#request 2110

[lostdrarryfics]

Hello,

I’m looking for a fic on aoa3, where Draco has been cursed to obey Harry (may or might not be exactly that) and someone makes Harry tell Draco to obey this person, then Harry forgets. Draco stars acting strange even when he was beginning to be friends with the golden trio and every time he tried to say something about what was going on it would hurt (like electricity or similar) they figure it out and go to the auto authority. I don’t remember if it was on school or life as adults.

Thank you!!

We believe you are looking for Lessons in Grace and Decorum by Gallaplacidia, which has been deleted. You can find an archive of Galla's works here.

[boneapplet]

From Rust and Bone pt.6

Chronicles of the Lost Primarch

Relationship: Rogal Dorn x oc/afab!reader

Warnings: recovering from an injury, injured wild animals

Word Count: 2110

Requested tag:@noncon-photobomb @beckyninja @blukitty40k

Masterlist

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7 | pt 8 | pt 9 | pt 10 | pt 11 | pt 12 | pt 13 | pt 14 | pt 15 | pt 16 | pt 17 | pt 18

Reaching the edge of the valley, the herd is stretched thin. The path having narrowed into a dead basin scar—an old collapse zone turned temporary pass. Sheer vent-rock on one side, ash dunes on the other. The kind of place predators love, the kind of place beasts’ panic. Dorn rides mid-line with Arravox, keeping pace as best he can. The wind shifts again—sharper now, metallic. Kessa is near the front, scouting a slope ahead, her silhouette jagged against the orange haze.

That’s when the first scream cut through the pack. Not human—beast. One of the younger ones, high-pitched, panicked, short. The crashing following suit. Something in the dust. Large. Fast. Arravox hisses low. A warning. Not fear. Focus.

Dorn turns in the saddle just as the back quarter of the herd buckles into chaos. A blur of movement shoots up from the ash—low to the ground, plated in dull green chitin, with hooked legs and a whipping tail. One of the feral burrow-stalkers Kessa had described to him. Big one.

It latches onto a smaller beast, claws digging into its side, gnawing for exposed soft tissue. The herd bucks and scatters—beasts screaming. Dorn didn’t think. He kicks Arravox hard to redirect. The great beast surges forward with a bellowing hum, easily sprinting down the almost vertical slope like a tank with claws.

“Back! Hey—BACK!” Dorn’s voice cracks through the dust.

Guiding Arravox in a tight pivot between the panicking animals, forcing them apart just enough to keep the whole line from collapsing in on itself. Another burst of movement from the ash—a second stalker, smaller, flanking. Dorn tries to maneuver—but Arravox has already seen it.

The great reptile roars, low and harmonic, ridges flaring, barreling sideways with shoulder-first momentum. The second stalker veers off—more a test than a strike. But it wouldn’t stay that way. Kessa comes flying back down the ridge—her mount kicking up sparks.

“Stalkers!”

“I see them!”

“Hold the break—I’ll run the second!”

She peels off, loosening a weighted hook from her saddle rig and spinning it wide. Dorn, still seated, sees the first stalker yank its prey sideways again. Arravox turns sharply. Dorn—despite himself— undoes the safety hooks before leaping off the saddle down into the dust.

Landing hard, staggering a bit, but moving fast. Drawing up the short blade Kessa had given him days ago, the balance still foreign in his grip. He slams it into the base of the stalker’s shoulder—once, twice, deep until green ichor splatters across the stone. It shrieks, releasing the calf, scrambling away from him. Behind him, the injured calf limping, screaming—but alive.

Dorn doesn’t follow. Just standing there, breathing hard, clutching the blade. Arravox is beside him in a second. Kessa returns five minutes later, the second stalker running off and bleeding from a gash near its flank.

“You leapt off him?”

“Didn’t think.”

“Good. Thinking would’ve gotten you killed.”

Then softer “You alright?”

He nods, breathing slower now “Closer than I’ve been in a long time.”

She looks at him for a moment. Then at the blood on his arm, the tremble in his fingers.

“Don’t get heroic on me again.”

“No promises.”

She grunts, turning to check the wounded calf. The herd soon moving again.

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

The camp settles in a hollow between vent ridges, ringed with stone and sulfur-tipped grass. The wind has calmed down for now, though the sky still churns like a bruise. The beasts huddled close, their wounds dressed, their flanks twitching from leftover panic.

Dorn sits by the fire pit, stripped to the waist. Kessa kneels beside him, wiping blood and black ichor from the gouge on his shoulder—stalker claw, not deep, but angry. She works in silence, sponge dipped in boiled root-balm, fingers quick and unkind. He doesn’t flinch.

“You should’ve waited,” she mutters, not looking at him.

“Didn’t have time.”

“You’re not at war anymore.”

“That wasn’t war. That was instinct.”

She wrings out the cloth, presses harder. He exhales through his nose but doesn’t complain.

“Instinct gets people killed.”

“So does hesitation.”

She doesn’t argue with that. Instead, she tosses the bloody cloth aside and applies a salve from a small tin—pungent, glowing faintly blue under the vent light.

“You’re lucky it didn’t go deeper. Another inch and you’d have needed stitches. I don’t like stitching.”

“You don’t like a lot of things.”

“No. But I do them anyway.”

He watches her, her brow furrowed in tired concentration.

“You were fast,” he says, voice lower now. “The second one would’ve flanked the herd.”

“It didn’t get the chance.”

“You’ve done this before,” she says. “This kind of thing.”

“Not with beasts. But yes.”

“How many times?”

He doesn’t answer right away, staring into the fire, eyes reflecting its light.

“Too many to remember. But never like this. Never for something that wasn’t just... strategy.”

She wraps a clean cloth around his shoulder, ties it off tight.

“You saved that calf.”

“You pulled the second off the flank.”

“So, we’re even?”

“No. Not even.”

He looks at her then—truly looks. His face lined with exhaustion and soot and too many memories clawing behind his ribs.

“But we’re alive.”

She meets his gaze. In it, there's something unspoken that doesn’t ask for more than this moment.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “We are.”

               When morning breaks there’s a sense of something wrong. Thick haze clings low, and the horizon smears into sulfur bands, no clean edge between land and sky. The wind bites wet now, acidic. It hasn’t started raining—but it will. Quickly, Kessa wakes Dorn, the both of them break camp fast.

No words are exchanged, just action. Kessa folds tarp wraps while Dorn secures the sled crates. His movements are quicker now—fewer stumbles, better balance. The wound on his shoulder twinges, but he ignores it. The beasts are skittish, sensing the change. Even Arravox’s hum carries a warning tone, deeper and off-key.

“We need high ground before noon,” Kessa says, scanning the sky, pulling up her bandana to cover her lower face. “If the vents crack open this early, the low flats’ll melt.”

“What’s ahead?” he questions as he pulls his bandana up as well.

“A rise. Flint-backed ridge. We’ll have shelter behind the old mining anchors.”

“Distance?”

“Six hours if we don’t get stuck.”

Starting to ride fast, by midday, the path narrows into a jagged ravine—collapsed slag veins on both sides, crumbling under hoof and tread. The herd slows, one beast falters on the slope, its rear leg slipping on loose shale. Dorn dismounts, helping to steady it. Kessa clicks her tongue, guiding her runner around to push from behind. Together, they ease it forward.

“You’re good with them,” she says after they’ve cleared the worst of it.

“I’m getting there.”

“They trust you.”

“They trust you. I just borrow it.”

That earns him a look. As they come upon the ridge, the wind shifts again. This time it brings heat and chemical sting, enough to make the beasts snort and snap. Kessa stops the line.

“Storm’s close.”

“How close?”

“Too close.”

Dorn scans the sky. Cloudbanks don’t swirl like this in nature. The warp-taint rides high here—silent, wrong-colored, heavy with pressure. He doesn’t ask what happens if they get caught in it, already knowing.

“We’ll have to double-time.”

“Can the herd take it?”

“They don’t get a choice.”

They drive the beasts faster, more urgently, and less rest. Dorn rides ahead now, helping push pace, calling when the path forks or tightens. His voice cutting through the rising wind like it belongs there. A low, concussive thrum rolls across the landscape like the air is being crushed from above. The beasts scream in protest, their thick hides twitching as invisible currents rake over them. Kessa curses, yanking her mask tighter, eyes scanning for the ridge—still too far.

“It’s speeding up!” she shouts over the rising roar. “We’ll be exposed!”

Dorn doesn’t hesitate. Rides hard down the line.

“Break formation! Push hard! Run them if you have to!”

The herd bunches, bolting forward. Wind tears at their gear—toxic grit, heated, sharp. The leading edge of the storm is coming fast now—clouds churning black with warp-lit veins of sickly green. Then—There. The ridge.

A cleft between jagged rock spines, marked by rusted anchor pylons from the old mining days. Shelter—not a cave, but deep enough, angled just right to hold back the worst of it.

“Get them in! Pack tight!” Kessa shouts, already dismounting.

Dorn’s off Arravox in a heartbeat, slapping reins, guiding panicked beasts through the narrow pass. Arravox roars again, a booming, harmonic pulse that forces silence for half a second—just long enough to drive the beast through. They dive in after, the moment the last tail crosses the threshold, the storm hits.

Wind slams against the ridge face like a cannon blast. Acid sleet hisses as it splashes the stone outside. Lightning flashes—not white, but violet-blue, forked with wrongness. Kessa yanks a thick tarp across the entrance and secures it with anchor rods jammed into the stone. Dorn helps, shoving a brace into place just as a tremor rattles the ridge. They don’t speak, just breathe. Heavy. Raw. Alive.

Inside, it’s dark and wet with steam. The beasts crowd close, instinct driving them toward each other. Kessa moves through them with soft clicks, calming, checking for injury. Dorn leans against one wall, drenched in sweat, cloak streaked with grit and acid marks.

His chest rises and falls slowly. One of his legs is trembling, not from fear, from exhaustion. Kessa passes by, handing him a flask of water.

“We barely made that.”

“Still counts.”

She huffs a laugh, the first in hours. They both sit. Not far from each other, but not close either—a shared silence between two people who dragged life back from the edge. Arravox settles behind them like a living wall, his hum low and tired. Outside, the storm howls on. But for now, they’ve held.

The storm hasn’t stopped, but it’s shifted—less fury, more steady pressure. Acid rain still hisses on the stone above, but it no longer pounds like war drums. The worst has passed. For now. Inside, the herd sleeps fitfully. A few snore. One of the smaller ones chews air in its sleep.

Kessa sits cross-legged near a cracked supply crate, rubbing salve into a worn harness strap. The leather is pocked with acid scoring. She works like a habit—not urgent, but necessary. Dorn is nearby, sorting gear into salvage and useless piles. His right hand moves slower than before—aching from bracing tarps, guiding reins, pulling metal from cracked sled joints. His fingers are stained with oil.

The silence stretches. Not awkward. Just lived-in.

“You fought before this,” Kessa says, without looking up. “I don’t mean recently. I mean… before everything broke.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just sets down a cracked water flask and leans back against the wall.

“I did.”

“Military?”

“…More than that. Less, sometimes.”

She glances at him “You don’t talk like a soldier.”

“I wasn’t just a soldier.”

“I was a builder, once. And then I was something sharper. And then I broke things. For a long time.”

“And then you fell from the sky.”

He nods once. The ghost of a smirk.

“That part wasn’t planned.”

She chuckles—dry, but real “What were you building?”

“A better empire. Stronger walls. Safer people.”

“How’d that go?”

“Badly.”

The smile fades. He picks up a scrap of leather, turns it over in his hand, not really seeing it.

“I kept thinking if I just held long enough… if I stayed unbroken, others wouldn’t have to.”

“That doesn’t work.”

“No.”

“But you still do it.”

“I don’t know how to stop.”

She nods. Quiet for a moment.

“I used to think I’d work vents my whole life. My family did. Grandfather died in one. Father lost half his lungs before joining him in the grave too.”

“You didn’t stay.”

“Not for long. The chemicals started to stain my skin. My joints ached at seventeen. I knew what that meant. I left.”

“To wrangle lizard-tanks and pull dead things from rust pits?”

“Better than dying by degrees underground.”

She stops rubbing the harness, looking over at him.

“We don’t always run from the pain. Sometimes we crawl out of it.”

Dorn meets her gaze, for a long time, nothing is said. Then he lifts the flask again. Tests its broken seal. Sighs.

“Still leaks.”

“So do we,” she mutters.

He actually laughs. Short, dry. But real.

[thespookybean14]

Okay, so based on this original post, here’s my thoughts on the Nostromo Crew characters that I think about a lot!

⚠️ CW/TW: mentions of addiction, mentions of alcohol, mentions of being a POW, mentions of implied violent childhood/abuse, as well mentions as mental health. ⚠️

Note: If y’all are wondering about the colored heart emojis—-those are usually just the colors I associate with them! :)

Note 2: Some of these pieces of lore that I get also come from their pages on the Alien wiki, not just the dossiers I linked. I wanted various different sources to look at than just one. In fact, the post I linked mentions some of the differences between the Legacy and Anthology sets. I wanted to let y’all know! :)

Nostromo Crew Lore:

Dallas ❤️:

•His birthday is February 27th, 2076!

•He’s from Montana

•When he was thirty years old (June 1st, 2106) he was commissioned into the United Americas Outer Rim Defense Fleet. He was a lieutenant!

•He fought in the Torin Prime Civil War from when he was thirty to when he was thirty-two as a pilot.

•After liberating Torin Prime he gained a promotion to captain and received the Sunburst Medal of Honor.

•He lost the UAS Archangel in an enemy attack in 2109.

•It ended terribly, ultimately leading to him getting a dishonorable discharge in January of 2110.

•Dallas went missing in action for three years after that (2110-2113)…like no one knows what happened to him. I really want to know where he went during this time period honestly

•Then he casually smuggles weapons and medical supplies into The Solomons in 2113.

•He buys his own ship (Tremolino) in 2114 and owns it until 2118, when it gets decommissioned. His crew also got disbanded.

•Dallas worked for the Tyrell Company at one point! (Blade Runner mention ‼️)

•It’s noted in his psych evaluation towards the bottom of the page that he had some effects of mild psychosis while doing work as an executive officer. He had hostility towards authority figures and it was subliminated.

•Unrelated to his file, but according to the Alien: Isolation novelization, Dallas meets Ripley and Amanda at some point in the 2110s. Ripley and Dallas end up being really good friends! He offered her a position on his crew. She didn’t take it at the time, but she did end up working with him later on The Nostromo upon his request.

Kane 🤍:

•He’s from the UK! :)

•His birthday is April 20th, 2083 according to the dossiers I linked; but in another set it’s March 28th, 2081. I’m going to stick with April 20th as his birthday.

•He graduated with honors both from private school and military school.

•He was in medical school from 2104-2108 until he got expelled due to dealing with issues of substance/drug abuse. He got treated for it. He would’ve been around twenty-one to twenty-four.

•He later got a Masters degree in Engineering in 2112.

•He served as a Mission Analyst at one point from 2115-2117.

•It’s noted in his psych evaluation that he’s a very idealistic overachiever and due to being under pressure in school caused him to have addiction issues.

•There’s a warning in his psych evaluation about his high levels of idealism and impulsiveness made him a poor candidate for work.

Ripley 💙:

•Ripley’s birthday is on January 7th, 2092!

•Ripley wasn’t born on Earth, she was born on Olympia, a colony on the moon!

•She had to quarantine from the time she was two years old until she was eighteen years old due to a virus outbreak.

•Ripley was very good at law, ethics, and corporate while in school. She also graduated at the top of her class. I like to imagine she probably would’ve wanted to be a lawyer at some point.

•Unrelated to her file, but I did the math in my free time because Amanda Ripley was born in 2112. Ripley would’ve been twenty years old when she had Amanda.

•According to her file, Ripley negotiated an end to a hostage crisis. 49 lives were saved and 8 terrorists were convicted. That was on October 16th, 2115. If you do the math, Ripley would’ve been twenty-three years old.

•She requested for maternity leave and Weyland-Yutani denied her the maternity leave in 2118. She sued them and got her flight license and salary suspended. I hate Weyland-Yutani.

•At least she got it back and got maternity leave before her trip on the Sotillo.

•If you scroll further down the page, it’ll show some of the crew’s psych evaluations. Under Ripley’s, before she had to leave on the Nostromo trip, it’s noted she wanted to stay with her daughter due to experiencing severe feelings of guilt over her lack of contact with Amanda.

(^ That really got me. I think that actually haunts me.)

Lambert 🧡:

•She’s from Canada!

•Her birthday is November 7th, 2093 (she’s the youngest crew member…)

•She has a masters degree in Astro-Cartography, so I think it has something to do with reading maps related to space (considering her role as a navigator), she graduated in 2112.

•She was an intern at Ridton Corp. from June-September 2112.

•She got married in October of 2112 (she would’ve been 18), then divorces Xander Chapman in February of 2114 (she would’ve been 20).

•Lambert got married again in September of 2118 and divorced Lordan Hessutt in January of 2120 (She would’ve been 24 the second time she got married; then 26 when she divorced him…if I did the math wrong please correct me).

•It’s mentioned in her dossier that she’s transgender! :)

•Also, not shown in her dossier in the post I linked, but in the background of Aliens (1986), it’s mentioned on her dossier when it’s shown on the background (if you look closely), it states “slight hyperactivity and nervousness diagnosed” so I think she’s neurodivergent too. :)

Parker 💚:

•Parker is from California!

•His birthday is February 4th, 2080

•Parker was originally a pit mechanic at one point from 2100-2104. He quit his job over a salary dispute.

•Parker, like Dallas, was also in the United Americas Outer Rim Defense Fleet during the Torin Prime Civil War. He was in Skyfire Down and his rank was Private (January 9th, 2105-June 14th, 2107…he would’ve been around twenty-five to twenty-eight years old.)

•It makes me wonder if they’ve heard of each other or even if they knew each other at any point while in the Outer Rim Defense Fleet.

•He later gets promoted to corporal and is a chief mechanic from June to August of 2107.

•Unfortunately on August 1st, 2107, Parker was captured by J’har Rebels and ended up becoming a prisoner of war from August 2107-February 2108. :(

•He manages to escape his imprisonment on February 21st, 2108 by building an emergency escape vehicle out of scrap!

•He later gets honorably discharged in October of 2108.

•He becomes besties with Brett on the USCSS Nonnabo in 2117.

•On his Xenopedia page, it’s mentioned that he dislikes authority figures. (According to the Anthology set)

Brett 💛:

•Brett’s from Texas!

•His birthday is July 13th, 2069

•He worked as a hardware specialist at a solar energy plant from 2094-2095, but it later got terminated.

•He worked at Ridton Corp. in 2096 (same place Lambert worked at!!)

•He piloted cargo ships through a war zone at high speed, causing his to be suspended from work…yikes.

•He has troubles with alcoholism

•While going through detox in 2112, he unfortunately suffered from brain damage.

•It’s implied in his psych evaluation that he had a troubled family life and violent childhood memories :(

•Parker helped him out tremendously, so I really love the both of them a lot.

Ash 🩶:

•There’s not really much on his dossier other than the fact he was with the crew two days before leaving Thedus.

•Apparently Ridley Scott explained in a interview at one point that he gave Ian Holm information about Ash (ie. place of birth, education, etc,) however that information was never really made fully known to everyone and it’s likely a cover-up for the fact he’s an android.

[firstsealseo]

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[ad_1] A London-bound Vistara flight from Delhi was diverted to Frankfurt in Germany on Friday after receiving a bomb threat. Vistara, in a statement early Saturday morning, said that the flight landed safely at the Frankfurt airport and mandatory checks are being conducted. The flight will continue to its destination once cleared by the security agencies. #DiversionUpdate: Flight UK17 from Delhi to London (DEL-LHR) has been diverted to Frankfurt (FRA) and is expected to arrive in Frankfurt at 2110 LT ( Local Time). Please stay tuned for further updates. — Vistara (@airvistara) October 18, 2024 “Vistara flight UK17 operating from Delhi to London on October 18, 2024 received a security threat on social media. In line with the protocol, all relevant authorities were immediately informed and as a precautionary measure, the pilots decided to divert the flight to Frankfurt,” the Vistara spokesperson said. Meanwhile, Akasa Air said its flight QP 1366 scheduled to fly from Bengaluru to Mumbai on Friday received a security alert shortly before departure. “Hence as per safety and security procedures, all passengers had to be deplaned as the local authorities followed necessary procedures. We request your understanding as our team on ground did everything possible to reduce inconvenience,” the Akasa Air said in a post on X. In the past few days, nearly 40 Indian flights have received hoax bomb threats. [ad_2] Source link

[news365times]

[ad_1] A London-bound Vistara flight from Delhi was diverted to Frankfurt in Germany on Friday after receiving a bomb threat. Vistara, in a statement early Saturday morning, said that the flight landed safely at the Frankfurt airport and mandatory checks are being conducted. The flight will continue to its destination once cleared by the security agencies. #DiversionUpdate: Flight UK17 from Delhi to London (DEL-LHR) has been diverted to Frankfurt (FRA) and is expected to arrive in Frankfurt at 2110 LT ( Local Time). Please stay tuned for further updates. — Vistara (@airvistara) October 18, 2024 “Vistara flight UK17 operating from Delhi to London on October 18, 2024 received a security threat on social media. In line with the protocol, all relevant authorities were immediately informed and as a precautionary measure, the pilots decided to divert the flight to Frankfurt,” the Vistara spokesperson said. Meanwhile, Akasa Air said its flight QP 1366 scheduled to fly from Bengaluru to Mumbai on Friday received a security alert shortly before departure. “Hence as per safety and security procedures, all passengers had to be deplaned as the local authorities followed necessary procedures. We request your understanding as our team on ground did everything possible to reduce inconvenience,” the Akasa Air said in a post on X. In the past few days, nearly 40 Indian flights have received hoax bomb threats. [ad_2] Source link

[valentine-cafe]

. ˚◞♡ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒓𝒚 —  𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒄 𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒐 𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒆𝒓◞ ₊˚

. ˚◞ ꒰ hàoyŭ 1311  x gn reader ꒱ grim reaper x reader, demon x reader, villain x reader ⊹ ۪ ࣪

𖹭. a selection of diary entries featuring the reader writing about their lover ( different characters )

diary.

feb. 1st, 2110

Hello diary, this is my first entry as I begin my work at the most famous casino here in the sector. I must say, as a newcomer enigma to this place. seeing the casino itself blew my mind I had never seen anything like it before.

The sheer radiance of it had me baffled and amazed, I almost shyed away when my new boss came to greet me.

Mr. Zhào Hàoyŭ. I didn’t know how to react when I first saw him. My hands began sweating a bit, but he was quite the pleasant man. I’ve heard many intimidating stories and rumors of him, but that only happens to those who lie doesn’t it?

He’s quite nice outside of that, a gentleman certainly. And he showed me to my private lounge — a private lounge for his workers, how nice is that? I very much look forward to staying around here and working.

diary.

feb. 2nd, 2110

I went to work at the bars today, this will be my usual station. Sending people out to serve drinks while tending to those who come visit. The system is quite nice, and for once the people I work with are well behaved and nice. There isn’t workplace drama.

I doubt that the boss would allow it, he is someone who demands professional workplace atmosphere. They are allowed to have a casual friendship, but usually in break and rest hours.

Anything outside of that will be strictly professional.

He approached me today too! Praising me for my good work and giving me a welcome gift. Gods, those were some of the loveliest flowers I’ve ever seen.

Along with that he treated me to something to drink too, and some time to sit and talk calmly.

I learned two things about him that day, he finds it thrilling when he catches people cheat in the games around the casino, because he gets to show them the consequences of their acts. And also, he enjoys late night drives, with music gently playing in the car.

 

diary.

feb. 4th, 2110

While I was tending to the bar today, I experienced one of my co-workers, Sophie, dealing with a particularly annoying customer. He’d been drinking too much and was now claiming that he wasn’t cheating in his game of roulette.

As I went to help Sophie, I was caught in a bunch of black vapor, that had me coughing out of surprise. But it disappeared as quick as it came, Hàoyŭ standing there before me.

The expression that befell the man’s face made it quite clear that Hàoyŭ’s presence threw him off guard and dreaded him greatly.

I was quite happy I did not see the face that mr. Zhào made either. Even Sophie backed off a bit, before going back to tend to her work. Sweeping me away and back to the bar.

She told me gently to just stay in my own position and that I didn’t have to worry about her condition with customers.

I understood, she’s acquainted with it. . .

Only a few minutes after the ruckus had passed and the man had been dealt with, Mr. Zhào came to the bar. Though with heavy admittance, he made me a little nervous.

It cleared up when he whisked me away for some fresh air, assuring I had not gotten hurt in any sort of way or form. I reassured him that I was alright and that I had gotten out unscathed. I was more worried about my fellow co-worker.

He, just like she had told me, said that I did not have to worry. She’s a strong individual here.

I asked him if he’d like to go for as walk, as he seemed a bit dishevelled and tired. I think that request by itself sparked some life into him.

So we went for a walk around the expanse of the casino grounds, talking about recent events within the sector. apparently he knows the leader very well. And it only dawned upon me this night, that he is also Jìngyí’s younger brother!

I’ve only met the serpent man once, he is nice. . . just a little bit intimidating. Hàoyŭ assured me that was simply just an exterior he put on so people wouldn’t see how much of a softie he really is.

I also learned Hàoyŭ is fond of corgi dogs, and also has a soft spot for crows. He likes when the casino is closed and none but him remain. He likes dancing around the corridors and the ballroom.

he. also. lives? at the casino???

apparently, that little dome-like part on top of the casino is where he lives. I don’t blame him, it has a fantastic overlook of the city, yet I can’t help but wonder if he sometimes gets tired of also living. . . well, right on top of his workplace? Perhaps I’m the one who wouldn’t like living in such a place.

 

diary.

march. 1st, 2110

I recently heard rumours about me around in the casino. mean ones that have made me quite sad. they’ve been going around for a month now— Sophie was the one to deliver the news to me.

they were framing me for encouraging cheating, lying, rumours that frame me for talking to the boss to get into his bed — it’s so frustrating trying to prove the rumours wrong, I’ve been avoiding people and him like the pest.

I’ve been feeling so small in the bar too, customers have looked at me oddly. Maybe because I seem shifty? I don’t wanna get into any trouble. I wish I could figure out who started these rumours so that I could talk it out with them, ask of them what it is they want from me.

I believe the most gruelling part of today was when I was pulled into Hàoyŭ’s office and was made to sit by his desk as he very firmly asked me if they were true.

I all but told him the truth, that I didn’t know where they had come from and that I would never encourage such behaviour around the casino.

He believed me when I told him too, as if he could see right through me.

And though he offered to aid me in the situation of clearing them up. I refused, because of the other rumours about how I am so close to him. I can’t.

It could ruin his image, I don’t want that. He’s just doing his job.

 

diary.

march. 3rd, 2110

It was very quiet when I came to the casino in the early morning, usually staff would be bustling and happily getting everything ready but there was nothing but a line of people standing in the doorway. Waiting.

At first I thought they had been waiting for Mr. Zhào so I went to go and stand next to them, but I very quickly realised when I felt a pair of hands find my shoulder and keep me in place.

Mr. Zhào had been awaiting my entrance, muttering out the words in the most chilling way to the people in front of us: “so this small crowd of people are the shitstarters that have been making your life for the past month a shitshow.”

And after that. I noticed he had pulled out a gun, pointing it at the first of the employess. Saying: “he’d find some better staff anyway when they were gone.”

Even when I tried to tell him it didn’t have to be like that, he looked at me with a little smile, and told me.

“Darling, they have to be held accountable for their lies, I waste no time in my staff when they become sour and arrogant.” And then he would shoot, each and every bullet hitting spot on between their eyes. I had hid away from the sight, turning around to look away.

The gun made my ears ring, it was scary how they all stood there and took it. I had tried to run, however, Hàoyŭ had simply wrapped his arm around me, the free one. Which he used to whisk me away with when all was done.

He had hushed my cries, tried to tell me to calm down and listen to his reasonings. I didn’t want to — I still don’t.

The second I got a moment to, I ran, as quick as I possibly could. He was horrifying when he came launching after me. He almost got me too, hissing at me to come back.

I managed to flee.

 

diary.

march. 10th, 2110

I write this in short sentences and words, as I fear I am running out of places to hide.

Mr. Zhào has sent people from the casino after me. Trying to get me back to the casino either by force or by persuasion. I hate it, I hate it so much.

He doesn’t like that I know what he did and that I am now running from him. I don’t know how much longer I can last running. My feet are sore and I cant find myself in a space of peace.

 

diary.

Dec. 8th, 2110

Hàoyŭ has been treating me so well, lovingly and gently every moment we get. His adoration towards me makes my heart flutter each and every time — he’s helped me so much in my journey of remembering again after waking up from my coma with amnesia.

Though. . . Whenever I get headaches from remembering stuff that seems. . . odd- things that seem like the truth but do not make sense with what I’ve been told. I tried to to ask him about it, yet. All he did was put me to sleep and then he gave me some medicine for the headache.

[saray0524]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NWT BAM by BETSY & ADAM Cropped Navy Hoodie w/long sleeves, full length zipper.

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Elvis Presley Fics Masterlist

Promise Me? Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 2622 Rating: Explicit

The Way I Loved You Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader, Austin Butler x Reader Word Count: 4348 Rating: Mature

Treat Me Like A Fool Pairing: Elvis Presley x  Female Reader Word Count: 7950 [2 Parts] Rating: Teen

He’ll Have To Go Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 2555 Rating: Mature

Better Man Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 2717 Rating: Teen & Up

Trading One Heartbreak For Another Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 3192 Rating: Teen & Up

Trying To Get To You Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 2464 Rating: Explicit

Lonely In a Crowded Room Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 11279 [3 Parts] Rating: Mature

Santa Bring My Baby Back To Me Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 3208 Rating: Mature

Wrapped Around My Finger Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 3492 Rating: Teen

Made For Each Other Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 2982 Rating: Explicit

Late Birthday Present Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 3197 Rating: Explicit

Last Past The Post Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader x Memphis Mafia Word Count: 3951   Rating: Explicit

Hide and Seek [Requested] Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader Word Count: 3170 Rating: Explicit

The Needs of a Man [Requested] Pairing: Elvis Presley x  Female Reader Word Count: 1776 Rating: Mature

Details [Requested] Pairing:  Elvis Presley x Reader Word Count: 1466 Rating: Gen

A Girl Like That [Requested] Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 1986 Rating: Explicit

Every Step of the Way [Requested] Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 3227 Rating: Mature

It’ll All Come Out in the Wash [Requested] Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 1765 Rating: Mature

The Best Place To Be [Requested] Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 2660 Rating: Mature

Ever Since Germany [Requested] Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 4029 Rating: Explicit

A Few Good Men Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 10735 [3 Parts] Rating: Mature

Elvis Fuckin’ Presley Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 3509 Rating: Explicit

Does He Love You? [Requested] Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader, Elvis Presley x Ann Margaret Word Count: 3225 Rating: Explicit

Helping [Requested] Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 2435 Rating: Gen

In Your Arms [Requested] Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader Word Count: 1024 Rating: Explicit

The Art of Gift Giving [Requested] Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader Word Count: 2110 Rating: Mature

The Price of Loving Elvis Presley [Requested] Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader Word Count: 2256 Rating: Mature

Shut Up and Kiss Me [Requested] Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader Word Count: 3400 Rating: Teen

Made For The Mafia [Series of Fics] Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader x Memphis Mafia Word Count: 34,000 [In 8 Parts] Rating: Explicit

His Bird With The Broken Wing Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character Rating: Teen Word Count: 5128

Tennessee Orange Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader Word Count: 2407 Rating: Teen

Die From A Broken Heart Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader Word Count: 1837 Rating: Teen

You Ain’t Woman Enough [To Take My Man] Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader Word Count: 4107 Rating: Mature

It Hurts Me Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader, Reader x Jerry Schilling Word Count: 7849 Rating: Teen

I’m Not Going Anywhere Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader Word Count: 6734 Rating: Mature

Don’t Ask Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader Word Count: 4483 Rating: Teen

Birthday Boy Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader Word Count: 1248 Rating: Teen

Love In Trouble Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character, Austin Butler x OFC Word Count: Ongoing Rating: Mature

Elvis & Addison

The Girl He Left Behind Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character Word Count: 126,532 Rating: Mature/Explicit

Here You Come Again [Sequel To The Girl He Left Behind] Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character Word Count: 127699 Rating: Mature/Explicit

Untethered  Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character Rating: Mature Word Count: 4319

Little Bird Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character Rating: Mature Word Count: 4553

Fractured  Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character Rating: Mature Word Count: 15430 [In 2 Parts]

Our Little Secret Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character Rating: Teen Word Count: 5012

Closure Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character Rating: Mature Word Count: 7145

Top of the List Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character Rating: Mature Word Count: 9639

Meant To Be Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character Rating: Mature Word Count: 3120

[atinytokki]

H O R I Z O N: S U N R I S E

Chapter 3: Source Unknown

It’s a hot afternoon in July 2110 according to the date and time listed on the corner of the screen, and a clip from the CCTV camera of the KQ-196 class rocket awaiting launch transitions into another shot of the control room. The feed has been carefully curated by the owner of the file– presumably Jongho’s grandmother.

Mingi and Youngseok have replayed the video three times now to catch every detail being given to them. 

First it shows a good minute or so of the viewing room on the 215th floor, allowing them to get as detailed a look as possible at the people conferencing there. Board members, presumably.

Then, the interior of the shuttle, as Kim Woomin and his team march out and take up their stations, save for the one empty seat seen in the middle of the screen from the camera’s point of view. For thirty seconds afterwards, the missing crew member is shown performing final checks on the engine before she takes her seat in the cockpit with the rest. The main hatch, one which leads to the hallway separating the cockpit and the rest of the shuttle, remains open. 

Again, the clip switches to show the camera in the viewing room. A man with glasses and a striped tie catches everyone’s attention and announces something before leaving the room. There’s no audio over the clip, but by now Mingi and Youngseok know what he’s saying. The man has informed the others that he’s getting the champagne.

The video follows him into the elevator, where he stands stock-still after swiping his wristband and sending the elevator down a single floor. A man with a leather jacket gets on.

In what could likely be the most important image of the upload, the two have a conversation. It’s silent, thanks to the CCTV settings, but nevertheless the video lingers on it. While the men discuss business, the elevator travels to the ground floor and opens into the lobby, where both exit. The man with glasses re-enters a moment later with a bottle of champagne. 

By the time the man returns to the viewing room to start the festivities, it is much fuller than when he left. Families are standing by the window and admiring the rocket. Mingi even thinks he recognises a young Hongjoong.

The video switches over to the shuttle’s feed again, where the man in the leather jacket swipes his wristband to pass through the surrounding security enclosure, enters the ship through the open hatch and disappears into the engine room. For two and a half minutes, the clip of the cockpit’s view plays out. There is no camera in the engine room, so the scene is left to the imagination.

When it switches again, the mysterious man is exiting the shuttle and it’s the last time he’s seen. Inside the ship, procedures continue as normal and eventually the hatch is closed. 

For the final moments of the video— likely out of respect for the dead— the only camera angle shown is that of the official broadcast, one both Mingi and Youngseok had seen before many times. The ship takes flight, explodes, and crashes to earth. 

The screen goes black.

“So these two men conspired to assassinate Kim Woomin,” Youngseok states the obvious. “And his flight crew took the blame for it, essentially being scapegoated by the media because they perished in the crash and had no one to speak to their innocence. I still think we should call Hongjoong hyung.”

“That appears to be the case,” Mingi sighs. “The system should have a record of every wristband swipe, I’m positive they would’ve checked that during the investigations.” He doesn’t answer the final statement, it’s not his choice to make.

Youngseok hums before turning to face him, concerned. “So the glasses man who sent him must be high ranking, in order to wipe it from the record?”

Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Mingi can only nod and begin to consider the far-reaching implications of this.

“Switch back to that document uploaded,” he requests. “Maybe there’s some explanation there.”

Youngseok supplies, even while he shakes his head, already knowing the result. “There’s nothing on it. A few names and— what are these, drugs?”

Mingi groans and drags his hands down his face, coming up empty on what any of it could mean. “That tells us basically nothing.”

And then there is also the problem of what to tell the other members. 

The video footage needs to be shared and dealt with, that much is certain. But they’ll inevitably ask questions about where it came from, and it’s up to Jongho whether that information should be shared, not Mingi or Youngseok. 

Youngseok even finding out at all was not a planned situation, and though there’s no reversing it, Mingi is already nervous about what Jongho will think.

It doesn’t take long for the dreaded confrontation to take place, with Jongho entering the room and sliding the door shut the moment he arrives.

“Where are the others?” Youngseok asks, just as Jongho’s opening his mouth to ask a question of them.

“Debriefing the Lexiwi,” Jongho reports succinctly. “I slipped away. What did you find?”

Knowing he would cut straight to the point, Mingi pulls up the file and slides his chair back to give the gunner access.

A sharp but quiet intake of breath follows soon after.

“I recognise this file name. Utopia–”

“The Utopia Project?” Mingi perks up, peeking over Jongho’s shoulder even as he tries to swat him away. He hadn’t noticed the file name himself, but remembers the significance of the phrase.

“No,” Jongho corrects with a note of panic in his voice. “The Utopia Scheme.”

“That’s what your grandmother renamed it?” Mingi whispers, knowing it’s pointless when Youngseok is sitting there listening but lowering his voice nonetheless.

“This must be it,” Jongho agrees, excited. “This was what she was working on after she went missing.”

Not bothering with anyone else, he skims through the information listed on the document and watches the video through twice before sitting back.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he sighs before pulling up the holographic timeline he created on his wristband. “She disappeared before this incident ever happened, why is she giving us evidence about it? How did she even know about it?”

“If nothing else, it’s proof she could be alive, right? I mean, it did happen years ago but if she managed to compile footage of it…” Mingi tries to encourage him, and Jongho hums gratefully but continues to stare at the screen, brow furrowed. He’s still convinced all they’ve unearthed is bad news.

“Maybe it’s connected to the reason she went missing somehow,” Youngseok suggests quietly, faltering. “Clearly she wanted you— or whoever found it— to know, given the fact that the password was found in your gift.”

Jongho stares at the younger boy for a moment before nodding. He already knows now, there’s no going back. At least Jongho is fairly sure he has his allegiance. “That’s true. I’ll have to find out the history of this conspiracy. If she uncovered it before she went missing…” He shudders at the thought. “Well, it could’ve given the IPF incentive to make her disappear.”

Mingi purses his lips but nods in agreement, fear growing in the pit of his stomach that the ideal he’s clung to for his entire life is threatening to dissipate as soon as he’s gained it.

“You’re right, though,” Jongho clears his throat and gets to his feet, eyes on the door that he sealed shut. “The others need to know. I think the cat is out of the bag.”

___

Until he can soak his hands in a bioregeneration tank, Yunho can think of nothing else.

The pain is somewhat lessened with the cooling effects of the ointment Yeosang applied, but still the phantom of the burning sensation pulsates through his fingers and up his arms, and his wrists are locked in place from the tension in them.

He looks on miserably at the celebrations on board the DES-1024 from his little cot in the medical area.

Hongjoong dodges a sloppy cheek kiss from Wooyoung and nearly throws the ship off course during the landing. San and Yeosang are arm in arm and chattering together until the time comes to help Yunho up from the bed. Junyoung sits in San’s lap, messing around on his wristband while his hair is played with. Jongho gives Seonghwa a resounding hi-five before running off down the hall, presumably to find Mingi and Youngseok.

And Yunho can’t even think about hi-fiving any of them without the pain spiking again, fist almost clenching in frustration until he forces himself to relax.

Yunho knew someone would be injured eventually— it’s why they have a medic, after all. He didn’t think he would be the first.

Yeosang helps him off the ship despite his protests and the two of them make their way into the hallways, leaving Wooyoung and San to unload the weapons with the help of the mechanical android brought on in the caves. 

A bioregeneration tank is already waiting for him in the medical facilities, and when Yeosang unwraps his bandages and instructs him to call as soon as he’s finished, Yunho takes the opportunity to shed his clothes and have a full body soak— even though only his hands are injured.

He’s hoping the debriefing will last long enough to give him privacy while he mulls things over in the tank. The breathing apparatus he uses lets out small bubbles when he exhales, and they drift leisurely to the top of the tank while he watches them. Sighing out more bubbles, he lets himself sink to the bottom of the tank.

Alone with his thoughts, he tries to find the positives. There’s a multitude once he slows down and considers it. They landed a tracker, confiscated weapons, found a new helper android, killed a leader, and hacked the wristband transactions. The only real downside is that he had gotten injured, so it makes sense that everyone’s celebrating.

Perhaps his annoyance is over the fact that he was the one injured. Even as he watches the skin knit itself back together on his hands, aided by the chemicals in the tank water, he begrudges his own stupidity for attacking the junker atop a moving spaceship. He’d felt brave, even heroic, in the moment, but it all faded away to be replaced with the smell of burning flesh and pain shooting through his fingers.

Hongjoong had been forced to risk his own life to rescue Yunho, and when he leans forward to glance at the door, wondering if the pilot is also in need of some medical assistance, the reminder hits him that at least Hongjoong had the foresight to wear gloves.

There’s no real reason to be jealous of that fact. After all, it was Yunho who first adapted the metal siding into an acid rain-proof umbrella on the spot, but he knows the underlying reason already.

He just doesn’t like appearing vulnerable.

A few moments later when Yeosang and Hongjoong appear to ask if he’s ready to come out, he sighs out a stream of bubbles but nods anyway.

Wrapped up in a soft robe while the medic re-bandages his hands, he finally focuses his attention on the future. “How soon can I be in combat again?”

“That’ll depend on how regularly and consistently you do the exercises,” Yeosang responds cryptically as he fastens the last bandage and pulls up a guide on his wristband. “The tank only patches up the injuries you sustained on the outside. To regain full muscle control, you’ll need a bit of physical therapy.”

He sends the file to Yunho for his own reference and pulls Hongjoong’s jacket off, leaving him in a thin undershirt, to apply some ointment to his back.

“So… within the next few months, if I’m diligent?” he asks the medic, an unspoken plea behind his words. Yeosang turns and smiles sheepishly, unable to resist the pouting and puppylike charm.

“Yes, you should be able to fire your blaster properly by then, assuming no long-term damage emerges.”

A wristband notification from Jongho interrupts Yunho’s impassioned thanksgiving and prompts him to throw some clothes on before checking it. “Hey guys?” he calls back when he’s read the message. “Jongho has something to show us in the surveillance room.” Secretly, he’s hoping it isn’t anything that would prompt action so soon after his injury. It’s inevitable, but he won’t enjoy being benched.

“All of us?” Hongjoong asks for confirmation when Yunho returns to the medical area from the changing stalls.

“Can it wait?” Yeosang huffs, still meticulously cleaning the faint scratches on Hongjoong’s back. “I’m still a little busy at the moment. Plus, I’m pretty sure the others are still unloading weapons.”

“Yeosang, it’s fine,” Hongjoong protests, sitting back and reaching for his jacket. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

“You want to take your chances on an alien planet with who knows what diseases?” Yeosang scoffs, mildly perturbed despite packing up his supplies obediently. “You’ll be thanking me for keeping it clean later. In fact, everyone who was outside should be reporting for a checkup— I’m supposed to monitor all of our health.”

“And you will, after we see what this is about,” their leader assures them, heading for the door as soon as he knows they’re following. “It’s Jongho, after all, he wouldn’t call a meeting over a false alarm.”

And he’s right.

The moment the three of them join the others in the somewhat cramped surveillance room, made for a small number of short-statured Lexiwi and not humans, the atmosphere is already tense. Mingi shoots Yunho a pained smile, as if in preemptive apology.

“As you may or may not know,” Jongho begins when he has their attention. “My grandmother was Choi Jieun, a famous member of the Horizon Project years ago. For all my life, I’d been told she went missing, but her disappearance was never treated with any concern by the IPF. I joined the Horizon Project to find out more and, if possible, to track her down. Thanks to Mingi and Youngseok here, we managed to find a trace of her, despite her being practically erased from the logs.”

He turns on the screen behind him, a sparse file already pulled up with a short document listing names and some long Latin words Yunho doesn’t recognise, plus a single video file.

“She must have landed here at some point on a space highway trip to Biso. The only clue we have is this folder she left on the supercomputer, uploaded externally from her own device and password protected so that only I could get in. I believe she’s trying to tell us something, something she couldn’t say when she was a Project member for fear of retaliation from the Citadel. It may even be part of the reason she went missing.”

Yunho’s eyebrows rise higher the more he explains. Now things are getting interesting.

“The video she made is…” he trails off with a sigh, unsure how to proceed. “It doesn’t explain much. But I think all of you ought to watch it. It may change some things for us.”

Mild amusement and curiosity becomes horror as Yunho watches. It’s a historical event he’s seen dozens of times, but a few new camera angles of what went on behind the scenes make all the difference. In just a few minutes, he’s learned something irreversible; that CEO Kim Woomin was deliberately killed. Worse, that it appears to have been plotted by his own board member.

When the footage switches to the news broadcast, Yunho glances around to see everyone just as shocked as he is, excluding the three who have seen it before. His eyes land on Hongjoong, standing behind Mingi and clutching the back of his chair with a death grip. The more he watches, the angrier he gets, jaw clenched and a neck vein gradually popping out.

“Turn it off,” he suddenly snaps, making Mingi jump in his seat at the sternness in his voice. He continues, a little more desperately, “I don’t need to see this part again.”

Jongho quickly complies and pauses the video, tapping back so that it rewinds from the beginning. There is dread in his eyes.

“I’ve been playing it back to see if I can catch any details,” Jongho recounts after clearing his throat uncomfortably. “If you want, Youngseok said he can slow it down and—”

“No,” Hongjoong bursts out with that distinct shakiness in his voice that means he’s going to cry. Yunho is one of only a few who can recognise it. “Please, don’t. I’m sor— I just can’t. I can’t.”

He flees the room and if not for the door being left open behind him, it would feel suffocatingly hot.

Jongho bites his lip and sighs softly, but Seonghwa comes to his rescue without a word needing to be said.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Let’s get to the bottom of this so Hongjoong doesn’t have to,” Yeosang suggests in his gentle but firm tone.

Though silent up until this point, Wooyoung already has a question to pose.

“Does anyone know who is actually on the Board?”

Yunho’s lips are moving before he even realises it. “Seonghwa was there the night before we left, he would recognise them.” The look of surprise on Seonghwa’s face doesn’t register until Wooyoung has already targeted his interrogation to him.

“Are either of these men in the IPF’s current leadership?”

Seonghwa doesn’t even glance at the screen, where Jongho has paused it on an image of the two conversing. 

“N-No, I don’t know them.”

“Are you sure?” Mingi presses earnestly, and Seonghwa takes a long hard look at the video before nodding.

“There has to be some way we can track them down,” Junyoung mutters, fingers flying as he freezes the frame and zooms in on the striped tie man.

“What would we even do if we could?” The groan comes from San, who rubs his hands down his face and collapses back into Wooyoung’s lap. “Hunt them down and exact revenge?”

“Hey, don’t joke,” Wooyoung tuts at him, finger flicking his forehead, but San dodges and argues back, “I’m not! It’s a serious question. We have hardly any standing in the IPF, we’d have to be crazy to bring a case against them!”

Yunho lets them argue back and forth and excuses himself to seek out Hongjoong.

He probably shouldn’t be alone right now.

The pilot is by himself in an adjacent hallway, pacing and tugging on his hair as he attempts to get his breathing under control. Upon seeing Yunho, he drops onto a bench built into the earthy wall, too exhausted to keep his composure any longer.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, scrubbing at his face and hiding from Yunho’s concerned gaze.

Yunho comes back with a response immediately. “Don’t be.”

Hongjoong shakes his head and a beat of silence passes. “Watching that video again is just—” he cuts himself off with a frustrated groan and tries to explain. “Every time I see it, I’m back there. I remember it all like it’s happening right in front of me again. The way the windows shook. The dust cloud that went up.”

He struggles through the words, teeth clenched against impending tears, breath coming in with quick gasps. The claylike hall echoes with restrained half-cries.

Hesitantly, Yunho reaches out and rubs his back, letting him continue on his own time. He’s slow and careful so as not to further injure his bandaged hands, but pushes through the discomfort. 

“I imagine what it might’ve been like in that cockpit sometimes; a sudden, consuming fire, that feeling of weightlessness before falling back to earth. Before I switched schools, my classmates looked into the report and debated it in front of me. Some of them thought everyone died in the initial explosion, others claimed they must’ve been alive until the impact with the launch pad, probably in pain and completely aware they were in their last moments.”

As terrible as the event already was in Yunho’s imagination, hearing it from Hongjoong’s perspective invites new horror into a moment he’d become desensitised to, and he finds his eyes watering even as Hongjoong finally lets go and allows tears to roll down his own cheeks.

“Their sick fascination with those deaths— my father’s death— just infuriated me. And they thought they were ‘doing me a favour’ reading about autopsies so I didn’t have to. I never even saw his body, Yunho,” his voice breaks and he crumples into the taller boy. “We used to make fun of him for being old fashioned and wanting to be buried on the Citadel, in those meadows they planted of real grass. He never got the chance. They sent home an urn and that was it.”

Yunho’s blood boils for Hongjoong’s sake, even as he works through his betrayal aloud, struggling to keep his emotions under control when the hurt bleeds into anger.

“And now… now I find out this was intentional? Someone turned him into a casualty and then he was blamed for it? I don’t care what I have to do, I’m bringing him justice. Him and Jongho’s grandmother both, whose only crime was knowing too much.”

Letting out a cynical laugh, he wipes the tears away, resolved to move on.

“If it means anything to you,” Yunho speaks up quietly. “I think everyone agrees. We all need time to process the implications of this, but we’ll back you up. At least… I will.”

Yunho can’t speak for everyone, and the questions about the future still sit uncomfortably in his stomach, but he knows where he stands.

Hongjoong is about to answer when an alert sounds from their wristbands in unison. 

“The tracker!” He gasps, shooting to his feet and beelining for the surveillance room, explaining hurriedly. “We just lost the signal.”

Inside, the room is still in full chaos with all eight of the members arguing about how to proceed, given their new information. 

“Maybe we go back to the Citadel and ask, then,” Jongho is insisting when the pair enters. “If Soojin doesn’t know, then move up the chain of command until—”

“Let’s table this for now,” Hongjoong interrupts, any trace of panic replaced with cool, collected leadership. “We’ve got bigger problems to deal with.”

Called to attention, everyone checks their wristband to see what Hongjoong is going on about.

“The tracker has been deactivated,” he explains. “Youngseok, do you have their latest position? If we leave now, we may catch them.”

The tech expert has already pulled up the coordinates by the time Hongjoong is finished speaking.

“Alright, if we’re raiding their main base, I need all hands on deck,” the captain continues. “Except for you, Yunho, sorry.”

Disappointed despite expecting it, Yunho drops into the chair Mingi has just vacated and slides up to the supercomputer. At least he can keep an eye on things from here.

Wanting to be sure he’s leaving him safely, Yeosang comes over and inspects his patient’s hands again.

“It’s not going to be the cakewalk we had this morning,” their pilot warns them, sighing and fixing his hair. It was still mussed from earlier. “The junkers knew we were coming, they were waiting for a chance to steal our metal; that fact alone still makes me nervous. And if they found the tracker, they’ll be expecting us.”

“We’ll be ready for them,” San hypes everyone up confidently, leaving no room for doubt. “We have their weapons now, too. We just have to be careful and use our brains.”

Hongjoong shoots him a weak smile and glances around the room. “Any objections?”

“None from me,” Yeosang pipes up. “I checked Yunho’s hands again and they should heal fine. He’ll be alright here on his own while we’re gone.”

And it’s true, as much as Yunho wishes it wasn’t, so that he didn’t have to sit by himself and watch his friends charge into an alien battle. 

“Good luck,” he tells them, yearningly, when they file out to prepare. 

He knows they’re going to need it.

___

After years of directing his anger into his studies, it’s not difficult for Hongjoong to hyperfocus on the mission ahead. He avoids his teammates’ concerned eyes, dodges Jongho’s apologies, and manages to squirm out of a hug being sandwiched between Wooyoung and San, claiming he needs to ready the ship.

Nothing they say or do can make this right.

Ultimately, nothing he does can make it right either.

Walking out to the hangar as soon as he’s dressed and ready, he spies the setting suns. Despite one being farther away, the heat still lands on his skin. It’s calming in a way, despite twice as many shadows following him, to be blazed into with the light of a pair of dying sunsets.

He enters the cockpit alone and allows himself a moment to feel the hum of the ship waking underneath him, breathing in the hint of fuel disguised by the scent of a minty air freshener Seonghwa had sprayed earlier.

“Hey,” a voice interrupts his thoughts softly, and Hongjoong startles and turns in his seat to see Seonghwa himself standing there, clad in all white gear as Hongjoong had directed. He shuffles his feet awkwardly but glances up at his captain with innocence and regret shining in his eyes. “Um… I just wanted to say that I-I’m here.”

He sinks into his chair suddenly, still clutching his backpack in front of him. It’s no surprise— usually he’s ready to take off first, unless Jongho beats him to the cockpit— but Hongjoong knows that’s not what he means.

“Right,” he responds finally, clearing his throat and casting his eyes away. “I…” he wants to say he’s fine, he doesn’t want to talk about it now, he’ll deal with everything later. “I’d rather focus on the mission right now,” he settles on, not looking to see Seonghwa’s reaction.

A hand lands on his thigh and he jumps in surprise. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask,” Seonghwa says firmly before shifting in his chair and turning on the navigation system, conversation ended. 

He seems to have found his footing, so Hongjoong sets aside his emotions and joins him in looking at the satellite footage, now displayed on the front console. As thankful as he is for Yunho’s presence earlier, an embarrassing breakdown right before a mission can only harm how the others perceive his leadership.

“At first I was sceptical about wearing white,” Seonghwa admits, zooming in on the area they’re headed for. “If the suns set while we’re out there, the colour will make us stand out. But the cliffs surrounding the caves are also completely white. I suppose it’s a solid inference that the inside will be white as well.”

“Mingi pointed the topography out to me earlier,” Hongjoong explains, leaning forward to get a better view of the terrain. “The wardrobe was my idea, though, so you can blame me if it goes wrong.”

Seonghwa is chuckling and shaking his head, and goes quiet with no further comment, inputting the best route to reach the coordinates quickly. Jongho enters the ship and takes his seat silently, lost in his own head as he considers the mission looming over them. One by one the others trickle in, as prepared as they can be, and buckle up for what they can only hope will be a smooth operation.

Hongjoong doesn’t have much time to plan either, setting the DES-1024 to hover mode when it’s time to lift out of the hangars and letting autopilot take over while he gathers the rest of the team.

“Satellite imaging doesn’t show anyone down there, but there are heat signatures,” Seonghwa informs them. “And I mean a lot of heat signatures.”

Looking at all the tiny red blips on the holoscreen makes Hongjoong nauseous so he turns to his team for ideas. “I don’t like going in there blind,” he admits, and upon hearing this, Yeosang sits up suddenly and runs to his seat to fetch something stored inside it.

“Would this help?” He asks shyly, dropping his newly made drone model on the table in front of them.

Hongjoong’s eyes blow wide and he glances up at the medic in wonder. “You made this yourself? And it’s operational?”

“Started back when we were first accepted into the project,” Yeosang recounts with a shrug, falling back into his seat. “Wooyoung and San helped me from time to time. It doesn’t maintain a good connection over very wide of a range but it’s fast moving and silent.”

The captain nods as a plan begins to formulate. “Alright, if you send it in when we arrive, we’ll have an idea who to gun for. It would be much more efficient and much less dangerous if we could identify their leaders and negotiate a surrender.”

“I’ve analysed the information you downloaded from the junker Yunho killed,” Mingi reports, pulling up his screen and letting everyone take a good look. “These colour patterns seem to designate clan leaders.”

“If we’re going for a mass arrest, it would be best to set our blasters to the stun setting,” Jongho adds, reminding them how to adjust the strength of their weapon blasts.

“Mass arrest?” San asks for clarification carefully, pulling up the transcription of the IPF’s debrief again before reading it aloud. “‘Bring those responsible to justice by any means necessary’ is what it says. Are we sure keeping them alive will suffice to complete our mission?”

“I interpreted ‘justice’ as the Lexiwi’s judicial system,” Youngseok contributes. “And they have trials just like we do. IPF may be involved in the protection of the planet but I don’t think the courts are under our jurisdiction.”

“I agree,” Hongjoong says simply, giving the young technician a nod. “I don’t feel comfortable being the IPF’s executioners. At least not without the say of the locals.”

“While we’re on the topic of weapons…” Jongho clears his throat and gets to his feet, opening the door to the cargo hold and taking a silvery set of turbines in hand. “When we unloaded the weapons we confiscated, the Lexiwi Police told us they have no use for a jetpack and said we could keep it. It’s a bit small due to their size but… it could come in handy tonight. None of you would happen to know how to use one, would you?”

Hongjoong thinks back to distant summers at his cousin’s house by the sea, playing with their jetpacks in the backyard. Father catching him when he messed up the landing so he wouldn’t skin his knee again.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he smiles, taking the pack in his hands and trying it on.

“It fits?” Wooyoung asks, pressing his hands to his mouth to hold in a squeaking laugh when Hongjoong admits, a bit embarrassed, that it does.

“Their torsos are human sized!” He protests weakly in his own defence. The others are laughing along and he doesn’t truly mind if it’s at his expense. “It's just their legs that are so short.”

Hongjoong allows them a moment to chuckle at his height— regardless of the fact that Wooyoung is barely any taller— before giving Yeosang the go ahead to operate his drone.

It’s an opportune stroke of genius that he’s brought it along with him, because it only takes two minutes after the small device has entered the jungle of white clay-like rock formations for it to find an exhaust vent and enter it.

Just as Yeosang had warned, it doesn’t take long for the feed to grow staticky and unstable the farther underground it travels, but before the camera fails entirely, Hongjoong sees what he needs to; a single central area burrowed down all the way to the bedrock, with metal bridges crisscrossing the span of open space one on top of another in various floors, and outlying tunnels converging from every direction around it.

“I hate to leave the ship, but I think this is going to take all of us,” Hongjoong admits quietly when they’ve all been staring at a black screen for a few moments.

He’s got a clearer plan now, one that will need to adapt regardless, but he’s ready to divulge. Pulling his favourite goggles from his Dome days out of his pocket, he slaps them on and adjusts them to rest above his eyes.

“We’ll drive them out like insects.”

Ten minutes later he’s in the air, hovering behind a tall hoodoo and checking in with the others via wristband radio.

“San, Wooyoung, and Jongho, you should enter your vent first,” Yeosang informs them all, already inside and crawling through the tunnel he entered behind his drone as soon as the coast was clear.

The medic inches forward, pushing the headband higher up on his forehead to move the hair out of his eyes. There’s a streak of white dirt from the tunnel on his cheek, but it looks more like chalk due to its colour and consistency.

He’s streaming the feed of his drone’s camera to the others via holoscreen, and can only hope the light reflecting on his face doesn’t give him away, should any junkers happen to glance up into the tunnel. Youngseok follows down the tunnel on his belly, several feet behind, and turns to cover Yeosang’s six. He’s ready to stun any junker that turns the corner the moment they’re seen. If their medic is injured, they’re all in deep trouble.

Seonghwa crouches inside an opposite tunnel, watching the central activity with an eye on Yeosang’s hiding place, defending him at long range. It’s his job to check in with both Hongjoong and Yunho back at the Lexiwi base via wristband radio the moment anything goes awry.

“Entering now,” Wooyoung’s voice crackles over the connection as his three-person team moves quickly through the rear air vents in the direction of the junker’s hangar. 

Hongjoong can see three blips inching inwards as he watches their sensors on the screen. “Give us a count as soon as you’re in,” he reminds them. It’s vital that they know how many junkers are in the hangar vicinity before proceeding with phase 2.

“You got it, Captain,” San quips and Hongjoong finds himself rolling his eyes despite the fact that none of them can see him where he hovers behind the hoodoo.

Two large shadows stretch out ahead of it, casting the exit doors in preliminary darkness.

“We are in position,” Jongho reports a moment later. “There are six— no, five— targets in the hangar area. Repeat; there are five targets present.”

Hongjoong digests the information before making a call. Jongho, San, and Wooyoung are outnumbered but could likely take the targets down with the element of surprise on their side.

“Yeosang, I need visual on the hangar,” the leader finally sighs, hoping he can be more helpful with a fuller picture of the surroundings.

There’s a tense moment after Yeosang confirms the order before the footage begins to change, the drone silently swooping down another tunnel and navigating through the darkness. When nothing appears on screen for a few seconds too long, Hongjoong opens his mouth to ask what’s happening.

“It got stuck on something,” Yeosang grunts out before anyone can question it. He sounds as if he’s on his stomach still, fiddling with the joystick of his controls. None of the members can see his face anymore now that the drone’s camera is directed elsewhere. “I think it’s a light fixture hanging from the tunnel wall. If I can just… wiggle it out… and pull back.”

His concentration is audible through the radio feed, and Hongjoong bites his lip in worry. The entire mission will be caught off track if a junker happens upon the stuck drone.

“Got it!” Yeosang breathes out a sigh of relief and, seconds later, a cluster of light grows into a shape; the hangar doors. The drone easily bypasses them by shooting through a vent and out the other end in no time, and soon Hongjoong can see Jongho, Wooyoung, and San on camera.

“San and Wooyoung, find a chance to sneak underneath and pop open the nearest aircraft’s control panel. Jongho, you should change position to the adjoining area between the tunnel and the aircraft to keep watch,” he decides after surveying the room for a moment. It’s his first time seeing the junkers’ own aircraft but it’s not difficult to surmise that the loading point is through the bottom hatch and that the engine control panel is just ahead of it from a first glance. “Go slow, make sure you aren’t seen.”

“If the drone isn’t needed here anymore, I should find the communication hub,” Yeosang breaks in, and with confirmation, he directs the drone out of the area. The camera approaches a small room in the uppermost level and hovers for a moment so Mingi can read the writing on the door.

“That’s it,” he confirms quickly. “Junyoung and I are just above, in the ventilation shafts.”

“Yeosang, is that thing armed?” Seonghwa suddenly asks.

“No,” the medic answers, realising it’s the drone that he’s referring to. “Only with a hi-res camera and a geotracker. It can do infrared scans, x-Ray, sonar, and night vision, too—”

“But it doesn’t have a laser or a stunning function, right?” Seonghwa interrupts as the list of drone features goes on.

“No,” Yeosang sighs over the comm link, clearly wishing he had installed such a device. “That’s kind of illegal as an IPF trainee.”

“Then maybe Mingi and Junyoung should drop in first and take out the security guards before the drone goes in,” Seonghwa suggests. 

“But we don’t know what we’re up against yet!” Mingi protests. “There could be ten guys in that room!”

“Seonghwa’s right,” Hongjoong pitches in. The navigator had taken the words right out of his mouth. “In all likelihood, there’s only one, and we can’t afford to lose the drone.”

“You can afford to lose us ?” Mingi whispers into the comm link, panicked, before Hongjoong quickly reassures him.

“No, Mingi, but you have a stun blaster and you know how to use it. The drone can’t defend itself. You and Junyoung can do this, I know you can.”

There’s distant whispering for a moment before Mingi’s voice returns in a sighed, “Okay. Standby.”

“Be careful,” another voice crackles through the system from a much longer distance— Yunho’s— and it’s the encouragement the team needs to get the job done.

Just three minutes later, the door of the security hub slides open and Mingi’s face appears on screen, beckoning the drone inside where the camera settles on the pair of junkers knocked out on the floor.

“For your information, you were off by one,” Mingi snorts, clearly in Hongjoong’s direction, while Junyoung chuckles in the corner and makes his way to the security cameras. 

Hongjoong elects not to answer the quip, and watches closely as Junyoung hacks his way into the mainframe and loops the security camera footage just to be safe.

“This is amazing!” Wooyoung’s voice comes online with an awed gasp, and the entire group is confused until realising he’s simply chattering aloud while he works on the enemy ships as usual. “San, are you seeing this? Look at the heat shield material! And yet they don’t have anything for the acid rain, isn’t that unbelievable?”

“Let’s focus, please.” Seonghwa does the scolding so Hongjoong doesn’t have to, and the pair of engineers audibly blow raspberries at him but comply nonetheless.

It’s their way of lightening the mood of such a tense mission, and while it can be distracting, Hongjoong is at least thankful it provided him an unintended update on their progress. 

“Alright, Mingi, we’re ready for you to work your magic,” Junyoung proclaims, visibly handing Mingi a microphone on camera, though he keeps it disconnected from the PA system for now while the xenologist does a few practice runs of his speech.

It’s an evacuation message in the Lexiwi language, with the lower class junker dialects taken into account, and as the linchpin of the entire operation, is vital to send out at the correct time.

“Just waiting on you now, San and Wooyoung,” Yeosang points out. “How many ships are left?”

“Can’t talk, please hold,” San hisses into the comm link before he, Wooyoung, and Jongho all go on mute. 

Sweat rolls down Hongjoong’s neck at the prospect that they might’ve been seen. Ten seconds go by, then twenty, then thirty, and with his eyes glued to the motion sensor display, Hongjoong counts forty-eight seconds before Jongho unmutes himself and explains what’s happening. 

“There was a junker adjusting the loading ramp of the ship next to the one San was working on,” he whispers, barely a tremble in his voice despite the close call. “I didn’t stun him because I didn't want to alert the others, and he moved on without seeing any of us.”

“There are four left, to answer your question,” San jumps in, breath sounding laboured. Hongjoong imagines he must be hanging upside down from the undercarriage to access the control panel without being seen, but doesn’t trouble Yeosang to get the drone in there to see for himself again. Not after such a narrow escape.

“Captain, we’ve recorded the evacuation message,” Mingi reports, voice just as quiet as the hangar team’s voices despite being in a much more secure location. “It’s ready to be broadcast as soon as you say the word.”

“Hangar team, time remaining?” Hongjoong sighs, trying to be patient. If even one of those ships is able to take off in the final stages of the mission, it could come back to haunt them.

“Give us five,” Wooyoung estimates. “And then another three to take up defensive positions just inside the doorway.”

“10-4,” Mingi shoots back, evidently antsy to complete his part of the operation.

Hongjoong takes six of the eight minutes to land on the hoodoo and save some fuel, cleaning his goggles but keeping his eyes peeled on the hangar exit doors.  

“Potential problem in the communication hub,” Junyoung informs them, as calm and collected as ever, waving to the drone camera to attract the entire team’s attention to the screen. “According to the schedule posted in this room, the guard change will occur in five minutes. It’s going to raise suspicion when these two security room junkers don’t report to their new station, and we’ll have some company in here. At least two more.”

It’s another problem to solve, and it has a fast-approaching deadline. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier,” Junyoung tacks on professionally.

“Don’t be,” Seonghwa reassures him quickly before attempting to solve the problem. “Yeosang, is there any way you can get up there with your med kit?”

“Not through the central walking area,” Yeosang answers quickly, and Youngseok speaks up from a few feet behind him, his voice catching in the background of Yeosang’s own call, “If we move fast, we can go out through the back and in the way Mingi and Junyoung did. The coast is clear at the moment.” Yeosang hums in agreement to the idea and the sounds of shifting follow before he asks of Seonghwa in another grunt, “Why do you ask, hyung?”

“You have the anaesthetic reversal agent with you,” the navigator explains with growing momentum. “You can wake the junkers before the guard change and before the stun blast naturally wears off, you’ll just need a large dose since it’s the entire body rather than a single limb.”

“Are you suggesting we let them go?” Hongjoong asks with a quirked eyebrow, regardless of the fact that none of them can see him. “They’ll just alert the rest of the station, even more quickly than the guard change would.”

“Let them go, yes,” Seonghwa confirms, quickly adding on, “But not without a dose of MMM.”

“MMM?” Junyoung repeats, confused. “What’s that? Molar mass... something?”

“Memory modifying material,” Yeosang answers him grimly. “In small doses, it essentially erases or replaces the past few minutes to hours of a subject’s memory. Technically, I do have it, but it’s very clearly labelled for dire emergencies only. There are some ethical debates in the medical community about usage–”

“It’s either hide the bodies and take our chances getting Mingi and Junyoung to fit into a pair of junker security guard outfits in the next three minutes or inject the enemy with a tiny bit of triple M and send them on their way,” Seonghwa points out with a scoff. “I think this qualifies as an emergency and IPF wouldn’t have given it to you if you weren’t cleared to use it.”

Yeosang only hums in answer, and while it’s clear he doesn’t like the idea of going through with it, he and Youngseok are already approaching the communication hub and they can’t afford a wasted trip.

“Nearly out of time,” Hongjoong reminds the entire group, glancing at the setting suns for a moment and subjecting himself to the light’s blinding reflection off the white cliffs. “Status update, all teams?”

“We’ve completed our first objective and are taking ground positions,” Wooyoung explains first. It’s a relief that the alien ships have been successfully sabotaged.

“Position unchanged,” Seonghwa follows next, likely watching the junkers move around below him with a close eye and a steady gun.

“Approaching the hub,” Youngseok reports last, and the camera footage shows him and Yeosang dropping into the room from the ceiling vent, quickly administering the drugs while they confer with Mingi and Junyoung.

“Get them outside before they fully come to and they’ll think they’re simply on the way to their next station,” Seonghwa suggests, and the four of them comply immediately, two to a body, after checking that the coast is clear. The drone continues to hover there with no one at the joystick.

“Alright, send out the evacuation message and get out of there,” Hongjoong eagerly instructs next, ready for all the planning and manoeuvring to come to a head. “Seonghwa, cover them.”

Yeosang’s hands find the joystick to his drone again and it follows the progress of the four of them up and out into the air vent labyrinth once again, zooming on ahead to make sure the coast is clear. They meet up with Jongho, San and Wooyoung’s group, staggering themselves down the hallway, and wait for the inevitable.

“Ready?” Junyoung breathes, a hint of nerves in his voice as his hand hesitates above the button on his wristband.

“Let’s do this,” Mingi nods him on encouragingly, and a moment later his announcement echoes through the entire station.

Hongjoong can hear it over their comm link, but only picks up a word or two from Mingi’s incredibly detailed pronunciation and intonation. After a few seconds of confusion on the part of the junkers, they begin pouring in numbers from their various activities in the station to the hangar as instructed.

Mingi is Team ATZ’s best kept secret. Because whether the enemy was waiting for them or not, they never expected one to perfectly replicate their dialect.

“Well done,” Hongjoong whispers to him through the comm link, careful not to disrupt anyone’s focus, and he can see Mingi’s small smile on the drone cam footage. It’s enough.

“Hold positions,” Jongho takes charge, unwavering where he kneels with his weapon drawn. “We need as many of them in the ships as possible before we enter combat to lessen their numbers.”

Yet again, it’s about patience, and Hongjoong’s is wearing thin but he alternates gazing between the screen and the surrounding area to make sure not a single junker escapes his notice.

“There are a few outlying heat signatures but the pilot junkers will start to become suspicious over why their engines aren’t working right about now,” Yeosang informs them, and Hongjoong bites his lip in worry. “I say we give it twenty more seconds and close up each ship’s loading dock.”

“We’re ready,” San assures them all confidently, focused intently on the enemy as they swarm their aircraft like bees to a hive. “Just give us the word.”

“Are all the clan leaders accounted for?” Hongjoong asks before offering his judgement, dropping his shoulders in relief when Seonghwa responds with an affirmative, “Yes, I counted all twenty-three from the evacuation route vantage point.”

“It’s up to you, then, Yeosang,” Hongjoong puts the decision in his hands as the most informed thanks to the drone sensors, and the medic counts down in a whisper before signalling to the pair of engineers. 

“Go.”

They run in perfect sync through the blind spots of each alien ship, closing the back hatches with a simple touch and barring them from the outside. All five team members in the room with them watch their backs, firing off the occasional stun blast when a junker is quick enough to try to escape. 

The wide hangar doors begin opening, probably via remote command from one of the ships, and Hongjoong can see it from where he stands atop the hoodoo, fingers hovering above the on switch for his jetpack. “What’s happening down there?” he asks into the comm link. The drone’s camera is still directed at Mingi and Jongho’s respective pairs, safely sequestered behind some storage containers as they pick off stragglers one by one. 

“The targets are panicking,” Mingi reports to the camera as he recharges his blaster briefly, wiping wispy hairs out of his face. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Hangar team, you’ve got junkers incoming from the station,” Seonghwa reports over the link, although the sound of bodies hitting the dirt floor in the hallway he presides over reassures Hongjoong that it’s nothing the navigator can’t handle. “I’m catching as many as I can by the entrance but you’ll still have one or two on your six.”

Clearly, his warning is meant for the team fighting inside the hangar, but Hongjoong makes sure his blaster is charged and ready anyway in case any of them make it past the open hangar doors.

Suddenly the sound of engine turbines gearing up takes over the link audio, followed by a soft curse from Wooyoung.

“Hyung— I mean, Captain— there’s an aircraft headed your way,” Junyoung reports. “I’ll close the doors remotely in case any others were missed.”

Hongjoong tightens his jaw and takes flight in preparation. It’s why he’s out there, after all.

It was bound to happen that Wooyoung and San would miss one. The drone couldn’t scan everything in so short a time.

The ship that makes it, however narrowly, out of the closing hangar doors is a rather small one, and may have simply escaped the engineers’ notice. It’s likely manned by only one pilot, and Hongjoong locks his blaster on the cockpit and fires as soon as he’s clear. To his disappointment, the stun ray bounces clean off the heat-proofed windshield and Hongjoong is left with one option.

Boarding.

As safely as he can with two miniature jet turbines strapped to his back, Hongjoong positions his goggles, flies directly at the oncoming ship, and slows down right before it passes under him, pivoting to catch the edge of the extended right wing and clinging on for dear life. The shocked pilot turns to look at him through the side window, almost crashing directly into the nearest hoodoo, and the ship veers left, causing Hongjoong to slide towards the body of the plane. It’s a stroke of good luck for him that the craft is the type of alien ship with the engines built under the wings rather than above. 

Making signals with one hand and clutching the wing edge in a vicelike grip with the other, Hongjoong quickly realises the pilot doesn’t have the slightest intention of listening to him as he slows down abruptly in the hopes of shaking the human off.

Pulling his body weight forward and getting to his feet in that perfect window of time, Hongjoong stays low and crosses to the top of the ship, digging his fingers into the gap between the smooth surface of the jet and the emergency ejection hatch at the top. He breathes out evenly through his nose in an attempt to quell his nerves and then pulls hard. 

The door doesn’t budge. 

Groaning as another sharp upward yaw causes him to faceplant into the emergency hatch, Hongjoong fumbles for his blaster and switches the setting to laser beam.

“Hey, I’m looking at the live satellite footage right now,” Yunho’s distant voice crackles through the comm link. “Am I seeing things? Is that you on top of the junker ship, Captain?”

Several other statements of confusion from the team members in the middle of their respective tasks are voiced through their shared call, and Hongjoong mumbles back through gritted teeth, “That’s correct, now if you don’t mind, I’m a little busy here!”

The laser is halfway through successfully burning an opening in the top of the aircraft when it again yaws upwards sharply, this time to avoid colliding with another hoodoo.

The manoeuvre is unsuccessful on the part of the junker pilot, and the landing gear which he still has not retracted since takeoff is promptly ripped off the belly of the aircraft as it brushes with the top of the rock face and stutters on, wounded. “Easy there!” Hongjoong scoffs, finishing with the laser and kicking the hatch in. He quickly places the blaster against the side of the junker’s masked head. “Hands off the controls.”

Appearing to get the point regardless of the fact that he doesn’t understand the language, the pilot shakily lets go of the joystick. Hongjoong quickly recovers it and nudges the alien out of his seat, still directing the blaster at him but splitting his attention now to avoid a head-on crash and turn them back towards the base. 

“Okay, I’m calling in for advice,” he says through the comm link, ready now for his teammates’ voices in his ear. “I can’t land this thing, the wheels are gone.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to crash it,” San informs him grimly. Not what Hongjoong wanted to hear.

As far as he knows, there’s no parachute built into his jetpack.

“Thank you for your contribution, San,” he sighs with a wry smile. “I guess I’ll figure it out.”

Even as the words leave his lips, an idea hits him with the G-force of a DES class interplanetary vessel. 

The hoodoo from before is ahead of them again now, having turned the ship around in the direction they came from, and while it’s no landing pad, it has space enough for him and his alien captive if the jetpack can get them there. He sat on it for a good fifteen minutes at least earlier in the mission.

“Hold on,” he mimes to the clueless junker, who nods slowly and hugs his waist a bit too tightly for comfort. Knowing he has a total of five seconds maximum to pull it off, Hongjoong wastes no time in setting the ship’s trajectory downward, lighting his jetpack engines again, and soaring up through the hole he burned into the roof earlier with the alien pilot clutching him the entire time. Below them, the ship crashes to the ground with a minor explosion.

The extra weight of the junker combats the strength of the turbines, only meant for a single person, and it isn’t quite enough to get them up to the flat top of the hoodoo, resulting in Hongjoong’s second faceplant of the day– directly into the side of the rock.

This one hurts enough that he sees stars for a moment before reeling back and peeling off the side of the hoodoo like the spaceship stickers he used to slap onto his bedroom window, alien pilot in tow.

It’s a good forty five feet at least to the bottom, and it’s as if Hongjoong’s brain is operating at double the speed to find a solution to break their fall. His first instinct is to throw out his arms and legs to slow his momentum, but he accidentally succeeds in grabbing hold of a very fortunate cranny in the side of the rock as he does so, stopping their fall and positioning the junker directly beneath him.

“Hey, team?” He grunts into the comm link, strained from the extra weight hanging on him while trying to keep his gloved hands anchored on the rock. “I’m a bit stuck and could use help.”

The drone zooms out of the hangar and hovers in front of the pair for a moment, filming their predicament.

“Be right there,” Yeosang answers promptly, and Hongjoong turns his head shakily to see him and Youngseok sprinting out from the alien base. “Don’t do anything stupid. I can put you back together but only if you stay alive.”

“Okay,” Hongjoong whispers, just barely audible, too focused on hanging on. He can feel blood in his mouth, but ignores it and looks down at the junker still swinging below him, clutching his waist with an impressive grip. “You ought to climb down!”

The pilot looks up at him through those beady eyes on the mask and says nothing, evidently confused, so Hongjoong repeats. “Go on! Let go and climb down so I can follow!”

After staring at him a moment longer, the junker seems to figure it out and reaches out one of his hands to test the wall. Deeming it feasible to climb on, he finally releases Hongjoong and begins working his way down, testing each landing with his foot before putting pressure on it, and conveniently marking out a good path for Hongjoong to follow.

The hoodoo is strangely shaped, probably due to wind erosion, and so the climb down is less like the elementary rock walls with their flat surfaces in school and more like the unnatural ones the Horizon team practised with in their training. In that respect, at least, the feeling is familiar, although Hongjoong aches by the time he nears the bottom and sees Youngseok restraining the junker pilot before he thinks to run into the desert. 

Yeosang stands with a hand out to help Hongjoong off the hoodoo and shakes his head at him with a smile. “All that for one guy?”

“It was an important guy,” Seonghwa’s voice quips back in both their ears as he inspects the crest the pilot dons via drone camera footage. “And all the leaders are now officially accounted for. Is it safe to say we’ve completed our objective?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong sighs, ripping the goggles off his face and accepting the oxygen mask the medic pushes at him. It’s been long enough outside in Mu Ryool’s atmosphere to justify using it. “Let’s call Hybin here and let his men handle the arrests.”

Team ATZ has essentially offered up the entire population of the base, alive, on a platter, trapped in their very own aircraft and stunned into frozen shock at the humans’ cleverness. 

On his way inside, Hongjoong’s thoughts are already turning towards the decision they’ll have to make about what to do next when they reach the Lexiwi base, but Wooyoung appearing in front of him with a black eye successfully pulls his attention away.

“You mean to tell me I had to watch you clip wires for fifteen minutes and the moment you get punched in the face by an alien who is smaller than you, I’m busy doing something else and miss it?” He pouts in mock disappointment.

“Hey!” Wooyoung screeches in return. “The idiot snuck up on me!” 

“We were a bit busy by the front door,” Jongho shrugs, offering explanation but taking no sides as usual. “And San was talking to you so he didn’t notice either.”

Electing to be merciful on account of his distracting San, Hongjoong taps his own face and draws Wooyoung’s attention to his cheek, which is forming a bruise itself as a result of being pancaked into a rock formation. “Well, at least we’ll match, huh?”

The engineer beams at him and returns to the DES-1024 with the others, buckling himself up in the seat across from Yeosang so he can have the first pick of cute bandages for the scratch across his nose.

“Would you like the jetpack back?” Hongjoong asks Jongho, dangling it between his fingers. “Sorry, it’s probably low on fuel.”

“Keep it,” the gunner snorts, shaking his head in amusement. “It doesn’t fit anyone else.”

Smiling at the proven efficiency of such a childish device, Hongjoong turns to walk inside the ship, making eye contact with San when he pokes his head out to see who’s coming, and finally allowing the calm of success to wash over him.

Suddenly, San’s face changes, crescent-shaped mirthful eyes widening and growing dark. His smile falls and he opens his mouth to scream, “Behind you!”

Everything happens in slow motion. Hongjoong is turning around to see a flash of light, the discharge of a weapon in the hands of a rogue assassin junker, one who was able to sneak up on them from behind. But it’s not aimed at him. 

It’s pointed at Jongho.

He’s opening his mouth to yell at the younger boy, “Get down!” knowing he won’t reach the assassin fast enough.

But San does.

Sprinting full speed and tackling the junker around the midsection, he forces the shot up so that it misses Jongho entirely, though Hongjoong is by his side in an instant to check that he’s unharmed. 

“Jongho, are you hurt–”

“Fine, I’m fine,” Jongho answers quickly, practically pushing his captain off in order to look past him and see his attacker. 

San has the junker restrained after a brief struggle, the ballistic blaster he used laying uselessly on the floor, so Hongjoong picks it up and inspects it. “Shrapnel,” he gasps after checking the ammunition. “Made from our stolen metal, no doubt.” 

It’s a particularly dangerous weapon, and he shudders to think what it might’ve done had a projectile from it pierced Jongho as intended.

“Who hired you?” He growls at the kneeling assassin, helmeted head hung so that the spikes surrounding the bug-eyed goggles he wears are firmly pointed down. “Well? Out with it, why are you targeting this man?”

Hongjoong points to Jongho, seated on the loading ramp now as the other members flock around him anxiously.

The junker doesn’t answer. Running his hands through his hair in frustration, Hongjoong turns back to the crowd. “Mingi, I need Mingi. Where is he?”

“Here!” The xenologist steps forward from the huddle and obligingly translates the angrily posed questions, hopefully into something with equally strong wording in the Lexiwi language. 

“Search him,” Hongjoong sighs while Mingi tries and fails to get the assassin to talk. No more than a huff escapes the screen-like grating over the alien’s mouth. San roughly pulls off the worn cape thrown over the junker’s shoulder, half covering the rusty ridged armour he wears, and is careful of the spiky disc-like details on his right arm. It’s clear just from looking at him that he’s no average soldier. This is a highly trained and specifically selected junker assassin. 

“Hybin is touching down in the next forty-five seconds,” Junyoung offers helpfully from behind and Hongjoong nods, exhaling sharply through his nose in frustration at how useless he is to do anything at all about the incredibly close call they just suffered.

And right when he thought everything had finally worked out. 

“The moment he does, we’re loading up and heading back,” Hongjoong decides firmly. “I’m giving no one else the chance to take a shot at one of us.”

All around are silent nods and grave faces. They file back into the ship one by one, more than a few pairs of hands patting Jongho, squeezing his shoulder, or petting his hair to offer their sympathy. He shrugs them all off.

San releases the assassin with a kick to the face and lets one of Hybin’s officers drag him away for proper interrogation. On his way up the ramp, Hongjoong stops him and pulls him close with an arm around his neck.

“Never do that again,” he warns in a low voice right by the engineer’s ear, and San nearly pulls away in confusion.

“I saved his life–”

“You could’ve been killed,” Hongjoong overrules immediately. “I appreciate the result, but it was brash and thoughtless. I won’t have one member of this team sacrifice himself for another, not like that.”

“You and I both know there was no negotiating with that assassin,” San snorts, still fiery despite both of them knowing he’ll ultimately accept the captain’s word. “Sometimes you have to act without thinking, let instinct take over.”

“Trust me, I know, I’m the pilot,” Hongjoong reminds him. “But you’re the engineer. I need you taking apart alien ships, not tackling assassins and putting yourself in harm’s way. We handle things as a team, and maybe today you were lucky, but that might not be the case when you tackle another alien tomorrow.”

“Understood,” San sighs like a reprimanded child before buckling himself up. Hongjoong watches very closely to see if he did, in fact, hurt himself.

They all know he wouldn’t tell them if he had.

Even after taking off, turning toward home base, and switching on auto-pilot, his heart rate hasn’t returned to normal.

“We need to discuss some things,” Hongjoong breaks the exhausted silence which has settled over the crew. “We won’t hear it out of his own lips, but that junker had orders from someone else to shoot Jongho. I’m sure of it.”

“But…” Seonghwa’s brow furrows as he shifts in his chair to glance at Hongjoong. “Surely he was aiming at you? I mean, you’re clearly the leader, you have an armband with a symbol on it and everything, and junkers understand symbols– their own clan leaders wear them, too.”

“My back was to that assassin, he could’ve easily killed me,” Hongjoong explains, swallowing dryly as his own words sink in. “But he didn’t. He was targeting Jongho. And I think I’m starting to realise why.”

“Why?” Wooyoung repeats, lips parted as he glances back and forth between the members to be sure he doesn’t miss anything important.

“Because he has access to the secret files,” Mingi states grimly when it dawns on him as well, turning and nodding at Jongho as he explains further, “Your grandmother left the information to you, anyone following the trail would naturally go after the recipient of the file. You know something you shouldn’t know, and that junker was hired to make sure it doesn’t get out.”

“That’s absurd,” San splutters. “Who would contract an assassin to keep things quiet; IPF? They’re the ones who sent us here to fight the junkers to begin with, surely they’re not allied with one?”

Hongjoong is busy landing the ship, but the arguments bounce back and forth and reverberate in his head. There’s too much about IPF that isn’t adding up, and he’s reached his breaking point.

Only when they’re reunited with a relieved Yunho and locked away in the surveillance room from any curious Lexiwi who might happen upon them does he open the discussion in earnest.

“I know we said we’d table it for now but I think it’s time to discuss this again,” Hongjoong finally says, glancing around to get an idea of each member’s position on the matter. “I think we need to go back to the Citadel.”

“Absolutely not,” Seonghwa responds immediately, so quick in his delivery that half of them startle and turn to look at him. “I-I think that’s a bad idea. Not to mention, against the law.”

“Against the law?” Mingi scoffs. “I think we’ll have to do more than break the law if we mean to confront the Board about this.”

“But leaving Mu Ryool after we’ve only just landed here?” Seonghwa fires back, more confident now in his opposition. “It’ll just increase their ammunition against us.”

“We did the job we were sent out here to do. Why should we stay here when we have important questions that need answering?” Yunho asks him, confused.

Hongjoong is confused, too. None of Seonghwa’s weak excuses have any precedent, and despite being at each others’ throats before, he had expected support from the navigator who had supported him more than a few times since then.  

“Aren’t you at all concerned about the greater implications of this?” He asks quietly, giving Seonghwa a chance before he’s outvoted.

The navigator can only shake his head.

After all the time they spent repairing their relationship, Hongjoong can’t believe what he’s seeing.

Again, Seonghwa has an objection, and this time it’s not even supported with evidence.

He sounds more like he’s pleading with Hongjoong than arguing with him.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Seonghwa has always been a closed book about his personal life and past experiences. But still Hongjoong fails to understand how the navigator can be so cold, so unfeeling in the wake of unfolding disaster and compounding trauma.

There is not a shred of guilt in his eyes as he insists, “You’re not thinking straight. We ought to revisit this later—”

Hongjoong can’t sit quiet anymore.

“It’s not your grandmother who was erased from the records!” He shoots back, getting to his feet. “It’s not your father who was slandered after dying a hero’s death.”

The navigator presses his lips together to keep from saying something insensitive rashly, but it’s ultimately Jongho speaking up that prevents him from uttering it.

“Hyung, I know we all worked hard to get here and it’s frustrating to discover all this might put our careers in jeopardy, but this is a lot bigger than us,” he says gently. 

The murmurs of agreement sweeping the room reassure Hongjoong that he’s not alone in his disillusionment.

They need to act now, and Seonghwa has been outvoted.

Still, Hongjoong takes it upon himself to invite the older boy to his room that night, not to be reprimanded, but to give him an opportunity to share whatever he thinks needs to be kept private.

He has a feeling Seonghwa is hiding something.

___

Everything is falling apart again and Seonghwa’s options are fewer and fewer by the second. 

After everything, after all the sacrifices he made, here he stands outside of Hongjoong’s door knowing the clock is ticking and his entire story is slowly unwinding while it does.

When he ended his correspondence with Source Unknown, he knew there was a possibility of being discovered as a fraud, he had just hoped and prayed the discovery wouldn’t come from within. That his team members would be spared the embarrassment and the utter betrayal guaranteed to take place when the moment comes. 

But alas, it turns out he’s not the only person with incriminating evidence. Jongho’s grandmother has files of her own that she didn’t delete after being blackmailed like Seonghwa did. She’s stronger than he was, no question about it.

And yet the image of his family is still burned into his head every time he closes his eyes. He never received credible confirmation that they would be protected, and he knows that if he were to lose this battle and discover they were every bit in danger as they had been when he first cut his dangerous deal, all this lying and manipulating would be for naught. 

And then he could never forgive himself.

There’s a soft “come in” when he knocks, and he enters with his head bowed, already working his angle.

“My apologies if I–”

“No, please don’t. You’re not in trouble or anything. I wouldn’t,” Hongjoong chuckles and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t punish you for having a different opinion. Or for any reason really. I just want to understand.”

He’s sitting back from the desk the Lexiwi provided for him, combing through some type of digital files on his own. Seonghwa doesn’t get a good look before they’re minimised out of view and Hongjoong hops on his bed, patting the place next to him.

Seonghwa resists the urge to sigh. It’s going to be that kind of conversation, then.

“These junkers knew we were coming,” Hongjoong says quietly after they’ve sat down comfortably. “They already had a deal in place with an unknown source. Jongho was exactly where they wanted him and almost got killed. I don’t know what that looks like to you but it seems awfully apparent to me; we were set up.”

Seonghwa protests quickly, despite knowing his words are false. “Now you’re just seeing conspiracies where there are none!”

He’s practically exhausted this particular argument and knows he needs to try something else to throw the rest of his team off the scent, but denial is his default, and discomfort swirls in his stomach when it’s met with a scoff and shake of the head.

“You can’t actually believe that, Seonghwa. I know you can’t. You’ve seen all the evidence that I have.” There is concern in Hongjoong’s eyes, despite the heaviness of his words. “The Board of the most powerful organisation in the known universe is corrupt. Isn’t that the least bit concerning?”

He breaks out into a sweat. Hongjoong can see through him too well. Trying to convince him he’s imagining things isn’t going to work anymore.

“Don’t you understand? I’m trying to protect this team. Of course it’s concerning! There, I said it, alright? That doesn’t mean charging in there with accusations we can’t prove will accomplish anything at all!” Seonghwa pleads again, hands fisting in the thin blanket atop the bed they’re sitting on, and it’s real panic that bleeds through his words. “I’m telling you, I know it’s hard and it hurts now but you’ll regret it in the end if you don’t let this go.”

He realises a moment too late that he sounds like he’s speaking from experience.

Hongjoong’s frown deepens and he stares a moment, just like he did back on the Citadel when he caught Seonghwa struggling his way out of the web of his own anxiety.

“Is everything okay?” He asks gently, carefully, and tilts his head with the intent to listen. “You know you can talk to me— or anyone— and we’ll do what we can to help.”

“No, it’s not like that,” Seonghwa answers quickly, sighing through his nose and glancing away. “I just don’t think we should turn our backs on IPF so hastily.”

He tries what he tried on the Citadel– fishing for pity– knowing it’ll work on Hongjoong without question, and feels just as sick to his stomach as he had that day.

“My family… is depending on me. This is my chance to make sure they’re safe, for good. There’s only one way to ensure that, and you and I both know what that is,” he interrupts himself with a helpless sigh. It’s the truth again, just bent slightly to suit the situation. “You said so yourself, it’s the most powerful organisation in the known universe.” 

Hongjoong chews on his lip, a shadow falling on his face.

“I understand the pressure. Really, I feel the same way. But this… I can’t let this go,” his voice drops to a wrathful whisper. “There’s a murderer somewhere on the Citadel and a Board member ordered him to do it.”

“We don’t know that,” Seonghwa reminds him softly. He does know– or at least, he’s quickly finding out. “The men in that video may have been accused and removed from IPF standing privately.” He’s grasping at straws in the hopes that Hongjoong will accept one of them, and abandon this revenge quest. As justified as he may be, he’s not ready for what he’ll find, and Seonghwa can think of no other way to protect him from it than to keep him from looking.

Hongjoong’s eyes are wet, and he fiddles with his hands as he responds with trembling words, “As much as I hope we find out that’s the case when we confront them, that’s not good enough. Not… not just because of my father, but think what else he might’ve done. What other lives he’s taken, families he’s ripped apart.” 

His voice breaks and Seonghwa pulls him in for a hug, every thought in his brain screaming at him to get the situation under control by whatever means necessary.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he consoles, his mind wandering back to that day at the Citadel again, where roles were reversed. “It’ll be alright.”

“I-I know I can’t bring him back, but I will bring him justice.” 

Despite his sadness, Hongjoong still sounds more angry than anything, and it dashes Seonghwa’s hopes that he might be cycling through the stages of grief quickly enough to reconsider the return journey.

“And I wish you could by doing this but, Hongjoong, the rules of our contracts are binding. A single misstep can land us in the same trouble Jongho’s grandmother landed in.”

Again, it’s the truth, and Seonghwa delivers it sweetly with a hand rubbing up and down his captain’s spine, but the real consequences are so far beyond what Hongjoong can imagine and Seonghwa still can’t tell him the full implications of that reality without sacrificing everything he’s done to get here and the safety of his family back on Earth.

Hongjoong senses that something is off about his mellow response, and pulls away to look at him again, lips pressed together tightly.

“That’s no reason to keep quiet about it. Sometimes the rules need to be broken. If this isn’t worth that to you, then… I don’t know what to say.” He scans his face and the red beneath his eyes seems to intensify. “I can’t help but think you know more than you’re telling me.”

Seonghwa’s heart pounds loudly in his ears, and he shifts his body to face forward in an attempt to hide his panic.

He does know more than he’s saying; much more. And the problem is that he can’t tell anyone yet. Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever, if they go through with this.

“I’m just as shocked and upset as anyone, I promise you,” he retorts without making eye contact, jaw tightening. Perhaps it sounds a little shallow and insincere, but he can’t risk losing his edge over this conversation. He goes for pity again. “I just… I can’t break down and lose my resolve at a time like this, it’s too important.”

Hongjoong is quiet for a moment, and Seonghwa thinks perhaps he’s turned the tide.

“You said back there that I wasn’t thinking straight,” he finally repeats, voice empty and tired. He isn’t looking at Seonghwa anymore now either. “Am I… Am I a burden on this team? Is my leadership putting us in a dangerous situation— one that isn’t worth the risk? It’s not me trying to put my needs first, it’s the far-reaching implications if this does turn out to be a conspiracy and I—”

That was not the intended effect of Seonghwa’s words, and he rushes to repair the damage.

“Hongjoong, no, please don’t think that. It’s true, I hope you’ll reconsider returning to the Citadel but everyone makes mistakes and if you go through with this one, it’s my hope they’ll let you off easily for it.”

Seonghwa leans forward to catch Hongjoong’s gaze and succeeds. There’s still self-doubt in his captain’s eyes, but the perfect combination of his tone and word choice have assuaged the worst of it. Seonghwa is relieved that revealing his true thoughts has turned the discussion around favourably, though there’s still a ball in his throat. 

Hongjoong smiles weakly and shifts to fully face his guest again. “If it makes you feel any better about breaching the contract, I do think the Board will listen to us if we make a good case. At the very least, I’m sure Soojin will.”

That’s wishful thinking, almost laughably naïve, although given the information Hongjoong currently has, Seonghwa can’t blame him. He was the one who put the thought of mercy in his head after all.

But he also can’t set him straight. His enemies’ hold over him is too strong, even casting a shadow over the two of them in a private room on a distant alien planet.

Hongjoong is fiddling with his hands again, and Seonghwa realises he’s been quiet for too long and sparked concern.

“Are we going to be alright?” Hongjoong asks, not for the first time. “I can’t help if you won’t talk to me.”

Seonghwa’s eyes well up involuntarily. 

If only. If only it was that simple.

“I hope one day we will be.”

Clearly, his answer is somewhat mystifying, and Hongjoong can only shake his head with a sigh and beg quietly, “Come with us, please.”

Seonghwa clenches his teeth in irritation and tries not to let it show. “Is that an order?”

He’s the only one not on board with this crazy plan, and if neither of them budge from their side of this fight, the hierarchy will determine the result. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked for the title to pass from him after all. 

Hongjoong drops his head into his hands, more frustrated at this perhaps than any of Seonghwa’s earlier objections.

“Don’t make me do that. I need you on my side.”

“I am on your side. It just doesn’t always look like it to you,” Seonghwa insists, delivering the half-truth with all the sincerity he can muster before muttering mostly to himself, “I’ve broken more rules than you know.”

That’s what got him into this mess. That’s what turned him into such an orderly rule-follower even though he knows this road can lead him to only two places, neither of them good.

With tired eyes, Hongjoong stands and motions to the door. It looks like their conversation is at an end. He finishes it drained of all emotion, “Then I’ll see you in the hangar at 0800.”

Seonghwa has lost this battle. And now he needs to call in the cavalry, or he may just find himself losing the war. 

“Yessir.”

---

Taglist: (Let me know if you would like to be added) @mooneylooney1 @1998psh ​​@delphinium3000​​ ​​ @kpop-choco​

Recommended listening: Mixed Up by Enhypen

A/N: Hiiii! I know it’s been forever but I was really busy last summer teaching abroad and then GRADUATING FROM COLLEGE YAY as well lol. I hope the wait was worth it and that this 13.8k chapter is acceptable reparations! Let me know what you thought and what you think is on the horizon~

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[finnamin]

FINNAMIN’S WINTER 2021 COMMISSION INFO

ADDITIONAL INFO:

Prices are in USD and all payments will through PayPal. Prices are per character; additional characters are +50% of the base price.

Commissions must be paid half up front, and half at completion of the project. 

If you don’t see a style or type of commission that you’re interested in, feel free to ask - I’m pretty flexible with projects, and always happy to work with you to come up with something you’ll love! 

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Feel free to contact me with any questions or requests you might have!

CONTACT FINNAMIN AT

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[imaginationintowords]

Folklore [song series]

mirrorball

Modern Day AU! Steve Rogers x OC!Reader

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years.

Word count: 2110

[a/n: thanks for being patient with me! hope you guys enjoy this new chapter! if i forgot to tag you please inbox me]

previous part

Series Masterlist

Age: 20

Location: Brooklyn, NY

Year: Summer 2014

Steve flopped down onto his bed, tired after today's events. Elizabeth softly laid down next to him, Steve wrapped his arm around her bringing her closer to his chest.

"Today was a day," he tiredly says.

"You okay?" She asked him.

After Bucky had left there was a sadness aura that followed Steve for the rest of the party. He had no clue what he had expected Bucky's reaction to be, but definitely not the one he got. He had even prepared himself fo a fight, he was grateful that didn't happen. He just wasn't expecting for Bucky to shut down and leave. Not even accepting his offer of having a conversation later.

He knew that Bucky just needed his space, time to think it all over. But the look on Bucky's face had Steve questioning whether or not he would ever come around.

It threw Steve off when Bucky requested that he breakup with Elizabeth. He couldn't believe his best friend would want his own happiness to suffer.

His whole life he had done everything possible to keep Bucky happy. After what Bucky and his family had to go through with his father, Steve made it his mission to never let his friend feel that way again. Granted he was only 7 when he made that promise to himself, he still kept it.

Steve had never put himself first, at least not until he had made the decision to go to school in California. He had even thought about changing his plans after his breakup with Elizabeth but he knew his parents would've been disappointed with that decision.

He had put Bucky first his entire life, what he's doing isn't selfish. Yet he can't help but feel like the most selfish person ever.

What if he was keeping Elizabeth from truly being happy? What if she just didn't want to break his heart? What if she just didn't want to break his heart during a family event? What if come tomorrow she would tell him the truth, that she was really still in love with Bucky.

He's not sure he could handle that heartbreak.

"Want to tell me what's going on in that head of yours?" Elizabeth asked, breaking Steve from his self destructive thoughts.

"I won't be mad if you still love him," Steve says, "I'd understand."

Elizabeth quickly sat up to get a look of Steve's face to make sure he was being serious. It nearly broke her to see how defeated he looked. She's never seen him so down, not even after his breakup with Peggy.

"You don't have to pretend to save my feelings," he continues, "If it meant you were happy, that's all I care about. If being with Bucky makes you happy, then please don't let me stand in the way."

"Oh Steve," she gently caresses his face, staring down at him, "I wasn't lying earlier when I told Bucky that I didn't love him anymore. And i most definitely wasn't lying when I said that I love you, because I do love you, with my whole heart. You make me happy. The happiest I've ever been. Bucky was my past. You are my now, and hopefully my future.

"If you can't see how truly great you are, then I must not be doing my job as not only your girlfriend, but you're friend," she says, "Because you make me feel special every single day. And I just want you to feel the way you've made me feel."

"It's not your fault," Steve softly says, grasping her hand to place a kiss on her knuckles.

"Growing up I've always been second to Bucky," he explains, "Everyone seemed to prefer him over me. Whether it was girls or just our friends. It was always Bucky then Steve."

Elizabeth takes a moment to think back on their time growing up. She couldn't help but feel guilty when she realized that everything Steve is saying is true.

After she and Bucky got together, Steve sort of became an after thought, not because they purposefully excluded him, it never crossed their mind simply because Steve also had Peggy at the time. But after Peggy left, Elizabeth never really got to talk to Steve about how he felt, because she got caught up in her own drama.

"Steve, I'm so sorry," she apologizes, "I should've known then about how you felt. I was so caught up in my own shit, I never realized that you could've been going through your own stuff."

"Liz, it was never your fault," he says, "You were going through your own stuff. And I had learned to suppress it. Plus Bucky was your boyfriend at the time, of course i wasn't really on your mind. Plus it's kind of my fault for allowing it to happen. I never spoke up about it. I just always went along, figuring it was better than nothing."

"Once I got to Berkeley that's when everything changed," his mood shifts a bit to a much lighter feel, "I no longer felt like the shadow of a person. I felt like my own person for the first time ever. I was able to become someone I never thought possible. I am no longer 'scrawny Steve, Bucky's best friend'. I just became 'Steve' or 'Rogers'."

Elizabeth smiled at the way Steve's eyes lit up when talking.

"I had never imagined myself leaving New York, let alone making the permanent move to California," he confesses, "As much as I love it here, California is where I feel I belong. I know you feel it too."

Elizabeth nods her head agreeing with him. She felt the same way, as much as New York was her childhood home, California was where she felt her heart aching for. Where she felt like she belonged, where she could thrive. The more she spent time there, the more it felt like home, that's why moving there wasn't a tough decision for her.

"Coming back here," Steve says, causing Elizabeth to shift back her focus on him, "It just makes me feel like that scrawny kid all over again. I feel like no matter how hard I try to shed that image, Brooklyn will never see me for who I am now, but for who I was then. Like no matter what I do I will always be 'little' Steve Rogers."

"I know you feel it too," he says looking up at her.

She did. She did feel stuck in the past whenever she came back home. It seemed like life stood still here, while outside of Brooklyn everything is moving ahead. She knows it's only because she grew up there, and had nothing to do with Brooklyn itself. Once she was in California, she got a taste of life outside of Brooklyn, and she's not sure if she would want to go back. So moving there was an easier choice for her to make.

"I do," she agrees, "It's why moving to California was an easy decision for me to make."

"I wasn't even sure I was even going to make it to California," he says.

"Why is that?"

"Felt like I was disappointing my parents," he confesses, "We had always discussed me going to Columbia as a pre-med major. That had been the original plan. It wasn't like they were forcing it on me. More like I was forcing it onto myself.

"It was the 'safer' choice, granted the longer one, but in the end it all would've been worth it. For some reason as a child I believed that was the only way my parents would've been proud of me. Regardless of the fact that they were already proud and would tell me constantly. I just put that pressure on myself."

"It wasn't until junior year that Mr. Lawson, my high school art teacher said I should apply to some art schools," he continues, "Then after I had a long discussion with the guidance counselor she agreed as well, saying I would get in no problem with whatever art field I applied in.

"I never really gave my drawing much thought. It was just something I would do. Also a career in art is not exactly financially stable, or at all stable. But I figured it wouldn't hurt to apply to a couple of schools as an architecture major. Never really gave it a second thought."

Steve pauses, "I did get into Columbia."

"Steve, no fucking way," Elizabeth gasp sitting up straighter, "I never even heard."

"That's because I only told my parents," he says, "I got the acceptance email the same day I got NYU's and Berkeley's, where I hadn't applied as pre-med, which my parents didn't know of at the time."

"Wow," Elizabeth responds feeling herself become speechless. She had only known about NYU and Berkeley. She knew about NYU because that was the plan, they, including Bucky had discussed Freshman year. Back when she was still with Bucky, and Steve with Peggy and they all had planned to stay in New York. Before life got complicated.

"When I did get the Berkeley acceptance I had to come clean to my parents about what major I applied under. I was nervous, because a part of me never told them because I was worried I wouldn't get in. So seeing that acceptance it was the assurance I needed. One that really let me know that I could actually do it. And of course my parents were proud."

"Of course," Elizabeth smiles, "They would've been proud if you had decided to not even go to school and just worked in a restaurant."

"That's true," Steve lets out a small laugh, "And I think I more so didn't want to regret the decision. Leaving home to move across the country for a career that could be unstable. It's scary."

"Do you?" Elizabeth asks.

"Do I what?"

"Do you regret it?"

"Not one bit," he smiles, pulling her back down onto his chest.

They laid there in a comfortable silence. Steve ranking his fingers on Elizabeth's arm, feeling himself grow tired.

"I hope you know you're amazing," Elizabeth quietly says looking up at him with pure admiration in her eyes, "That I think you're amazing. I think you're one of the greatest people I have ever known. And if I have to spend my entire life showing you just how amazing I think you are, I will."

Age: 29

Year: 2023

Location: Santa Barbara, CA

Elizabeth giggled as Steve carried her over the threshold into their hotel room for the weekend. He kicked the door closed as he silenced her giggles with a kiss, before placing her on her feet.

"Why thank-you Mr. Rogers."

"You're very welcome Mrs. Rogers," he smiled brightly at his new wife.

Her makeup was slowly fading, hair no longer perfectly done after a night of dancing with their close loved ones. Steve just stares at her lovingly. He ahs never seen her more beautiful and the fact that he gets to be her husband for the rest of his life, he's never felt luckier.

Elizabeth feels his eyes just on her, "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, just admiring my beautiful wife," he compliments, causing Elizabeth to blush.

"How about one more dance?" she asks.

"There's no music."

"When I'm with you there's always music," she says holding her hand out for him.

Steve pulled her to him, one hand grasped in her's, while the other lay on her lower back. Elizabeth's head rested on his chest, with Steve's chin softly resting on the top of it.

"You know I think you're amazing," Elizabeth says as they sway softly in each other's arms.

"You might've told me once or twice," he responds.

"Get used to it because I'm going to be telling you that for the rest of our lives."

"Nothing I want more than that," he kisses the top of her head.

"If you'd asked me to runaway with you to join a circus, I would in a heartbeat," she says.

"Oh really? If I lose my job, and having nothing to show for, you'd still be there?"

"Right next to you baby, every step of the way," she says looking up at him, "Plus you won't have nothing to show. You'll have me. You'll have us. With me by your side I'll make sure you never not know how much you mean to me."

"You've made me believe in love again when I thought it wasn't possible. You've made me love myself in a way that I didn't think were possible. You make me a better human being by just being you. I love you Steve, more than anything.

"So if everything were to go to shit, as long as I have you that's all I need. I'll be there reminding you every single day just how special you are to me."

"I love you," Steve smiles as tears fall from his eyes.

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[fanfics4all]

I Hate U, I Love U

Request: Yes / No Draco malfoy x fem reader inspired by I hate, u I love u by Gnash Anon

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Male!Reader 

Word count: 2110

Warnings: Breakup, Sadness, Blackmail 

Y/N: Your Name 

Song: I hate u, I love u by Gnash ft. Olivia O'Brien 

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Draco and I broke up a few months ago. He broke up with me for what seemed like no reason, but a few days later he started dating Pansy of all people! She was obsessed with him and I suppose he realized he wanted her. I couldn’t help but feel like he used me. I tried to move on, but I always ended up wishing he was Draco. I missed his sweet soft lifts on mine and I wanted that so badly again. Even after months I still feel that pain in my chest every time I see him, especially when he was with her. I needed him in my life, but now he was gone… 

Feeling used, but I'm

Still missing you and I can't

See the end of this

Just wanna feel your kiss against my lips

And now all this time is passing by

But I still can't seem to tell you why

It hurts me every time I see you

Realize how much I need you

I hated him for what he did to me. I loved him for everything he used to do to me. I hated him for being with her. I loved him for giving me part of his heart. I don’t want to at all, but I can’t help having him as my number one. No one could ever be better than him, even still. I hated him for having his lips on hers. I loved him for the way he used to do that to me. I hate myself for still wanting him. I hate that he wants her, needs her. I hate that I’ll never be her…

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

Draco’s POV

Y/N was still always on my mind. Whenever I found myself awake at odd hours of the night Y/N was there in my mind. In the mornings when I was having a cuppa and I saw her smiling with her friends, I couldn’t help but let her take over my thoughts. On the days that I just couldn’t bring myself to eat because of stress, she invaded my thoughts once again. A few times I thought about how our families had gone on vacation together and Y/N and I would sneak off with a bottle of fire whisky at night. We never could totally remember what the nights consisted of, but sand was always in my sweaters and she had sand in her hair. I wonder if she missed me like I missed her. I was warned I shouldn’t get attached to my best friend like that. That if things went bad we’d lose each other. Now our hearts were broken and we weren’t even friends anymore… 

I’ve been finding myself tired of everything lately. All the stress for school and my family finally catching up to me. However, I never found myself tired of Y/N. She had gone out with another guy a few days after we had broken up and I was hurt. I thought about how if I did that to her she’d be pissed. I tried to talk to her, to get her back because I was jealous of seeing other guys touch her like I would. She didn’t want to talk though, she would always make up an excuse and leave or just leave without a word. I thought about sending her an owl, I even wrote a letter out, but never sent it. It sat in my desk collecting dust. 

Part of me knew she was still in love with me. I saw her stealing glances at me a few times. I’d smile at her when I saw, but she just quickly looked away. The whole school thought she was over me, seeing as she was dating other guys. But the fact that they never lasted more than a month and that she was always looking at me made me realize she was still in love with me. Her friends didn’t have a clue. No one did. But, if she really wanted me, wouldn’t she just tell me? If I was her I would and I would never let me go again. Perhaps it was because I was with Pansy, not of my own free will of course. She had found out I was failing one of my classes and threatened to tell my Father if I didn’t break things off with Y/N and be with her. I couldn’t risk her actually telling my Father, I’d be severely punished if he ever found out. So here I was with Pansy and not the love of my life… 

I miss you when I can't sleep

Or right after coffee or right when I can't eat

I miss you in my front seat

Still got sand in my sweaters

From nights we don't remember

Do you miss me like I miss you?

Fucked around and got attached to you

Friends can break your heart, too

And I'm always tired, but never of you

If I pulled a you on you, you wouldn't like that shit

I put this reel out, but you wouldn't bite that shit

I type a text, but then I never mind that shit

I got these feelings, but you never mind that shit

Oh oh, keep it on the low

You're still in love with me, but your friends don't know

If you wanted me, you would just say so

And if I were you, I would never let me go

Y/N’s POV

I hated him for what he did to me. I loved him for everything he used to do to me. I hated him for being with her. I loved him for giving me part of his heart. I don’t want to at all, but I can’t help having him as my number one. No one could ever be better than him, even still. I hated him for having his lips on hers. I loved him for the way he used to do that to me. I hate myself for still wanting him. I hate that he wants her, needs her. I hate that I’ll never be her…

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

Draco’s POV

I wish she would just talk to me! I didn’t want to hurt her, I just desperately wanted her back in my arms. I wish I could tell her that Pansy was blackmailing me to date her, but I couldn’t. Pansy was already talking about the possibility of marriage and it was honestly scary. I knew I would never marry her no matter what. My Father’s wrath would be less terrifying than that. I found myself thinking about the possibility of marrying Y/N one day. But then I would see her with her latest boy toy and get pissed. She lied to me. She said I was the only one for her and yet here she is with another guy every month! Seeing this so often led me to drink more and I found myself angry, sad, and in love. I shouldn’t miss her, because it’s clear by her actions that she doesn’t miss me. Maybe I should just let her be. Be distance to her like she is to me. I should stop reminiscing about our past, but I couldn’t help myself. Mother always told me it’s good to have feelings, that I shouldn’t keep them all bottled up. Is our love really gone? Has the trust run out? I suppose I’m moving on in a way, but it doesn’t feel right. I feel more alone than I ever have… 

I don't mean no harm, I just miss you on my arm

Wedding bells were just alarms

Caution tape around my heart

You ever wonder what we could have been?

You said you wouldn't and you fucking did

Lie to me, lie with me, get your fucking fix

Now all my drinks and all my feelings are all fucking mixed

Always missing people that I shouldn't be missing

Sometimes you gotta burn some bridges just to create some distance

I know that I control my thoughts and I should stop reminiscing

But I learned from my dad that it's good to have feelings

When love and trust are gone

I guess this is moving on

Everyone I do right does me wrong

So every lonely night, I sing this song

I hated her for being with different guys. I loved her for how she always knew just what to say to people. I hated that she was moving on. I loved her for that kind heart she always has. I tried loving Pansy the way I loved Y/N but she’s not Y/N and she will never be Y/N. I hated her for letting them touch her the way I was meant to. I loved her for that perfect smile she has. I hated that I wanted her so badly, but she won’t even talk to me anymore. I hated that I was forced to be with Pansy now and that she’ll never be Y/N.

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

Y/N’s POV

I hated him for what he did to me. I loved him for everything he used to do to me. I hated him for being with her. I loved him for giving me part of his heart. I don’t want to at all, but I can’t help having him as my number one. No one could ever be better than him, even still. I hated him for having his lips on hers. I loved him for the way he used to do that to me. I hate myself for still wanting him. I hate that he wants her, needs her. I hate that I’ll never be her…

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

I would sometimes sit alone in the common room reading a book, then they would come in and I saw him watching her. He looked at her like she was the only girl in the world and my head broke. Did he ever care about me? Was I just to make her jealous? Was he lying to me this whole time? All alone, watching him watch her. She’s his world now. She’s the only thing he ever sees now. Did he even notice that my heart is breaking more and more? Did he even notice that he’s killing me with those looks?

All alone, I watch you watch her

Like she's the only girl you've ever seen

You don't care, you never did

You don't give a damn about me

Yeah, all alone, I watch you watch her

She is the only thing you've ever seen

How is it you never notice

That you are slowly killing me?

I hated him for what he did to me. I loved him for everything he used to do to me. I hated him for being with her. I loved him for giving me part of his heart. I don’t want to at all, but I can’t help having him as my number one. No one could ever be better than him, even still. I hated him for having his lips on hers. I loved him for the way he used to do that to me. I hate myself for still wanting him. I hate that he wants her, needs her. I hate that I’ll never be her…

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

All Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches2 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @in-slytherin-we-trust @accio-rogers @sambucky8 @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @answer-the-sirens @andreasworlsboring101 @vanessa-kom-skaikru​ @dracoswhvre

[wendimydarling]

Count to Three

https://weheartit.com/entry/220987445

Title: Count to Three

Summary: Casey can’t fall asleep and Dean is there to help.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Casey Moore)

Word Count: 2110

Warnings: Fingering, Oral sex, external stimulation, female orgasm, protected penetrative sex, mention of bodily fluids.

A/N: So I usually post Henry Cavill content. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever posted a story that’s not for him. But this... this felt right. Please understand that this is the first smut I ever wrote, all the way back in 2012. I posted it forever ago on fanfiction.net, which I’m pretty sure doesn’t even operate anymore. I haven’t edited it save for some formatting that will make it easier to read, and I definitely cringed quite a bit while re-reading it, but it felt dishonorable to edit the original. 

You’re not gonna understand everything that’s going on because it’s a snippet from a much larger fic, but the basic info that you need to know is that Casey and Dean are connected by a spell, and she sees his future in her dreams. 

Now, there is a further continuation of the author’s note at the bottom of the fic explaining why I’m posting this that contains MASSIVE SPOILERS for the series finale, so if you don’t wanna know, don’t click keep reading. It’s that simple, I’ve done everything I can to defend you.

"Shhhh, shhhh... Casey, calm down." Dean strode across the room to sit next to her on the bed, uncharacteristically pulling her into his arms and putting his hand behind her neck. Casey wasn't even sure why she was crying, she was just so very frustrated at not being able to remember. The boys' life was in her hands, and her damn brain couldn't remember the dream. 

"Casey, it's not gonna come back to you if you don't calm down," Dean whispered so she would have to quiet down and listen. "Now breathe." Casey closed her eyes and breathed deep, focusing on her other senses. Dean had never been this close before, and she could smell the soft musk of his soap. Sandalwood, leather, black pepper, a hint of scotch, and motor oil from his car, she thought to herself, letting the scent wash over her in soothing waves. She could hear him breathe, slow and steady, and she tried to match him as best she could. The hand she had on his chest could feel his heart, beating out a strong rhythm. 

The muscles underneath that hand rippled at her touch, and for a moment she felt a small spark in the pit of her stomach. Casey opened her eyes and found herself eye to eye with the most beautiful irises she'd ever seen. She was normally such an observant person, how had she never noticed the piercing green she saw now? And his lips, they looked much softer when they were this close and not drawn into such a tight line. Her mind began to drift to things, inappropriate things, like how much experience he had and what he could be doing with those lips... 

"Casey?" 

Casey snapped back to reality. 

"Sorry, I'm calm," she assured Dean quickly, not wanting to betray her thoughts. "I just wish I could remember. If I could just sleep, I would dream it again and remember, but I'm not even close to tired, so I doubt that will happen." Dean smirked, knowing full well what she had just been thinking (even though she very gracefully tried to hide it). He had been with enough women to know when they wanted him, and he had to admit he liked the idea of sleeping with Casey. She was a pretty girl, and feisty to boot. He'd been scheming for weeks, trying to figure out a way to get her to bed without it complicating things. Without realizing it, Casey had just handed him the solution on a platter, and he wasn't about to let it pass by.

"I could help you with that," he said, flirting. Casey looked up at him confused, so he went on. "With the sleeping... I know exactly what we could do to wear you out. All I have to do is count to three." His hand was still around her neck, so before Casey had time to register what he was saying, he pulled her to him and kissed her with a feather-light touch, making her question if his lips had actually touched her. He held his face right to hers and paused, waiting for her to put two and two together. Casey looked at Dean like he was crazy, and then suddenly it dawned on her. 

"Oh," she breathed. "Okay." That 'okay' was all Dean needed and his mouth was on hers, lips moving together in a violent dance. He was normally gentle with his lovers, but this wasn't the time. The whole point was for Casey to be exhausted, so Dean was going to give her every move he had. She was going to beg before he let her have it. 

Casey let Dean take charge; she was content to let him have his way with her, and the way he was moaning against her mouth, he seemed to agree. His hand left her face and came down to join its brother at the hem of her shirt. He lifted the fabric to reveal smooth skin, and even Dean was surprised at how soft it was. He paused the kiss to remove her shirt completely, stopping short once it was gone. She was even more beautiful than he had realized. Casey whimpered at the lack of touch, so he quickly pulled his shirt off and continued his attack on her lips; pushing her horizontal and climbing on top of her in the process. Casey was in heaven. She had never been kissed so forcefully, so passionately, and she loved it. The weight of his lips, the brush of his fingers, the firmness of his abs beneath her fingertips; it was all so wonderfully overwhelming. Her insides ached with desire, and she wanted more. She knew Dean was drawing this out on purpose, but she was getting frustrated. Wanting to move things along, she unbuckled his belt and whipped it out of its loops, surprising Dean and giving her the opportunity to unbutton and unzip his pants. Dean caught her wrists in his hands and brought them down to her sides. 

"My timing," he scolded, laughing at her groan of displeasure. He gave her a little tease by undoing her pants and pulling them down just past her crotch. The cool air hit her exposed groin, fabric already wet with her desire, and she groaned again, this time in excitement. Pulling her arms above her head, Dean came back up to kiss her neck, skillfully running his tongue in the crease of her collarbone. He moved his head down to kiss her ribs, knowing that when he did she would arch her back, which would give him access to the back of her bra. Casey left her arms where they were as he undid the clasp, revealing her breasts. She wasn't a large girl, but she was proportioned in just the right way, each breast round with a small pink center. Showing no mercy, Dean took one of her nipples in his mouth as he pinned her arms again, sucking on the soft flesh to get it hard and then flicking it rapidly under his tongue. Casey cried out at the warm sensations, and tried in vain to get away from the teasing touches. Her breasts had always been slightly ticklish, and though it felt amazing, she couldn't help trying to escape his grasp. Dean held firm and continued the onslaught on her breasts, alternating between the two as her cries and squirms egged him on. He was having fun playing with her nipples, and seeing as though she couldn't go anywhere, he wasn't going to stop any time soon. 

Casey could feel his cock growing harder against her leg, and her inability to touch him back increased her arousal. She wanted nothing more than to take his member in her mouth and torture him in return, but she was pinned, which only made her mound throb harder. "Dean! Dean pleeeease!" Casey screamed, the nerves in her breasts sending fire to her loins. "I can't... no more... I need... inside..." She couldn't even form a proper sentence. The fire was burning inside her, growing hotter and hotter as she begged him to give her release. It seemed as though her pleas fell on deaf ears as Dean ignored her request to enter her. Instead, he took both her wrists in one hand and brought the other hand down to tickle the breast his mouth wasn't currently sucking on. 

The fire inside Casey erupted at the combination of the tandem touch, and she came hard. Her breath came out in strangled cries, and she bucked harder against him than she had before. Dean kept up his steady rhythm, licking and tickling and slowing only once she came down. 

"One," he said with a grin, laughing softly at the expression on her face. He sat up quickly. Before Casey had time to reassemble her thoughts, Dean was tugging off her pants, and encircling her hips with one arm. The hand that had been pinning her arms slid down her side, past her hip, and came to rest cupping her crotch, thumb brushing against the skin he found there. Casey gasped against his touch, pleasure lacing itself through her veins. She tried to grab his hands, but Dean just smacked hers away. He pulled her panties down just enough that he could reach her bare clit, and stuck his talented tongue into the crevasses of her body. Casey keened as he began his torturous flicking again, wanting him to open her up and fuck her with that tongue instead. She felt Dean smile against her womanhood, and in vain she prayed he would give her more. 

He didn't. Dean used his free hand to pin her wrists underneath her body so that she couldn't push him away and continued licking her up and down. He used two fingers from his other hand to move aside her underwear, slid them in between her lips and held them there, making Casey gasp, and pull against his firm grip. 

"No, Dean please," she said, trying to persuade him to free her hands. Dean ignored her and held fast, shifting his body slightly to spread her legs a little further apart (which elicited another gasp from Casey). He brought his lips down to her button and sucked hard, shoving his fingers inside of her at the same time. Casey's brain exploded at the sudden warmth of his fingers. He pushed and pulled and twisted and scissored in every possible way, contorting his fingers to find every spot inside of her that made her scream. Of course, that wasn't very hard to do; thanks to his mouth on her slit it didn't matter where his fingers went, her orgasm stayed strong. 

"Oh my God... Oh my God, Dean!" She cried out as wave after wave of pleasure continued to roll through her. 

"That's right baby, say my name," Dean mumbled around her mound, trying his best to ignore how unbearably tight his pants were. He would have satisfaction soon enough, so he focused on her. She was still choking out strangled gasps of pleasure, so he moved his fingers faster, pumping her in time with his tongue. Casey's eyes rolled back into her head and she became rigid, her body locked in spasms and her mouth falling open into a silent scream. Her muscles relaxed and she went limp, eyes closed, head rolling slightly and chest heaving. She didn't even fight Dean's grip anymore, just moaned as he slowed down his pace. "Two," Dean noted quietly as he took the opportunity to stand up and remove his pants and boxers. He groaned in relief as his throbbing cock was freed from its tight bondage, not at all surprised to see he was already leaking. He bent over and pulled a condom from his wallet, tearing the wrapping with his teeth and then slipping the condom on with one hand. Casey hadn't moved, hadn't even felt him get up. Eyes still closed, she felt gentle fingers slowly tug her panties off, so she spread her legs wide, inviting whatever was to come next. She was expecting more teasing, more drawn out torture, so when she was suddenly filled with Dean's length, her eyes snapped open, breath catching in her throat. Dean growled, and began to thrust himself deep inside her. Casey's reaction was immediate, her body opening up to receive all of him, her arms coming above her head so her hands could grasp the sheets behind her. Dean was relentless, pounding into her with fury. He grasped the headboard for leverage, and kept up his pace, hard and fast. Casey cried out every time he was deepest, and Dean felt himself slipping over the edge. Casey's third orgasm rocked through her body at the same time Dean let go, his shout mixing with her cry. He continued to thrust through his orgasm, keeping her pleasure high, until it hurt too much to continue. Casey relaxed her body again, and let Dean clean up, too tired to move. 

Dean finished in the bathroom, and came back into the room to find Casey fast asleep, still naked and sprawled across the bed. Dean looked at her tenderly, pulling the covers out from under her body and draping them over her so she would be warm. He climbed into the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her worn out frame. She snuggled closer to him, seeking his warmth, and looked up at him through moon-slit eyes. 

"Thank you," she mumbled to him, drifting back into sleep. Dean looked down at her and kissed her forehead. 

"Three," he whispered.

A/N Continued: Okay, so I’m not here to get into a debate about what they did or did not do right in last night’s episode. I don’t care about your politics, I don’t care about what you think about the episode as a whole. I’m posting this as a tribute. A tribute to Dean Winchester.

Dean is... was, my first love. He introduced me to writing. He was my first boyfriend, he showed me things about my body that I wasn’t aware it could do. He showed me what it meant to keep fighting in the face of adversity. He was there to encourage me when all hope seemed lost. He reminded me that he too dealt with what seemed like an unloving parent, with a parent who no matter what you did, it was never enough. And watching him die like that broke my heart.

So, this story is for you Dean. I love you, I will always love you, and it’s okay. 

You can go now. ❤