandom lol)

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes smut #shawn peter raul mendes #my writing #yeah it took me a little more than an hour but it's HERE and that's all that MATTERS

509 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans Are Space Orcs,”Red Void.”

Hello everyone, I am back from my little vacation from writing. I am thinking about slowing down my story output just because I work now, but who knows if I actually will since I have the opportunity to write at work. Anyway I am back, and I hope you like the new story.

A dark silhouette against a backdrop of red haze, dwarfed thousands of times by rising black monoliths ascending into the redness, fading before their tops could be seen. Feet clatter against the ground echoing thousands of times over and outward, never fading, but seeming to vanish into the haze as it is bounced repeatedly of the towering metal structures.

The metal monoliths are geometrical, made in almost perfect rectangles with sharp cutting edges.

They don’t look natural, though mother nature has been known to make stranger things.

Their size is shocking, towering many thousands of feet into the air, taller than skyscrapers, almost never ending, and packed together like a forest, or it would seem that way.

It is hard to gage distance in such a space. The towering walls and the pulsing red fog give the impression of being confined indoors: claustrophobic and pressing, though the monoliths don’t seem to move as the silhouette makes its way towards them.

It walks for many minutes, its feet echoing a thousand times in space.

The monoliths seem to be a mile apart in some places though their daunting size and oppressive shadow still gives the impression that they are close, towering over and staring down at the wandering figure in the shadowy gloom.

More smoke rolls in, giving a strange greenish haze toone of the towers, and a blue haze to another.

The walking of the feet continue to echo upwards and outwards, for miles and miles.

It would be nearly impossible to sneak up on someone in this place.

A deep moaning seems to permeate the air, the creaking of metal as it shifts back and forth in the wind.

It is a sound of abandonment.

It is a sound of loneliness.

A shrill screeching sound rises up through the mist and then fads back down again.

Fingernails on chalk, or metal on metal.

All to be taken back over by the distant moaning.

The Shining illumination of the star is barely visible through the dim haze. On occasions the mists part just enough to allow a stuttering beam of light to pass through, and roll over the ground again before disappearing.

Despite the noise.

The place is lonely, and desolate.

Footsteps continue to echo.

“Admiral, do you copy.” The voice inside his helmet seems distant and warped despite its objective clearness.

Little white lights inside his helmet reflect over his skin, while his headlamp attempts to cut through the fog, though it is like trying to cut through soup. Instead of a clean beam of light, there is simply a great halo of white light that illuminates the darkness around him, being of more hindrance than help in some cases.

He turners it off, finding it easier to see.

A wave of distant light passes down through the fog and caresses across the metal ground before fading.

Ground, or floor.

What is the difference.

Ground seems… more natural while the floor sticks out to him as being man made, though that is probably down to simple semantics.

His brain keeps wanting to call it a floor though, and the implications of that thought sends a shiver down his spine.

“Admiral, do you copy-”

The voice seems nervous and impatient, and he swears he can hear a warbling echo behind the words, though he knows it is just his nervous mind talking, conjuring ghosts in the darkness.

“I read you loud and clear, Omen.”

Simon sighs in relief and exasperation. SHe is in control of the ship while he is gone. He thinks it is good for her, though he knows other people are skeptical of her ability to lead.

Sometimes she has a habit of sticking to closely to the rules.

“I don’t see why you insisted on doing this yourself. It isn’t your job, and someone else could have easily done it.”

Not this argument again.

“Simon, I told you before, the day I stop doing field work is the day I shoot myself out the airlock. If anyone is going to go out here into dangerous situations, I would rather it be me than some member of my crew, and furthermore, there are plenty of people on the ship as capable, or maybe even MORE capable than me, at commanding, so stow the argument for the time being.”

His tirade is cut off as another deep echoing moan rolls up through his feet and rattles through his suit.

“Admiral, are you still there.”

Ah, one of the science Nerds.

“Yeah, still here. What can you make of the noise?”

‘Hard to tell, there are too many echoes and too much interference from the fog.”

“Can you tell what it is.”

“CO2 mostly, and we can’t identify the components in the smoke either. WHatever it is, it is all over the planet in a low concentration, but where you are it is VERY high. How about you, any luck getting closer to those monoliths.”

He looked upwards, at the dark and towering structure just visible as a silhouette through the mist, “Yeah, almost there. I thought I parked a bit closer, but this palace is so big it is messing with my sense of…. Space.” He could hear the slow rush of his own breathing inside the helmet, “Any luck on that video feed.” he wondered.’

“It's patchy as is the sound. We think you are close to some sort of magnetic interference, that is messing with your equipment.”

He toggled the heads up display inside his helmet and took a look at the atmospheric readings.

It is still detecting mostly C02, and a tiny bit of oxygen, though not nearly enough to sustain human life.

Other readings are coming up as well, mostly though, they indicated high presences of other unknown compounds -- likely whatever is making the smoke different colors.

There is absolutely no moisture here with a humidity at zero and a temperature that plunges dangerously low, to the point that this place would have been a tundra if there is any water to freeze. He supposed all of that added to the thundering echo that came up every time his feet hit the ground.

The air is thick here, and it is easier for sound to travel.

“This is quite extraordinary.” one of the scientists sats, “The geometric structures on the monoliths alone are…. well , incredible. Would it be too presumptive to guess that these are leftover from some sort of advanced alien civilisation.”

There is a grunt on the other end of the line, “Lets not get carried away with ourselves just yet.”

Adam grunts in agreement, “As cool as it would be to find the ruins of some ancient xeno civilisation, we can't rule out that there are just some really strange natural formations.

“Out of all the people here who wouldn’t immediately jump to ancient alien civilisation, my guess never would have been you, Admiral.

He lets out a short blast of air from his nose, “Yeah, I guess it is a bit out of character, but this place…. Well it seems strange and wrong. Has me kind of on edge.”

Another slow beam of light passes before him, like the rolling eye of a searchlight.

The thought makes him even more paranoid, giving him the feeling like he is being searched for or watched.

This is all going too slowly for his taste.

He toggles another link on his head up display and kicks the bottom of his boots to life.

The personal gravity generators whirr into being, and he feels himself float slightly off the floor.

He wobbles a bit before regaining his balance.

He kicks lightly at the round to send him floating forward across the floor. He continues to do this for some minutes, speeding up and heading even faster towards the monoliths.

The blackness grows deeper in his vision, until the haze is all but gone and he is looking up at one of the massive structures. It is so tall, he has to crane his head all the way back to even imagine seeing the top. It is very distant and obscured mostly by the red rolling fog, but, on occasion, a beam of light cuts through and he thinks he can see the top.

“Hos is my camera?” He asks, reaching forward with tentative fingers to press against the wall.

“Much better, admiral, what is the suit telling you.”

He glances at the readout on his helmet which is still doing an analysis, “I can’t really tell what it is, it looks like metal to me though it isn’t shiny. When I press on it It doesn’t give.”

He curls his other hand into a ball and raps on the side of the monolith hard with his knuckles.

A clattering echo rolls out and upwards before vanishing into the fog.

He waits a few seconds hearing the distant echo as it is rattled back to him, “It feels and sounds like metal.”

A groaning sound rises up in the mist, haunting, like the moan of some gigantic beast. The sound sets his hair on edge, and he can feel it prickling on the back of his neck.

He knows it is probably an inorganic sound, but somehow it still puts him on edge.

He keeps glancing over his shoulder into the rolling fog, watching as beams of light pass over the ground in great rolling waves.

“Take a sample if you can.”

“Copy.”

He lets the radio go silent and turns over his right arm, popping a catch on his forearm that contains a small collection of scientific tools. He extracts a small drill bit and places it against the wall unholstering the sample gun from his right hip. His breath is loud in his own ears.

He places the tip of the bit directly against the metal face and pulls the trigger.

The sound that follows is absolutely horrifying.

The squeal of metal on metal roared upwards and outwards causing a rising shriek to echo about the chamber only to be repeated back a thousand times. He panics and lets the drill go silent wincing as he listens to the echoes roll back at him from across the vast and immeasurable space.

The way it echoes reminds him of the inside of a cathedral or temple: a palace where one is supposed to keep silent and reverent. He feels the same way here as if his mere presence and the sound he brings distrubed some sort of hallowed silence.

It feels wrong.

And he feels wrong for being here, knowing that no human steps had ever marred this hallowed place.

He is unwelcome.

He turns his head back to the wall as the echoes fade and rests his hand against the metal confused at first until he realises….. There is nothing there. He pulls back in surprise and looks down at the drill head which is also unmarked.

It’s a diamond drill bit, so it should have at least chipped something off.

“Admiral?”

“Yeah, I don’t know what this stuff is, but I couldn’t even put a dent in it. I am going to try to find somewhere else, maybe where it isn’t so thick, like a corner or something.”

“Alright, admiral we have to warn you that we are sensing some sort of atmospheric shift, which is going to make the fog even worse for you, perhaps we should pull back so the radios-”

“No, it's alright. I have the tracking implant, so just keep an eye on that. If, for any reason you don’t have me on the line and I am in trouble, I will run in a zigzag pattern or some shit.”

They seem skeptical, but don’t argue with him. He is the Admiral after all.

He turns to the side and activates the gravity fields on his shoes again sliding silently through the mist while keeping to the side of the wall. He can feel how it towers oppressively overhead.

The scientists are right, the fog does seem to be getting thicker, mostly its a sort of hellish red, but there are spots where it seem to glow sapphire or emerald, not in the pretty way of the jewels mind you but dark and greasy like dye poured into a muddy river.

As the wind picks up, the distant moaning increases.

The sound brings up feelings of abandoned factories at night, with the shrieking and hissing metal cracking and popping at the joints as the wind pushes against it. Luckily he is no longer making any sound, and that makes him feel a little better. For some reason he doesn't want to be noticed.

The scientists said there was no indication of organic life on this planet.

They never said anything about inorganic life.

He shakes himself to rid his mind of the stupid thought. That was just ridiculous, and what did it even mean. Did he expect Megatron to pop out from behind one of these monoliths and yell boo.

Maye they were right.

Maybe he did watch too many sci fi movies.

The fog continues to roll in until it seems there is nothing left but a vast wasteland of red smoke, and the towering wall to his side.

He must have been going for many minutes, and only realises that he has reached the corner when the shadow passes away behind him, and he is left standing in a haze of red. He backpedals quickly until he is standing in the shadow once more and takes a deep breath. He turns to the wall, to where the corner is.

He does not want to try again, but he can’t lie to the scientists, and redraws his drill placing the diamond edge right against the corner. The grinding noise is even more painful this time, a screeching howellike the lamenting of some ugly terrifying monster with metal joints.

He pulls away and shuts off the drill.

He can already see that it is no use.

He holsters the drill and quickly slides around the corner. He cannot shake the feeling of being watched, normally he would just try to ignore such a sensation, but Krill: logical straightforward scientific Krill seemed to think that there was some truth behind all of it, and, somehow, it made him feel uneasy.

He had made it a good ten minutes around the corner, deciding to pass over to another cluster of monoliths looking smaller than the first grouping had. Hopefully he would find something more promising.

He tries using his radio, but there seems to be no signal. All he could hear was the rushing static.

For a few disconcerting minutes, he finds himself wandering through a red abyss. Nothing but red above him, red around him, and the dark black ofthe metal below his feet. It doesn't feel real, but at the same time, It doesn't feel like a dream. After about fifteen minutes of steady movement, he feels the beginning of burgeoning panic.

Is he going to be stuck in this abyss forever?

No! He can’t think like that. He is going to be ok, it is just the quiet that is bothering him so much.

He thinks about turning on his music, but decides against it. Somehow, even that feels wrong.

He just needs a bit of stimulation.

So he starts humming to himself.

After a while the hummed tones of the imperial march disassemble and morph into nothing more than a stilted discordant melody made up of nothing more than stitched harmonies and the occasional off key note.”

It doesn’t help him to relax.

Over the sound of his hustling, a distant sort of ringing echoes through the fog. He can’t describe the sound, much less pinpoint where it is coming from. He keeps going in a single direction, afraid of getting turned around in the endless abyss.

Another sound assails him just as he is reaching the center of the divide.

This is hard to describe too, but sends a wave of shivers down his spine.

Like someone turned up the base on a massive speaker, and then decided to play a single note. It vibrates the ground and causes his teeth to chatter inside his head.

He stops, floating above the ground for a few seconds as the noise continues.

A wave of light cuts past him to the right, and he turns to follow it, witnessing, just in time, as the curtain of red haze parts, and he is given his first unobstructed view of his surroundings.

He freezes on the spot eyes wide.

He stands in an open space between two long lines of monoliths as if he were standing in the middle of a city street which continues on before it curves over the horizon. The massive black monoliths aren’t perfectly uniform, some large and some squat, some thin and some quite large.

Those don’t surprise him.

Not as much as the ones that are floating.

He takes a step back and nearly loses his balance staring wide eyed at the scene laid out before him.

Massive black towers hundreds of feet tall, suspended above him and to the sides. Now he understands where the light is coming from, the light and the interference.

It comes from the moving of the floating monoliths.

Even as he watches,one of them passes slightly to the side allowing a beam of light to cut past it and down to the ground, skimming over the space before him before vanishing again as the monolith rocks back into place. The swirling mist is pushed and tugged by the large shapes undulating over the ground and occasionally being sucked into areas of lower pressure being caused by the moving of the monoliths.

This explained the radio interference.

He has no idea how those things manage to stay in place, at least until he notices the massie black cables acting as a tether for the massive structures.

These formations can’t be natural.

There’s no way…. It…

It can’t

Their scans showed that there were no more lifeforms here…. unless … it was abandoned.

It does LOOK pretty abandoned to him.

He tries once more to contact the ship, but still gets no signal. He tries to rout it back to his shuttle, and the signal boost is a bit better. He isn’t receiving anything, but maybe he can get something out.

“Omen this is Admiral Vir. I have come across something strange that makes me think this palace…. Is not…. A natural formation. I see floating monoliths and wires, or cords that seem to be holding them in a palace. I think it might be magnetic which explains why our coms aren't working so well, or maybe it’s something else.

I am going to take a look further in, but send a group of marines into orbit, and have them head down if something goes wrong. Warning that the monoliths move, so I don’t know how close they will be able to get. Keep in orbit, but don’t come down…. I don’t trust this place..”

Now that he can see, if only partially, he moves faster through the mist, pushing himself along over the ground in swift sweeping motions. Little rims of light glow from the bottom of his boot and over the ground as he moves. He can go faster now that he can see where he is going, and he makes quick time as he sweeps towards one of the structures.

They are smaller here, and he feels like they would be more easily handled.

He is quick moving towards them, and disengages his gravity fields as he gets closer, dropping to the ground with a thud that echoes up and down the massive block.

Overhead one of the monoliths groans, and he looks up.

HE knows where the sound was coming from now, watching as two of the shapes scrape past each other shedding sparks.

The sound is horrendous, but it is soon gone.

He cuts into one of the side alleys, the echoes of his feet a bit closer now, bouncing back to him from one of the walls.

He is walking down another nondescript thorofare when another echo reaches him.

An echo that makes his blood run cold and his bones turn to glass.

A whisper that seems to echo from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Deus.

236 notes · View notes

spectralscathath · 3 years

Text

Fria's Day Out- RWBY drabble

Ruby spent all of volume 6 trekking across Mistral and nearly getting killed due to the stupid Relic of Knowledge, and now General Ironwood's trying to give it back to her? When there's a perfectly good Vault there?

Absolutely not.

(AKA this was not your best plan ever, Jimmy)

Ao3 link

"You're giving the lamp back to us?" Ruby asked, brows furrowing in confusion as James held out the relic. He thought it was a good idea, at least until the vault could be safely opened.

"Who better to safeguard it than the people who already protected it?"

Ruby reached out, hand resting on the relic, before she shoved it hard against his chest, looking aghast as she darted back like it had burned her.

"Are you crazy? That thing's a Grimm magnet, we nearly died, like-" she paused to count on her fingers, "three times?" She glanced at her teenage friends for clarification. "Three, was it three?"

"Manticores on the train, Apathy at the farms, Leviathan at Argus." Weiss rattled off, ignoring Winter's horrified gasp.

"And you want us to keep carrying it? We came here to throw it in the Vault in the first place!" Ruby stared at him like he was an idiot, and right now he was able to somewhat understand her reasoning.

Still, he pulled up some bluster. "Well, Fria's bedbound, so the Vault can't be opened right now. She's in no state for it."

"I mean- this is Atlas, right? Do you have hoverbeds? Wheels? You guys have invented the wheel, right? Just push her along, it can't be that dangerous."

"Well-" James started before Winter cut in.

"Actually, sir, it might be good for her to get out and about." Winter noted, face completely impassive as he beheld her treachery.

"She'd be remaining in the military base as well, Mr Ironwood!" Penny chirped cheerfully, oblivious to how he was beset on all sides by treason. "And we could set up a guard!"

"See?" Ruby squeaked determinedly. "I vote we throw that lamp from heck into the Vault and never look back!"

"We can't just wheel Fria to the vault," James rolled his eyes. "That's preposterous."

James pushed Fria's bed along, one of the wheels clicking on every rotation like a shopping trolley. "This is undignified."

"Oh, I'm having a great time, pet," Fria chuckled, a Barstucks takeaway cup held in her shaking hand. The concoction inside was some awful pink monstrosity that looked incredibly malevolent. "You ignore him, Winter, my son's just taking himself too seriously again."

"Mom, please." James groaned as Winter laughed, no restriction on the bell-like sound. Fria really brought down her guard.

"I can't believe you've got a mom, Mr Ironwood." Ruby skipped alongside them, holding the relic like it was about to jump up and bite her. James didn't know which of his scientists gave her the tongs but he was going to have a word with his R&D about loaning equipment for frivolous purposes. "I always thought you were raised by a pack of soldiers."

"You should have seen him at your age, he was a hellion," Fria gossiped with her, Winter's eyes sparkling as she hid her smile with a sip of coffee. "Running around Mantle and constantly getting into trouble, I think some of your old graffiti is still down there."

"Graffiti?" Ruby's eyes lit up with mischief. "But he's so serious!"

"I'm standing right here."

"Is that what he does now, walks around all serious?" Fria cackled. "Dear me, James, you haven't gotten boring, have you?"

"I'm afraid he has," Winter jumped in before he could defend himself, her tone dour and her twinkling eyes anything but. "It's quite a shame, from your stories he sounds like quite a rabble rouser."

"Oh he was!" Fria snorted gracelessly. "I could tell you stories- have I told you stories? I can't quite remember-" she frowned, James's gut twisting as the damnable memory loss wiped some of her spark.

"You have, Fria," Winter reached down and took Fria's hand, black gloves gentle as she clasped wizened fingers. "But I'd be happy to hear them again, if you like."

"Aren't you good?" Fria smiled again. "And you, Ruby, I swear, you Huntresses get younger every year."

"Oh, well, I'm just a prodigy," Ruby preened like a peacock under the praise. "I got into Beacon two years early."

"Really? My, that's impressive. Did the old man let you in himself?"

"Ozpin?" Guilt flashed over Ruby's face. James decided she should never play poker. "Uh- yeah, um, he did. It was cool."

"How is that old coot anyway? Still talking in riddles?" Fria asked as Ruby grew more and more uncomfortable, James keeping half an ear on the conversation as they reached the lift down to the Vault. He wheeled Fria onto the platform, shivering slightly at the chill in the air. The cold always gnawed at him even with extra coats on.

Ruby's babble broke off as the platform under their feet moved, bringing them down the passage before it opened into the cavern in the heart of Atlas, Ruby's eyes going wide with childlike wonder. "Wow…"

James felt a bit of pride at that. Atlas's Vault was very nice indeed. The geometric blocks floated in the air around them, icy blue flames flickering in torches as they descended towards the platform, a cavernous drop awaiting below. "Impressive, isn't it?"

"Yeah!" Ruby looked around, awestruck. "I never saw the one in Haven, Yang did- and she doesn't like talking about it aside from saying it was weird and there was a tree and a desert, but this is amazing! How are those blocks floating? Why is the fire blue?"

James opened his mouth to answer before realising he didn't have one, jaw clicking shut as he was left to shrug. "Dust?"

"Oh, not magic?" Ruby pouted for a moment before something shiny caught her attention. "That door is huge! What's it like inside, Yang said the Haven one led to a desert, how cool is that?"

"I don't know. I've never seen inside." He couldn't help be curious as well. "The Atlas vault hasn't been opened since Ozpin lifted the city into the sky, in a past life. It was before my time."

"I remember, I think." Fria piped up. "I was only a girl, but a floating city is rather spectacular."

"I can imagine." Winter mused. "Fria, would you like me to hold your Very Berry Hibiscus Coconut Milk Refresher with Extra Whip?" She said it with a straight face, because she was a stronger person than James could ever hope to be.

"Oh, yes, thank you. It's very nice," Fria handed it over, a quaver in her hands.

James raised a brow. "You need to hold her coffee?"

"Well, you'll have to help her up to the Vault, sir." Winter stated like it was obvious.

"Huh?"

"James, pet, did you think you were going to roll me up the stairs?" Fria laughed, tiredness beginning to steal across her eyes. They didn't have much time left before the excitement of the day turned to fatigue.

"What stairs, there's no stairs- oh my gosh there's stairs now!" Ruby squeaked excitedly as the staircase formed, practically bouncing in place. James sincerely hoped the relic clasped in her tongs didn't go flying. It would be such a hassle to get it back if she dropped it off the edge.

James hesitated. "Mom, are you sure?"

"I can't walk well, but if I'm going to open a Vault for the first time, I'd like to get up there myself." Fria stated with that rock-solid determination he'd seen a million times, dark blue eyes steady and firm, and that was that.

"Alright." He carefully, carefully helped her out of the hospital bed, struck by how small and frail she was now. He supported her with an arm under her shoulders, and wondered if she'd let him get away with carrying her up.

Fria's eyes glowed brilliant blue, azure flames springing to life for a moment as she formed a walking stick from thin air, gnarled wood and ice crystals melding together to perfectly fit her hand and height.

Seeing her perform magic never got old.

Fria rested some of her weight on the stick, most of her weight on James, her legs shaking as she set her jaw and started hobbling towards the Vault with him.

"Mom, are you sure?" He didn't want her to hurt herself.

"James, I'm feeble, not dead." She informed him briskly.

"Uh- if you want I can scatter you guys up?" Ruby offered, having gingerly shifted the relic into her actual hand, holding it at arm's length. "It's fun, like being in a tornado. And it'll be quicker?"

"I'm not sure about that-" James started, remembering the tournament footage of Ruby's semblance before Fria nodded eagerly.

"Well that sounds exciting, scatter away, dearie!"

"Mom, please-!" James suddenly found himself caught up in a swirl of red, shooting forward like a bullet from a gun and broken apart into pieces (he felt like it should have hurt but it didn't), before suddenly he was on his feet again, too fast for him to comprehend as rose petals floated in the air around him and Ruby collapsed to her knees.

"Wow, you are heavy, Mr Ironwood, what are you made of, metal?" She leaned against the golden metal of the Vault door. "Whoo- okay, I'm never picking you up again, no offence."

He dearly wanted to tell her the answer to her question was 'yes' and refrained, instead checking on Fria. "Mom, are you alright?"

She laughed, her hair a mess and her eyes bright. "That was fun!"

He sighed in relief. "I really think we should get this done sooner rather than later. I'm glad you're okay." She was in a very good state today, they'd waited for that, but he didn't know how long it would last. How long until she forgot where she was and who she was and who he was.

Fria nodded, leaning most of her weight against his side as her eyes blazed with fire, her hand shaking as she touched it to the Vault. The sharp lines of the overlapping rectangles began to glow pale white, the light racing up to the top of the door. The golden facets of the door began to drop, and a wave of roaring heat washed out over the three of them, bringing with it the smell of sulphur and brimstone.

Ruby coughed and covered her face, her nose already turning red. “For a Vault of Creation, I was expecting something- I dunno, more cheerful?”

Cheerful was not how he would describe the cavern within, thick streams of magma dripping from the walls and pooling around a slender path of rock that led to a pedestal, heatwaves shimmering in the very air. It was like the inside of a volcano, maybe it was one, and there above the pedestal, the relic of creation floated, a pearlescent white gem that had been sculpted into the handle of a paintbrush, golden filigree elaborately ensconcing the jewel as snow white threads formed the brush.

“Ruby, place the lamp in there and we’ll close it up.” He ordered, sweat forming on his brow.

“Right!” She ran in, careful to avoid the edges where molten rock bubbled hungrily, setting the lamp down in front of the pedestal and scattering out, her petals catching fire from the sheer heat in the air. James waited for her to pass them by, scooping up Fria as he walked down the stairs, eager to get away from the heat at his back.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he carried his mother back to the hospital bed, holding off on any feelings of joy at a task completed. Until the Vault door closed and Fria was back in the safety of her ward, there was still danger.

“Yes, James, I’m fine,” she smiled weakly at him, her eyes returned to the dark blue that was so similar to his own. She looked so drained, even that small bit of magic sapping her strength. “I’m just tired. Not as young as I used to be… the magic takes more of a toll now…”

“Well, rest up, alright?” He gently placed her down, tucking the quilt around her. “You did good, mom.”

“I did my job.” She stated, whispers threading through her voice and undercutting her surety. Because she was an Ironwood, much like himself, and they did their jobs no matter the cost on themselves. “But yes… I think I’ll rest a bit... Winter, will you keep my drink cool for me?”

“Of course.” Winter studied him. “Sir, shall I stay here until the Vault’s closed again?”

“No. I’ll guard it. You take my mother back to her room so she can rest.” He smiled at Winter, before he gave Fria a gentle hug, always careful with his right side. He didn’t think he’d see her again. The transfer of power had to be kept secure. This was already too much of a risk. “Thanks, mom.”

“I had fun,” Fria smiled as she nodded off, a large white Beowulf with cyan eyes forming from a glyph, grasping the hospital bed in its claws as Winter guided it to walk with her, escorting Fria to the lift out.

James watched her go, ready to wait for the vault door to close. He could still feel the heat from here. “Miss Rose, are you alright?”

“I’m good, in the red but good,” she sat on the ground, staring up at the Vault. “I know that I knew it was a paintbrush, but I was really expecting a spear, or a staff, yunno, something more impressive?”

“You don’t think painting’s impressive?” He chuckled slightly, choosing to return to somewhat of a good mood.

“That feels like a trap question.” Ruby eyed him suspiciously, her hands and belt looking empty without the relic she’d been guarding on the trip here.

“Fria paints.”

“Definitely a trap question.” She smiled a bit, and it reminded him of Summer. She really did look so much like her mother. “Your mom is cool.”

“I know she is.” He hoped she slept well, and could remember today. If she had happy memories, he’d rather she was lost in them, rather than anything else. “At least the relic’s safe now.”

“Yeah. It would’ve been really stupid to just carry it around in the open up here, I mean, it draws Grimm. Yeesh.” She looked up at the open Vault. “Well, at least now it’s locked away and no one can get to it. Ugh, could you imagine if I took you up on your offer?”

“... I'd rather not." He hoped he lived that particular idea down soon. It really wasn't his best.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A quick drabble about what would have happened if Ruby remembered The Entire Point of Volume 6. Toss Jinn into the Vault already, she'll live with it.

#rwby #james ironwood #ruby rose #winter schnee #rwby fria #Fria Ironwood should be canon #my writings #apparently I never got over this

8 notes · View notes

kyloswarstars · 4 years

Text

The Shelby Family Teleported Through Time • Part 2

„Into the 21st Century“

Peaky Blinders • Series AU • Shelby!Reader

It seemed like all of your siblings barely had any time left for the family. You wanted to fix it all up and get back to what the Shelby siblings once were. At the Lee’s campsite you are gifted an ‚enchanted amber‘, along with the promise that it would help you get closer to your siblings again. Never did you think it would teleport you into another time: being faced by more problems than before.

Words • 4.8k

A/N • Lemme know what you think about it 🌚

TSFTTT • masterlist

/////

When the first fighters reached their opponents, their swords were going down. You shut your eyes, expected an intense amount of blood to spill, but when you squeezed one eye open you couldn’t see any blood. Confused, you were watching two men yielding their swords at each other. One of them hit a shield and the other one was laughing when his blade came down to the neck of his enemy – and didn’t chop the head off. The guy, whose head should be rolling on the floor, let himself dramatically fall to the ground and joined in with the laughter of the man who just murdered-not-murdered him.

„Where the fuck are we now?“ John was the first one to speak after being ripped awake from his sleep to this weird sword fight.

The confusion of jumping through time was probably even bigger than the first time. Your siblings were all still fighting their sleepy eyes, except for Tommy and you. John was watching the fight with the most dumbfounded look you had ever seen him wearing on his face.

Arthur spoke with a crooked voice what you were thinking. „Why is no one dying in this battle?“

The guy who died but wasn’t dead, got up of the ground, and stood with his opponent and a warrior woman, looking in your direction.

„Guys.“ Finn dragged the word again for longer than necessary. „They are coming over! What should we do?“

John stood and held the rifle at ready. „Get all behind me. They don’t have a chance. Gun fucks sword.“

You gathered behind him like his children usually did. Something about the people coming up was off but you couldn’t pin it down. Only when they came to a halt a few feet away, you saw their battle gear looking incredibly fake – those were not real knights. If you didn’t teleport to the Middle Ages… where did you teleport to then?

„Nice costumes, lads!“ The dead man spoke first. „Today is the medieval role play battle, though. The staging of World War One should be next weekend.“

Their words went right over your head. Stealing a glance at your siblings you noticed them being more confused than ever. Good, that you weren’t the only one. You also noticed the boys growing stiff with the mention of war.

The three in front of you were waiting for you to speak. Besides wearing fake knight armours they seemed a little older than you and Finn. Maybe in their twenties? What was going on?

„You’re playing civilians, right?“ The woman was offering a smile as she gestured at your appearances.

„Yes?“ Arthur questionably answered, placing a hand on the gun John still aimed at them and pushing it towards the ground.

Ada stepped out, even in front of Arthur and John. „We came a long way for this… staging.“

„You really didn’t know it’s only next weekend?“ The girl was looking at you with a compassionate, up cheering smile.

Simultaneously, your siblings and you shook your heads.

The dead guy seemed sympathetic as well. „Are you driving back home or do you have a place to stay?“ Guy number 2 still didn’t say a word, just stared at you like you stared at them.

„Unfortunately, I think it’s impossible for us to drive back home.“ Ada was doing really good with speaking for the whole pile of confused siblings.

The three of them were looking at each other, shocked. They gathered together, arms around each other’s shoulders and heavily discussed something with their heads stuck together. A few minutes later they parted and came closer.

„We don’t have much space left but you’re welcome to stay. Cosplayers help cosplayers?“ They tried a smile again, even guy number 2.

„That would be truly generous, wouldn’t it be, family?“ Ada turned around, her eyes as big as the moon on the night sky and a finally-agree-expression. Everyone mumbled some sort of agreement.

„Cool! I am Boomer,“ the dead guy said, „this is my girlfriend Eliza.“ He delicately grabbed her hand and smiled at her with the most adoring glance you had ever witnessed.

„And I am Otter! Eliza’s brother!“ Guy number 2 who had killed dead guy, Boomer, nervously managed to smile at you and then glanced back to the ground. His mouth opened once more to say something but, other than some stuttering, nothing came out. He reminded you a lot of Curly.

Ada introduced all of you and sparked a conversation with the strangers who just invited you to stay with them. She tried to cover her question but for you, being time a sensitive topic lately, her asking ‚What date do we have?‘ raised a red flagg inside of your brain.

„September, 27th.“ Otter answered immediately.

„And the year?,“ Finn skipped in. Holy shite, Finn. Make it more obvious please, yeah?

Boomer, Eliza and Otter looked at you like they didn’t really know if Finn was joking.

Otter was again the one who answered. „2021.“

This time difference hit differently. Instead of jumping two-thousand years into the past, you went a hundred years into the future. A future each one of you Shelby’s would be dead in right now.

Ada tried to lead the conversation in another direction. Tommy helped her.

„Isn’t it a bit reckless of them to take six strangers in?“ Arthur whispered and you hit him, gesturing as to what the heck he was doing. You could be glad they offered you a place to stay. If your brother scared the shite out of them you could find out on your own how this damn 21st century worked.

The three of them weren’t a threat. They were passionate ‚cosplayers‘ taking part in a role play fight and started to walk you to their home after Ada and Tommy found out that 2021 was slightly better than 2020 – which had been ‚absolute horror‘.

You followed your three new friends and didn’t really know how to feel. Instead of back home, you had brought your family to this weird place.

Walking downhill, through trees and slowly leaving the small forest you had crossed, Arthur sped up right behind Otter. You saw him examine the sword he carried.

„Wait, is this sword made out of cardboard?“

Otter sighed in desperation. „Well, yes… I had a replica of Gandalf’s Glamdring but Boomer decided it would be fun to cut his sandwich with it and destroyed it on the way of my room to the kitchen.“

„That’s a bummer, son. That Gandalf a friend of ya’? Maybe he can get ya’ a new one, eh?“

„Gandalf is not a friend of mine.“

Arthur, being a little between confused and puzzled, let himself fall back to you and Finn. „Otter is–“

„Like Curly,“ Finn pointed out and shut up whatever Arthur wanted to say.

Their small, really worn-down house was settled right at the end of the village, which wasn’t too far from the little forest. You entered the property through the backyard and the house through a not locked backdoor. So much for being scared of strangers in their home.

Otter was storming off as soon as he got inside. Boomer was backing away into the hallway, letting you stand in the entrance like some statues. „We’ll peel out of our costumes quick and be right back. Make yourselves at home. Beer is in the fridge!“

To be honest: everything was a shock. Until reaching their door, your surroundings didn’t vary as much to those in your time. But inside of the house… your siblings were, once again, just as shocked as you were.

Following your siblings into a room, you at least recognised one thing: a sofa. You let yourself fall into it and were welcomed by its comfy cushions. It felt like it’s been years since you sat on one when it’s only been a day.

„Uh, what’s that?“ Arthur picked up a black casket with a lot of tiny keys on it like on a typewriter. He pushed one of them. A framed, black rectangle hanging on the wall suddenly came to life and showed a woman. Your heart made a jump. Good, you were sitting down already. Arthur let out a quiet scream but then stepped closer to this woman who was talking about the weather. This frame was like the pictures. Only smaller and with colors.

Tommy snapped the little casket out of Arthur’s hand and vividly pressed down to it until the woman disappeared again.

„Oi, listen up!“ He waved for you to gather around him and it was a torture standing up from that way to comfortable couch. „Fact is: We’re in the future so we might see stuff we never heard of. No. weird. questions. About anything. Behave, adapt, survive.“

Okay. Made sense to you.

„And Y/N!“ Tommy pointed at you, with the heads of your siblings turning and staring you down once more. „No fucking time travel without our permission. Who knows where we will end up next. Let us figure out some stuff first, eh?“

You nodded.

Eliza was the first to come back. Instead of her fake armour she was wearing a shortsleeved shirt and some blue trousers. Those trousers looked so awesome you wanted to rip them from her and pull it on yourself.

„You don’t have to stand there like that. Come over to the kitchen,“ she waved at you to follow and you all did, entering a room that didn’t look like the kitchens you were used to. „Alexa, kitchen lights on,“ she said and a light on the ceiling magically brightened up the room.

Finn beside you stood there with his jaw dropped to the floor but could bite back a question like Tommy had ordered.

Eliza opened a closet – WHICH HAD LIGHT INSIDE OF IT – grabbed some bottles and opened them.

„Finally something I recognise,“ Arthur went over to her and snatched a bottle. He read the label, shrugged, and drank. Your siblings, confident with Arthur being the first one to stir out of that reservation you had all been in, broke into some chatting and gathered around Eliza.

Finn and you didn’t. He looked at you, you looked back. With a nod you went to that closet and pulled the door open.

„What is this?“ His whisper made you chuckle.

„I don’t fucking know.“ You touched some of the things you found inside. Yogurt, ham, a can with ‚coke‘ written on it? „It’s cold, Finn. It’s a cold closet.“ Amazing.

John stuck his head between the two of you, noticing the red can. „Oi, Boomer. Can I try the coke?“

„You never had coke before?“ Him and Otter had come to the kitchen as well.

„Of course I did,“ John smirked and fished the can out of the cold closet. You closed it afterwards, watching him open the can and sniffing at it. „I think it’s a drink,“ he whispered. When he put it at his lips and sipped at it, his eyes grew wide. You lost track of how many times you saw your siblings eyes get big, or feel your own doing it, because it was worthless to even try counting.

He passed the can over to you, gesturing to take a sip as well. So you did. Your eyes grew wide. Nothing like the coke at home but incredibly awesome. When you handed it to Finn – who would’ve guessed – his eyes repeated what yours had done when he drank.

„Are you guys hungry?“ Boomer’s voice was able to silence everyone else’s.

Otter was brushing past you to the cold closet and got himself a coke. „Can we get pizza?“

„Sure. Pizza okay for everyone?“ Boomer earned a lot of agreeing yeses – not really knowing what you agreed to specifically but Tommy looked pleased with your way of ‚behave, adapt, survive‘.

Boomer pulled something out of his pocket which had all of you shook. He tapped at a really small, glowing whatever and then held it to his ear. Boomer spoke into it and asked for nine pizzas. Should this be a 21st century telephone? Jesus Christ, help me.

It were some crazy sixty minutes that followed. Basically everything was different and new and you couldn’t comprehend what people invented in only a hundred years. Ada and Tommy tried to gave reasonable answers to all of their questions.

‚You are all siblings that liked to take part in role plays?‘ Yes, absolutely. Your dad introduced you to it because he was good with playing. Especially with hide and seek. He was the undefeated master of staying hidden.

‚Where‘s your luggage?’ Well, you left in a hurry, thought you wouldn’t make it in time to the role play.

‚How did you get here?‘ No answer, just eh’s of Ada and Tommy.

When Otter finally asked the most interesting question of why you couldn’t return home and come back next weekend – maybe he didn’t like strangers in the house but Boomer and Eliza outvoted him – the doorbell rang. The pizzas were delivered right to the front door. Each one of them in a cardboard box.

Tommy’s words were running through your mind. Behave, adapt, survive. You were all spread on the living room floor because the kitchen table wasn’t big enough to fit all nine of you. Luckily, Boomer dived right into his pizza so you could watch his actions and adapt them. You had exactly one bite which you already choked on it, laughing. Your siblings had done the exact same thing: watch and adapt. And as weird as this all was, it was too funny seeing them be little pupils in primary school.

„Are you okay?“ Boomer was sitting next to you and had already finished his first slice.

Nodding with a full mouth, you saw Tommy sending a warning glance at you.

„She’s just a little chaotic, our little Y/N.“ Arthur seemed to enjoy his pizza. He was ahead of Boomer.

You pulled a grimace for your brother and were relieved with the topic remaining only how great the pizza was throughout the rest of the pizza eating.

/////

Sweatpants, you learned, were the most comfortable piece of clothing you had ever worn. They were loose around your legs and no coldness could sweep under the skirt of your dress. It was beautiful when you laid down to sleep.

Boomer, Eliza and Otter spread some mattresses and blankets in their basement. The Shelby campsite as Finn referred to it. And it totally was. Your siblings were laying next to you, kicking at each other for more space when they should sleep instead.

You stared at the pocket watch you always carried with you. The concept of time differences were clear to you but you couldn’t recall anymore for how long you were actually gone from your own time. The thought about those you had left behind didn’t hit you before. Not until now. And now, it was eating you alive. Had you just vanished and the time back home carried on? Did it stop? What must they been thinking?

Another time you were unable to fall asleep while your siblings were snoring next to you.

Did Zilpha know what would happen? If she knew she could’ve given you a warning. Would’ve only been fair.

At some point you fell asleep. The exhaustion was winning. Only to be woken a second later by Ada who was wearing a pair of that blue trousers Eliza wore yesterday.

„Where did you get those?“ You pulled at the trousers as you sat up. It was only Ada and you left in the basement.

„Eliza. You can have some too if you want.“

Thinking about it for a second you rather stayed in those sweatpants for now.

„Breakfast is waiting,“ she smiled and left for the stairs.

„Ada?“

„Yes?“

„How are you feeling about this? All of it?“ You didn’t have the chance yet to ask her about it.

She came back kneeling down and sighed. „To be honest I didn’t think something like this could be possible. Ever. I’m scared for Karl and the others. I’m scared we won’t get home. But all we can do right now is be patient and figure it all out.“ Ada reached out for your hands and pulled your sleepy body up with her. „But other than that… being in the future is the most amazing thing ever.“

„The fridge!“ You pointed out as she said it in the same moment as well.

„Come on,“ she linked her arm with yours and led you upstairs to the kitchen. The scent of freshly brewed coffee was welcoming you and you couldn’t wait to have a cup in your hands. Your brothers were behaving decently, adapting to the breakfast preparations in the 21st century and – currently – surviving.

The kitchen table fit six. John was sitting at the window, Finn and you on the kitchen counters. You almost dropped your cup when Otter, once again, asked the question as to why you were unable to return home.

„It’s too far away,“ Tommy stated.

Otter wasn’t really irritated by his answer. He continued. „What’s your surname again?“

„Shelby!“ John was munching on a toast when he shouted it proudly over from the window.

Otter pulled out his own glowing, tiny telephone and touched at it frequently. He looked from his phone up to Tommy then back to his phone. He repeatedly did this with everyone of you. When he finally looked up for good again his eyes grew wide.

„You are all Marty McFly’s.“

You were what? The confusion was strong in your family. It wasn’t with Eliza and Boomer, though. They dropped their toasts and looked at Otter in shock. What was going on?

They jumped up, gathered behind Otter and looked at his telephone, still with their jaws dropped.

„Bloody hell!“ Boomers hands were clutching at his head in an unbelieving realisation.

„This makes so much sense.“ Eliza squeezed her brothers shoulder.

They were losing themselves in a conversation you just couldn’t follow. They were first of all talking way too fast. Then, using sentences like ‚maybe their flux capacitor isn’t working‘ and ‚what is their flux capacitor even‘. Last but not least: Finn was anxiously swaying back and forth next to you, creeping you out with it and you almost pushed him off the counter for it.

When their hectic conversation slowly faded, your attention was pulled back to them again. For a minute there was only silence. Shelby’s were holding their breaths, as well as the 21st century’s.

„Are you actually from… another time?“

You dropped the mug out of your hand and heard it shatter on the floor. If you ever would’ve wanted to apply for the MI5 – they would never accept you in. Where did you mess up with behave, adapt, survive?

Your siblings were dead silent. And this silence lasted for as long as it took for John to get out of puberty – which had never happened.

Hopping of the counter, you kneeled down to pick up the pieces, the cup had decided to break into, not without some intensely shaking hands, though.

Slowly, the silence got awkward and Finn decided to put it to an end. „Y/N teleported us from 1925 to the fucking Roman Empire invading England and then to here and–“

Five ‚FINN!‘s were shouted through the room and shut him up.

„Bloody hell!“ Boomer exclaimed again. „This. Is. Awesome!“

„It is?“ John huffed. „I think it’s a nightmare.“

Otter jumped from his chair and came over to you, kneeled down and looked at the broken mug. „Eliza, there are shards,“ he said and stood up again. Otter patiently waited with his eyes closed until Eliza came over and helped you pick the rest of the cup up. When the broken pieces were making their way into the bin, Otter opened his eyes again. „How were you able to teleport through time?“ Eliza next to him was watching you in fascination. „Do you have a DeLorean?“ He asked further. „Nah, you can’t have one, it wouldn’t fit all of you in it.“

„I…“

„She brought us here with a cursed stone,“ Arthur threw in from the table.

Tommy looked like he wanted to ban dessert after dinner for all of you because you willingly engaged with the 21st century’s who just randomly asked if you were from a different time. He stood up and made his way over. „How would you even know we’re from a different time?“

„I googled,“ Otter shrugged. He pulled out his telephone, showed a glowing picture of Thomas as proof and immediately shoved the machine back into his pockets. Why would he not let you look a little longer at the photo of your brother?

„You can find us with that, eh?“

„Sure. I can find whatever I want.“ Otter seemed proud of being able to do that.

„Can you find horse racing results as well?“

Um, Thomas? What about the how-could-you-find-us?

„Of course,“ he pulled out his phone again and waited for Tommy to tell him what he should look for.

„Check the Epsom racetrack, maybe 1928.“

That was three years from now. Holy shite.

„No, stop that, Otter!“ Eliza, probably having the same thought as you, intervened and stole the phone from him. „This is morally highly questionable. You’re basically giving him his own personal almanac.“

Once again, wide eyes were growing in the room but Otter continued anyway. He wasn’t questioning the fact you were from 1925, he just really wanted to know how you were able to be with them right now. So, you told them. How you got the stone, what Zilpha said, what happened when you were sitting in the kitchen. It almost took an hour because one of your five siblings constantly interrupted with their own personal view of the events. It turned out, all the stuff you didn’t understand, which Otter and the others had been talking about, was from a movie about time travel. They tried to figure out logical parallels between the movie and what had happened with you.

Throughout the whole morning, everyone was highly invented into figuring out all the questionable things. The previous hesitation of Tommy with revealing your identities was wearing off because they knew who you were anyway. That Google knew it.

It was a wild ride and it was giving you a headache from overthinking it all. But it was relieving to have the extraordinary productive help of these ‚nerds‘, they called themselves. They were understanding way better what had happened than you, who had been through it.

„Okay, I think we should head to the supermarket. You need toothbrushes,“ Eliza stated. She divided the group and picked John, Finn and you to go with her to the store. „Because I won’t be able to carry all the stuff we need with that many people in the house.“

Tommy was standing up and called Finn and John over. „Boys, give me your watches. For all the expenses we’re causing.“

John picked his out of the waistcoat and stared at it for a moment. „Why don’t you give yours?“

„I gave this one to you for Christmas so it technically is mine, eh?“

Finn just handed his over, not even caring anymore. John did eventually, too. When Tommy gave them to Eliza and told her to sell them later and use the money for all the inconveniences, John couldn’t bite back. „You’re getting good money for those. I mean they’re um… a hundred years old but still new. Don’t sell them below value!“

Shaking your head at him, you helped Eliza gather some stuff to head out. She said you would drive to the supermarket. She didn’t say cars looked like that a hundred years in the future.

John freaked out seeing it and wanted to drive but Eliza didn’t let him. Luckily. Finn was constantly opening and closing his automatic window while driving to the store. You were absolutely fascinated by the music coming out of the tiny speakers.

So far, the 21st century was amazing. And it got even better when Eliza showed you the supermarket. She said you acted like ‚aliens‘, starring at everything, touching all the fruits and trying every sample you could find. You didn’t care.

John and Finn were pushing carts and scooting them down the aisles of sweets.

„Try it yourself, Y/N,“ Finn was waving you to him and you came over but weren’t sure about it.

„What if I crash into the shelf?“

„Okay,“ he turned around for your brother. „John, help me here a second, eh?“ Before you realised it, they were picking you up from the floor and sat you in one of the carts. Finn took a run-up and pushed your cart flying down the aisle. The sudden rush of perhaps getting called out for doing this and the possibility of crashing into a shelf made you laugh out loud. And Finn was joining in.

He helped you out of the cart again when you reached the end of the aisle and didn’t destroy anything.

John packed a lot of coke into his cart. Eliza was trying to pick as many healthy things she could find and at some point you lost Finn but found him in front of a huge variety of chocolate again.

The supermarket was a great experience. So was the car ride back. John was screaming at all the other cars you passed. Finn was playing with the windows again.

Back at their place, you ordered your other brothers to come and help unload all the groceries. It was a lot.

They filled you in on all the theories and solutions they’ve been going through while you were gone. The conclusion was: When you channeled your strongest wish, in this case your siblings being siblings again, the enchanted amber was somehow able to make you and your siblings jump in time randomly. Maybe your wish was somehow connected with where you were traveling to. That didn’t make any sense to you, though. The second time you did it and appeared here, you wanted to go home but didn’t.

Your siblings were convinced you should try it again tomorrow. You just shrugged and went to the bathroom.

Their concept of toilets was awesome and still fascinating to you every time you flushed it. On your way back to the kitchen, you heard Otter talking to Eliza about Wikipedia entries and if he should tell you about them. Eliza said no and that was that.

After having dinner in the evening and watching that time travel movie on their colourful rectangle – which had been absolutely fascinating – you found yourself collectively brushing teeth with your siblings and stepping on each others feet when you were done with it.

Otter’s cardboard sword was leaning at the stairs to the basement. You picked it up and went downstairs to your siblings.

„Fight me but I can’t be the only one enjoying this, right?“ You yielded the sword, imitating what you had seen Otter doing, and fake stabbed Arthur in the stomach. He played along, falling down to the blankets and coughed as if he was actually dying. „Actually, no. Don’t fight me because you’ll die.“

You turned to the next brother nearest to you, Tommy. With the sword on his neck, ready to fake chop his head off, he just stared at you. You stared back for a while.

He let you win and pulled that infamous half-grin when you gave him his quietus. „Kids these days,“ were his last words when he let himself fall back to the mattress.

Tonight, you were finally able to sleep.

/////

Everyone was preparing for the next time jump. Saying goodbyes and thank yous. To be on the safer side this time, you sat on the grass in their backyard when your fingers wrapped around the amber.

Channeling your strongest wish. Okay.

You closed your eyes, channeling something was probably easier that way. Those two times before you didn’t know what you were doing. Boomer had told you to not think about it too much but Eliza said you had to think about it a lot.

All you wanted was to go home. It was scary to be teleported two-thousand years into the past. It was awesome to see the future. You didn’t really want to fall into a time where you probably wouldn’t meet such nice people as Boomer, Eliza and Otter.

But most of all, you still wanted to get your siblings back. And with that, another time, your insides were turning upside down and you could sense your surroundings shifting even though your eyes were closed.

59 notes · View notes

deansmultitudes · 4 years

Text

holding on // dean x cas; angst // 0,9k // written for Suptober 2020 day 2: ‘earth’ // beta by @fangirlingtodeath513 // ao3

cw: past character death, grief

Dean saved the Earth and all it got him was getting buried six feet down in it. Sam and Cas dug the grave themselves and it took them so much longer than digging up the bones. Their muscles and hearts couldn’t accept it was Dean Winchester’s body they’d be laying in it. Each shovel closer to saying goodbye.

An hour later it was all over. A rectangle of turned earth and the tombstone Sam carved Dean’s name into.

They didn’t put any flowers on it, they poured out some whiskey instead. Dean would like that but he wouldn’t appreciate the rest. He should have been burned on a pyre, just like every hunter before him. Like every family member and every friend they had to bid farewell to on their way to peace.

Sam and Cas drank that evening and the day after that and Cas would be just fine keeping on drinking, at least until the dirt washed off from the creases in the skin of his palms.

What else is there to do?

Living on in the world without Dean. Cas would rather live without the ground beneath his feet. Every waking moment feels like falling anyway.

“Did I say something?” Cas throws out into the silence of the bunker.

Sam lifts his eyes from the screen, his brow furrowed. “Say something now?”

Cas shakes his head. “As we lowered his coffin. Did I say anything?”

“Yeah, um—” Sam swallows “—I think you said you’d miss him. And that he was a hero and—”

Sam’s voice trembles. Like he can recall every second and the way it felt. Cas can only recall his fingers curling around the wet curd of dirt. The way it broke and spattered across the wooden lid when he tossed it in.

Now there’s dirt beneath Cas’s fingernail that he can’t get out. The same dirt that weighs on Dean’s body.

“We shouldn’t have buried him.”

It was Sam’s choice. He said the pyre was too final, that he couldn’t.

Now, Sam says, “I know.”

“We should have made a pyre.”

“I said I know,” his voice sharper now. “But I’m not gonna go digging him up.”

Sam buried Dean once before and Cas brought him back. But Cas can’t bring him back now. Even Jack couldn’t.

Cas slips the thumbnail under his dirty nail, but it’s too short to scoop the dirt out.

”Dean doesn’t like tight spaces—”

“He’s dead!” Sam shouts, slamming his laptop shut. “He doesn’t care!”

With that, he leaves and Cas doesn’t see him for a while.

Cas’s tears wet Dean‘s pillow and he knows it’s wrong and he can’t help it. He shouldn’t be sleeping in Dean’s bed without him. But it still smells like Dean and the mattress still remembers the shape of his body.

The frame is so much older. At the top of it, by Cas’s head, the wood splinters. Cas reaches for it, his fingers pull at it and pull despite the ache. At last, a piece of it comes off, thin and sharp. It’s perfect.

Cas pushes the tip between his red, tender skin and the nail. Gently at first, he tries to scrape the dirt out. But it only seems to crawl in deeper and Cas’s teeth bit through his lip but the pain remains. But the pain doesn’t matter.

There are drops of blood now left on Dean’s pillow and Cas can’t sleep in his bed anymore.

Sam comes back but he doesn’t plan to stay. He only needs the rest of his things, some books, and some guns.

“So what, you’re just moving on?”

“I’m gonna stay with Eileen for a while,” Sam says without sparing Cas a glance, like that answers Cas’s question. It does.

“You gonna visit his grave?”

“Cas, could you shut up about the damn grave?” At least now Sam’s looking at him. “Your hand.”

“It’s nothing.” His teeth might have ripped off too much, too deep. Nothing a piece of bandaid couldn’t fix. “I almost got it out.”

“Got what out?” Sam grabs Cas’s hand and lifts it to his eyes. He can’t hide the wince at the sight of the ruin of Cas’s fingernail, at the fresh blood drying over an old scab. “There’s nothing there.”

“The dirt,” Cas says. “The earth from Dean’s grave.”

“I don’t see anything,” Sam says.

“Yeah, ‘cause I almost got it all out,” Cas says with a little bit of pride in his tired voice.

Sam stares at Cas’s hand for a while, then watches Cas’s face for even longer.

“How about we get him out of there and give him a proper funeral?”

Their shovels break the earth and upturn it. They don’t talk and it’s almost like they’re digging out bones. But they’re not and they get a nauseous reminder of it when they open the lid.

They ignore the smell. It’s not easy with the way it tears into their nostrils, but how could a fetor this putrid be Dean? So they ignore it and they handle Dean gently, cradle him like they did the day they brought him home.

They put him on the pile of wood like they should have done right away. Sam hands Cas a lighter.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas says. “I’m sorry we tried to hold on.”

The fire crawls up the woodpiles and embraces Dean’s body like it was supposed to. Soon it will turn all that’s left of Dean to ash.

Cas reaches out to the flames, despite Sam’s protest. With the aching tip of his finger, he caresses the fire and it burns but he doesn’t mind the pain. It’s nothing compared to living in the world without Dean in it.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

tag list: @cr-noble-writes @malmuses @deanirae @petrichoravellichor

if you’d like to be added to my fic tag list, let me know

#suptober20 #writersofdestiel #destielfanficnet #deancasfanficnet #destiel fanfic #my writing #holding on #shit I really need to stop killing my don huh #sorry for being an angsty bench

46 notes · View notes

retphienix · 3 years

Text

I never said as much, but I was intent on making it to Belmora without fast travelin' and I did it, not that it's miles away, just that I got distracted a lot.

Got complimented for my efforts :)

So, and this is based on a pamphlet of all things, sounds like the split on the five houses is more or less:

Yellow - Bootlickers, they love the empire. On the plus side they aren't xenophobic which is a pretty uncommon trait in TES. Buildings are basic ass rectangle 'empire' style.

Red - Knights? I guess? Highly religious, knightly dudes? They use bugs as the basis for their buildings which is cool.

Telvanni - Mages, sounds like they are "The Strong Make The Rules" kind of people. Mushroom buildings, and sound like uppity assholes from the paper.

Then two smaller houses which I wonder if that matters- I think at one point in the main story I have to join a house, can you join the smaller ones?

Indoril hate the empire and Dres hate the empire but are farmers who obsess over slaves and base their politics on maintaining slavery.

I already forget which ones specifically mentioned loving slavery, I mean it's Morrowind so probably all of em, but I know Dres and one other were specifically mentioned as slave reliant and centered on.

So off the bat I think Red sounds the most fun? I mean Yellow isn't throwing many red flags up but I mean, come on, when have I ever been gun ho to join the imperialistic faction.

Telvanni sound like pricks. Potentially really fun pricks whom I might actually love being a prick alongside, but pricks all the same.

The smaller ones are whatever. I literally can't associate any identity to Indoril based on this beyond "Hate the empire" which is chill, but as an identity I don't care. And Dres ain't for me. A bunch of slave owning plantation owners? Yeah no thanks.

So thinking Red or Telvanni depending on my mood.

#RetPlays #Morrowind #TES

3 notes · View notes

catharrington · 4 years

Note

Hey! I’m real curious to see how you’d write this situation: Neil catches Steve and Billy in some compromising situation, how would all three react, what would happen etc?

Steve was out of school by a year, and Billy was catching up slowly... slower than either boy could handle. So 13 hours before graduation Steve was tapping his nails against Billy’s closed window.

“Like Hell,” Billy hisses through the window. Then a soft creak and blue sneakers on the carpet, red bow shaped lips against his throat, the back of his thighs againt his bed.

“Like Hell,” he hisses breathless and equally wanting.

Steve wants more, always pushing for more. Billy didn’t know at the time, a week before Christmas, when he showed up on Steve’s porch shivering out a forced apology for bashing his face in, and he didn’t know when he dropped to his knees in front of the Harrington’s fancy fireplace to blow this pretty boys mind good and proper would lead to this. Sneaking around. Lying. Falling in love. It’s a good thing Steve’s an idiot hopeless romantic, because Billy wouldn’t ever have admitted it. He still doesn’t like to some times, but Steve always ends up pushing him.

Like right now, he pushs Billy flat against the bed and climbs his spread thick thighs like a dream.

“Like Hell,” Steve is the one whispering this time right into Billy’s gasping lips.

They want so much, and they are young burning hot to the touch. So they don’t hear a beat up yellow truck pulling into the driveway earlier than promised. Steve’s belt comes undone with a jingle and Billy drops hands inside to get his fingers curled around his ass, pulling and dragging Steve’s hips against him hungrily.

Kissing is more licking, lips parting to moan, rutting feels good when you’re this young. But they are loud and don’t notice the footsteps against the hardwood hallway. Or the hand on the door knob. They don’t notice until it turns and opens.

Steve’s the first to move, well really he freezes his riding, his back going rigid. Billy chases his lips with a whine before he notices too. “Dad,” he sputters out.

Neil is standing in the door way, the light of the hall on his back, one hand on the door knob and the other halfway to the light switch. He doesn’t turn the switch on, though, he leaves them in the darkness. Let’s the moment zero into the rectangle of light he brings.

“I knew it,” Neil speaks after an eternity of silence. His face is narrowed and tight, lips pursed, sucking on something sour. “Oh, the second you came out of that bitch I knew it-,”

“It’s not-,” Billy is lifting Steve off his lap, dumping him over on his side, and stumbling off the bed, “-not what it looks like!” He goes to his father with his head bowed and shoulders up the covering his neck.

“Under my roof-,”

“I told you it’s not-,”

“I’ve always known you were a disrespectful failure, but this? Being a queer?”

Billy wishes his father would just punch him and get it over with. When a hand softly pushes his shoulder, wrapping long fingers that are so warm, wanting him to take a step back. So Billy does; let’s his back press against Steve’s soft blue shirt.

“What do you have to say-,” Neil starts but falters when Steve offers out his hand for a handshake.

“Steve,” he introduces himself. A coy smile on his face that Billy doesn’t have to turn to know it’s there. Neil doesn’t shake his hand. “Yeah, okay. I’m Steve Harrington.”

The snarl on Neil’s face deepens. “Im not going to touch that hand. I want you out of my house, boy.”

“Don’t be like that. I’m just tying to talk!” Steve laughs. Billy’s heart is jack rabbiting in his chest. “Just trying to make... a deal.”

Neil’s hand finally moves from halfway to the light stitch to point a finger towards Billy’s chest, his thumb up like a gun, Billy’s still in front of Steve but trembling under the barrel. Behind him Steve is unmoving, his hand curled over one shoulder. Unmoving. Billy wishes he would run away. Instead he keeps talking.

“Hargrove construction, nice little troop you’ve got. I’ve seen your trucks working on my fathers latest building. My father...,” Neil’s veins pulse under the skin of his forehead as Steve’s voice lowers to a hot whisper on the back of Billy’s neck. “The Harrington’s have been loving the work. A+. Would be a total shame for something as dumb as this to ruin a perfectly good contract.”

Neil’s pointed hand curls to a fist. “Are you blackmailing me? You little!-“

“No.” Steve’s hand on his shoulder moves up around the back of Billy’s neck, always wanting more. He pulls him flush againt his chest, as far away from Neil as possible. “No, not blackmail. God, just a deal. You know about those.”

Steve laughs airy again. Then he continues, “let’s just do this, okay, you forget about us, and knock off giving Billy a hard time about it. And I’ll forget all about you.” His voice is sweet into the darkness of the bedroom. His cheek bones glowing with the hallway light. But Neil is still snarling. He looks a lot like Billy did the night of the Byers’ house, the night he got Steve on his back. Feels like a lifetime ago.

Billy swallows. Neil doesn’t speak. Steve lifts his hand for another handshake. “Deal, Mr. Hargrove?”

Of course, Neil doesn’t shake his hand. People like him don’t want to touch people like them. But he is shaking under his mask and cracking around the edges. Steve knows. He knows and he waits.

Then Neil slams the door closed again. The two boys listen to the boots walk away into the house.

Billy doesn’t realize he’s taught as a guitar string until he snaps. Folding over with shivering shoulders and a sob. Steve is there to catch him, those warm hands and wide shoulders the safest Billy has ever felt in a long, long time.

Steve let’s out a shaky breath of his own, the adrenaline coming off in waves. He quickly pulls the back of Billy’s neck and presses the blond’s face into his shoulder before they both get knocked over. His blue shirt is getting darker with tears. Steve doesn’t care. He’s already back to talking. Using the last of his courage to push for more.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You graduate tomorrow right? Let’s just run away together.” Billy’s hands grab the front of Steve’s shirt. Trying to say that’s the smartest thing he’s said all night. Steve nuzzles his nose into the soft space behind Billy’s ear like he can hear him. “Let’s just fucking run like Hell.”

#i know yall live for goofy steve #but you can pry bratty rich mean boy steve from my cold dead hands #harringrove fanfic #harringrove fic #harringrove #steve/billy #prompt fill #my fic #ask box always open

102 notes · View notes

neoangelic · 4 years

Note

it would be very nice "if" you could please make a angst fluffy heartwarming with a 8, 36, 39. and like my birthday is tom on the 6th 😳. my bias is Jaehyun and Mark but i would kinda want Jae for this 😔✋. I loved your Johnny as the Royal Guard btw 😭💕

idk if its late but happy birthday!! If its crappy, that’s because it deleted itself after I made edits and also I was like given one day to do this so I hope its good enough. A 2 in 1 special I guess.

BIRTHDAY BREAKUPS || jung jaehyun ft. mark lee

summary: Mark has something to tell you on your birthday. You’ve been dumped, but it’s not as bad as you thought it would be. That’s because Mark Lee is very good at giving presents and Jung Jaehyun finally has the courage to tell you the truth.

“I’m never letting you go.”

“You’ve shown me what love can feel like.”

“I can’t do this on my own.”

PAIRING: jaehyun x reader (f) | slight mark x reader

WORDCOUNT: 1,500 words (jesus)

“You’re breaking up with me?” Your voice cracks. Mark nods, bashful. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Happy birthday?” He gives a weak smile. “You can keep my hoodies…if you want?”

“Mark. Are you joking or not? Pick one.”

Your now ex-boyfriend lets out a long sigh. “I’m moving to another country.”

“Can’t we can try to make it work—I can’t do this on my own.”

A beat.

“I know you love him,” he fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeves. “Jaehyun hyung.”

That’s right. The three of you were best friends and ever since middle school, you’ve been in love with Jung Jaehyun. And Mark knew that. So when Mark confessed the fall of junior year, he told you it was okay that you still loved him. Just to be with you was enough for him.

“But I care about you too, Mark.”

Mark smiles more confidently. “I know—but you deserve to be with him.”

“He doesn’t even feel the same way.”

“He does.” Mark pulls you into his arms and buries his head in the crook of your neck. “He always has.”

“He does?” You let out a breath.

“Jaehyun hyung gave up on you because he knew I liked you. I didn’t want his ‘sacrifice’ to go to waste, so I just confessed without thinking—I know I shouldn’t have. I stole you from him.”

“No, you didn’t.” You run your fingers through his hair. “I said yes to you because I wanted to. I could’ve said no.”

“You would’ve said no if you knew hyung liked you.”

There is nothing for you to say.

“I was grateful at first. But I realized that I’d be alright without you, but I don’t think that hyung could live without you forever.”

“He’s stupid, isn’t he?”

Mark lets go of you, nose red. “He is,” he laughs but it doesn’t reach his teary eyes.

“Are you crying?”

“This isn’t about me,” Mark turns from your touch, wiping his eyes. “You should go to him.”

“Mark,” it hits you. “When are you leaving?”

He smiles. “I got you a present.” The boy takes out a rectangle-shaped, wrapped gift and hands it to you.

“When are you leaving?”

“My flight leaves in three hours—ow, don’t hit me!”

His expression is unreadable. Mostly because tears are starting to blur your vision. “You’re even stupider than Jaehyun. You break up with me on my birthday, tell me to go to another man, and you’re leaving the country?”

Mark holds you once again, but it’s different than before. Before he held you so carefully like you were porcelain. Now his warmth fully engulfs you and he holds on tight like he’s scared to let you go—he is scared to let you go.

“I love you.”

“Why have you been so nice to me? I feel like I’ve done something horrible. I’ve used you.”

“I love you,” he repeats, calling your name in a weak voice. “Don’t feel bad. You’ve really—you were the best girlfriend I could have ever possibly asked for. Thanks to Jaehyun hyung and thanks to you, you’ve shown me what love can feel like.” Mark wipes your tears and plants a final kiss on your lips before he gets ready to leave. “I couldn’t have asked for more.”

“I love you too, Mark. It may not be as much as Jaehyun, but I did love you.” You smile sadly.

“Next time I fall in love with someone, I’ll make sure to face them head-on with my feelings. I won’t be lukewarm anymore.”

“Will you keep in touch?”

“You’re one of my best friends. Of course.” Mark laughs and it’s enough to make you feel better. “I’m sorry to do this to you on your birthday.”

“It’s okay.”

“I have another present, though—it’ll make you really happy, I swear.” He says. “Do you remember the swings next to our old school?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Your present will be there. Just open up that one first.”

________________________________________________________

You clutch the corners of the picture frame Mark gave you. In your hands is a simple, wooden frame. By the time you arrive at the swings, it’s sunset. There is a silhouette basking in the honey light, rocking back and forth.

A voice calls your name the moment leaves crunch beneath your feet.

That voice—“Jaehyun?”

The figure stands up, tall, and turns around to face you. Jaehyun shoves his hands in his coat pockets and gestures you to come over with a nod. “Sit.”

You comply and he does the same, the rusted park swing creaking underneath his weight. The metal seat isn’t cold. You assume he’s been sitting here for quite a while. Jaehyun fishes an envelope out of his pocket and hands it to you.

“What’s this?”

“Mark told me to give it to you.” Jaehyun coughs. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Happy birthday, huh?” You tear open the envelope. “I haven’t seen you in months.”

“What’s in the—” he pauses when he sees the printed photograph you pull out.

You stare at the picture of you and Jaehyun. It was junior year, back when you visited the amusement park on the class trip. The day Mark confessed at the top of the Ferris wheel. The two of you were sporting matching headbands as you were trying to best each other at a shooting game. You were concentrated on your targets, one eye squinted, the other peering over the BB gun. Jaehyun’s eyes glanced over at your hunched figure, a pleasant smile on his face.

“I didn’t know this picture even existed.” You chuckle. Mark Lee. “I was wondering why he gave me just a frame.”

“Let me put it in for you,” Jaehyun takes your presents from your hands and opens the back of the empty picture frame. “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Like Mark, you know he’s trying to avoid your eyes. He’s keeping himself busy.

As he places the picture flush against the glass and seals it in shut, you get the courage to ask him about what Mark said. Jaehyun meets your eyes, and instantly—

“Jaehyun.” You start rocking with the balls of your feet, your grip on the swing’s chain turns your knuckles white. “Mark said you loved me.”

Jaehyun breaks eye contact. He sighs and stands up, placing the newly framed photograph on the swing seat. “Did he?”

“Why did you not tell me?”

“You remember our amusement park trip, right?” Jaehyun paces. “We were supposed to sit together on all the rides since we picked each other’s numbers. Buddy system and all.”

“But you said you felt sick, so you didn’t go with me. That was why Mr. Yoon let Mark go with me.”

He shakes his head. “I gave Mark my number. I wasn’t sick. I didn’t even need the bathroom. I actually—really wanted to go with you. You had no idea how happy I was that we got paired up.”

“What are you getting to?”

Jaehyun stops you from swinging, wrapping his hands around yours. You’re forced to look at him.

“I was supposed to confess to you that day. But when you went to the bathroom that one time, Mark told me he decided he was going to college abroad. I’ve been avoiding you since Mark was leaving soon and I didn’t want my feelings to come between you two. And it wasn’t likely we’d ever see him again since graduation was so close. You liked him too, so I let him go instead of—”

“I didn’t like him, though?” And here you thought it was obvious you crushed hard on Jung Jaehyun. Boys. “Where did you get that from?”

“Wait, you didn’t?” He looks as confused as you are. “Then why did I overhear you tell Jinah that you thought he was cute?”

“Of COURSE he’s cute,” you cry out. “He’s adorable—but that didn’t mean I LIKED him! You find him cute too, does that mean you’d date him?”

“No! w—why are you getting so worked up?”

“Because, you idiot, I liked you!”

“Hold on—”

“And I still do! I always have.”

“You—”

“I thought you just hated me! Mark and I were great. He’s a darling, but I really, really couldn’t bring myself to stop loving y—”

Jaehyun’s face is millimeters away. You can feel the warmth of his skin. His eyes strike you, pupils dancing, searching for something. His gaze moves down to your lips before he completely traps you in his presence, his eyelids flutter shut with his long lashes. And he closes the gap.

It’s a sweet kiss, with melting smiles and the taste of strawberry parfait. It’s obvious that you’re both hungry for more as he takes your lips again the second you separate.

“I love you too,” he says, peppering you with pecks. “I’m so sorry.”

“You better be, lover boy.”

“I was stupid for ever doing it before but—” Jaehyun laughs, bringing his hands to cup your cheeks. “I’m never letting you go. Not again.”

I feel like I have to apologize for this again. I’m kind of frustrated about it, but I finished at least. Ugh this is the 2nd time writing the tags and extra stuff.

137 notes · View notes

kyberconfessions · 3 years

Text

Omega Squadron - Clones

Please don't use them. These are mine and I created them and I love them.

Do not steal. Thank you.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Delta - Commander CC -7767

Stoic, kind, quiet, always has his arms crossed. Completely and utterly in love with his General. But knows she loves another. Still loves her. Will still give his life for her. Will follow his general to the ends of the earth. Protective of his team and family. Fuck you, you're not Omega. Really, really loves tea and meditation. Will meditate long into the day with Chidori and Maul. He doesn't have the connection to the force they have, but being able to clear his mind and have a moment of silence is more than enough. Best friends with Captain Rex of the 501st and Commander Cody of the 212nd. Will frequent 79s with them when they're all planetside and complain, er discuss, about their Generals and the crazy situations they put themselves into.

Has military cropped hair with one side shaved and the GAR symbol tattoo'd. Small smattering of grey at his temples. Not a fan of it, but his General said it made him look distinguished, so he kept it. Has one line on his chest and neck for each member of his squad in their company purple.

large scar across the bridge of his nose. Not from the war, but from breaking up a fight in 79s and getting a glass slammed into his face.

Jedi symbol tattood on inside of left wrist, keeps it hidden.

Donner - Communications CT - 4459

Prankster, always cracking jokes, knows that making someone laugh can usually help alleviate the pain they're feeling. Enjoys fried foods, thinks of others, always has the biggest and most genuine smile. Really loves those scented oils he got from naboo, especially the cardamom.

Long hair on top, undercut buzzed on bottom. Wears hair in topknot. Two tattooed rectangles under right eye, three lines shaved into left eyebrow, black out tattoo on entire right arm. May or may not have been involved in the '79s Incident'.

Niner - sniper CT-9999

Gentle. The most gentle man in the entire GAR. so very kind. Will give all of his food rations away to street urchins, just so they know someone cares for them. Has tried to adopt lothcats multiple times, but a stern glare from Delta usually has him putting it back.

Amazing shot. Will be the first to volunteer for whatever mission his General has. Always tries to talk down situations. Prefers to use his words over his fists. But will finish fights if he has too. Heart is to big for war, will sit and let you cry on his shoulder if its needed. Gives the best hugs. Best friends with Donner.

Regular military issued hair cut, nothing fancy, no facial tattoos, has the republic gear on his entire left shoulder, chest, deltoid, trapezius, and into his back. Still sees everything with wonder and big eyes.

Bama - Medic CT-3524

No nonsense guy, will call you out for making stupid mistakes. Dry bedside manner. Oh? You've got a hunk of shrapnel lodged in your side? Here, let him rip it out if you all the while telling you how stupid you were for standing to close to a bomb. Can and will drug Delta if he thinks he's not sleeping enough.

Had to learn a lot about Zabrak anatomy when Maul was added to the team.

'Two hearts! Why the kriff does he have two hearts?!'

Will drink everyone under the table. Once ran into a dangerous warzone to grab a kid who had wandered from the alleys.

Shaved head, sometimes sports a few days old shadow, but likes to keep it clean. Black out tattoos on both arms, completely covered. Wears a necklace with the Republic Gear. Has heteochromia from an injury sustained on Geonosis. Basically one normal colored eye and one almost completely black eye (can still see fine and doesn't want a stupid kriffing implant.)

Familial grump.

Ares - Weapons Specialist ARC-8599

CONTRABAND EXTRAORDINAIRE. You want something, he can get it! Correlian wine? Easy. Sabaac game from the Palace of Naboo? Childs play. Religious regalia from the Chiss? Please, find me something hard.

loves his gun. Named it Mesh'la. Yeah its Mando'a. Fuck off. can and will shoot every weapon in the GAR. Usually is the one laying down heavy fire so his brothers can maneuver or escape. Can curse you out in 6 different languages. Was the first to accept Maul into their ranks.

'So what if he was a sith? We've all done stuff we're not proud of. Who are we to judge? The General trusts him and thats all that matters to me.'

loves working out. Will workout every chance he gets. "Mesh'la isn't the only big gun I've got! BAM!" MASSIVE FLIRT.

Has a more stylized version of the military cut, bottom fades into the top with a longer section on top towards the front. Two red bands on upper right arm, Omega symbol branded into chest. Not tattoo'd, branded. Bama had a field day cursing him out in Mando'a and applying bacta patches.

Nero - pilot CT-1966

Great pilot, best pilot, can fly around the best of those clankers. Not very smart. Look, don't expect him to be able to recite Alderaani Poetry, but has read every manual for every cruiser this side of the galaxy. Really wants to do the Kessel run, Delta told him no. Rrreeeaaallly wants to though. Donner and Ares may sneak him off with one of the y wings, see if they can do some damage. Has a crush on the Civilian Auxiliary that helps fuel their ship. Stumbles over words, very shy, turns hot faced and wide eyed when Ares flirts for him. Boy is pretty and has a good heart, but definitely will not become a Senator any time soon. Everyone thinks he and Maul are best friends, when really he's absolutely terrified of the red and black Zabrak and can't physically speak when he's around. Maul on the other hand finds Nero's silence and calm demeanor relaxing and enjoys watching space go by, so he will sit with Nero as they go through hyperspace. So Maul sits up with him in copilot chair and Nero sweats bullets and internally screams the entire time.

Buzzcut and intricate pattern shaved in, swears its a map into Wild Space, Bama told him it looks like he list a fight with his clippers.

Soul patch and checkerboard diamond tattoos on left forearm GAR symbol on left calf.

#clones #clone wars #OCs #omega squad #my clones #do not steal #mine

9 notes · View notes

namjoonspiration · 4 years

Text

ON [1]

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You and your best friend Jungkook grew up in the only Mage village in the corner of the Citadel--the last civilization on Earth. When the humans feel threatened by the magic abilities of your people, you are taken away from your family. Thankfully, Jungkook remains by your side.

Warnings/Tags: violence, hate, imprisonment and forced labor (but, it’s not hardcore or extremely upsetting because that’s not what this story is about), finding happiness even in the darkest of places, kissing

Author’s Note: Welcome to my second BTS fanfic! Thank you guys for all the support for my first one (Saudade ft. Jimin)! I’m a little late in posting this, but here it is finally. This is chapter 1 out of 6 (maybe?). It won’t be super long. BUT this is my interpretation/imaginative storyline I created based on the ON music video. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Part 1

Year 3040 – 379 years after the Fall of the World

“Y/n, please be careful! I won’t wash your clothes again if you fall in the mud, and you’ll be wearing it for the next week,” your mother warns as your little legs took you farther and farther away from the hut—your home. You reply back with a high-pitched okay, only half-paying attention to what she said. You are too excited about today’s mission to give thought to anything else. The wind helps carry you faster, lifting your feet off the ground and whipping your hair in front of you.

The dirt under you became wet and tried to suction you to the ground as your trail changed from dirt paths to the tilled fields. The ever-looming walls that always remained in two directions of your vision at all times grew even more gigantic with each step towards the end. And by the end, you mean it the part where those two walls connect, keeping you and everyone in your village inside. These walls continued around in a massive rectangle that encased the Citadel from the outside world, like an army of giants.

You search amongst the kids running about near the East wall for your best friend. “Kookie!” You call. “Kookie!”

Jungkook, whose mouth is pressed in concentration, looked up from the lily he was trying to levitate. “Here!”

“Did you find the rabbit again?” You asked about today’s mission, watching him staring intently at the flower top.

“Yeah! You can see him from here.” He abandons the daisy and rushes to the wall. You run after him. He peeks through one of the holes caused by the many cracks in aged pewter stone. “He’s right there. He’s nibbling on that patch of grass,” he moves and gestures for you to look with a floppy wave of his small hand.

You peer through with one eye and spot the rare brown speckled rabbit. It was having some lunch on the thin short grass that covered the endless open environment outside. “How do you know it’s a he?” You ask.

“I just do,” Jungkook shrugs, tapping at the wall with the toe of his shoes.

“But I named it Princess Brownie, so it’s a girl,” you counter.

Jungkook crosses his arms. “No, its name is Captain Carrot.”

“Not so! We named it Princess Brownie the last time we saw it,” you pout, looking back out the hole. Suddenly, you spot another bunny—and then baby bunnies! “Oh my gosh! More rabbits!” You shout in excitement.

“Lemme see, lemme see!” Jungkook pushes against your shoulder, trying to see outside too. “Are those babies?”

“Yes! It’s a family!” You both watch them sniff around the grass for a few moments longer. Then, the two bigger bunnies hop closer to each other and rub noses. “Bunny kisses!” Jungkook ‘ews’ in disgust. “What? S’Cute,” you say.

“Kissing is gross,” he screws up his face, waving his arms in front of him in a ‘no’ fashion.

“Oh yeaahh?” you drawl, eyeing him mischievously and making a kissy face. Jungkook’s eyes widen in terror, and he turns on his heel to run away. You begin to chase after him, quickly gaining distance on him. Even though he’s a year older than you, you have pretty long legs for a six-year-old. He looks over his shoulder to see how close you are and begins yelling in fear. He pushes himself to run faster. Both of you dodge other kids left and right, most of them calling for you two to stop before the adults scolded you for causing such a ruckus. Jungkook ceases his wild screaming but doesn’t stop running.

Eventually, you get really tired. You stop, hands resting on your legs and you try to catch your breath. Jungkook didn��t seem to notice that you stopped chasing him. You sit against the cold stone of the wall, calming your breathing.

Sometime later, Jungkook circled back and found a seat next you.

You were caught up in your thoughts when he asked you what was wrong. “I wish we could go outside.” He knew what you meant. The outside world beyond the Citadel. No one ever went outside the walls unless they were ordered by the Governing Circle to find medicines and supplies, but very rarely did it happen because it was dangerous for those who went out and then came back in to where everyone was living.

“I think we will one day,” Jungkook says optimistically.

“You think so?” Despite his hope, your voice was sad. After a few moments of silence, “You promise?”

He gives you a closed-lipped smile. “I promise we’ll go outside one day.”

You smile, playfully bumping your shoulder into his. When then he bumps back, and then you bump back, and he bumps back until it turns into an all-out pushing contest to see who is stronger.

A boom sounds, like a cannon being fired.

You and Jungkook cease your shoving, startled by the sound.

A sequence of chirps and whistles followed immediately after.

You look at each other in panic, both knowing the meaning of those sounds.

The village was in trouble. And the Governing Circle was on their way.

Scrambling to your feet, you begin to run back towards the house with Jungkook running fast by your side.

“Mommy!” You lock your arms around your mother’s legs. “What’s happening?” You cry. Everyone in your village had dropped everything and stood in the crowd at the village gates. Jungkook had left you to find his parents, and you lost him in your line of vision amongst the throes of people.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s going to be okay. Don’t worry.” You mother reassures softly, patting your head and wiping your tears away. Her voice is comforting, but her expression is anything else but as she looked beyond the gates.

Men on horseback are approaching the village entrance. Soldiers with guns in tow and directly two horses pulling an iron prison wagon behind them. You mother tightens her grip on you into steel, pulling her behind you. You could feel tremors of fear shaking her.

They enter the village, the Lead Governor of the Circle standing at the forefront. He is wearing an eye patch rumored to be cover a nasty eye infection that never healed. A thick scar ravages the cheek underneath, and his icy blue eye drills fear into those who dared to look him directly in the face.

“People of the Mage community,” his voice booms, making you clutch your mother’s skirt tighter in your hands. “You’ve betrayed our trust, and it has resulted in several deaths of our brave men who dare venture outside the Citadel for our survival.”

“We haven’t killed anyone!” An elderly Mage steps forward and her shouts. Her words are very quickly echoed by the other adult Mages around her.

“Silence! Or you’ll be arrested for insubordination!” He threatens. You watch as those who had the courage to speak up suddenly cower back with their heads bowed. “Nearly thirty years ago when our kinds signed the Treaty of Coexistence, you Mages—the last of your kind—agreed that you would not use magic to keep the darkness that plagues this Earth away. And in return, we allowed you to enjoy the safety of the Citadel. Now, magic has brought that evil closer to us, and it has killed our own and it’s your fault!” His face is bright red with rage.

“So, we’re here to stop you from breaking the law any further and to save the lives of humans. First, arrest the children!” He orders. Shouts of protest erupts from the Mages. Your mother cries for them to not take you, hiding you as much as she can. Terror makes your blood turn cold. Why were they here to arrest you? Where were they going to take you? You didn’t do anything.

“They don’t have magic! We do! Take us and not the children!” One of the younger parents steps forward, tears running down her face. She holds her wrists out to the Lead Governor.

He scoffs at her, a horrid laughter scratching its way out of his throat. He nods at one the armed soldiers.

And he shoots her.

She falls to the ground, blood staining the dirt underneath her.

It becomes absolute chaos. Screaming, yelling, pleading, Mages fighting against the soldiers from taking their children, who were wailing as they were dragged from their parents. But even in the midst of the ear-ringing pandemonium you could hear the Lead Governor’s voice loud and clear. “We know about you Mages! You lose your magic at old age, so you pass it all onto your offspring! They are dangers to the citizens of the Citadel and will be treated as such!”

An iron-grip wraps around your arm, and you scream. “Mommy!”

“NO! Don’t take her! She isn’t a danger to anyone! She’s only six years old!” You mother pleads, keeping a locked grip around your waist. “Please, please, please…” Your mother is crying hysterically, mirroring you. Two soldiers grab at her shoulders, trying to pull her away from you, but she won’t relent. A solider hits her in the head with the butt of his gun, and she collapses. She loses hold on you, and you’re dragged away.

“Mom! Momma!,” you cry hoarsely, kicking at the soldiers hauling you into the iron wagon. Your knees bruise against the unforgiving metal when they throw you in with the other sobbing children. You crawl, scrambling away from the opened door to the iron box, sitting in the far corner. You curl into a tight ball, burying your face in your arms.

“Y/n!” Jungkook shouts, moving from his spot to sit close to you.

“Kookie…” You sob, looking up at him. He has a growing bruise on his cheekbone, tear tracks staining his face. You couldn’t think of what else to say. Nothing made sense.

The soldiers throw the last of the kids in the box and slams the doors into locked position. It becomes very dark. The only sunlight streaming in is from the intermittent line of small punched out circles at the very top of the box that none of you could reach. Then the wagon is moving, the protests of your mom and the Mages growing fainter until you can no longer hear them.

Jungkook rests his head on your shoulder and gently, carefully, holds your pudgy hand in his. “We have each other.” After a while, you calm down, exhausted but soothed by your best friend’s presence. “I’ll keep my promise,” he murmurs. That promise had suddenly become so much more, unspoken between the two of you. The promise you’ll both be freed one day from the prison you had just entered. The promise that one day the Citadel will simply appear as a tiny box in the distance.

Year 3049 – 388 years after the Fall of the World

Nine years didn’t change much. Since the day you and the other children were taken, you’ve grown up together in a dank prison, let out only when the soldiers have been ordered to take you to a cased-in farmland. They had used the word “greenhouse” to describe. But that didn’t make this whole situation more peaceful or less wrong. When you first arrived at the prison, the soldiers pushed all of you in pairs into individual cells. Thankfully, because you and Jungkook never let go of each other’s hand, you got assigned to the same cell.

You both had sat in there for days at first, periodically receiving water and bread with cheese. You’d made sure to split it evenly between you and Jungkook while also agreeing to ration it as long as you could. Neither of you could tell what time it was or how many days had passed. The food never came at regular enough intervals to tell what meal it was.

Then, one day, all of you were herded to the “greenhouse.” There the Governor of Agriculture was waiting to reveal how your life would be moving forward. He was an elderly man with a white beard, dressed in tan cotton robes. He looked kind to you at first glance, but as you learned so far in the past—well, you guessed—several days, nothing seemed so clear anymore.

But you always welcomed a surprise.

Mercifully, he had vouched for all the Mage children, appealing to the rest of the Governing Circle that your magic would be valuable to the survival of humans.

If there was a moment that any of this became even more confusing, it was that moment.

The Governor of Agriculture, whose real name was Michael—and preferred you to call him that—did not completely agree with the Lead Governor’s decision to prison you until they finally figured out what to do with all of you. However, you weren’t under any illusions that this guy was some kind of Saint. He still wanted the Mage children imprisoned and their magic restricted, only freed when it served to benefit the survival of the Citadel’s human citizens. A blessing, but still a curse. That blessing was—

Food.

It was certainly odd, but you realized later that there is worse labor you and the others could have been subjected too. You were taught farming skills—how to plant seeds, how to care for crops, when to harvest them. They tried to force your magic to cooperate with the plants the first year that you were there. Unfortunately, they were under the impression that your powers were in full bloom. They learned quickly at that your young age, it takes years for them to develop beyond simply being able to levitate objects—something that Jungkook forced himself to quickly master, but you could still not do even four years later.

At that point, you had become concerned that they would take Jungkook away from you and separate him into the group of older kids that were beginning to successfully get their magic to cooperate with the crops, while you would keep farming like a human. You cried to yourself every night that Jungkook wouldn’t come back for hours, nearly making yourself sick that he wouldn’t ever walk back through the cell door.

To your fortune, he always did, albeit eyes already closed, swaying with exhaustion until he collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep. He always came back like that, practically sleepwalking and overworked. You became so concerned about his health that you secretly ate less of your food and put more on his plate for him to eat the next morning. It was all you could do for him.

Then, to your surprise, one evening, he wasn’t so exhausted and caught you crying uncontrollably after a particularly bad day. “Y/n? What’s wrong? What happened?” He asked, looking you over to see if you were injured.

“They’re going to take you away from me, Kookie.” You cried. “I can’t get my magic to work. They are getting impatient with me, I can tell. They’ll find some other use for me, and I’ll never see you again.” Your sobs wracked your body again.

Jungkook shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes. Goodness, when was the last time he had a haircut? It was down past his shoulders now, you thought to yourself distractedly. “That’s not going to happen. I told you, we’ll always have each other. I won’t go anywhere without you.”

“I know, Kookie, but it doesn’t change the fact that my magic doesn’t work,” you said, frustrated with yourself.

“I don’t think that it’s your magic that doesn’t work; you’re just not being able to express it.” He explained, and it slowly began to make sense to you. You’ve felt repressed the last four years you’ve been here already, thinking about your mother, who you might never be able to see again. That you’re trapped between one cage and another with no telling when you’ll be free. “I’ll help you.”

Jungkook sat crisscrossed on the damp stone of your shared cell, the only light coming in from the lamps outside your cell door. You joined him. He fished something from the pocket of his beige cotton clothes, which were too big for him. The soldiers always did that with the clothes, so as you got bigger, you’d grow into them for a few years. Less resources they had to spend on you.

He pulled out a lily and tenderly placed it between you two. You looked at him in surprise, and he simply smiled at you. “It gets a little easier to take things from the greenhouse the more time you spend up there. Try and levitate it,” he gestured to the flower, perfectly untainted with the stain of this place.

You focused all your energy on it but are only able to get it to move a tiny bit. It wasn’t even that profound. Your magic looked like nothing more than a slight draft or wave of the wind. You set your eyes downcast. You were a failure. How could you even call yourself a Mage? “I can’t do it, Kookie.”

“Yes, you can.” Your eyes met his when he gently touched the underneath of your chin to lift your head. “And you don’t have to do it alone.” He used his other hand to bring yours to meet his, palms and fingers pressed together. “Every time you want to use your magic, think of the connections you share with it. It’s in your blood; your mother gifted it to you; the other kids have it, who got it from their parents; and I have it. We’re connected by magic—a living, flowing entity that surrounds us and binds us. Think about it… You’re never alone. Believe in that.” His voice calmed your spirit and centered your magic with every word. Your eyes had fallen shut, seeing the faces of those you loved and had happy memories of. Your skin tingled and warmed until it cooled.

You opened your eyes to see the lily floating between you and Jungkook.

You stared at it, shocked. “Jungkook, are you sure you’re not making it do that?”

He merely laughed, beaming at you. “I’m sure. This is 100% all you. It’ll take more practice to master it, but now you know that it’s possible.”

You let out a shuttering breath of relief. So much of the anxiety and worry that had wrapped around your lungs like a vice finally let go, and you could breathe again. “Thank you, Kookie. I don’t know what’d I do without you.” You released your magic, throwing your arms around him in a hug.

He wrapped his arms around you, too. You can still hear the smile in his voice when he said, “You’ll never have to find out. I’ll always be here.”

Life became a little easier after that.

You were forever grateful for Jungkook’s presence in your life. You had to give back somehow, so you would secretly teach the other young kids who were struggling with their magic expression while pretending to plant seeds. Soon, every single Mage child got their magic to cooperate with the plants—getting them to grow faster and better, removing sickness and disease, increasing the yield of each crop, coaxing tropical crops to finally grow in this dry climate.

You were silently put in charge by Michael to grow oranges the next year, given a few orange seeds that had survived hundreds of years since the Fall. You weren’t sure if there was any life left in them, but it didn’t matter because your magic could get the inner workings of the seed functioning again. Getting the seed to sprout was the easy part, but it took the better part of three years for it to grow. Finally, the summer you turned sixteen, the sprouting had grown into a tree and produced oranges. Michael was so pleased that he allowed you to have two on the week of the Summer Harvest.

You were so excited to share them with Jungkook. You’ve heard the taste is like nothing like you’ve ever had before. When you were dismissed, you hurried to the Greenhouse, spotting Jungkook and gesturing for him to meet you in a hidden corner behind crates of fresh vegetables and the tool shed.

“Jungkook, look,” you whisper excitedly, showing him the bright fruits. “Oranges! I finally got them to grow!”

“Shhh,” he holds a finger up to his mouth, chuckling. “That’s awesome. I have something to show you too.” He presents his hand from behind his back to show you a handful of— “Strawberries,” he grins excitedly.

“They look amazing,” you examine them closely, pocketing the oranges in your apron.

“Yeah. They taste even better too.” He hands you one, and you don’t waste a second in biting into one. Strawberry juice escapes your mouth and dribbles down your chin. You try to catch it and wipe it off with your free hand. Jungkook chuckles again, happy to see you clearly enjoying yourself. He eats his own strawberries, and insisting you eat the last one since he’s already snuck in more than he should have while picking. After you finish, you pull out the oranges, so he can get a better look at them. “How do you eat them?”

“Well, you see, you have to peel them. The skin is too bitter and thick to eat, but the fruit on the inside…” You skillfully peel one orange and hand it to him. You quickly then peel the second one. Opening the circular fruit, you pick a fat, juicy slice and hold it between your fingers. “It’s citrus-y, but sweet. Open up,” you nod at him, excited for him to finally taste it.

He opens his mouth, and you gently plop it in. When he first bites down, his face first screws up, but then relaxes in the indulgence with a few more bites. “It tastes so good,” he says, and you giggle at his satisfied smile. “You eat some.” He pulls a slice from his orange and takes a step closer, coincidentally putting you between him and the wooden shed. He holds it out, nodding at you like how you did with them.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you before opening your mouth to receive the orange. Jungkook takes his time bringing the fruit to your lips, gently feeding you the fruit, watching your face as you pull the orange slice into your mouth and eat it. The corners of your mouth turned up at the delicious taste of the fruit and at Jungkook’s hopeful expression.

You take your turn to feed him another slice of your orange, doing it exactly as he did. He gets a playful look in his eyes, and then makes sure his lips brush your fingertips when you feed him the orange. You feel a hot blush creep onto your face, which does not go unnoticed by Jungkook. He thoughtfully eats the fruit you just gave him, reading your expression as you try to hide your red cheeks from him with a hand. When you drag your eyes back to his, he grins cutely at you, and you can’t help but blush further or fight your own grin.

Jungkook reaches a tentative hand out to brush your hair behind your ear. You had recently cut off several inches of it again with the gardening scissors you snuck from the Greenhouse again. You’d even given Jungkook a haircut, so his hair wasn’t hanging in his eyes while he worked. You were by no means perfect at it, but you did your best to make him handsome.

He smiled down at you, and you suddenly couldn’t remember when he’d gotten so much taller than you. When had the muscles in his arms appeared? When did his face begin to lose the soft roundedness of childhood? Then you wished he was seeing you the way you were seeing him just now. You weren’t kids anymore.

He brought a hand to cup your cheek, moving closer. Searching your eyes for an answer to the silent question of permission. You nodded, your nose just barely brushing his before your lips meet in your first kiss, for both you and Jungkook. Your lips were trembling against each other’s, not sure how to explore such new territory. He pulls back to search your face again.

Then, you were both smiling like complete idiots. He presses his lips to yours again and again and again until they meld perfectly in synch. Your hands come to rest on his waist. You two deepen your kiss, tasting a mix of strawberries and oranges, sweetness and citrus.

And you swear, the sun grew brighter outside the Greenhouse, its rays breaking through the cracks in its structures to shine on your faces, and the world appeared more colorful. It was euphoric. Your settings melted away, and you felt free for the first time in years. You could feel your magic dancing with his in the air around you. The plants around you perk up more in their pots, and the birds chirped a little louder. Jungkook’s hands move from your face to your waist and yours to wrap around his neck, pulling the other impossibly closer as you two lay sweet kiss after sweet kiss on each other’s lips.

When you two became breathless, you finally pull back with much reluctance. Jungkook rests his forehead against yours as you both became to giggle to yourselves. “I love you, Jungkook,” you whisper to him, hoping to keep this moment between just the two of you.

“I love you too, y/n. Always have.” He steals one last kiss from you before having to let go even though he very much did not want to, as he expressed. You assure him that you would see him later on that day, and he walks back to his station after staring at you for several moments longer, not wanting to take his eyes off you. He thought you looked positively radiant—skin pink, eyes bright, mouth pulled into a big, beautiful smile.

Thus, began several weeks of farm work and taking advantage of every possibly excuse you had to see Jungkook in the Greenhouse to steal a kiss when no one was around or to brush hands when they simply weren’t looking. Of course, then at night when you got back to your shared cell, you watched each other fall asleep while lying in your separate beds, murmuring sweet nothings and promises of your future together.

….

However, the Citadel seemed to have a way of ripping away the things you loved just when life was happy.

You and Jungkook were sitting on his bed in your cell, playing handshake games. He was quietly singing to you one of the songs from the Hymns of the Mages that he remembered from childhood. You tried to keep up with his angelic voice with your own singing but didn’t do as well as you hoped. Jungkook loved that you were singing, stealing kisses from you to make you feel better.

That’s when you heard men screaming from down the dank hallways of the prison. You were swords slashing, guns being fired. You both scrambled to your feet, rushing to get a peek out of your cell’s door to see what was happening.

The screaming and clashing of metal kept getting closer and closer until heavy footsteps rushed in your direction. “Get them out!” Doors of cells creaked open loudly, along with startled yelps of your fellow Mages.

Suddenly, a large, muscled man—a warrior—with long silver hair appeared in front of your cell, his gold eyes feral. Jungkook jumped in front of you, shielding you from the man, and pushed up back into the cell. The warrior smashed the lock with his weapon, and the door swung wide open. He stepped into the cell, weapon tight in hand and pointed towards Jungkook, who took up a fighting stance, his lips parting to reveal bared, gritted teeth.

The air sudden tasted metallic in your mouth. You realized it was because of Jungkook. His magic was radiating from him. It was like a heat wave rippling off his body. How was he doing this?

The warrior simply scowled at him and raised a hand, eyes closing shut. Then the metallic air dissipates into clean oxygen. Jungkook’s body visibly relaxed, and you stepped around him, watching the warrior curiously. Then your boyfriend said, “You’re a Mage.”

“We’re here to rescue you. Get you out of the Citadel,” he said, firmly.

“Really?” Your voice was full of hopeful.

“Yes, but we don’t have much time. I’m afraid our mole has gotten cold feet, and it won’t be long before the Citadel realizes we are here.”

We? There were other Mages, here?! Had your village finally figured out how to save its children and escape the clutches of the Governing Circle once and for all?

“Let’s go!” He shouted at both of you before stomping out of the cell to bark other orders.

Jungkook led you out first, following close behind you. In the hallway, your fellow Mages were either looking around confused or eagerly following the silver-haired warrior. The warrior’s team, men you’d never seen before, shook kids from their stupors and pushed them up the dungeon steps. Jungkook made sure the younger ones—the ones that were babies when you all were taken from the village—behind you two got in front and were following.

The sounds of quick breathing and feet running on stone bounced off the prison walls. Everything seemed so quiet otherwise.

Too quiet.

“Don’t let them escape!” One of the familiar voices of a Citadel soldier called behind you. You turned around and saw men with guns approaching fast. One of the Mages shouted for the silver-haired warrior in front, who pushed the kids to keep following another one of his team to the trucks. At the last second, the warrior and two other Mages stopped an onslaught of bullets flying towards you with a wall of powerful force. The metallic taste had returned in the air, but ten times more potent than before. The warriors groaned in effort until the soldiers at last emptied their guns and had to waste precious seconds to reload. Just enough time for the Mages to raise stone spikes from the surroundings walls to block the path.

“Run!” He bellowed, urging everyone to duck from any further bullets fired.

You were all sprinting out of the dungeon, and you could taste the fresh night air. You were so close to freedom!

What you didn’t expect was the smoke that instantly invaded your lungs. There were fires everywhere outside, blurring in your vision as you ran. Screams of terror and of pain rattled your ears. More Mages. They were everywhere, fighting the Citadel’s soldiers or anyone who tried to get in their way. Bodies dropped to the ground one-by-one. They noticed their silver-haired leader emerge from the prison with their intended targets and worked ferociously to clear a path to the vehicles.

They had to get out of here. They were already out of time.

“Get in the carts!”

Mages began to pile into carts strapped to horses, but the little children were loading too slowly. The Mages put up walls of force or moved the wind to blow around everyone, creating screens of smoke. You and Jungkook, along with the other older kids hauled the younger ones up into the cart beds and closed them shut. You all hopped in after them.

“Go! Go! Go!” A Mage warrior called after everyone was on the carts.

“Wait!” Jungkook whipped around in the cart bed and saw one of the children sprinting desperately. He must have gotten lost in the chaos. Without even thinking, Jungkook jumped out of the cart, rolling onto the ground to his feet and ran for the kid.

“Stop, stop!” You shouted desperately. “There’s one more!” The silver-haired warriors gold eyes glared at you. “Please! Jungkook, hurry!”

He ran as fast as he could back to the kid, dodging bullets. He scooped up the kid, who wrapped himself tightly around Jungkook’s torso, and sprinted back. He was panting heavily, sweat running down his face. He had to make it. Pounding boots sounded closer to him, and whipped around just in time, arm outstretched and eyeing a nearby fire to direct it onto the soldiers chasing him.

They are set ablaze immediately, howling in pain as the magic in the fire burns through their flesh rapidly. Jungkook turns back on his course quickly, leaving the men on fire to become ashes as they fall to the dirt.

You slam your hand against the wood of the cart. He’s going to make it, he’s going to make it, he HAS to make it! “Jungkook!” You called, desperate for him to run faster.

He gritted his teeth, willing his legs to move faster. He’s so close. 10 meters. Then, out of nowhere a black guard rammed into his side, sending all three of them reeling off track.

“No!” You cried.

“We need to go!” One of the Mages ordered. “The others can’t hold the gate any longer!” You looked towards the gates; they were slowly closing. If the warrior didn’t instruct those horses into full sprint in the next ten seconds, none of you were going to make it out.

Jungkook let go of the kid and blocked the black guard from attacking the boy. “Go to the carts,” he shouted. A large cut on his forehead sends blooding dripping down the side of his face into his eye.

The young Mage ran towards the cart, and you hopped out, ready to hoist him in.

“C’mon, c’mon,” you hurry him along and toss him into the back. You turned around, hoping to see Jungkook running towards you.

But he’s not. He’s still trying to fight off the black guard.

The black guard suddenly brandished a knife from his sleeve and cut deep into Jungkook’s arm. He cried out in pain, hand flying to the injury. It’s the worst pain he’s ever felt in his life. This wasn’t just a knife wound. He felt like all of the magic in his blood was burning in his veins.

“No!” You tried to run towards him, to save him! But thick arms wrap around you and haul you back to the cart. “No! Let me go! We can’t leave without him!” You kick and punch the Mage warrior who had a hold on you, but he won’t relent dragging you further away.

“We’re leaving now!” He hauled both of you into the cart bed, his grip like iron.

“Jungkook! Please!” Tears burned like acid in your eyes and down your face.

Jungkook has flipped on his stomach, still screaming in his pain. And he sees you, trying to fight your way to him. You’ll have to leave without him, he thought, but this isn’t goodbye. No… A new kind of rage filled him, one that scorched more than the pain in his body. Gathering the last bit of strength, he had left, he yelled as loud as he possibly could. “I promise!”

I promise I will find you again. I promise we’ll be free someday. I promise we’ll burn the Citadel to the ground. I promise to stay alive.

You heard him. Every last one of those promises etching themselves into your heart. You felt his rage, his pain, and his relentless love for you.

The carts hauled faster and faster, and Jungkook grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Even as everyone looked towards the gates that were closing with each passing second, you couldn’t move your eyes from where you can see Jungkook being lugged to his feet and taken away.

“Come on!” You here the warrior driving shout in frustration, urging the horses to go faster.

The stone gates get closer and closer

No, we won’t make it, it’s too close. We’ll crash the truck.

The Mage warrior bellows a cry of war, snapping the reins quickly in one last effort.

And then you’re through the gates, the stone booming shut behind you.

Deafening silence sucks the sound out of the air like a vacuum.

You stop fighting the Mage and fall to the floor of the cart bed, staring numbly at the Citadel—a locked box, probably to never be opened again. Black smoke billowed up into the night sky in thick clouds, the inner walls of the Citadel lit orange by flame. And Jungkook—your best friend, your true love—your Jungkook, was still inside.

You felt a hand at the back of your neck, and then a sensation that stole the breath from your lungs and froze the blood in your veins.

You fell, out cold, and the Citadel became a tiny box in the distance, until it was nothing more.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #ON music video #ON #map of the soul: seven #love #promise #magic #reader x jungkook #jeongguk

67 notes · View notes

deathbyseventeen · 4 years

Text

Since the Day I Met You || Part 2

TITLE: Since the Day I Met You (Part 2 of 2) || Part 1

SERIES: Between the Dusty and the Sparks, Story #2

GENRE: Steampunk, Sci-Fi, Dystopian, Romance, Adventure, Fluff, Angst

RATING: M (for mature and suggestive scenes & themes)

PAIRING: Woozi/Jihoon x (F)Reader

WORDS: 15.1k

❦❦

Blurb: For better or worse, he’s been your friend since the day you met. You’ve been through a lot together already, you, Jihoon, and your ragtag rebel family. But someone messed up, someone made the elitist Sparks government focus on you all– a group of nobody rebels in the cast-off City of Dust that have never even seen the luxury of the walled-off City of Sparks. With a heavy, love-stricken heart, choices have to be made; and, as the leaders of this family, for better or worse

they will be made.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Blood, Violence, Weapons, Injuries (Bones)

❦❦

Present Day

You were moments away from completing the project that had been consuming the majority of your time for the past month and a half.

The main component of it, the part that had taken you weeks to find, cut, and then mold— the part with all the metal that was only going to amount to be the size of your palm, had been time-consuming. Sure, you were a blacksmith and an engineer, and if you wanted to, you could have finished it even sooner than you had. But the project meant so much to you, that you had been even more careful than usual.

But, after listening to Jihoon argue with Seungcheol that you shouldn’t be allowed to go off and search for a myth and offer up no alternative the day before, patience had been thrown out the window. That day, you had stalked off to your workshop, slammed the door shut, and poured all your energy into finishing the small metal box.

Now it was today, a day later, and after pulling an all-nighter both finishing (read: making sure you hadn’t screwed it up in anger) the box and trying to finish what you had started first, before the box, before giving up.

Leather, a few metal clasps, a needle, and thread was all you were dealing with.

It had taken you half an hour to hammer on the snap-on buttons onto a thin piece of leather and then an hour to cut a small hole into the end of the belt that would end up on the right side of his hip so the leather strap could be attached to it.

The rest of the night had been spent doing the same type of thing, now only using your thread and needle to attach a few more straps and bags.

All coming to a culmination now, moments away from your final stitch on the main holster. Golden thread came in and out of the leather carefully.

Then you were done, and a strange sense of calmness washed over you.

You grinned and took out the mannequin leg that you’d found one day after rummaging in the Dunes of the Forgotten, and quickly attached your project to it.

Though the belt flopped while not having a waist to wrap around, the rest of it, the bags and straps hanging off the right side of the belt held up exactly how you had wanted it to.

The base looked like a rectangle. Two straps slithered down the right thigh until they reached just above the knee, and a third strap connected the two and wrapped around the thigh with a buckle placed on the inner thigh so that it could be tightened if it fit too loose.

Two bags, each just slightly bigger than the size of your hand, had been sewn in too. One was on the left strap that ran down the outer thigh and the other was on the other strap that ran down the front of the thigh, both bags closer to the belt.

Then finally, a holster for the laser gun that you had fixed and refurbished. The side of each holster had a thin strap sewn in that connected to each side strap, a buckle on each to help tighten and loosen it. A final strap and buckle were then attached to the bottom of the holster, connecting it to the strap that wrapped around the thigh.

It looked exactly the way you wanted it to.

A golden brown, leather belt with a thigh extension for storing small objects and a holster.

Giddy, you undid the strap that went around the thigh like a second belt and pulled the entire thing— the main belt included, off the mannequin’s leg.

There was a box on your worktable, big enough for you to push the belt and bags in and quickly shut it close. Then, using a thin, old, piece of cloth, you tied it around the box and made the simplest bow you could at the top.

“Y/N, we need to talk,” Jihoon said, barging into your workshop.

As fast as you could, you thew a rag you had been using over the box to hide it, then whipped around, forcing down a red flush you could feel creeping up your neck.

“What’s going on?” You said breathlessly.

“I don’t want you to go look for something that doesn’t exist.”

Oh.

“Jihoon, this isn’t up for debate.”

“You’re right because you aren’t going. It’s not safe, and it’s useless.”

“Not safe?” You huffed, “Useless? Do you have any better ideas? Because I’m all ears.”

Jihoon fumed. You could practically see smoke coming out of his ears as he glared at you.

“I don’t have any, but it doesn’t matter because you’re not going.”

“You’re being unreasonable,” you said calmly. “I’ve proposed a solution. I’ll only be gone for a few days— a week at the most if I’m able to find him, which I will, and then I’ll be back. It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re not going,” Jihoon snapped.

“Why not,” you said, a knot of anger starting to form in your throat, “exactly why can’t I go?”

“It’s not safe,” Jihoon insisted, his hands suddenly in fists.

“Then, I’ll take Joshua since you think so lowly of me,” you finally snapped. Though you didn’t notice, something in Jihoon’s eyes changed after you’d uttered those words.

“No.”

“What?” You huffed, “Still not good enough for you? I understand now that you think I’m so weak I can’t take care of myself, but I think I’ll be alright with or without Joshua.”

“There are raiders,” Jihoon hissed, “murders, Sparks undercover just waiting for some Dusty to cross their paths so they can off them.”

You shook your head, tired at his insisting, and in a low, resolute voice said, “I’m going. I’ve already decided this, Jihoon. And there’s nothing you can say to stop me.”

Jihoon looked into your eyes, hands no longer in fists and pleaded with you again, the anger in his voice suddenly disappearing, “Please don’t go.”

His words were met with silence. You felt like you had nothing more to say to him. You had already made your choice and he couldn’t change your mind.

Moved by the silence between the two of you, Jihoon crossed the rest of the workshop and smashed his lips onto yours, hands coming to a rest on the back of your head and your neck.

Caught off guard, you froze, your eyes as wide as saucers until your brain caught up with your unmoving lips. It took no less than two seconds for that, then without wasting a second more, you closed your eyes and moved your lips against his, your hands moving to rest around his neck.

His lips were softer than you could have ever imagined despite the aggressiveness of which he was moving with.

Your thoughts raced, but they were constant. All you could think was Jihoon. He tasted like the strawberries that Seokmin had appeared with the day before— but not sour. No. He was sweet.

You could feel yourself melting into him, his hot breath fanning across your face every millisecond you broke apart for air before coming together again.

Jihoon.

Soft lips.

Jihoon.

Agressive.

Jihoon.

Strawberries.

Jihoon.

He bit your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine and making your back arch. It took all your self-control to stop the whine that threatened to leave you when he stopped kissing you to push you against the table and nibble on your neck.

That’s when you felt the box brush against your back, and your world came crashing down.

Jihoon was kissing you, and you wanted nothing more. But he was kissing you because… because—

You pushed him away.

“What the hell, Jihoon? Did you think you could kiss me and make me stay?” You fumed. You could still feel the ghosts of his lips on you, and your chest still rose and fell heavily as you tried to catch your breath.

“Y/—”

“No,” you cut in, “No. I’m going, and you don’t have a say in this.”

“Y/N,” Jihoon tried again.

“You can’t mess with my feelings like that” you said, closing your eyes as tears threatened to leave you, “Get out.”

“Y/—”

“Get out!” You yelled, quickly grabbing the mannequin leg from the worktable and chucking it at him, “Get out! Get out! Get out!”

Jihoon had no choice but to leave. He scrambled to get out before you could throw something else at him. Once out, you rushed to the door and slammed it shut.

You pressed your face against the door, your hands in fists and your eyes clamped shut so you could force the tears back.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

“Joshua,” you called out to him as you noticed him laying on a stone slab just inside the greenhouse, staring at the vines curling around the protruding beams of the glass ceiling.

“Y/N,” he responded, eyes flicking over to you.

You paused and wondered if you should walk off the path and enter the greenhouse. But, after a moment, you decided that if Joshua could hear you from where you were, then you’d stay where you were.

“Would you mind coming with me? To find Jun, I mean.”

Joshua nodded, “I was hoping you’d ask.”

“Thanks. Find Seungcheol, yeah? Give him the heads up. We leave tonight, so go grab a pack and fill it with the things we need for a five day trip— provisions, water filters, a canteen, extra clothes, just for you though. I’ve already packed my own.”

“Got it,” Joshua nodded.

You hummed in response, your fingers curling around the box in your hands and taking a few steps forward, about to continue your trek up to the house. Then, you stopped.

“Midnight,” you said, “we’ll leave at midnight. So, tell Seungcheol to make sure that everyone is in the living room before then.”

Joshua sat up, “Okay.”

“Thanks,” you told him and stalked off.

The rest of your walk was quiet, save for the crunching of rocks under the soles of your shoes every now and then. The house was just as quiet. Only your footsteps kept you company.

You walked through the garden and past the living room, taking a right at the latter. You followed the hallway until the end when you finally reached the room that was located at the right corner of the house.

The door was closed, and you stood there for a minute, wondering if you were making the right choice. But deep down you knew this was the only choice you trusted.

You knocked, and a few seconds later the door opened.

“Y/N.”

“Soonyoung.”

He glared at you, fingers curling around the door frame as he moved to block your view inside.

“What do you want? Did finally come to apologize to me and Luz?”

“No,” you smiled tensely, “I’m not going to apologize for anything I said when I know that I’m right.”

His left eye twitched as he continued to glare at you. His mouth clamped shut into a straight line. He was about to slam the door in your face when you jammed your foot in the gap left by the closing door.

“I need you to do me a favor.”

“I’m not doing any—”

“Yes. You are. Because you’re the only one I know that’ll be able to understand.”

Caught by the tone of your words, an eyebrow of his rose, “What do you mean?”

“I mean—” you held out the box you had packed your finished project in, “I need you to hold onto this. I’ll ask you to give it back to me in a week or so; but, if something… happens to me before I’m able to get it back, I need you to give it to… him.”

“Him? Y/N, what’s going on? What’s happening to you?”

“Nothing,” you said calmly, “It’s just a precaution, alright. Just make sure that this box ends up with him if I’m not able to get it back.”

“Who?” Soonyoung asked again after he took the box from you, but you were already walking away, “Y/N, who?”

You paused and without looking at him answered, “Who else?” Then, you resumed walking.

“Oh,” you glanced back at him, “make sure not to open it.”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

You stared at the crate of old beam guns under worktable. You had been packing up your belongings, clearing out your entire workshop so it would be easier for the others to take out when the time came, when you stumbled upon the pile of old beam guns you'd only managed to clean before putting them away for something else.

Those would come in handy later, you knew, but there was no point in regretting what you hadn't done. Not when what you needed to do now was figure out how to make sure they were ready for when the time came.

Jihoon.

Right.

At the most, you had two more hours before you and Joshua set off and you still needed to pack up your room.

You chewed on your bottom lip.

You really had no time to waste.

Pushing yourself into action, you reached for the crate and rushed to Jihoon's workshop.

He had his back to you when you stepped into his shop. A fire roared in his furnace, and though gusts of cold air were still making their way in through the front door, Jihoon had shrugged off his coat and the yellowing, long-sleeved shirt that he usually wore. He left himself in an old, thinning, light brown shirt.

You could see the skin of his back, his shoulder blades moving with every movement he made.

He had yet to notice you.

"Jihoon," you called out.

He froze but didn't turn around. In the silence, you felt more and more awkward. But you knew you had nothing to apologize for.

Swallowing your feelings, you stepped forward, and while placing the crate of beam guns at his feet said, "I'm going to need you to fix these beam guns and get it done before I get back. Get Seungcheol to help you if you need help--" you rushed to the door, "Alright?"

Jihoon was silent again. There was no sign that he acknowledged what you were saying but you knew you had his attention.

After seconds that felt like they stretched on for minutes, you patted the door frustrated and left. You rushed to your door, pulled it shut, and then set off towards the house.

You didn't have any time to waste.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Five minutes until midnight and everyone was standing in the living room staring at Joshua and you sadly.

Everyone except Jihoon who had yet to be seen.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go find him?” Seungcheol asked.

“No, it’s alright. It’s almost time to go, and I need to…” you took a moment to find the right words, “you know, lead.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s alright,” you said, brushing a hand against your forehead, “let’s just get this done, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” you started, turning towards the rest who were leaning against the backs of the couches and armchairs, eyes moving between you and Joshua, “we’re going to be gone for four days. In the meantime, I’m going to need for all of you to pack up your things— everything and load it into the zeppelin. Do you understand?”

They nodded.

“I’ll need you guys to put my things in the zeppelin too. I’ve already packed my things, so all you need to do is go to my workshop, and my room, and grab the boxes and crates. Okay?”

They nodded again.

After nodding to them in return, you dug around the pockets of your blank pants for the key to your workshop. When you found it, you gave it to Seungcheol, and mumbled that it belonged to your workshop’s door.

“Soonyoung,” you continued, “I’m going to assume that you’ve already finished repairs on the zeppelin, right?”

“Yeah. Fully functional.”

“Good. Apart from our belongings, will it be capable of holding all our furniture too?”

“I had to ask these three,” he motioned to Chan, Seokmin, and Mingyu, “to help me expand the roof of our garage so it would fit. A cockpit/entrance smaller than the rest, like a long basket and two floors above it, long and large. The furniture will fit.”

“Good,” you nodded, “then don’t leave anything behind. Have it done before we come back. Understand?”

“We got it, Y/N. Don’t worry, we’ll get it done.”

You nodded at him then glanced at the thin timekeeper wrapped around your right wrist.

Five minutes past midnight.

Trying not to sigh, you glanced at everyone in the room.

“Then we’re off. Best to travel under the veil of night.”

“Be safe,” Seungcheol told you, giving Joshua a quick hug before following you until you reached the gate.

You nodded at him then waved to your friends, “If something happens, leave without us. Don’t wait for us. Just go.”

“Trust in us. Trust in Y/N. We’ll be back. We’ll be safe and on that, you can count on,” Joshua told him before turning to you, “Let’s get going.”

And that was that.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Two days.

More or less.

It all depended on how time was being counted.

You had traveled two nights, one full day, and were in the process of your second.

To you, this meant two days. After all, you had left during the night. But in reality, you had only been away from home for less than two days.

But you were finally there.

After pushing each other to walk and ride trains both day and night, with the least amount of sleep you could get away with (five hours), you were finally there.

Standing atop a dune, deep in the Dunes of the Forgotten, that even you who had been exploring them since you were a kid hadn’t known existed, with canteen’s in one hand and a dry sandwich in the other, you looked at a run-down factory remembering it all too well.

“Is… is that really it?” Joshua asked, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

You nodded. The shimmering of the sun against the building almost made you believe you were looking at a mirage.

“Yeah. I think it is.”

Gulping, you both stuffed your sandwiches in your bags without a second of doubt and stumbled down the dune.

You set off in a run through the scorching land, your eyes trained on the building ahead of you.

Ten minutes of nonstop running, and burning throats, was nothing to you when you knew Jun was close.

You came to a stop in front of a set of wide doors, both of you wheezing as you tried to catch your breaths.

You knocked on the doors hesitantly. You didn’t know what to do but knocking felt like the most obvious answer. But when no answer came, your stomach started to churn.

“Try again,” Joshua told you, shifting from foot to foot.

You did, and the same thing happened: nothing.

“What do we do now?” Joshua asked you, eyes glued to the knobs on the door.

Without a word, you grabbed the knob and turned it.

The door opened without any trouble, and it bothered you.

Something was off.

A single looking inside sent your brain into overdrive.

It was empty.

And it wasn’t deceptively empty as it had been all those years ago— a ploy to make anyone who stumbled inside and didn’t pay attention, think that no one had ever stepped foot in there.

No.

This time, spiderwebs spread across corners, and a startled bird flew around then went out the open door.

“Common,” you told Joshua.

You stepped inside gingerly, quietly, suspicious of your surroundings. For all you knew, you had just stepped into a trap.

Picking up a small rock just outside the door before it closed, you tossed it deeper into the room, and when nothing happened, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Joshua shot you a curious look.

“Just making sure… Jun seems like the type to plant traps.”

“Right. Well, it looks like there aren’t any here, though.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, “and that’s what worries me.”

“Should we,” Joshua motioned further ahead. You nodded.

You both walked slowly, you still on high alert, and Joshua growing increasingly more aware of his surroundings as your words started to sink in.

You passed through the back door, and the room you had once woken up in, greeted you. It was emptier than you remembered it, no beds or cots, and cut wires were strewed across the dirt-covered floor.

The doors slammed shut behind you as you took curious steps forward.

“It doesn’t look like anyone has been here for years,” you mumbled.

“How did so much dirt even get inside?” Joshua said, heading towards the empty space where he remembered being strapped in a cot. You followed behind him slowly.

“Stop! Stop! Don’t move!” A familiar, panicked voice filled the room.

You both froze.

An electric buzz filled the room, and you both could have sworn you felt as if something was stealing the air from you. Then it died down, but the fear in your bones kept you from moving.

Chuu came running in through the large side doors. She looked at you two wide-eyed and moved her arms around frustrated, “You threw a rock in the last room! Why didn’t you throw one here!”

You gulped, “Why did we need to throw a rock in here?”

Chuu smiled sheepishly and pointed at the corners, “Beam guns integrated into the corners. They would have been set off the moment you stepped foot anywhere near the center of the room.”

You looked down at where you were standing and where you were heading.

There were only a few steps left.

Swallowing your fear, you regarded Chuu with determination and straightened. But, Chuu didn’t miss the way that you swallowed before shifting on your feet.

“The last time we were here, Jun said that if I needed help, I could come here.”

Chuu nodded, a bright smile overtaking her face.

“I need help. We need help. Me and my friends… I came to ask Jun for help.”

“Okay,” Chuu nodded, “You’re going to have to wait though. We moved bases. I’m only here because I’m supposed to be watching this base.”

“Jun isn’t here?”

Chuu shook her head.

“How long will it take for him to get here?” You asked, “We’re running out of time.”

Chuu studied you for a moment before answering, “It’ll be a couple of hours, but he’ll get here before nightfall.”

A squeak left your throat. Joshua laid a hand on your shoulder, “It’s alright. A couple of hours is alright.”

You nodded.

“Then, if you’ll follow me. You can wait upstairs in Jun’s old office with me,” Chuu said, bouncing on her feet.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

A single couch— the same couch that had been there before, was the only thing in Jun’s old office, save for a monitor that was lying on the couch along with containers of food.

Chuu had laughed and placed everything on the floor before offering you the couch.

Four hours later, you were still waiting for Jun to arrive, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to accept the food Chuu seemed to have magically materialized.

You didn’t want to say anything, but you felt like you were about to lose your mind.

“I heard two old acquaintances found their way back after so many years because they need help!” Jun came bounding in through the doors.

His eyes zoned in on you almost instantly, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I did take it upon myself to check in on you every now and then, just to see what you were up to.”

You smiled. Over the years you had accepted the reasons why Jun had treated you the way he had before. You had admitted to yourself that you would have probably acted the same way.

Besides, something about Jun radiated friendliness now that he knew he could trust you two.

“A bit weird,” you said, “but, it does sound like something the King of the Dusty would do.”

“Yeah,” Jun laughed, “it is, isn’t it? So tell me, why have you finally come looking for me?”

You bit your lips nervously, and Joshua, seeing that you were finding it hard to speak, spoke for you.

“We need help. We need to get away, disappear into a new home. Sparks has sent an elite operative after us, and they’re close to finding us. We’re in danger.”

“I see,” Jun said, eyebrows furrowing.

“We were hoping you could help us.”

“Well there are many options as to what I can do, I did say I would help you. But, I’m going to assume that you have some plan of your own?”

“Yes,” you answered, “I want to move everyone to my old home, and I need help to make sure that no one captures us on our way there. Provide us with safety, back up. ”

“Alright,” Jun nodded, “But I think you forgot something. If they managed to track you to where you are now, what’s to stop them from finding where you’ll be next?”

A knot formed in your throat.

Sighing, Jun said, “Okay. I can’t do much if those asshole Sparks already discovered everything about you, but I can make your existence before the house you’re in now, disappear, in case they didn’t. Would you like that?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Okay,” Jun nodded, “Let’s review then. I need to give you enough protection for—” he unbuttoned the cuff of his left sleeve and rolled it up to reveal a gauntlet. He pressed a few buttons, and suddenly a list with your friend’s names popped up, “One…two…four…eight people.”

“Nine,” you bit your lips anxiously, “Nine people.”

“Nine?” Jun asked, “Jihoon, Chan, Seokmin, Mingyu, Soonyoung, Joshua and Seungcheol the ex-sparks and you… that’s eight, is it not?”

“Yes, but someone else has joined us.”

“Who?” Jun asked tensely, “Last time I checked—”

“It’s been a couple of months. Since Joshua and Seungcheol were discovered and came to live with us permanently. An… extra Sparkian was brought along.”

“I’m sorry?” Jun asked incredulously, eyes narrowing on Joshua.

Joshua, in turn, fidgeted in his seat and tried to shake his head as subtly as he could.

“It wasn’t Joshua or Seungcheol. Soonyoung got involved with this… common Sparks girl, and since they found out that they were having contact between borders, he took her too.”

“So, this mess is because of them isn’t it?”

You were about to deny his statement, and lie, but Jun beat you to it.

“Don’t lie. It’s not hard to figure out why they choose to send some elite after all of you now that there’s some nobody in the mix. A regular Sparks,” he said disdainfully at the word, “citizen means it wasn’t that hard to commit treason. Joshua and Seungcheol— not so much since they were regarded as up and coming.”

You nodded silently.

“No,” Jun said plainly. “I can’t help you.” He stood up and started walking to the door.

“Why not?” You said. “It’s just one more person.”

“One more person that I don’t know anything about, and I’m not willing to place my family in danger. Are you?”

You fought back tears, “Please, I— I can’t protect them all on my own. This is— it’s too much for me, for any of us to deal with on our own.”

“I’m not risking anyone for some Sparkian.”

“But you’d be willing to risk it for Joshua and Seungcheol? They came from Sparks too.”

“Joshua and Seungcheol have already proven themselves to be more Dusty than Spark. They chose to leave to be here— do you really think I didn’t have my eyes on them when they were in Sparks? I saw them bring supplies for you from Sparks when they could. I saw how they protected their Dusty workers in ways that could only go unnoticed by those damn Sparks. Tell me,” Jun huffed out frustrated, “what has that Spark done that places her on our side?”

You bit your lips. Jun’s words mirrored your thoughts, and you knew you couldn’t deny the blatant truth in his words.

“Nothing,” you sighed, “We don’t know her at all, and quite frankly I don’t like her either.”

“Exactly,” Jun said, grinning at you like you’d hit the mark, “Leave her. She’s not one of you. She’s not one of us.”

“I can’t, Jun. I can’t. Soonyoung would do something stupid like stay with her, and I’m not leaving him behind.”

Jun sighed, “I don’t trust Sparks, Y/N.”

“But why? Why can’t you trust one more? You aren’t going to have her around forever.”

“Because,” Jun chuckled sadly, and the same look you had seen him get in his eyes the first time you met appeared again, “I had a friend…. but they took him. They took him.”

And you didn’t know if Jun even knew he was speaking. His eyes were far away, and he mumbled something about his friend so low under his breath nobody could make it out.

“Jun,” you pleaded, “please help us.”

His eyes refocused on you, and the smile he usually sported, even when he was frustrated, was gone.

“What you’re asking for isn’t help anymore. What you’re asking of me is a favor and favors come with prices.”

“Fine,” you nodded, “A favor. What’s your price? What is it you want?”

Jun regarded you with an expressionless look for a couple of seconds that stretched on to feel like minutes, “I want you to help me.”

“Help you?”

“Help me lead my army of Dusties.”

“Army?” You choked out.

“Army,” Jun grinned.

You looked at Chuu standing beside him for confirmation. She nodded at you grimly, her mouth pursed into a thin line.

“The revolution is here,” Jun giggled, opening his arms wide and turning in a circle, “Sparks is going to pay for treating us like dogs.”

“You want me to help you lead a revolution?!”

Jun hummed in answer, “You’ve come this far to save your friends, and you’re not giving up on saving someone you don’t even care for. All because you know that person means something to someone close to you.”

Jun chuckled, “I think you’ve already proven that you would make a reliable leader, a good Queen of the Dusty.”

You stared at him unblinkingly, studying the small smirk on his face. Your thoughts ran wild as you tried to think of why he would want you to help him. What benefit could he possibly get out of making you Queen of the Dusty?

“Your friends, of course, will be given the opportunity to join us. They can be given a home with the rest of my family, or they can choose to move on and live uninvolved where you wanted them to,” he paused to give you a careful look, “Of course, you’ll get to visit them, but precautions will have to be taken.”

You nodded in understanding, first to him and then to yourself. It meant nothing besides you understanding what he was saying, what he was proposing to you.

You looked at Joshua, and he gave you a small shrug.

This was your choice.

“Deal.”

Jun cheered, “The revolution is here! Sparks is going to pay for everything they’ve done to us!”

You nodded, your fists clenching as you tried not to think of what you had agreed to, “Now help us.”

“Okay,” Jun nodded, “Follow me to the next room.”

The next room— the room in front of the one you were previously in, was smaller and darker. The windows had been covered by wooden planks and a layer of cardboard.

A single table stood at the center with an array of objects on it. Some beam guns, some laser guns, some gauntlets, and more.

Jun chuckled quietly, “I had a feeling that if someone came to ask me for help it would end up involving weapons. But I’m not sure if I brought enough or if it’s safe for you to carry so many.”

“No, probably not,” Joshua said, eyes passing over everything laying on the table.

“Go ahead and take a look,” Jun told him, “Grab what you think will be useful to you.”

“No,” you cut in before Joshua could move, “we have weapons already.”

Jun nodded to himself, “Alright. Do you have a way to move quickly?”

“A zeppelin,” you said, “It’s big, and it’ll hold all our things.”

“Okay. You’re going to need this,” Jun walked up to the table and grabbed a small, thin, rectangular piece of metal.

“What is it?”

“It’s an auto-chip. Your ship should have a slot to insert it into. It’ll pilot your ship and take you wherever I send the signal.”

“Okay,” you nodded, taking it from his hands.

“It’s going to be at the center of four large dunes that almost look like mountains. You’ll have to leave your ship there and walk the rest of the way.”

“Don’t worry,” Chuu cut in, pointing on herself, “me and my team have developed a little something that’ll hide your ship. If anyone even gets close, we’ll be ready to defend.”

“Thank you,” you told her, “really. But, where are we going?”

“A mansion,” Jun said.

“A what?”

“A large structure, bigger than they have here in the Dusty. But I thought they only existed in Sparks…” Joshua told you.

“Mostly,” Jun said, “But you can’t take your ship there. Which is why you’ll have to walk the rest of the way.”

“How long is it going to take?”

“From home to the dunes: half a day. From the dunes to the mansion: a couple of hours.”

“We’re going to be exposed the entire way.”

“Yes and no.”

Jun glanced at the table and picked out one of the gauntlets. He held out a hand for your’s, “Your arm.”

You held out your arm for him and watched quietly as Jun fitted the gauntlet around it. It cupped around your arm, and the open part that rested on your inner arm closed by pulling on the thin straps on the bottom and top edges. The straps looped individually through individual buckles like belts that lied neatly against the gauntlet.

You studied the top of it with renewed interest. You’d only ever seen them on Jun and Chuu.

Small buttons rested on it, the letters of the alphabet on them like the old keyboards your parents had shown you when you were younger.

“How does this…”

“A lot of it can be learned through exploring,” Chuu told you as Jun turned back to the table, “But for now, the most important thing to know is that if you press ‘Q,’ ‘A’ and ‘Z’ in that order, the map of the mansion will appear. Go ahead and try. I’ve already connected yours to our server through mine and shared the map with you.”

You did as told and a green, holographic map shot out a small piece of glass between the ‘G’ and ‘H’ key at the center of the gauntlet.

You jumped.

Chuu giggled at your reaction, “For now, that’s the only map that will appear. Later you’ll acquire more maps, and you’ll need to choose from a list from using the same letters.”

“That… sounds difficult.”

“At first, but it’s rather easy to learn. Hold down ’T' to see the time and ‘M’ if you need to speak to one of us but can’t actually speak. It’ll allow you to message us— well, for now, just Jun and me.”

“For now, though,” Jun said, still facing the table, “I’ll only be giving you these. One set. And to complete it, you’ll also need this.”

Turning around, he held a thin piece of metal that was curved into a ‘c’ figure. Upon closer inspection, you realized that the object’s shape was designed to look like little branches forming a trail in the form of a c, or was it…

“This is attached to the outer rim of your ear, like an earring. You’ll need to wear it so I can talk to you through it and you to me.”

“How do I?” You asked as he gave it to you.

“Just,” he grabbed the helix, the little bit of the ear that made the edge of his ear, “place it here, and it should attach itself automatically.”

You shuddered when you did and felt the cold metal curl around your ear like it had a life of its own.

“Brush it downwards to turn it on and upwards to turn it off. Simple.”

“Got it,” you nodded, “but can we only have one? Maybe if Josh—”

“Y/N, it’s fine. I don’t need any of this,” Joshua interrupted you.

“Yes, yes you do. Even if there aren’t enough for everyone, one more would be enough.”

“Sadly, Joshua is still Sparks, and even though he’s more Dusty now, I think we both know I can’t bring myself to trust him completely.”

Joshua nodded in understanding and when you looked like you were about to protest, he tried to reassure you, “We only need one, anyways. If we had more then everyone would try to lead and we’d up going in circles.”

You bit your lips as you thought about Joshua’s words.

“Alright. I guess you’re right.”

“Then it’s agreed,” Jun said, nodding at the two of you, “You’ll set off early tomorrow morning.”

“No,” you shook your head, “we need to leave tonight so we make it back quickly.”

“There’s no need,” Chuu told you, “you need to rest and eat first. We’ll send you a map with the quickest route back. You’ll get there early morning after a day of travel.”

“Then we should go now,” you said, “Right, Joshua?”

“Right,” Joshua nodded, “The faster we make it back, the better.”

“I won’t allow it,” Jun said sternly, “It’s obvious by the state of your faces that you wouldn’t last another day of walking without proper rest.”

Chuu nodded.

“But—”

“No excuses,” Jun told you, “You’ll both rest here for the rest of the day. You’ll set off tomorrow morning.”

“In the meantime,” Chuu grinned and approached you with something behind her back. A smell wafted into your personal space and your legs all but buckled underneath you.

“I have food for the two of you.”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

The early morning sun wasn’t as hot as the sun that beat against your backs around midday. But, combined with the stress of trying to make it home as soon as you could, the early morning sun was enough to make your shirts stick to your backs and sweat run down your faces.

"Sun rises at six," Joshua told you as you rested, sitting on a pair of small boulders, "We should be close. Can you check the map again?”

You chuckled lowly before punching in the code into the gauntlet and extending your arm towards Joshua for him to see. You took a swig of water from your canteen as he looked.

“I don’t— I don’t understand.”

“We don’t really need a map right now,” you said, switching the gauntlet off.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re only a couple of miles away. Don’t you recognize the boulders we’re sitting on?”

Joshua studied the rock below him. He couldn’t really tell if it was something that he had been near before. Rocks all looked like rocks to him. There was nothing special to them. It made him wonder how you were able to tell that these were a pair of boulders that you should be familiar with.

“Common,” you told him, shrugging on your bag, “We’re almost there.”

So you walked, and half an hour later, as your legs grew sore and heavier, after climbing a sand dune that felt all too familiar, you found yourselves experiencing dejavú.

Your home laid in the distance.

The pain in your legs disappeared, and without a second of doubt, you stubbled down the dune. You set off running when your feet touched flat ground.

Ten minutes later, you came to a sudden halt, pulling Joshua into a halt before he could run past you.

“What?” Joshua panted, “Why’d we stop? We’re almost there.”

You were less than half a mile from the main entrance of your home, and pacing at the front was Jihoon, a beam gun clutched in his hands.

“Something’s wrong,” you told Joshua, nails digging into his forearm as you watched Jihoon pace back and forth.

Joshua squinted at Jihoon’s relentless figure, “He… won’t stop pacing.”

“We have to make sure he sees us as we get closer or…”

“Or,” Joshua echoed as you stepped forward.

You waited until it felt like you were close enough for him to hear you before yelling, “Jihoon!”

He didn’t seem to hear you, so you kept walking.

“Jihoon!”

Nothing. You kept walking forward.

“Jihoon!”

He stopped pacing and whipped around to face your direction. “Y/N?!”

“Jihoon!” You started jogging forward.

“Y/N!” He yelled again, his eyes training on your growing figure. “Y/N!” He yelled again, taking some steps forward.

You could tell, based on how the pitch of his voice rose the second he yelled your name, that he had finally seen you and knew it was you coming up to the house.

You both ran then, towards each other as fast your feet could carry you and almost barreled into each other when you didn’t slow down though you neared.

“Y/N!” Jihoon laughed giddy, pulling you into a bear hug.

You froze, the worry you felt at seeing Jihoon pacing outside your home with a beam gun so early morning, gone. Instead, you remembered the things that had happened between you two the day you had set off.

Your heart panged inside your chest.

Then, as you pushed him away, you started to question him, “What are you doing outside so early morning? What’s going on? Why are you using a beam gun so openly?”

You took a couple of steps back and forced yourself to look at his face instead of staring at the floor like you wanted to.

He looked like crap.

His black hair was tousled like he’d been running his hands through his hair nonstop. His eyes were bloodshot, and under them, black bags hung heavily.

“Chan and Seokmin went out for a run the day you left, and they were attacked,” he spoke frantically as if adrenaline were running through his veins nonstop.

“What?!” You asked, fear starting to chew at your nerves, “Are they okay?!”

“No,” Jihoon shook his head, “Seokmin’s okay, but Chan was shot in the leg. He can barely walk without help. Seokmin had to carry him all the way back.”

“Oh no, no, no,” you started, shaking your head.

“That’s not all,” Jihoon said, staring unblinkingly at you, “he was shot with a laser gun. He said they looked like Sparks, and neither of them are sure if they weren’t followed back.”

You were horrified.

“I told everyone— I told Seungcheol to leave this place if anything happened,” you snapped angrily.

“I wasn’t leaving without you!” Jihoon snapped in return.

You glared at him. Who was he to chose to keep everyone there when it wasn’t safe any more just because you weren’t there.

Turning away from him, you addressed Joshua, “Find Seungcheol, tell him we’re back. We leave as soon as we can.” Then, without sparing Jihoon a glance, you ran past him and into the house.

“Y/N,” he yelled, running after you, “Y/N, wait!” But you ignored him, even as his footsteps pounded against the floor behind you, and kept running.

A quick turn into the right-hand hallway, then left when you reached the corner, and you were barreling into the first door on your left— the bedroom turned infirmary.

Chan gasped as he sat up, startled as you rushed in, and the door to the infirmary banged against the wall. You had woken him from a restless bout of sleep he was having.

Sleeping in a chair next to his elevated bed was Soonyoung, equally as startled as Chan, it seemed, as he rocketed out of the chair.

“You’re back,” Soonyoung mumbled groggily as he processed that he wasn’t in danger.

“I’m back,” you nodded though you didn’t acknowledge him in any other way.

You approached Chan warily, giving him a once over with your eyes.

Chan shifted sheepishly under your gaze, “Morning, Y/N.”

“Show me,” you said to him.

“Y/N,” Soonyoung gulped, “it’s fine. He’s fine.”

“I asked you to show me.”

Nodding, Chan pulled the blanket off the lower half of his body and waited for your reaction.

Three wooden planks were tied against his leg, with pieces of rope that had been cut in a rush it seemed to you because of the frayed ends you could point out, like a splint. His left pant leg had even been cut off so that his lower leg could breathe freely.

“What happened?” You asked slowly, inching your way forward, “Did they break your leg?”

“I think,” Chan said quietly, “I can’t walk, it hurts too much.”

“Oh.” Lifting a shaky hand to hover over his broken leg, you traced the edges of the splint.

“I gave orders,” you whispered, “why did none of you follow them?”

“Jihoon refused to leave without you,” Seungcheol spoke up from the door.

While you had been contemplating Chan’s injury, Seungcheol along with everyone one else, had made their way to the infirmary, both eager and terrified of the anger that could be brewing inside of you now that you knew that someone had been injured while you had been gone and they hadn’t followed your orders.

Jihoon stood behind him, eyes wide and panting as he stared at you before lowering his head to stare at the floor.

You swallowed the retorts that threatened to leave your mouth. You remained focused on Chan’s leg and eventually cupped his cheeks the way you used to when he was younger.

“We have to go,” you said, holding back tears, hoping he didn’t notice, “If I help you, do you think you can make it to the zeppelin?”

“Yeah,” Chan nodded.

“Good,” you said, already helping Chan turn his body, “Put your arms around my shoulders.”

“Let me h—” Seungcheol started before you snapped at him.

“I’ve got it.”

Silently, Seungcheol stepped forward and slipped your backpack off your shoulders, “I’ll help you like this, at least.”

You ignored him but let him take the pack off your shoulders. Then, as gently as you could, you helped Chan stand and throw his weight onto you.

Everyone retreated from the door as you took slow steps, Chan getting accustomed to walking with one foot instead of two.

They were slow steps, but they were gradually building up from the turtle-like speed that you started with.

When you made it outside, you stopped and took a long look at the path straight ahead of you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to your workshop? Someone else could help me get to the zeppelin?”

“No,” you smiled sadly in the workshop’s direction, “if I go there, I might never want to leave,” and without giving either of you time to dwell on your words, you led him away from that path and down the one on your left.

You were quiet as you walked, the only sound coming into existence from the crunching of rocks against the soles of your shoes.

“Did you already put everything in the zeppelin?”

It took them a moment to realize you were addressing them and not Chan.

“Yeah,” Seungcheol said.

By the sound of his voice, you came to the conclusion that he was walking directly behind you.

“My workshop? The beds? Bulbs? Cables?”

“Everything’s been taken care of. We’ve been sleeping in sleeping bags for a day.”

“The infirmary was in use.”

“For Chan’s use only but we—”

“Need to go back. All of you need to go back and make sure that you didn’t miss anything. When you’re done making sure you’ve taken everything useful, then clean up the infirmary as fast as you can.”

“Someone should stay with you to take care of Chan.”

“I don’t need help.”

“But—”

“Joshua,” you cut in, “give Seungcheol your bag.”

There was shifting behind you, and you knew, even as you got further away, that they were doing as you said. Then a single pair of footsteps ran to catch up to you.

“Run ahead and leave the bags in the zeppelin, then go help the rest. Send Soonyoung when you’ve checked the entire house and the workshops.”

“Are you sure about this, Y/N? Someone should really stay with you and Chan to help you.”

“That’s why you’re going to send Soonyoung— and only Soonyoung, when you’re done inspecting the house. Everyone else will help you clear the infirmary, but Soonyoung will stay with me.”

Seungcheol sighed next to you before nodding and taking off in a run.

He was gone for two minutes before you saw him. He nodded at you as he ran past you, and four minutes later, you were standing gobsmack in front of the garage.

Though you had already seen it all, your eyes continued to trail upwards and downwards, tracing the structure before you. Now you understood why Soonyoung had told you that they had to rebuild the roof to have the zeppelin fit.

“H-how big is this?” You asked, stuttering a bit because the structure of the zeppelin felt daunting to you.

“I’m not sure,” Chan mumbled, tired from all energy he was using to walk, “I think Soonyoung said something about 30 or 40 feet… 9… 12… meters.”

“Is that s—” you stopped. You had been turning to look at Chan as you spoke, and when your eyes fell on him, you realized that Chan was working hard to keep his eyes open and his head up.

“Sorry, Chan,” you whispered, “let’s get you to a bed, yeah?”

You entered the airship and made your way up the stairs and onto the second floor where more than a dozen doors greeted you.

“Is it here, Chan?” You shook him a little to have him give you directions.

“Yeah,” he mumbled after a couple of seconds, “my room is the… second door on the left.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding as you led him forward. You walked slowly, carefully, just as you had done on the stairs.

You turned the cold, metal knob on the second door and opened up to a small, rectangular room with a thin bed attached to the right wall and half a table attached to the other.

“This is a broom closet.”

“Well, we needed a way to make sure that everyone had somewhere to sleep.”

Startled at the sound of Soonyoung’s voice behind you, you drove Chan into the doorframe.

“Oh. Oh. I’m so sorry, Chan,” you whispered hurriedly to him.

As gently as you could, you rushed him into the room, pushed the covers to the foot of the bed, and helped him lie down. You were about to leave him when Soonyoung spoke.

“Cover him, the higher we go, the colder it’ll get it.”

“What?” You stared at him confusedly.

“It’s going to get colder while we’re flying.”

“Alright,” you said hesitantly before nodding and turning around to fix the cover over Chan. “Did you guys give him something, or did he lose stamina over the last four days.”

“We gave him some heavy pain meds,” Soonyoung told you as you exited Chan’s room and closed the door behind you, “one every day. Guess they’re heavier than I thought.”

You nodded and motioned for him to follow you down to the cockpit, “I have this thing—” you dug around your pocket, trying to remember the name of the object Jun had given you, “an… an… auto-chip. It’s supposed to pilot our ship on its own.” You took the auto-chip out from deep in your left pocket as you made it down and showed it to him.

“He said that zeppelins have this thing where this is put in.” You stopped in front of the main controls. “We need to find it.”

“May I?” Soonyoung asked, hands aiming for the chip. You handed it over wordlessly.

Moments passed in silence as Soonyoung studied it, and you had half a mind to take it from him and find the slot yourself.

That is until Soonyoung’s head whipped around to look at you.

“I think I may know where this goes.”

“You do?!”

“Yeah,” he nodded and pointed at the main controls.

You followed him with your eyes.

“Please be careful with it.”

Soonyoung hummed in response and curled three fingers around it while he trailed his fingers over the controls.

“I know it’s here… somewhere… aha!” Soonyoung screamed when he reached the zeppelin’s wheel, “Here it is!”

You rushed to take a peek. On the wheel’s outer edge, a small rectangular slot had been carved in.

“Shall we?” Soonyoung asked.

You nodded, “Do it.”

Soonyoung flipped a switch on the control panel and brought the zeppelin to life. All around you the ship buzzed to life. Lights became brighter, the control panel suddenly had colorful lights, and to your sides and in front you, metal rose and revealed windows.

He looked at you for a second before smiling and pushing the chip into the slot. You grinned as it slid in.

“Auto-Chip recognized. Destination accepted. Rise for auto-chip to take effect.”

“Oo, ho-ho,” Soonyoung laughed, “I didn’t even know it could do that.”

“You two almost gave us heart attacks outside!” Seungcheol said behind you, startling you enough to jump. “We thought this thing was about to blow up!”

“You’re the one from Sparks! Shouldn’t you be used to these types of noises coming from ships?” You grinned at him. Your gaze jumped from him to the others staring at you and Soonyoung behind Seungcheol. Your gaze wanted to gravitate towards Jihoon, but just as you were about to land on him, you looked back to Seungcheol.

“Are you guys done? Has everything been gathered?”

“We’ve gotten everything,” he shook the box you hadn’t noticed he was carrying, “We checked the workshops too and your room. There is some furniture inside though— from the infirmary, we need to bring it onboard.”

You nodded, “Quickly then. We don’t have any time to waste.”

“No,” Seungcheol eyed you, “no, we don’t, and you still have to tell us what happened and what those things on you are. Didn’t think we notice you coming back with tech we’ve never seen before?”

You sighed. You knew he was referring to the trip to find the King of the Dusty, but you weren’t sure how much you could tell him or them. By the looks of it, Joshua had made sure to tell them nothing at least.

You hummed, “Once we take off, I’ll tell you guys what happened.”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

The zeppelin shook with turbulence as you flew. Everyone leaned against the back wall as you and Joshua stood at the front by the control panels and told them about what had gone down when you found the King of the Dusty.

You skipped some details though— the fact that you’d met the King of the Dusty before, the fact that you had known his name before or Chuu’s.

“Wait,” Mingyu cut in from Seungcheol’s right, “but how did you know to look in that building.”

You blinked at him, dumbfounded.

“Old rumors that we’ve heard before. Little signs that he leaves behind for people who need to find him,” Joshua answered for you.

“So he just decided that he would trust you, trust us, and gave you these things? That doesn’t sound safe,” Soonyoung added, narrowing his eyes at the floor as he thought.

You couldn’t help but give him a pointed look, “It doesn’t, does it? Sound any familiar to you?”

It happened in a moment of anger, and by the time you realized what you had done, it was too late.

Soonyoung’s head turned to look at you at the speed of light, his eyes now glaring at you. But, rather than backing down, you matched his gaze.

“Well there goes the friendly atmosphere,” Seungcheol muttered under his breath.

Joshua coughed, “He actually has an intricate network and knew who we were and everything about us before he met with us. But he did want us to tell him honestly why we wanted his help before letting us know he already knew.”

You nodded, and though you knew you shouldn’t, you couldn’t help the words that left you when you saw Luz trying to sneak away from Soonyoung’s side, taking to advantage that she was the closest to the stairs.

“Not much space for you to hide around here is there,” you hissed.

While Luz stopped moving, Soonyoung stepped in front of her and blocked her from your view. His eyes threw daggers at you.

“What?” you spit, “She can’t stand up for herself? She needs you to stand up to the big bad wolf?”

Wordlessly, Soonyoung moved back to his position against the wall. You would have believed that he was giving you the go-ahead to try something were it not for the hand you saw pulling him aside.

Luz gripped his brown, long-sleeved shirt near his waist where it was tucked into his pants. She didn’t say anything but leaned against the wall like nothing had happened, avoiding meeting your eyes by staring at her feet.

“Right,” you scoffed under your breath.

“Is that really it?” Seungcheol jumped in, “He really agreed to help us without any conditions?”

For a brief moment, you felt two hot suns burning your face.

Then it was gone.

Without meaning to, your gaze fell on Jihoon. His arms were crossed, and he stared at the floor expressionless. He was tense.

You looked at his lips— set into a straight line.

Then you looked away. The knot in your throat was back, and you had to cough before answering Seungcheol.

It wasn’t easy, lying to them. You didn’t like to do it. But you knew that if you said something at this moment, there would be hell to pay.

Seungcheol, Seokmin, Jihoon… all of them would try navigating the ship somewhere else. They’d refuse the help you’d gotten from Jun.

“No conditions,” you smiled, “He’s the King of the Dusty, after all, and all he really does is help his fellow Dusties.”

Your gaze studied the lot of them— an excuse to take another peek at Jihoon.

His eyes were closed, but he didn’t look as tense as he did before.

“Alright,” Seungcheol said, “I guess this meeting is over then. Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “you’re all free to go rest or stay here if you want. We’ll go get you when we’re close to landing.”

Around you, everyone started to shuffle, heading for the stairs, except for Seungcheol and Soonyoung, who approached you instead.

“I’ll take the pilot’s seat for a while,” Soonyoung grumbled.

Then when it was only the two of them left, Seungcheol motioned for you to follow him to the back.

“What’s up?”

“I think you should go talk to Jihoon.”

“What?”

“You really think I didn’t notice that longing look you gave him a few minutes ago? Or the fact that he wasn’t there the day that you left?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

Seungcheol sighed, “Y/N, I might not know what’s going on between the two of you, but I do know that the two of you need to talk.”

“Why should I?” You grumbled, “I didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the one who—.” You stopped abruptly, your cheeks burning red.

Seungcheol lifted an eyebrow in curious accusation.

“Fine,” you mumbled, “I’ll go find him.”

“End of the hallway, last bedroom,” Seungcheol said to you as you walked up the stairs.

You walked with a million thoughts running inside your head. But out of all of them, only two ran faster than the rest, sticking out painfully to you like a sore thumb.

One - What were you supposed to say to him when you saw him? You were still mad at him for keeping everyone at home when they were in danger… for not going to see you off… for kissing you to get you to stay.

Two - His kiss…

You huffed, arms crossed, as you stopped on the second floor. You couldn’t stop picturing the kiss— couldn’t stop feeling Jihoon’s warmth spreading throughout you.

Even when you were traveling with Joshua, the heat of the sun made you think of the kiss, and all you could do to distract yourself was to count the number of steps you were taking numbly.

Hallucinations were real and you hadn’t wanted to admit that you had almost screamed when Jihoon had appeared in front of you one night, inches from your face.

You were frustrated. You felt like working on something - taking some time off in your workshop. You had half a mind to go to the third floor and dig around the crates of your workshop to find something to do.

Clang! A noise from the floor above you.

A new thought made its way into your head.

Who else would want to spend time where nothing but boxes lined the floor? Would it be so much to assume that Jihoon felt like he needed to spend some time in his own workshop?

You nodded.

Instead of following the hallway down to the last door, you turned and kept going up the stairs, into the open space of the third floor.

Couches were stacked one atop another to your left. Beds were in neat rows to your right, boxes of their things atop the beds forming small walls. Crates full of other objects were stacked on the floor near the beds too, a few things having toppled out during turbulence, you guessed.

It felt like walls had been built using the crates, forming a narrow pathway and blocking off both sides of the room.

You walked down the pathway, looking for a way through.

In the gaps between the crates and the boxes, you could see into the other sides. On the right, you could see a wide set of shoulders. You knew who they belonged to.

You kept walking, studying him through the gaps, watching him work.

He kneeled in front of a crate and pulled something out. He held it in his lap, away from prying eyes.

At the end of the pathway, you found a larger gap, like a small doorway that led into the area.

You stepped through it.

“What are you doing here?” You asked Jihoon as you came closer to him, “You should be sleeping.”

He tensed at the sound of your voice.

“Jihoon, common,” you insisted behind him, “It’s going to be a long day, and you rest.”

When he continued on whatever he was working on, you peered over his shoulder.

You sighed.

“I asked you to finish those before I got back.”

“Well, I didn’t,” he grumbled.

“How many more?”

“Three.”

You thought for a moment, “Leave it. We’ll have to walk in pairs anyways. We’ll share.”

Without waiting for a response, you took the broken beam gun out of his hands, and chucked it into the crate he had pulled it out from. Jihoon remained unmoving and you had to grab his hand and pull him for him to follow.

You walked briskly down the stairs, never once letting go of his hand as he trailed behind you.

“I thought I committed sins so terrible, you decided I didn’t exist,” he said as he pulled you into a stop as you walked down the second-floor hallway to his room.

“What?” You asked, turning around to look at him. You flinched when you locked eyes with his tired, sunken ones. They were sharp and heavy. It looked like he was tired of everything.

Jihoon stayed silent. You were forced to acknowledge what he had said.

You scoffed, “I’m still mad at you, Jihoon. You put them in danger by staying.”

“I wasn’t going to leave without you,” Jihoon snapped, voice rising.

“Jihoon—”

“Just because you could leave without me doesn’t mean I’d leave without you!”

“Is this still about leaving to find the King?!” You snapped, “If you wanted to come with me, you should have just said so instead of kissing me to manipulate me into staying!”

“I wasn’t—”

“You can’t mess with my emotions, Jihoon! That isn’t okay!”

“I wasn’t trying to mess with your emotions! Did you ever consider that I kissed you because I love you!”

“I told you not to mess with—”

“I’ve loved you since we were kids!”

Silence.

Whatever words you were about to scream at Jihoon died on the tip of your tongue. Anger was replaced by shock, and eventually, you realized that through it all, you hadn’t once let go of each other’s hands.

Then your surroundings started coming into focus.

Pairs of eyes peeked out of the slithers of the doors cracked open. Even Seungcheol and Soonyoung were poking their heads out from the stairs to watch the two of you.

Everyone had seen you two.

Everyone had heard you two.

Jihoon gave your hand a squeeze and brought your focus back to him. You swallowed, and in the span of three seconds, squeezed Jihoon’s hand and pulled him all the way to his room, where he slammed the door shut.

Your back to him, you let go of his hand and rubbed your eyes silently.

“Y/N,” Jihoon whispered.

Adrenaline shot through you at the sound of your name. In a flash, you turned around and smashed your lips against Jihoon’s.

Your hands threaded through his hair, toying with it as you kissed him slowly, passionately. He tasted just like the first time you two had kissed— strawberries.

His hands gripped your waist as he responded eagerly to your kiss, trying to speed it up.

But, as much as you wanted to speed up and have him push you against the door or push you onto his bed, there were more important things to be done.

Still, you smiled as you tugged on his bottom lip, pulling away, Jihoon chasing your lips as you moved.

“You have to get some sleep, Ji.”

He hummed, “Fine. But you have to get some too. Knowing you, you probably skipped as much sleep as you could to rush back.”

You chuckled as he got under the covers of his bed and laid on his back. He patted the small space next to him.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You kicked off your shoes and slid in next to him. You curled into his side and his natural heat enveloped you, your breaths starting to even out.

“Jihoon?” You whispered.

He hummed in response.

“I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

A rude awakening greeted you sooner than you could have hoped for. But it hadn’t come in a way you may have forgotten existed in the safety of Jihoon’s arms as you slept.

It hadn’t been when Soonyoung pounded on your door to wake you or when Jihoon gave you the beam guns to hand out.

It hadn’t happened when you asked everyone to carry a backpack with the things they couldn’t bear to leave behind or when you asked Soonyoung to take the box you had given him in his bag.

It hadn’t happened when you locked the door on the zeppelin or when you had shut it closed.

Looking back at the zeppelin as the group made it through the dunes, and you turned on your earpiece, had been painful, but your rude awakening had yet to come.

It was only after hours of walking under the afternoon sun, before the temperature started to drop, that you felt reality sinking in.

“I told you we’d need the portable fans!” Chan groaned. “You’re just lucky I brought yours, or you’d be dying too.”

You had smirked at Chan’s outburst. He was being given a piggyback ride by Mingyu, Seokmin on their right. A miniature, solar-powered fan was around both their necks, intertwining them. Chan had given Seokmin the other.

You had taken a moment to check you were going the right way, and as you stared at the holo map from the gauntlet, reality sunk in.

Fear gnawed at your nerves.

You were walking in the open air, mostly relaxed, it seemed. But… Chan had gotten hurt a couple of days ago and at the worst, there was a Sparkian elite following your trail— to capture you all, to kill you all.

You didn’t know if anyone was following behind you.

You didn’t know if something would happen at that moment or even later.

Would you manage to make it past this day alive?

Then, for the rest of your trek, more thoughts than you’d like to admit started to pop in.

Jihoon holding your hand as you walked, even though they felt like they were welded together because of the sun, had been the only thing keeping you from having a breakdown.

Now, standing at the side door of the left side of the mansion, you studied the map again, trying not to listen to yourself.

A squeak in your receiver momentarily brought you out of your head, “Y/N? It’s Jun. Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you,” you mumbled, facing the door. You had made everyone wait a couple of feet behind you while you made sure everything was going as planned.

“Great. Did you find the side door?”

“Found it. What about the zeppelin?”

“Everything’s good. When you open the map for the mansion, you’ll see a trail leading you down to the basement. You’ll be traveling to a level below that. We’ll be getting the train ready while you get here.”

“Got it.”

“Make sure to check your surroundings as you go.”

You turned around, “Let’s go. I want pairs of two. Seokmin stick with Chan and Mingyu.”

You smiled when you saw Jihoon walking up to you, then a shiver ran down your spine— one that put your nerves on edge.

“A-actually, Ji, would you mind leading the pack with Seungcheol?”

“What?” Jihoon looked at you suspiciously. “Why do we need to split up? We should stick together.”

You contemplated his words, but something still felt off. You threw the group a quick glance to make sure they weren’t watching you before you fixed the suspenders he had put on. Your hands rested on his shoulders before cupping his cheeks and giving him a quick kiss.

You didn’t think you’d ever get enough of him.

“Aren’t you the one trying to manipulate me now?”

“No,” you chuckled, “I just really wanted to do that. But I do still want you to lead us with Cheol. I’ll take the back with Joshua.”

Jihoon sighed, “But why?”

“Strength,” you said. “You and Cheol are the fastest with beam guns. I want you to scope the rooms we’re going into to make sure there aren’t any people who aren’t supposed to be there.”

Jihoon nodded, “Alright, I’ll take the front with Seungcheol. But stay safe in the back, alright?”

“Mingyu,” you called out, “give Seungcheol your beam gun. Seokmin be ready for anything. Seungcheol, take the front with Jihoon, scope out rooms. I’ll take the back with Joshua.”

In a matter of minutes, the group was ready, forming a line of pairs and waiting for you to give the go-ahead.

You opened the map and studied the surplus of rooms and hallways the building offered. It was large and wide, bigger than you had ever seen in a home.

You found the trail that Jun had marked for you, “This is the only access point to the mansion. Our destination is two levels below ground. Go straight through this room and to the door, we’ll take the far northern door of the hallway.”

They nodded, and you were off.

The first room you entered was covered in plain, gray dust most unlike the red dust-dirt hybrid that the Dusty was so famous for. Furniture laid covered with under white sheets, not a speck of red on them.

“Anyone else finding this creepy?” Mingyu whispered.

“There’s not a speck of red anywhere,” Seungcheol spoke ahead, eyes still trailing over everything in the room.

“It’s like this has gone untouched by time,” Joshua whispered next to you.

“Well don’t let it suck us in. Keep going,” you told them. Truthfully, even you were unnerved by the image in front of you.

“Unnerved?”

You ignored him and continued to whisper directions to your group. This room… a hallway…the farthest northern door….another long hallway… take the second door into the courtyard and then the right door.

“This place has a lot of hallways,” Soonyoung complained.

“Yeah, well, matches the number of rooms,” you grumbled, something still felt off. You felt as if something was going to jump out from the number of doors there were.

“Where next?” Jihoon asked as everyone came to a stop in the hallway.

You brought up your gauntlet and projected the map big enough for everyone to see if they wanted to. “These big doors in front of us are blocked so we can’t go through there. We need to go up this hallway and into the next, take a right and take the last door, it’ll lead us into the ballroom.”

“Got it,” both Jihoon and Seungcheol responded.

When they started moving again, Jun’s voice crackled to life in your ear.

“Y/N, we’ve got a problem. How far are you?”

“Still on the main floor. Two hallways from the ballroom.”

Jun cursed, “We’ve registered more heat signatures on the floor. Heading your way. Possible Sparks.”

You froze, your left hand flew to grip Joshua’s bicep, and he stopped to look at you, “Possible Sparks or definite Sparks?”

Realization settled in the pit of your stomachs.

“Most likely,” Jun sighed, “One moving ahead of the pack.”

“One moving ahead of the pack,” you whispered to Joshua.

“Eight,” he told you, eyes narrowing in worry. “What do we do?”

You thought for a moment. Your worst fears were coming to life and the thought of your friends in danger…

“I… I’m going to,” you looked at your gauntlet and then at Jihoon.

“I’m staying with you,” Joshua whispered quietly, starting to pull you to catch up to the rest.

“I can’t ask you to do—”

“You’re not. I’m saying I am.”

“No matter what,” you said quietly, closing your eyes so Joshua would understand you were talking to Jun, “you have to save them.”

“Y/N, what are you—”

“Promise it, Jun.”

“I…promise? Y/N don’t do anything st—”

“Go cold, Jun. Monitor them both.” Then you turned off your earpiece and looked ahead, they were starting to go into the next hallway.

These were your friends.

This was your family.

You wouldn’t regret this choice.

Pushing ahead, your eyes locked onto Jihoon’s back. Seungcheol walked next to him, murmuring something to him so lowly that only Jihoon would be able to hear him.

“Jihoon,” you mumbled, a hand reaching out to fall on his shoulder.

His head whipped around at the sound of your voice, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, “I just need to give you something real quick.”

Everyone paused.

“I need everyone to calm down. Nothing is going on. Here,” you turned back to Jihoon and undid the clasps keeping the gauntlet tied to your arm, took it off, and held it out to him, “you need to put it on. We’ll be quicker if you have the map since you’re at the front.”

When Jihoon made no motion to reach out for it, you took it upon yourself to grab his arm and put it on for him.

"This--" you took off the golden earpiece that curved around your ear like multiple thin branches intertwining with each other and attached it to his like Jun had shown you, "goes with it."

"Ok," Jihoon nodded, "What do I do now?" He glanced down at the armlet, trying to figure it out.

"Just..." you trailed off, pointing at the small array of buttons on it, "press the first button of the first three rows, the map will project, and then you can pinch it to make it bigger or smaller to turn off. That's all you really need to know for now."

Jihoon nodded, and you turned to look Seungcheol, "Sorry."

"It's alright."

You smiled nervously at him though he didn't notice, "Okay, let's keep moving then. Straight ahead, we have to go through the ballroom."

Without more words, the group started to move again, with Seungcheol and Jihoon truly leading them this time.

You waited where you were, letting everyone walk past you so you could return to the back with Joshua.

Seokmin.

Mingyu.

Chan.

You let your eyes study their faces.

Soonyoung and Luz.

Then stopped.

Your eyes met Soonyoung's and as subtly as you could, you nodded at him before looking away. You hoped he remembered what you had asked of him.

Joshua.

"It's done," you whispered to him when you reached the ballroom after making sure you were trailing behind the pack by a couple of feet.

Joshua nodded grimly, his eyes set and his lips pressed into a thin line.

Ahead of you, the group made it through the next door. Joshua and you barely at the center of the room when a hand grabbed you by the shoulder.

You whirled around, your leg rising to form a high kick only for them to grab and twist your ankle. As you were slammed onto the ground, you held back a scream.

Joshua turned around as you did, eyes falling on a man with a long face and silver-colored hair. He could only assume it was Eight with the speed that he had.

In an instant, Joshua had his hands in a fist and aimed. But as he slammed you to the ground, he managed to stop Joshua in his tracks and kneed him in the gut.

You rolled over as you stood and quickly tried to rush him, aiming to knock him off his feet.

Then failed.

Eight copied you and rushed you, throwing you to the ground. As the back of your head hit the ground, he managed a kick at your stomach.

“Where’s the rest of your friends,” he asked you gruffly.

You spit at him with the energy you could muster, a second before Joshua managed to knock him down.

They wrestled for a bit, Eight turning Joshua around as they fell. Then, as Eight finally won and punched him in the nose, you regained her strength and returned the favor.

You punched him. You kicked him. You punched him again.

Then, as you readied to punch him again, Joshua stood up wobbly to help you.

But as luck would have it, a floorboard creaked as he walked toward you, and he momentarily distracted you.

In that second, Eight regained his bearings and flipped you just as he had done with Joshua.

“No!” Joshua screamed in a broken voice.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Jihoon toyed with the gauntlet on his arm as he came to a stop outside the door he believed they needed to go through. His fingers flew across the keys you had told him to.

Then he yawned and brushed a hand against the earpiece.

“-/N, come in. Tell me you didn’t! Y/N!”

“What the fuck?!” Jihoon yelled as Jun’s voice came through. “Who is this?!”

“…Jihoon?” The voice questioned.

“Who the fuck are you?! How do you know my name?!” He growled. The rest of the group rushed to his side, looking at him worriedly.

“What’s going on?” Seungcheol asked, worried.

“There’s a voice in my ears. I think it’s coming from this thing—” he pointed at the earpiece.

“Where’s Y/N?!” The voice asked hurriedly.

“It must be a communicator,” Seungcheol explained to him hurriedly.

Then they heard the scream. “No!”

“What was that?” Chan asked from Mingyu’s shoulders as they all snapped their heads in the direction that the scream had come from.

“Did… that sound like Joshua?” Seungcheol asked shakily.

Jihoon looked around quickly, searching for you. His heart started to speed up as he quickly started to understand the panic that had been in the man’s voice.

“Where’s Y/N?” He asked.

They all turned to look at Jihoon, question sinking in before they looked around at each other. Their eyes started to widen as realization sunk in.

“Y/N!” Jihoon screamed as he ran past them, Seungcheol at his heels.

Together they threw down the door and froze at the sight before them. One man fought Joshua and another came in through the door.

Jihoon’s heart dropped.

You pushed yourself off the wall, head whipping around at their entrance.

Blood dribbled down your chin as you coughed, a broken ‘no’ brushing past your lips when you saw Jihoon.

Noticing your distracted state, the second man ran up to you and pinned you against the wall again.

“No!” Jihoon screamed about to run forward before Seungcheol stopped him.

“Let me go!” He screamed. “They’re hurting her! Y/N!”

Seungcheol took a shuddering breath, tears running down his face as he saw more men run through the other door.

“Stop!” Screamed a voice behind them. “We have to go!”

Seungcheol turned around and behind the rest of the group who he quickly noticed were also crying as they watched, was a man running towards them.

“I’m one of you! I’m one of you! I’m the King!”

“What?” He asked breathlessly, as Jihoon struggled in his hold.

“We have to go!” He screamed. “Follow her!” He said, pointing at a woman at the end of the hallway.

Seungcheol noticed the gauntlet on the man’s arm and nodded, “Follow them!”

“Let me go! I’m not losing her again!” Jihoon screamed, struggling in Seungcheol’s hold, tears streaming down his face.

“Hurry!” The King yelled.

“No!” Jihoon yelled again, drawing the attention of the other men.

You struggled against the hoard of men after freeing yourself, more bruises littering your face, and a limp in your step.

“Go!” You yelled in their direction, trying your hardest to keep the men from going towards them.

“No!” Jihoon yelled. “The beam guns! Use your beam gun!”

“Your guns won’t work!” The King screamed. “Do you see that circle on the floor?! It’s stopping beams from materializing!”

“Let me go! I’m not loosing her again!” Jihoon screamed, struggling in Seungcheol’s hold, tears streaming down his face.

“There’s nothing we can do for her, Jihoon! It’s too late! We aren’t loosing you too!”

In that moment, you did the only thing you could think of, you took out your beam gun and chucked it in their direction.

It landed at Jihoon’s feet.

“Grab it!” Seungcheol screamed as he struggled to keep Jihoon in his hold and Jun did.

“Let me go!” He yelled again as they started to pull him away. You started to get further away, but his eyes remained perfectly trained on your struggling form. Panic rose inside him with every punch.

He couldn’t lose you. Not again.

But it was too late. They had dragged you away, and they carried him farther and farther away.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Tears streamed down all their faces. Their chests rose and fell rapidly as reality sunk in— new voices, new faces, and an open-spaced cockpit that looked newer than anything they had ever seen

“Implement Ghost Protocol,” the man that saved them said.

“Yes, sir,” the woman beside him said.

“Make sure they can’t track us.”

“On it.”

“Who the hell are you?” Seungcheol asked as soon as he was able to form the word.

The man turned around, “I’m Jun, King of the Dusty. It’s nice to meet you all.”

“We have to go back,” Jihoon said, tears still streaming down his face, “Tell her to turn us around. We have to go back for Y/N. We have to go back!”

“Unfortunately, we can’t. Y/N and Joshua have already been taken, and if we go back, we all risk being captured and killed.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Jihoon yelled. “We have to go back!”

“Y/N made her instructions very clear. I am not going to ignore her wishes or our deal.”

“Deal?” Seungcheol cut in quickly before Jihoon could say anything, “What deal? Y/N didn’t say anything about a deal.”

Jun faltered for once, taking in their wide eyes. It seemed that Y/N had failed to tell them of the deal you had struck. He wondered if it would be okay if he told them.

“What deal?” Seungcheol asked again, this time clipping each word.

“Y/N struck a deal with me. I would help her, help all of you.”

“I thought you helped your people,” Seungcheol growled, “Not blackmailed them.”

“I do,” Jun answered, “My people. And I do believe there is one person here that isn’t a Dusty and hasn’t proven to be loyal to our kind.”

‘Luz,’ they all realized.

“Y/N said that Soonyoung wouldn’t leave without her, and just like me, she wasn’t about to leave one of her own behind. If it hadn’t been for her, there wouldn’t have been a reason for me to even offer her a deal. You would have all been home free.”

At their shocked silence, Jun continued.

“I met Y/N and Joshua a long time ago, and I told her if she ever needed a favor, she could come find me. But I couldn’t risk my family for a dangerous, wild card.”

“What deal,” Jihoon swallowed, “did she strike?”

Jun studied him for a moment. Though he had never met them, he knew this would hurt him the most, and he almost didn’t want to say.

“She agreed to help me— be the Queen of the Dusty, and help me with my own plans.”

Silence as they took it all in, fresh tears falling down their faces.

“I did tell her that you could all join my family too or chose to go your separate ways, and she could visit you from time to time. That would have been up to you.”

“Why would they keep this from us? Why would Y/N lie?” Seokmin asked, covering his eyes.

“I asked her not to say anything about my existence a long time ago,” Jun said, trying to meeting each and of them in the eye, “she did it out of loyalty.”

“To you?!” Jihoon yelled, his tears replaced by pure anger as he stepped forward furiously. His intent to attack was clear to everyone as Seungcheol ran forward to hold him back.

Jun remained unfazed, “Perhaps to me. Perhaps to all of you.”

Everyone froze.

Jun continued, “Perhaps to the hope that if anything ever happened, she could save all of you through me.”

“We have to go back,” Jihoon tried again, “please. We have to go back and save her.”

“We will,” Jun agreed, “We’ll get her back. I don’t leave my people behind. But, not today. It’s too late now.”

“But—”

“We’ll go to Sparks, and we’ll rescue them both. They aren’t going to kill them. They’re too valuable to Sparks to do that.”

Seungcheol nodded for them, “Okay.”

Jun nodded, “HeeJin, contact Chuu and tell her to start trying to find out where they could possibly be kept.”

Tears continued to fall down Jihoon’s eyes.

Had he really left you behind?

This was his fault.

Jihoon lunged at Soonyoung, range flowing through him again. He aimed a fist at his face, and around him, everyone yelled as they watched it him punch Soonyoung. Seungcheol could do nothing to stop him.

“Jihoon, stop! Stop!” Soonyoung yelled when he was able to dodge him, “Stop! I have something to give you! From Y/N!”

He froze.

Taking it as his cue to proceed, Soonyoung dug around in his pack and pulled out a simple box tied closed with a piece of cloth.

“What is this?” He asked.

“A gift. Y/N told me that I needed to give it to ‘him’ if something ever happened to her. That I would know who that was if the time came.”

“Me?” Jihoon asked quietly.

“You,” Soonyoung nodded, “I’m sorry.”

Without a word, Jihoon took the box from his hands and opened it as fast as he could, not caring that they were all staring at him. Though in a haste, he carefully slid the bottom half of the box into the top and pulled out its contents.

A single belt with a holster and bag attachments— brown leather, new.

Handmade.

Y/N-made.

Jihoon ran a finger down the stitches of your work, taking in the amount of work that it would have taken you to make it and stopped when he felt something in one of the pouches.

He opened it and pulled out a metal heart, smaller than the center of his palm.

He felt his heart break more than it already had.

It was just like the one you carried around in your pockets, the one that your father had given you when you were younger.

Jihoon curled his fingers around your heart, clutching it so hard, his nails started to dig into his palm.

His tears stopped flowing as he came to a resolution.

He was going to get you back.

“We’ll get her back,” Jun said, “I don’t leave my people behind.”

Jihoon would hold him to that.

No matter what.

Jihoon was going to get you back.

Whatever it took.

❦❦

Thanks for reading! Comments, Reblogs and Likes are appreciated!

32 notes · View notes