#like Life is the one who sends a fatal crash someone's way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hwaightme · 1 year

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Come fly with me

✈️ pairing: pilot!yunho x gn!journalist!reader ✈️ genre: fluff, love at first sight, bit of angst, slice of life ✈️ summary: Aerophobia - the fear of flying. And clearly, something that your boss has no idea exists. While you curse the universe and the metal bird, your handsome seatmate ponders if it is possible to redirect this flight, from Gwangju, to your heart. ✈️ wordcount: 9.0k ✈️ warnings/tags: language, general cuteness, a lot of hand holding and stealing glances, panic/anxiety, aerophobia, discussion of past trauma, mention of grave injury (side character), you never really know what someone has been through ✈️ a/n: Hello!! Here is a lil one shot bc Yunho is renting out my brain. Thank you so much for your love and support, all reblogs, notes and asks welcome! Much love and big hugs (P.S.: not me reading FAA docs and flight handbooks lol)

The chances of dying in a plane crash are one in eleven million.

The odds of a plane crashing are one in one point two million.

Between the years twenty twelve and twenty sixteen, there was only a one in a one point three seven billion chance of dying in a commercial plane crash, and a one in twenty million chance of being on a commercial flight and experiencing a fatal accident.

But there were fatal accidents.

In those same years there were crashes where people died.

And what about those planes that disappeared?

What about the malfunctions?

What if something happens and two planes just fly into one another?

What if the wing breaks off?

What if one of the windows breaks?

What if something happens to the pilot?

What if everything on the plane just malfunctions?

Those odds… still not in my favour.

Damn this work trip.

And damn how packed it is.

Damn this window seat.

Right. By. The. Wing.

Damn that flappy shit on it that looks like something is about to break off.

Why do I have to keep this blind open goddamn it I am having a stressful enough time as is with the plane vibrating like a hungry beast.

Your mind was racing at the speed of light as you cursed your workplace over and over again for sending you on a business trip. On a plane. Of all modes of transport. The mode of transport that had a track record of making you ill, and one time made you faint. Actually, that had been the best flight of your life since you had been conked out for the most of it. No, this was the one mode of transport that seemed to be fine, but just as you would begin forgetting that planes equaled mass destruction, you would check your colleagues’ freshest news reports and once again, crash, burn, genocide.

It was not that you were a scaredy-cat, not by any means. You were a journalist, for fucks sake. You could handle pretty much anything thrown your way. Well, anything except planes. They were not a pseudo-activist who you could expose for not knowing what they were fighting for. They were not an official figure whose corruption you could bring to light. They were not a dog that you could interview for a fun ‘alternative news’ segment. They were a machine made to trap people for set periods of time, can them like sardines, pop their ear drums, and if all went well, regurgitate them on some other metal bird playground, and lie in wait until another bunch gets loaded up for a ride.

But of course, out of all the people in the office, including those who would kill to get out of Seoul and those who were basically known as the nomadic reporters, your boss had to appoint you to go on a three-day trip to Gwangju. The one person who almost exclusively worked in the capital. Who had no experience in working abroad. Hell, the one person who had literally refused to attend a social event because it was held in Busan and the travel plan included flying there. You were the antithesis to such trips, but your boss could not give less of a shit, apparently.

He even had the audacity to praise you in front of your colleagues and say you were ‘just the right person for the interview’ – all when the topic, and the professional background of the individual you were to be meeting, were so far out of your regular scope and within your nightmare space that no amount of reading would make you neither proficient, nor truly appreciative. You were convinced that the universe was out to get you. An alarming interpretation had crossed your mind – perhaps this was your boss wanting to find an excuse to fire you?

A new wave of panic settled in as you made feeble attempts to play a mental game of ‘whack-a-mole’ with your not so friendly musings. Why couldn’t you just exchange the tickets, take the train or a bus, or event drive there yourself? Why did you have to follow orders at your own expense? Just as you were beginning to transition from using familiar curse words to describe the situation to recalling anything and everything you had ever heard either in a foreign drama or in real life, you were gently stirred from the activity by a change in lighting.

You peered to your left – the culprit was a man, broad-shouldered, on the taller side, clad in a stylish sheepskin coat with a white turtleneck and some well-tailored trousers to match. You couldn’t quite see his face fully, but you guessed it would happen sooner than later, seeing as he was in the process of fitting his carry-on into the luggage compartment above where you were sat. Not wanting to intrude any further with your stares, you glanced away, instantly regretting it and exhaling sharply as your eyes were met with the metal wings of doom outside.

An airplanes wings are designed to flex up to ten degrees, and during the average flight the flex can reach up to seven degrees. The wings have been stress-tested time and time again so they cannot break off and the plane will stay balanced and-

But what about the Lockheed L-188 Electra II? What about the Lockheed C-141C Starlifter? Their wings just decided to go on holiday why can’t the wings of a commercial liner do the same? Oh, and the second one had a fuel leak – when do people check that? Did they check for this one? What if something happens and the fuel tank explodes?

“Would you be willing to switch seats by any chance?” a calming voice suddenly interrupted your nervous flow, and you snapped your head in its direction.

That man. Oh no, he was handsome. Dark hair, which was the tiniest bit tousled, kind eyes that you swore glinted at you, and a heart-stopping million-dollar smile. Now you had to keep up appearances too, to not seem like a total wuss, at least for the duration that you had to sit in this can. You heard his question loud and clear, but to allow your mind to process, you asked him to repeat with a quick:

“Sorry?”

He tilted his head and pointed towards the seat closest to him, “Ah, well, technically, this seat is mine, but… would you want to switch?”

Who was this man and why was he reading your ;mind? Was the universe pitying you finally?

“Yes, let’s do that!”

You shot up from your seat, nearly hitting the one in front of you, and slid out to give way to the brave soul who could look out of the window. As you two were settling down and he was giving you his thanks, you were not sure whether your heart was beating fast because of your fear of flying, or because of how you lucked out on your seat mate. Probably both.

It was hard to resist stealing a couple more glances at him while he was checking something on his phone. He had a reassuring aura about him and judging by how well-practiced his motions had been as he was settling in, he appeared to be quite a frequent flyer. He was so relaxed it made you envious. But you had no better way to get back to muting your phobias aside from absent-mindedly fishing out the airplane safety instructions manual from the pocket of the seat in front and reading it with the intensity of a final year student preparing for the KSAT.

You pored over the calls to fasten your seatbelt, to check that there was in fact, a life vest under your seat, to be prepared to pull on some random strings on an air mask if they were to be ‘made available’…

Abandon everything and run ‘in an organised manner’…

No high heels…

Someone probably would try to wear them still, even if we all had to go down that inflatable slide.

Slide down in the Dracula position…

You heard a chuckle to your right, and upon turning a little, you noticed your seatmate studying you, his lips threatening to curl into a grin. He looked you up and down, from the safety manual that you were now gripping a little bit too strongly, and finally locking eyes with you.

“Thought so.” he came to some cryptic conclusion, leaving you perplexed.

“Thought what?” you could not help but give into your curiosity.

“Aerophobia?”

“Is it that obvious?” you groaned and shut the manual to return it to the pocket. You felt as though you turned into a child who wanted to be taken more seriously, with your body refusing to suppress a slight pout. Yes, planes, for all their bird-imitating glory, were never going to be your wingmen. It was hard to ooze attractiveness when you were on the verge of having a mental breakdown.

“Well, there were some signs, but I only noticed them because I was paying attention,” before you could respond to the subtle flirtation, he continued by introducing himself, “I’m Jeong Yunho. Yunho is completely fine though.”

“L/N Y/N. Then Y/N is fine by me too. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. You might just be giving me a run for my money with those deduction skills!” You complimented him, delighted when you could elicit and even brighter smile. This flight was slowly but surely becoming a little bit more enjoyable thanks to the outgoing eye candy in the window seat.

“Are you an investigator, better yet, a special agent out on a mission?” he wiggled his eyebrows, further lightening the mood.

“I doubt I would ever be able to pull Brad Pitt-level stunts and board the plane in an unconventional manner like he did, but the mystery aspect is enticing. I’m a journalist and reporter.”

Something you could only describe as recognition flashed across his face as he clapped his hands together. By now, he had his body turned to the greatest extent possible towards you, his knees nearly touching your thighs. You had to admit, you were worried that a flight attendant would come and scold him, or that this would end up being a hazard during takeoff. But at the same time, the attention was a welcome relief.

“Oh wait! I have seen you before! You mainly cover local news, right? Or at least spanning Seoul Capital Area?”

“Funny to use ‘at least’ there, but yep, that’s me-”

“Your exposé on the fitness center money laundering scheme was amazing, it was like watching an action thriller.”

Well, that fell short. You giggled. Yunho was evidently trying to impress you by praising your work, but mixed things up right at the end. As you were still a junior, the times where you were allowed to as much as breathe in the direction of a live broadcast or even a pre-recording were few and far between. So far, you had only made a couple of appearances, and most definitely not in the crime segments – though you had indeed helped write the script.

“That’s not me. Close enough though. My mentor was the one on the screen.”

The utter confusion on his face spelled disaster for your composure, so you bit the inside of your cheek lightly, eyes sparkling. He covered his face with his hand out of embarrassment, and, once he had regained at least some of his courage, apologized, assuring you that your name did ring a bell and that he had heard it announced.

“Okay, I’ll give you that one. I was one of the writers.”

“Score! Otherwise, I really don’t know how I would be apologizing to you aside from buying you a drink.”

“Something tells me that you were a step away from messing up intentionally.”

“I wouldn’t do that on a short-haul.” Yunho was back to being his cheery self, his only distraction from you being the need to turn his phone on to airplane mode.

This action, meaningless on its own, but in context… left a sour taste in your mouth – a reminder that you were still in a tin can with planks glued onto either side, and that it was about to start grumbling and rumbling across to take off. You saw attendants start preparing for the safety announcement, making you retract into your seat and sigh. How you wished you were as carefree as this charming stranger.

“You know a bit about me, since you are so attentive, but I am intrigued as to who you are.” You inquired, trying to take your mind off what it considered to be imminent danger.

“I don’t want to spoil the fun! Give me a little taste of your own deduction skills.” He challenged playfully, though his tone revealed fleeting notes of concern.

You paused. You had already taken him to be a frequent flier, though for what reason was beyond you. You did not have enough experience racing through airports to be able to distinguish between different types of passengers. But what did stand out to you, was that comment about the reportage – the event that had been covered occurred within the Incheon Metropolitan City area, thus was presented through local branches only.

“You are in Incheon pretty frequently, right?”

“Terrifyingly accurate comment, but yes.” He confirmed while nodding. You felt proud of yourself for managing to have at least some of your skillset still intact.

“And what is bringing you to Gwangju? If it is okay to ask, of course.” You resumed your miniature interrogation, rushing as the announcement began to resound across the cabin, and a flight attendant was demonstrating how to put on the life vest, top up the air, where the emergency exits were… a flurry of information streaming right at you.

“Visiting my parents.” Yunho’s calmness had not changed a single bit since he had boarded the plane, and he was answering you in a level, measured out manner.

“Not during a standard holiday?”

“Here’s the hint: my line of work limits annual hours of… redacted for now.”

“That just makes me think you work abroad most of the time!” you exclaimed, recalling the shock you had when you had first entered the workforce and experience the full package of overtime, minimal breaks, and high demands. There was no guarantee that it was not the same in other countries, could even be worse, but as the old saying goes: ‘the grass is always greener on the other side’.

After he shook his head, shattering your theories, you fell quiet. Everyone had settled in their seats, and now information that was sending adrenaline to pump right through your veins was being shared. Even the demonstration of the flashlight on the vest was ominous. Once the routine had been completed, the rumble of the engines grew a little louder, and you were still making no move to return to the conversation, Yunho leaned over and exclaimed in a low voice:

“I’m a pilot. Indeed, am based in Incheon, and being abroad is very much part of the deal so I would say your logic was impeccable.”

“No wonder you look to be right at home.” You stated, albeit it came across as a little jealous. The air-mobile and your personal panic inducer began to demand more attention as it steered from the airport, leaving a still outstretched landing bridge behind.

“Maybe you are right. I do spend more time in planes than in Gwangju.”

“Sounds like the triangle between me, my apartment, and the office.” You concurred – at least locally the enforce workaholic culture was universal.

With your fingers, you tapped out an abstract rhythmic sequence with your fingers, then moving to feel for the position of the different buttons, side-eyeing them to make sure your seat, nor the electrics were broken. You were tempted to check if the seat could lean back but you were convinced that if you did that the world would collapse. Or at least you would be in trouble. As it turns out you had a flight law enforcement representative right next to you. A good-looking and so far, so sweet, but still.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you crack the Incheon bit?” he detracted you from your near scratching of the synthetic material, and you pressed your hands into your lap to supress their light tremor.

“Ah, you gave it away when you mentioned the news. That was only shown in Incheon.” You curtly responded, your concentration escaping you after you felt the metal bird jolt.

It was crystal clear to Yunho that your phobia was getting the better of you. After not having flown since at least a decade ago, each one of your senses was going into overdrive, screaming catastrophe. Your eyes were slightly widened, breathing becoming more shallow threatening to turn into hyperventilation, and, of course, you not knowing what to do with your hands (or really, yourself) sealed the deal. He needed to help you. Using whatever technique that came to him. And quick.

“Lightheaded?”

“Uh huh…” you could not deny it. That was just how it was. You, alone with your uncontrollable palpitations and a lump in your throat were on the verge of just control alt deleting your consciousness for take-off.

“Uhm… may I… wait, this might be very tactless, and you have every right to tell me to go- …wherever, but may I hold your hand?”

“What?” you snapped out of your thoughts and gaped at Yunho. What strange form of crisis-based moves-making was this? Or was he making fun of you? The engines were becoming almost deafening while you were still struggling to isolate your seatmate’s voice.

Even though he had not shown any signs of malice, you still expected the worst. Always did when it came to discussing travel, since the majority of your interactions often resulted in your conversation partner revealing some aggression-based schadenfreude. They were happy to pity you and diminish all of your other qualities just because you were scared of this one thing. But even though you were actively searching for any form of darkness, you could only find a caring soul, wholly preoccupied with your wellbeing.

“It is so you know that there is someone here with you. Just by feeling. Kind of like a grounding technique?”

“Oh, I would kill to be on the ground right now.” You twisted his words spiralling into dread.

“Sorry, I’d like to live another day, so you’ll have to bear with this. May I?”

Spooked by some noise from outside of the airplane, you did not dare raise your voice and instead resorted to nodding back your confirmation. As soon as you gave the sign, you felt his steady, warm and soothing hand tentatively touch yours, moving it a fraction and intertwining fingers until the palms were pressed together. Yunho gave yours a quick squeeze, as if in mute encouragement.

“This is so embarrassing...” you mumbled, shaking your head.

After the plane had come to a halt before the final turn onto the runway, you felt feverish, and overwhelmingly guilty. You had convinced yourself that you were ruining this wonderful man’s entire flight, by acting like such a child. And on top of this, he was a pilot, so if anyone had the right to consider you ridiculous it would be him.

“If it is the hand holding then I totally understand I can-”

“NO PLEASE THAT HELPS-” you yelped, practically yanking his hand back with yours and returning them to resting between you, “oops I said that too loud didn’t I…” this really was one moment of humiliation after another. Heat rose in your cheeks as you pondered whether it was too late to stop the plane or not.

“You should hear me scream on roller coasters. Now that’s loud.” He countered your insecurity, making you chuckle. You felt Yunho’s thumb brush over the back of your hand – it was not unpleasant. At all. “I must say, you are already doing really well.”

“Funny.”

“No, really.” Now, the engines were really starting up and you gripped Yunho’s hand a little tighter, this led to him making a split-second decision – a final resort. “But how about this. You close your eyes, okay?”

“What are you trying?” you raised an eyebrow, meeting his confident gaze with your own panicked one.

“Just, I know I am a stranger but, trust me for the next couple of minutes, okay?”

“Sure…” you did not have any of the forcefulness and pride left in you, so you quickly agreed and shut your eyes, but that led to you beginning to hyper fixate on the quietest, most insignificant of noises, blowing their impact out of proportion.

“Now, listen to my voice only.” Yunho instructed.

He was alarmingly close, almost right by your ear as he whispered:

“Let me guide you.”

Your heart fluttered, as you tried to push at least some thoughts to the back of your head, in order to focus on Yunho. This surely had to be one of the most original and thrilling ways you had ever been hit on. And terror-promoted-

Oh you had not even recounted the statistics for hijacking and for those types of attacks yet. How foolish of you! How were you going to remain safe if you did not have the likelihood of you perishing because of an air criminal or air pirate in the front of your mind!? You raked your brain for the 'fun facts' you had enjoyed reviewing last night, when Yunho cleared his throat and tapped your intertwined hands with his free one.

“Okay, so, first, let us set the scene. There is this neat thing called the Pilot’s Operating Handbook, which helps the pilot of a given aircraft determine whether it is safe to fly. And they would not do anything until all checks are done."

Where and what was the guarantee of that? You wanted to ask, too aware of the vibrations that were travelling from the floor of the cabin and turning into your jitters. But Yunho sounded so sure of what he was saying... damn it, he was using ethos-based marketing against you. What if he had lied about being a pilot?

"Also, the runway, the wind speed and direction, and a grand bunch of other things are all checked, one by one, to make sure that everything works as expected. You following me so far?” he informed, and paused to check up on you.

Yunho was using the opportunity to study you to the fullest. The little squint as you were fighting against the desire to shoot your eyes open and search for invisible troubles. The slightest hint of a pout etched on your rosy lips, signifying displeasure with your surroundings. He could not control his smile as he was admiring your battle spirit.

It was hard for Yunho to imagine you being as vulnerable as you were with him right now, due to sheer circumstance. Had anything been different, he might not have even had the chance to introduce himself to the beautiful stranger in what originally was the window seat.

“Yes but… what if something does not work?” as much as this experience was exposure therapy, in the moment, you did not give a shit and was sticking to your ways.

“That is not in the job description. And the engineers do a damn good job too. Just like you are now, okay, Y/N?” Yunho scolded softly but finished with more encouragement.

“I am so sorry again-”

“Nothing to be sorry about."

Of course, you would not know just how much you were reminding Yunho of himself in the distant past. How, when he had been a child, he was not able to even stay on airport grounds because of the noise, and the images that would flash in his head. He only hoped that for you it was a 'lighter' phobia, not stemming from true disaster.

"You know how the plane was just turning right now and making some noise?” Yunho cut his rumination short and returned to his miniature lecture.

“Yes.”

“Well, this is the pilot using rudder pedals, kind of like pedals in a car, pedals on a piano... whichever is closer to home for you, to steer the plane. Basically, we must make sure that the nose of the plane is well-aligned with the centre of the runway. And now, release of the brakes…”

Just as he said it, you could pick out a distinct change in the mechanical cacophony. You chuckled - it was like Yunho was conducting the actions of the beast.

“Now, do you hear this rise in sound? This rumble? Quite ominous, isn’t it? But it is just the pilot advancing the throttle gently to take off power, while keeping their feet on the rudder portions of the pedals and their eyes on the super cool engine instruments.”

He almost sounded like a technical kid getting a DIY kit for their birthday. The excitement in Yunho's voice did not falter as he continued to dive into more and more detail. Did you understand any of it? No. Was it more than pleasant to listen to Yunho having the time of his life explaining it? Yes.

“As the speed picks up, there is more pressure on the controls, but more specifically the rudder and elevator. Then we quickly transition to having the plane being flown more than it is taxied and having three axis manoeuvrability. What is really cool about commercial aviation, and pilots like the one flying this plane, is that we are actually able to feel plane controllability and are able to adjust pressures to make take off just right.”

The take-off procedure was being presented to you like a picture book. A straightforward scheme of a few steps, a celebration of a pilot's mastery. You daydreamed of how your seat mate would look like in the famous uniform, doing exactly what he was recounting to you.

“Okay so we are passing this stage now… and here we are approaching lift off. How we call the angle at which the plane takes off the ground is quite funny: the attitude. And after this… we are going to adjust the pitch just a little to make sure we get the best climbing rate.”

Yes, keep on talking this odd terminology that you were not even attempting to get a grasp on anymore. Probably would have been a good idea in light of your interview, but you could barely remain conscious as your inner world was experiencing high magnitude worry-quakes.

“Now, do you feel that? this is the pilot beginning to apply back-elevator pressure, and this is done to lift that little wheel at the front of the plane up. This is the attitude being created, we call it the rotation for lift off. Ah there it is now he is adjusting… adjusting… now the wings are being levelled, and the plane is remaining right on track, aligned with the centreline of the runway.”

Good for the plane. Good for the pilot. Good for Yunho. You just did not want to die. You squeezed Yunho's hand harder and harder, an action on which he did not comment. On the contrary, he resumed the soothing motion with his thumb that he had tried a bit of time ago.

“And now… we keep on going and… we are going steady.”

You eased off the grip, cringing at how forward, how ridiculous you likely seemed. It was hard to open your eyes back up again, so you took it slow. One eye. Then the next. You were still there. In the can. Which was now in the sky. Zooming across it at whatever speed. Yunho was still there. And still holding onto your hand.

Thanks to his guidance, you had not gone into a full-blown panic, nor had you passed out – an achievement really. But as you were regaining your senses, returning to a more neutral mode of worry, your need to show that you were an independent adult and did not require support returned, and you gingerly tried to remove yourself from his hold, as much as you wanted to stay in the same position for the duration of the flight.

Though Yunho allowed you to do so and waved off your numerous apologies. He was of the same mindset – the contact had been near electric, making this one of the more exciting of his flights. He would be lying if he said that the thought of finding an excuse to hold your hand again did not cross his mind. But he was drawn in even more by the contrast between the you from a few minutes ago and you who was boring holes in the seat in front, evidently counting seconds as you were measuring out your breathing. He was in awe of your perseverance, and how brave you had been to even book the tickets. To be in the cabin. To just, be there.

He was perplexed by why you were going to Gwangju by plane if you had a phobia. His own mother, over a decade after the life-changing incident his family had experienced, still had not gotten over it. Sometimes, looking at the racing clouds in the sky had caused her to tear up, and choose to spend the day shut indoors. Such was life. Even though his father was still alive, and had recovered for the most part, the fear of planes, the roar of the engine – a lethal predator, of flying like Icarus, too close to the sun, remained.

Flying was in his family. His grandfather, his father, him… had all committed themselves to the life of a pilot. And his younger brother, too, was in training. The lineage was to continue, despite the close brush with death that had nearly made Yunho’s father one with the world above. Prior to sustaining grave injuries, he had been a test pilot with a stellar reputation, and one successful flight after another. He was known for being able to land planes that had exhibited faults mid-flight, was able to tame high-speed jets that grew unstable, and was a gifted aerobatics master when he could unwind and choose a trusty steed for himself. His father was his role model. Regardless of what had happened.

It had been a freak accident. A miscalculation resulting in a catastrophe. Better yet, the company that had commissioned the testing had managed to keep the accident under wraps, and only after his mother near rioted and escalated the conflict to the local government and threatened to take it to the media, did his family receive compensation and as laughable charity, some physiotherapy courses. Nothing could compensate a broken heart of a person who had been told that they would not be able to do what they lived for anymore, however. Yunho was just a child then. But the fear that had had come to occupy his home was ageless.

It was not easy, living every day not sure whether his own father would be able to walk him to school. Play football with him. Stand together with him for a photo during a family trip. It was not easy on his mother, who had almost totally turned into a carer, splitting herself in pieces to raise two boys, to work, and to be her husband’s strength, both mentally and physically. Her sleepless nights, when Yunho had caught her bawling silently in the kitchen, trying to hide away from the rest of the family, had imprinted themselves in his mind.

The bitterness in his father’s words as he cursed everything related to the event, and the forlorn gazes he sent the awards, the books, the photographs in his office. Although he had been able to walk again, after years of forgetting the feeling, his meaning was only a memory. This was what had shaped Yunho’s initial impression of the world of flying. That it was a place of misery, hurt and false promises. He had vowed then to never, ever step onto a plane. Never once to approach an airport. Never once to give himself up to that dream that he had been born with. His personal ‘fear’ was not quite that. It was more the rage, the sense of injustice – why did it have to be his father? Out of spite he did not want to continue the dynasty.

His mother had been relieved when Yunho had announced at the dinner table that he wanted to be an engineer. And he made a pretty good job of convincing himself that this was what he really wanted. He had even gone to cram school for mathematics and physics and participated in some competitions. Not that he had ever felt purpose or found joy in it. He was just riding the wave of stability. And simultaneously cursing it.

As time for the national exams was fast approaching, and he needed to specify what kind of engineering he was going to do, he had been stumped. How could Yunho pick between a variety of subjects which he had virtually zero interest in, and pursued because of childhood trauma? So, he did what he could only call an act of desperation and approached his father for career advice. Yunho had assumed that the discussion was going to go nowhere. That his father, who had become a consultant and trainer (though permanently grounded), would only dismiss him and say something along the lines of ‘it did not matter anyways, everything could fall apart at any moment’. But surprisingly, he was responsive. Moreover, he had reminisced with Yunho about his early days, ones where he had not been sure what to do.

Then, he had posed Yunho a question: what was it that his heart wanted to pursue? If he were to forget everything, any and all external influence, what would he pick? After much deliberation, he peered at the poster of a Boeing-777 that hung across from him, and merely stated:

“Flying.”

After years of fooling himself. Running away from what his inner self was yearning for. Only this path seemed right. That night, his father and him had made a deal. To not disappoint his mother, and gain some basic understanding of aircraft, he was to pick aero-engineering, and in secret, simultaneously begin flight lessons. His father had activated his network, and once Yunho had gone through that first year, made a smooth transfer to become who he was now. A fully trained commercial airline pilot. True to himself, his dreams and his future.

When his mother had first found out, she was in hysterics. It was as though someone had brought the news to her that her son had passed away. Maybe that would have hurt less – less than the fear for what could happen, the anguish she would be experiencing every time Yunho would lift off. But he had made up his mind. And would indeed rather die than face the prospect of being anything else than a pilot. This was what he was made to do, and it felt right.

On the one hand, the reason why he wanted to help you was because he wanted others to feel the same way he did about flying. It had become his mission to bring comfort to passengers, to inspire future generations of pilots, and to share just how fun it could be. On the other, he had learned the hard way about what phobia and detestation was and could not bear to see you experience it. He had grown far too good at detecting its approach, so much so that he could live through it with you.

Maybe this was a strange way for him to cope and process his own life’s events, but it sure was damn near magical when he saw that he could take away at least a fraction of the weight you carried. After all there was only so much baggage you could bring on board with you.

Yunho’s heart was conflicted. When he had just boarded and got to his row, he had told himself that he lucked out, having an attractive seatmate and one who appeared to be as curious in him as he was in them. And now, he was almost feeling attached to you since he had helped you overcome the take off. It was inexplicable. A little irrational. But he wanted to talk to you. And to keep on holding your hand if you were okay with it.

When you considered yourself to be more or less recovered you sighed in relief. Having Yunho logically talk you through what you had labelled as horror film material had done what you thought was impossible – made you reconsider if planes really were as terrible as you thought. At least the ones where Yunho could be with you and chant plane speak over the screeches and groans of the engines and brakes. You turned your head a little and noticed Yunho watching the Earth transform through the window. He was leaning back and appeared to be deep in his mind palace. You tapped him lightly on his upper arm, which made all his attention come back to you.

“I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for helping me through this, really. You did not have to, Yunho, but you saved me just now.”

“Really, as I said, it is not a problem, Y/N.”

“But still. As you probably can tell, this really is nightmare fuel for me-”

“I am more than happy to continue, just so you know. If you need me, I am right here.” He offered, flustering you.

The sincerity of his words made you dwell on his desire to help. He was nothing short of respectful, but you felt that the story ran much deeper. Perhaps because he knew what it was like. But you were not about to force him into sharing all the potential skeletons and sprinklings of trauma, if anything it would make you appear ungrateful and downright prying. The atmosphere was just right for now, thanks to Yunho.

“You best be worried, because I might just pick you up on that offer, since I have a lot of revision to do before actually doing the job I was sent to do.” You answered, running a hand through your hair. You wondered whether you should use the rest of the flight to actually do some preparation for the interview or… the second option won out immediately, and you were back to enjoying Yunho’s company.

“Ah, so you are on the flight not by your own volition?”

“Yep. My boss is rather creative when it comes to picking out his entertainment.” His chuckle made a dopey grin appear on your face.

“And what do you mean by revision? Will you be joining the ranks?” he realised he barely knew anything about you aside from the odd mix of bare bone basics and auto-completed nonsense, courtesy of his imagination.

“Probably not, still need to sit as a passenger for a long, long time before that, you know, learn by observation!” you joked, attempting to conjure a vision of yourself as a pilot, but the irony of it was too much. “I am going to be doing a mini-documentary and interview with Hwang Taehyuk. He is a recently retired pilot with many accolades and, apparently, a very exciting professional life so-”

“This really keeps on getting better.”

“What keeps on getting better?”

“I had the chance to co-pilot with him a couple of times. Absolutely the most amazing guy on the planet. Total goofball too.”

“Why am I not surprised?” you threw the rhetorical question out into the air, but almost instantly continued, “You know, you are making me glad that I took this flight.”

“Like I said, if you need a plane nerd rundown of what’s going on at any point, just let me know and I can even draw some diagrams for you on a napkin.”

“Not just that, though now you promised me some diagrams and I do want to see them. It’s just, the beauty of how things have aligned. That makes me... quite happy.”

“Seconded.”

For the hour that it took to fly from Seoul to Gwangju, you were in deep discussion with your seatmate, turned acquaintance, turned to something that could not exactly be called a friend – an ‘interest’, rather. It was a process of progressive mutual discovery, stepping beyond first impressions and learning that, in fact, both of you only wanted to know more and more as the minutes and stories flew by.

Feverishly you shared your lives with one another, in a manner not dissimilar to that of someone retelling a missed episode to make sure that from then on, everyone would be moving forward together, at the same pace. You and Yunho explained your dreams, your hopes for the future, whilst inadvertently looking for, and finding similarities in them. You soared through conversation and landed being much closer than either of you could have predicted.

Everything was on the table – from embarrassing stories to going through each other’s camera rolls (under strict supervision, but that was a given). To prove to you that Yunho was truly a pilot and not just a plane nerd, he had shown you some photos of himself in uniform, zooming in to show you that the epaulettes were very much real and that he was earning his stripes. You commended his determination and had even taken an interest in how the career ladder functioned, but really what you could comprehend the best out of that discourse was that he chose the right job even if just for how handsome he looked in the attire. Yunho really was one of a kind, inside and out. He reminded you of a day in early spring, when the days were steadily growing longer, and the winter breeze finally departed, instead letting the budding leaves and blossoming beauties take over and instil a happier sense of tomorrow. He was the one to start to thaw your previously deadest perceptions and blood-curdling associations.

It went without saying that your fear of flying did not go without mention. A dreaded topic for you, you had initially tried to brush it under the table, but it was pointless to do before a person who had just seen you through take off, and for the duration of the flight sometimes paused your dialogue to check in with you. In addition, if he noticed your concentration drifting because of a foreign noise, or because of a little tilt or turn, every time Yunho would explain the reasoning behind it the best he could. Though it would take much longer to get over the phobia, his dedication made you swoon.

You had revealed to him that you had been diagnosed with aerophobia back in early primary school. It was genetic, with your father’s family line showing particularly strong symptoms – so any reunions were either planned with military precision, or simply did not happen, because Jeju Island was not so ‘all modes of transport’ -friendly. Back then, you had no idea how serious your condition could be, seeing as you were minimally exposed, but the times you were had been haunting you since. Your choice of work had not helped with your condition either, since you were constantly exposed to the worst locally, nationally, and globally. Though you had to be an objective messenger and remain unperturbed, aviation-related accidents often left you a whimpering, misty-eyed mess. At least you had become an expert in reading and responding to emails while your vision was blurry.

This was probably the first time ever that you had shared this aspect of you without either being interrupted or misunderstood. With Yunho, he listened carefully, and bewilderingly, drew parallels between your reality and his. It was obvious that he was holding back on some more upsetting facts out of care for how you would react, but you could figure out that his path to becoming a pilot had been on the bumpier side. He did end up drawing some free body diagrams for you and explaining the aerodynamics involved in a flight, lighting up every time you would ask him a question, or even when you would lean in, so your heads were almost touching, brows furrowed and processing.

Yunho had provided you with more anecdotes about the pilot you were going to interview, and even suggested that he could come along to introduce you – apparently the guy liked to keep his circle small and was not one to trust outsiders until they gained his respect. There was something surreal about being on the plane with Yunho – it made you believe that you two would last forever, and that what he was initially proposing, and then downright promising you to do, would really happen. Here was to be hoping that you would not part ways and at least be able to recognise one another in a crowd.

Landing went a little smoother for you than take off, perhaps because you had automatically searched for Yunho, and gingerly placed your hand on his lower arm. Too shy to do the same as before, you had remained in that position, focusing on the fabric of his coat. Meanwhile Yunho was frozen, like a person who had been chosen by a cat as the perfect napping spot. He remained close to your ear, once again whispering through the steps, though seeing your lowered anxiety, allowed himself to veer off the script a little more and crack a couple of jokes.

You left the plane as if you had been companions to begin with, checking if the other had left anything behind, chatting as you made your way across the jet bridge. Unlike the rest of the passengers who had decidedly become track and field athletes as soon as they were hit with airport air conditioning, Yunho and you moved slow, off to the side of the giant glass corridors, just so that time would not pass by you. For the first time, you were grateful that the line for passport control had gotten quite long by the time you reached it – all the more time to sneak glances at one another, kid around, and act like you had known each other forever. When you had reached the front of the line, the border control officer had even mistaken you as a couple and let you through together. Not that you would correct them.

Baggage claims. A time to reminisce, as it turned out. Standing side by side, you recollected each other's musings and theories as though you were revising, flipping through cards and supporting each try at a response with ripples of laughter. This was a plane that neither of you wanted to land, and kept on praying, repeating the same wish like a mantra: may this last.

If only this damn luggage could continue spinning forever, or would just be lost in the metal bird's belly. Somehow, life on the ground appeared to move faster than that high above. The hustle and bustle, people moving to and fro with their identities shoved into flimsy wheeled boxes, kept together by duct tape and overpriced cling film. Everyone had to have a plan. A destination. Up in the air, that could be removed. Troubles minimised for the duration of the flight. The only direction being to a random dot of choice, labelled as a city, town, base, important only because of plans that resume upon landing.

To Yunho, this was the biggest disillusionment he had experienced in his first flight. When he had been a little boy, he believed that everything radically changed after such a journey. That pilots were like wizards. But, as it turned out, he was only serving other people's plans. Just like this time, he was following a specific agenda. But you had made it colourful. Meaningful. The time suspended in mid-air well spent, and in need of a ‘to be continued’. As you made your way closer and closer to the airport exit, after having collected your belongings, he only had one thing on his mind. How could he prolong this metaphorical flight with you?

Without any prior agreement, nor any feat of telepathy, you and Yunho halted. It was time to part. Both you and him knew it, and yet neither of you were making the decisive move to do so. Instead, you chose to dawdle and stand, facing each other in the middle of Arrivals, luggage by your sides.

“Are you... going to be taking a taxi? Or is someone going to meet you?” he broke the silence with some small talk, while his heart was threatening to burst out of his chest – somewhat comical, now it was his turn to be panicked.

“I’ll catch a taxi. Yeah. And yourself?” You asked, not caring for the response, but for the prolongation of time that it brought. You were not looking forward to departing from this bliss between destinations. Back to rushing somewhere. Trying not to lose yourself amidst the events you had to pursue.

“Car rental.” Yunho swore he could hear turbine noise in his head as he was dashing from one idea to the next. Was he about to lose you?

“That’s neat.” You kicked the air with your foot, and stuffed your hands into your pockets, readying yourself for an unwanted goodbye.

You raised your head and faced him. Two people, fumbling for a way to stay like this. Were both of you waiting for some divine intervention? For a third person, a passive observer to suddenly step in and give you a friendly nudge? All the signs were pointing to a sure-fire success, and yet hesitation, doubt and insecurity remained as the devil on both your shoulders. Perhaps this was not meant to be, and you merely served one another as a time passer, a cure for boredom, and eventually destined to bid your farewells. Your lips parted, and you inhaled, about to say the dreaded words, when-

“I can drive you.”

“Huh?”

“If you want.”

He officially short-circuited as he could not wait any longer. Had Yunho been a poet or a writer, hell, maybe even if he had stayed an engineer, he could have come up with something more impressive, but at the end of the day, the message would be the same. Let’s go together. Let’s go anywhere together. Come fly with me.

Now, it was one thing to hope, and a wholly different one to expect, and you sure as hell had not been doing the latter. So, when Yunho took the leap and reached out to you, and to your future self, you needed to take a moment to internally squeal. And then try your best to keep it cool and answer like a proper adult, rather than the inner giddy schoolchild who was on their umpteenth celebratory somersault.

“I would want that. But aren’t your parents waiting for you?” your response was light and breezy, and an attempt to showcase, once again, that you had paid attention to him and could recall why he was here in the first place.

“Well, I mean, I don’t usually do this… but if you are into meeting parents so early…”

“Oh, come on!” you giggled, playfully hitting Yunho’s upper arm as he grinned wide.

“Totally serious, Y/N, I am totally serious.” He responded, sarcasm dripping from his words.

He pointed in the direction of the car rentals and took the small suitcase you had brought with you in his free hand. Ever the gentleman.

“And if you are free at any point, I would love to show you around.” He continued as you ambled on, barely any space between you.

“As long as it is by foot or car, I am free today and tomorrow afternoon.”

“I wish I had the car from Back to The Future so that I could impress you with my piloting skills, alas, I’ll have to disappoint you with… are they advertising new Kia models? Y/N, not all is lost!”

“Now to figure out which one looks most like a Yunho-mobile.”

“We’ll figure it out, take an online test that matches MBTI to a car or something.”

“Don’t tempt me, or I might actually do that.” You warned in jest and proceeded to take out your phone to make a point. This seemed to have an effect on Yunho, as he stopped abruptly and began searching for his own device.

“Oh! That reminds me! Your five-star guarantee Uber driver would like to have your number. You know, for announcing his arrival, of course.” As you typed in your digits, and then proceeded to save his number on your phone after he had texted you a string of airplane emojis you ideated out loud:

“I can already see the review I shall write: car may or may not take off and grow wings during journey. Passenger discretion is advised."

“If that’s the case, I’d be more than happy to hold your hand again, or maybe something more serious to protect against turbulence?” he winked, and you felt heat rising to your cheeks.

“I think I’ll have to write a piece about your methods.”

“Just make sure to mention that they are exclusive to Jeong Yunho, your private pilot,” well that was an original, yet explicit expression of interest, “and speaking of reporting, I am taking you to teacher Hwang’s for some proper networking.”

“Yeah, and what about my crew?”

“Pilots are no strangers to crews, trust me on that.” he answered promptly.

“I can imagine.”

You and Yunho stood still, eyes locked. Your 'spring' ahead of you.

“Now, shall we be off?” he gestured towards the rentals office, but not removing his gaze.

“Go on ahead, be my guide.”

Given half a billion potential soul mates, your chance of finding your true love is one in 10,000.

1 in 50 airplane passengers meet the love of their life on board an aircraft.

And when it came to you and Yunho, the probability was simply 1. 100%. No other way.

Perhaps it was a good thing that you were scared of flying.

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persoulnal · 3 months

Text

ONE LAST HUG LHS

synopsis~

When someone passes away, they are sent to their happiest moment in life. The people who were with them there are also sent to spend their last moments with loved ones. You weren’t expecting yours to be with you boyfriend, Heeseung, more specifically in your old apartment.

genre~

ANGST man heavy angst, slight fluff but not really

warnings~

mentions of car accidents, main character death

unedited as usual

You were going to die.

Your fingers grazed the silk bedsheets, your delicate hands familiar to the touch. Your thumb wrapped around the extra fabric giving it a light tug. The muted blue sheets raise slightly, and the smell of fabric softener filled your senses as you closed your eyes.

You were going to die.

You could hear the rain tapping on the window near the bed and the sounds of bird chirping at the sight of worms. Cars were blazing through the main street and an occasional honk sounded. At the fourth honk you opened your eyes.

You were going to die.

Your eyes stayed on the ceiling, the white paint slowly chipping in the corner. You stayed like that for another moment before sitting up. You let out a bated breath confirming where you were.

You were going to die.

First thing you see when you sat up was a polariod. The photo was placed on the neat, organized white desk with a stack of papers in the middle. The photo was in a beautiful golden frame with accented details engraved in the metal. It was a photo of you and your boyfriend, Heeseung.

Today was the last day you would be seeing Heeseung because you were going to die.

You have lived this day before; waking up on the silk sheets, hearing the rain tap on the window, sitting up to look at the picture frame. You have lived this day before and that only means one thing. You were going to die.

You began to cry. Violent sobs fell from your mouth as you brought your knees up to your chest. Pained screams sounded from your mouth as you frantically sputtered out phrases such as "no" or "this can't be happening" because it just could not be happening.

You were healthy with no signs of fatal death or chronic illness. Last thing you remember was driving in a car with- oh no. A car crash, it had to have been a car crash. Last thing you remember was someone hitting the passenger side of Heeseung's car sending his into a spiral down the surrounding cliff.

Your ringtone disrupted your thoughts and you wiped away your tears with one hand while the other reached for the phone. "Hey."

It wasn't his usual chirp voice that always made you wake up a little more in the morning. His voice was calm, but you could tell there was fear hidden behind it.

"I-" You paused bringing your lip into your mouth as the tears began to form again. "I don't want to go."

Heeseung froze on the other end, halting himself from entering his car, the very car that was wrecked in the future. He rested his free hand against the top of it and then let his head drop to his forearm. He closed his eyes tightly not knowing what to do. Not knowing what to say. What do you say when the person you love is about to die, no is already dead, and there is no way to stop it? What do you say when you are about to lose the person you love?

"Y/N." His voice cracked as he tried to find the strength to speak. "It might not have been you. I'm coming over, like I did that day, or this day? I'm- I'm coming over."

"It was me. We go hit on the passenger side there's no way it wasn't me."

"Just- I'm coming."

He hung up, not the best thing to do, but what else should he have done? He couldn't sit there and dwell on what is to come, he can only ensure that this day goes according to plan.

Sitting in the driver seat he started his car giving it a hard punch on the dashboard, "That's for ruining my fucking life."

It took him 10 minutes to arrive at your apartment, and in those 10 minutes you have not been able to move from your spot on the bed. You just looked at the photo of you and Heeseung on your desk.

Today was the day he called you early in the morning to sing you a song. He claimed to have stayed up all night just to write the chorus and he was eager, a bit too eager to show it to you. This was an incredibly happy moment in your life, but was it your happiest? You were sure the happiest would be the day you two got an apartment together, or maybe when you two went to visit his family that one Christmas. But it turns out it was this day.

A few knocks on your door signaled that he was here. He had his own key to the place and allowed himself entry. His guitar was slug around his body as he stopped in front of your room. While everything was familiar to him, it was also foreign. This was your old apartment when you two first started dating. He remembers it like the back of his hand, but it had been so long since he's seen it.

"Y/N," He pushed the door open to reveal your crouched body, eyes not moving from the picture with tears tracing your face, "I have something to show you.

"He wanted to breakdown at the sight of you. This would be the last time he saw you; this would be the last time he would be with you.

"The living room." You croaked out. "We need to go to the living room. It happened on my sofa."

"Oh right." Heeseung must have forgot. His mind was clustered with other thoughts.

The two of you slowly shuffled to the living room and it seems like it's been so long since the two of you were here. It didn't take long to get to the worn-down leather sofa in the middle of the room. It was as comfortable as you remembered it and the feeling of it was too nostalgic now

"So," Heeseung took a deep breath and gave a shy smile, "I wrote you a song."

You remember the song vividly, how could you not? How could you not when it was a song professing his undying love for you? That must be why this was your last moment, you felt so much love after he sang it, and you must have wanted to hear it again like it was the first time.

"Did you now?" You let out a struggled chuckle that quickly turned into a quiet weep. You were trying to stay strong for him, but it was all too hard. It was too hard to be here and never want to leave.

"Yes. I stayed up all night perfecting it. Can you tell by my bags?" He too began tearing up, the crack in his voice exposed that. He wasn't even sure if he'd be able to sing.

"Well, I can't wait to-" your voice got caught in your throat and you couldn't continue the act. You couldn't continue to act like nothing was happening because something fucking was.

You were going to die.

"Hee," You continued to cry, "I can't. I can't do this."

Heeseung ditched his guitar and took you in his arms. He held you as the two of you sobbed to each other. "Shhh.”

He rubbed your head resting his chin on top of it after as he looked around the apartment. He was a bit shocked to see this was your last memory, but as he is back here it began to make sense. You loved this song when he first sang it and you forced him to sing it for you all the time. You were infatuated with it. "I don't know how long we have here, but I would like to sing." Heeseung spoke once the two of you calmed down a bit. He wanted to sing for you. His voice was always soothing to you.

"Yes." You sat up and rubbed your eyes. "Please sing."

He picked up his guitar from the side of the sofa and rested it on his lap. His hands rested on the strings but didn't play for a moment. The realization finally hit him.

"Heeseung?" You waited and he looked up to you. You tilted your head, and he licked his dry lips.

His shaky fingers grazed the strings and it let out a soft bellow. He then began to strum on the guitar. At first you thought that you forgot what his song Polaroid Love sounded like. Whatever he was playing was not what you remember hearing, but as he continued you realized it most definitely was not the first song you hear. This one was different, but his voice was still the same.

"The time we couldn't meet left me feeling uneasy

But I felt warmth in my heart

You're out of reach, not in front of me

But this feeling is like you're right by my side

Touching you."

Heeseung began to sing, his voice raw from just crying, and he grimaced at the rasp.

"No matter how far apart we are

This voice will never falter

Overflowing emotions

They won't stop."

His voice was better now, less raspy, but you could still tell he cried before this. Your mind was reeling with what was being sung. You didn't know how to react.

"This emotion can't be expressed in words

It's screaming in a raw voice

I'm falling, falling for you."

He teared up again.

"This is for you."

You sat for a moment just looking at him. He finished singing and he couldn't bring himself to look up at you just yet. You took a deep breath and then scooted over to him on the sofa. Your hand reached for his.

"Hee." There was a crack in your voice as you rubbed your thumb on his palm. "You wrote that for me?"

"Sure did." He chuckled. You said the same sentence exactly 5 years ago. "Was it good?"

"Just as good as the last one." You cupped his cheek bringing his gaze to meet yours. "Thank you Heeseung."

He stared into your eyes, the two of you basking in this moment. "Thank you for the song. Thank you for the song before. Thank you for being in my life. Thank you for giving my life meaning. And most importantly, thank you for loving me. You were the best thing to happen to me. I know that we will find each other again someway, somehow. You are my forever, Heeseung."

"Y/N," He free hand raised to grab your hand that was on his face. He rubbed it never wanting your touch to go away. "I love you. I will always love you. You made my life so, so much better. I will always be with you, okay?"

"There's a note. If you go in the closest in the purple box, there's a letter. I kept it there just in case if something were to happen and I couldn't talk to my friends or family. I didn't think it would happen this soon." Heeseung pursed his lips, and you tilted your head.

"What are you talking about?" Your eyes squinted slightly as you dropped your hand from his face.

"The notes have names on them. Can you give it to them?" He smiled at you, the smile that you fell in love with.

"Heeseung, stop. What are you talking about?" You sat up from your slouched position. You reached for his hand once more and held it tight. "What are you saying?"

"When I wrote you that song, I was so excited to show it to you that I rushed over right when I finished it."

"Yes. I know you called to make sure I was awake." You were trying to follow along, but it was becoming too confusing for you.

"When I sang it to you, your face when hearing it was nothing like ever before. You looked at me with such love, you looked at me as if you loved me. You looked at me with love." He squeezed your hand.

"This night we went to a party. You got so, so shit faced. You don't remember and I never pried or told you, but you told me you loved me." He looked away letting out a reminiscing laugh.

"I told you I love you?" You remembered the party, or at least the moments before. You blacked out before getting home and Heeseung brought you to your apartment and stayed the night. The morning after you officially said you loved him when you heard the song, but it seems like your drunk self was one step ahead.

"Yeah. You said after hearing my song you realized you were in love with me. You told me the song made you realize you loved me." Heeseung spoke and it all started to click.

"No. Hee, no." More tears came that you didn't know you had, and your hands gripped his tighter. "No, Heeseung stop."

"Y/N-"

"No! You didn't die I did. I died because my door was hit. I died." You couldn't believe. He couldn't be dying. This wasn't real.

"When the car tipped my side fell and then it rolled over and was upright." He was trying to calm you down and brought his hand to rub your arm.

"No, I was hit. I'm the one who died stop." Just when you were starting to accept your death you come to learn it is not you who died, it was your love who did.

"Listen to me, hey listen to me," He gripped your arms to have you look at him, "I love you. I have loved you and I will never stop loving you. Please don't dwell on my death for too long. Grieve but don't have it control your life."

His hand then traveled to your face, fingers brushing over your skin to wipe the tears.

"Heeseung," You whimpered with blurry eyes. The sensation of his hand was no longer on you, and you looked down to see what was going on. His arm was gone, and he was slowly fading.

"We don't have much time." He looked down at his invisible arm. "Come here.”

You closed your eyes and took three breaths and then let him hold you in his embrace. You rubbed your head against his chest trying to calm him down for his last moments. You wouldn't be so selfish as to ruin it.

He began humming into your ear, it was the song he sang this day five years ago, it was the song when you realized you loved him. You tried to hold back your tears, but small droplets were falling. Heeseung now sang and held you closer. You wrapped your arms around his one arm that rested on your waist. Your back was to him, and your head was in the crook of his neck.

You looked up to see his face one last time. His eyes were closed but the wet tears were present on his face. You looked at his lips. You looked at his perfect nose. You looked at him in all his beauty for the last time because he was going to die."

"Heeseung." He continued singing. "Can I see your eyes.”

He opened them, there was a slight redness and puffiness.

"I've always loved your eyes."

"By now his whole lower body had disappeared and half his upper body was going too. Heeseung kept his eyes open, but you closed yours to nestle in his neck again. You thought about how good it felt to be in his arms in that moment and how incredibly lucky you are to have this.

Sitting like that for a few more seconds and you felt your head loose it's support. You held it up though and your arms stayed in place.

You could still hear his voice and his final words," I love you."

"I love you." You whispered back, still holding yourself in place.

Your calloused hands stayed wrapped around your dainty figure. you sobbed into your arms letting out heavy breaths. "I love you" you held your body tighter.

The touch of your fingertips rubbed your barren shoulders sending waves of warmth to your skin. The touch bringing the comfort you so needed.

"Don't cry now." you whispered again. "Don't cry."

The tears kept falling as your knees were brought closer to your body. you pictured Heeseung was still hugging you, that he was still with you.

In your mind that's all you could see, but to anyone else all they saw was a broken girl trying so desperately to make herself feel better. All they saw was a girl struggling to stay with him.

With your eyes closed you didn't notice the room around you disappearing. Your old apartment becoming nothing but a memory once more. Still crying, you curled into a ball on the hospital bed, legs raising up to be held in your arms. People began to rush into the room you were in and ask questions, but it was all a blur.

You pictured you were still in your apartment, still with him.

#enhypen au #heeseung au #lee heeseung #heeseung #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader

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zeglythofficial · 2 days

Note

What Tay/lor S/wift song do you think fits Zeglyth the most? I like slut! for them!

I know you said one song but oops 🤭 we should make a zeglyth playlist

You Belong to Me

Oh, I remember you driving to my house

In the middle of the night

I'm the one who makes you laugh

When you know you're 'bout to cry

And I know your favorite songs

And you tell me 'bout your dreams

Think I know where you belong

Think I know it's with me

The Story of Us

Oh, I'm scared to see the ending

Why are we pretending this is nothing?

I'd tell you I miss you, but I don't know how

I never heard silence quite this loud

Stay stay stay

You took the time to memorize me

My fears, my hopes and dreams

I just like hanging out with you

All the time

All those times that you didn't leave

It's been occurring to me

I'd like to hang out with you

For my whole life

Begin Again

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid

I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did

I've been spending the last eight months thinking all love ever does

Is break and burn and end

But on a Wednesday in a café I watched it begin again

Style

You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye

And I got that red lip classic thing that you like

And when we go crashing down, we come back every time

'Cause we never go out of style

We never go out of style

King of My Heart

Salute to me, I'm your American Queen

And you move to me like I'm a Motown beat

And we rule the kingdom inside my room

'Cause all the boys and their expensive cars

With their Range Rovers and their Jaguars

Never took me quite where you do

And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for

King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa

And all at once, you're all I want, I'll never let you go

King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa

Lover

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

This is our place, we make the rules

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover

London Boy

You know I love a London boy

I enjoy walking Camden Market in the afternoon

He likes my American smile

Like a child when our eyes meet

Darling, I fancy you

Took me back to Highgate

Met all of his best mates

So I guess all the rumors are true

You know I love a London boy

Boy, I fancy you, ooh

Afterglow

Fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves

Chemistry 'til it blows up, 'til there's no us

Why'd I have to break what I love so much?

It's on your face, and I'm to blame, I need to say

Slut!

Send the code, he's waiting there

The sticks and stones they throw froze mid-air

Everyone wants him

That was my crime

The wrong place at the right time

And I break down, then he's pullin' me in

In a world of boys, he's a gentleman

Down Bad

Now I'm down bad crying at the gym

Everything comes out teenage petulance

"What if I can't have him"

"I might just die, it would make no difference."

Down bad, waking up in blood

Staring at the sky, come back and pick me up

What if I can't have us.

I might just not get up

I might stay down bad

What if I can't have him

Down bad

What if I can't have him

Guilty as Sin?

I keep these longings locked

In lowercase inside a vault

Someone told me

There's no such thing as bad thoughts

Only your actions talk

These fatal fantasies

Giving way to labored breath

Taking all of me

We've already done it in my head

If it's make believe

Why does it feel like a vow

We'll both uphold somehow?

#my answers #zeglyth #written in the stars

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saitama-division · 2 years

Text

TW: Mature(ish) Content ahead, read carefully

Despite his birthday being long over, there were still a few people who wish the bodybuilder of Aoyama a joyous birthday, one of those people was also a certain blonde model the man was smitten with.

Karada yawned tiredly as he walked over to the door of his place, he was about to finally hit the hay when the doorbell went off, alerting him of someone outside, he was surprised (and a little annoyed) that someone was up this late but he figured it was just another woman coming over and giving him gifts or something like that. Not that he wasn’t grateful! But it is late and he was pretty tired from an entire day of partying (as anyone would be..).

As the muscular man open the door to send the person away, the words immediately died on his tongue as he finally looked at who was on the other side of the door.

Saitama’s top model and member of Femme Fatale, Lola Takahashi, beamed at the blonde man from where she stood, with her face dolled up in beautiful makeup, ruby lips and all, wearing a stylish long trench coat and expensive heels, in one of her hands was a six pack of Sapporo Supreme. The faint glow of the moon and Aoyama’s city lights eliminating behind her, enhancing her beauty and giving her an ethereal glow, making her look like an angel.

Hell, for all Karada knows, she might as well be.

“Happy birthday babe!” The model cheered before giggling sheepishly, “Er, um, I guess late birthday, I’m so sorry honey, I would have visited you sooner if someone would’ve get off their lazy ass.” She sent a vicious glare to her creator who cowered off screen in shame before she sent the man before her a sweet smile.

Karada could barely process what she was saying, simply stunned by the fact that the woman of his dreams is right here in front of him and oh my god is she real-

A snap of fingers in front of his eyes finally sent him back crashing to earth and Lola giggled in amusement, “So…? You gonna let me in?”

“Shit!-uh yeah! Of course, c’mon in, you must be freezing!” The bodybuilder quickly stepped out of the way and ushered the blonde woman inside.

Lola whistled as she looked around his place, smiling, “Damn, Aoyama elite really do live the good life but somehow it feels homey, the fitness equipment is definitely your touch though.” She chuckled, Karada laughed along with her, still kinda not believing that she’s really here. “Haha…yeah…”

“So! What were you doing? Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time, I know it’s late and all but I was hoping I could get a little one on one with you…and a few drinks of course.” She grinned holding up the pack of beer, “Bet you had girls clawing each other to wish ya a happy birthday, hmm?”

“Well, yeah haha, what can I say?” Karada chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck, “But that was about it, really, didn’t go further than that and…well, none of them pulled off something like…this.” He gestured to the model, making her smirk.

“Oh really?” She hummed, eyeing him and Karada was starting to wonder just when did the room suddenly get hot. Lola set the beer on a nearby table and opened up the pack, grabbing two beers and handing one to Karada who took it, he had been drinking all day and he was sure that a hangover was gonna bite him in the morning but right now he couldn’t care less, this was an opportunity and he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna take it.

“Yeah, really.” He swallowed and opened the beer, taking a swig of it as Lola drew her hands to the belt of her trench coat, Karada was about to speak but was cut off once again as the Russian model took off the article of clothing off to reveal her half naked were it not for the green ribbons wrapped around and over her forming some makeshift outfit (if you can call it that), but making sure to cover all the…critical areas.

….Karada was so, so glad he decided to answer the door tonight.

Lola gently pried the now crushed can of beer from his hand (he didn’t even know that he crushed it) and set it down, trailing her hands up his arm and bicep before resting it on his shoulder and yep Karada’s brain has definitely stopped functioning, holy shit she’s so close and she smells amazing and-

“And you’re saying they also didn’t do this?” Lola purred, crimson lips still pulled into that sexy smirk and any and all tiredness Karada had before was now nonexistent.

“N-no..” Fuck, why did he stutter?! Now she’s gonna think he’s an idiot! (Well…)

“Good.” Lola looked pleased before pulling him over to the couch and pushing him down on it, “Because I haven’t gave you your present yet, you’ve been such a good boy for me, Karada, so devoted, I’m honestly impressed, you’ve been waiting for a while, haven’t you?”

Lola’s smile grew wider as she saw Karada rapidly nod his head like an excited puppy, if he had a tail, she would have no doubt that it would be wagging furiously.

With slow, sensual moves, she straddled his lap and gave a curious hum when she felt…something. “Oh, you’re really excited.” She whispered and the blonde man bit back a groan, holy shit, this was actually happening, after agonizing waiting for months, she was finally-

Lola quickly got off his lap and his world immediately came crashing down.

Lola tried to keep it in, she really did, but seeing the sheer look of befuddlement on Karada’s face, she couldn’t take it and started giggling like mad. “I-I’m sorry sweetie, I d-didn’t mean to, you just look so adorable.” She covered her mouth, giggles still falling from her lips and Karada had never felt such betrayal in his life.

Finally coming down from her gigglefest, Lola stood in front of the large man before gracefully dropping to her knees, hands on his thighs which made the man jump from the sudden contact, Lola gave him a sultry smile, rubbing his thighs and giving them a few squeezes. “Aww, don’t look at me like that, I said I was going to give you your present right? That’s what I’m gonna do, I want you to relax, baby, let me do alllllll the work.” As she spoke, her hands slowly crept up until they reach his waistline, hooking into his sweatpants and pulled down.

“Don’t worry about a thing in that pretty head of yours, right? My good boy~”

—

Next Day…

There was a picture on Karada’s phone, looking as if to be sent by Lola.

It was a selfie of Lola herself but…uh, slightly disheveled (but still beautiful), hair a little messy, makeup still intact but lipstick smeared and still wearing her skimpy ribbon getup. She was holding a peace sign to her face and was still smirking but her tongue was out and looked like as if she was licking something off her lips. It was provocative at the very least.

There was also a text under the image

‘Happy birthday, big boy ❤️’

#hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #hypmic #hypnosis microphone #hypnosis mic #lola takahashi #karada kessaku #happy birthday karada #my god #im so sorry #I was late #and this was terrible #but I wanted to do something for my man Karada #and what better present than se-#im gonna go learn how to write better smut but not really smut

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grad502breanneattwood · 2 years

Text

Week 1 SDL - Finalising Campaign Topic

I'm interested in researching campaigns on texting and driving. I've chosen this as I know that it's a big deal and no matter how many campaigns there are, it still occurs really often. I'm interested also in how the law change came about for no phones while driving and the effect it has on the statistics of crashes caused by distracted driving.

I've found that no matter how many people talk about the dangers of texting and driving, they still can be found guilty of doing so as it seems such a simple task but it really can impact someone's life if you take your eyes off the road at the wrong time.

I find it interesting that when I searched up 'texting and driving' on instagram, I came across one account that says "Read these statistics and have a talk to your teen about road safety because there is no-one someone wont miss". It's interesting to me as it gives the impression that it's teens that are the most guilty of doing so. I want to be able to find out if this is true or if adults are equally liable, as this could change the way you market a campaign depending on the audience is directed at.

When I search up 'texting and driving' on google, it comes up with many articles that feature statistics of crashes and ideas of what the dangers are. When I add NZ, an article comes up with the tagline of a price hike for the fine for being caught texting and driving going from $80 to $150, published in April last year. It also follows a person who's been a victim of losing his mum to a crash caused by texting and driving. I really liked this quote from him "Drink driving is so frowned upon. You'd never get in a car with a drunk friend. A lot of people if their friend was driving and pulled out a phone they are not going to call them out and stop them." Which I think is very interesting because of how true it is, more education would provide a difference and thats why campaigns are important as it brings about more awareness on the dangers of texting and driving.

The statistics of crashes caused by texting and driving has dropped a lot in the years since the law changed making it illegal and campaigns brought awareness to the topic. Yet it's still a reason people lose their lives and isn't at zero yet like the Road to Zero Campaign aims for.

Some Stats from an article by STUFF:

"Data released by the NZ Transport Agency shows using a cellphone while driving has been a factor in 15 fatal crashes from 2016 to 2020.

In 2020, there were two fatal crashes where phone use was a factor, three serious crashes, 68 minor crashes and 88 non-injury crashes.

As of December 14, 2020, Waikato police had issued 5,513 cell phone notices to drivers, up from 2,200 in 2019."

This is an issue that requires awareness due to it occuring so often, and it can result in car accidents that are fatal. It's so easy to pull over if you need to send a text urgently or use your phone and it could prevent damages to your property and save lives. This topic is relevant to all ages from 16 and up as thats when you begin to drive. It's important to be educated early on the dangers texting and driving causes, as many people of all ages could be found guilty of doing so since it doesn't seem as much of a big deal as drink driving.

Some Examples of texting and driving campaigns:

This awareness campaign is by Brake, a UK road safety charity, which offers support to those bereaved and injured by road crashes, and campaign for safe streets and the rights of road victims.

It's purpose is to shock and bring awareness to potential consequences of texting and driving. It's jarring to viewers as the idea of replying to a text doesn't seem so bad but using the imagery of a dead body really makes you think twice.

The text on the left references text message shorthand which aims the campaign at a younger audience as teens are more likely to partake in using abbreviations.

The colours used are dimmed and sombre, with grey colours to represent the idea of texting and driving consequences being a 'grey area' since there isn't much clarity on the fatal things that occur from a distracted driver. The tone is serious to prove the seriousness that a car crash could take someones life. The typography has been made to look like it's pixelated as if it's on a phone screen which links to the x and dots on the dead body on the right. The design approach is almost like scare mongering where it spreads a deadly consequence to texting and driving which will make viewers feel worried or frightened and prevent them from making the mistake.

This awareness campaign is called the 3500 lives campaign created by the FIA. On their website they state "Every day, more than 3,500 people are killed on the world’s roads. Young people are particularly affected as road crashes are the number one cause of death of 5 to 29 year olds." Highlighting their purpose for the campaign and their aim is to target a younger audience.

The poster featuring Pharrell Williams- a well known musician is able to target a younger audience as it will reach his following and will make people think twice about texting and driving since they know that even he endorses being safe on roads. The purpose is to show that he's signed up for the campaign and that the audience they are aiming at should support the FIA's manifesto of safer roads.

The posters begins with the statement 'Today 3500 people will die on the road...' which immediately makes the viewer think twice. Providing the haunting statistic will shock them. Then the bold red and all caps DON'T TEXT AND DRIVE gets the message across of how these deaths occur. It is a focal point as its linked to the red in Pharrells hat which draws the eye to the symbol of no phones.

This campaign is able to draw in a younger audience by using an influential celebrity and is therefore able to bring some further awareness to the topic of texting and driving and will incline the viewer to check out the FIA's manifesto and can be educated on road safety.

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

I think it's really interesting seeing the different styles of campaigns and how you can communicate the idea of 'don't text and drive' in so many ways to achieve one goal of educating and preventing people from doing so in the future. I feel like majority of campaigns are going to be aimed at the younger generation as we can be naive enough to think we can text and drive and it won't cause any problems, the first example I looked at I think would definately be more successful as it shows the dire consequences that can occur and makes it off putting to text and drive. I've found that while doing this research on this topic, even though I already had prior knowledge that it's bad to do, seeing the statistics and imagery makes it feel more real and I'm thinking twice about using my phone while driving, even changing music etc. as I'm becoming more educated on the issues and dangers that surround distracted driving.

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sweetchup · 3 years

Text

Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

————————

Vol. 2: Into the Deep // Ch. 6

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 3,000+

Masterlist

————————

Cold. That’s the only way you could describe the man in front of you.

Cold as in his eyes were like stone. As if they were dead as they stared down at you. Cold as in that you couldn’t read him, at all. Even as he was covered head to toe in blood, you had no clue what he would do next. Cold as in he was intimidating. Way too intimidating. Like a primal feeling in you was screaming danger at you. It made you want to bolt from the spot.

“Tch…” You instantly freeze as Poseidon finally lets out a sound. He glares down at you in disgust as if you were some dirt on his shoe, “My brother must be losing his mind.”

Scared, you let out a small gulp. Your throat all of sudden feels extremely dry. Brother? Was he perhaps referring to Zeus? So, that must mean this was Poseidon. Right…?

“S-So…” You pause for a moment as you decide if you should dare continue, “…Are you Poseidon?”

You shouldn’t have done that. With a loud bang, you slowly turn your head to look at the Trident he cleaved down in the sand next to you. Its harsh throw sending the sand beneath and surrounding you in the air in a huge rumble.

“Ack!” You spit out as Poseidon suddenly grabs your jaw while you are distracted. His harsh grip on you as he turned your face to look at him felt as if he was trying to crush the bone of your jaw underneath. Even though you knew it was useless, you squirm lightly underneath his grip in hopes to lessen his tight grip.

“Pathetic.” He spits out in a grumble as he watches you squirming. Letting out a small huff, he watches you for a couple of more seconds before finally releasing your jaw. A sore feeling begins to replace the pain you had previously felt. “Humans do not address a god by their name. Especially pathetic mortals such as yourself.”

You feel the need to flinch under his harsh words but thankfully stop yourself. Instead choosing to tighten your grip on Triton who still laid unconscious in your arms. You understood that what Poseidon said was partially true. A mortal such as yourself had no chance against a god, nevertheless one of his stature and power. But he still didn’t have to be so blunt about it. Even Zeus held some sort of common courtesy when interacting with you.

“Ugh…” Startled by the sound, you spin your head downwards to look at Triton who was letting out a loud groan. His face scrunched up in pain as he wiggled around in your hold to get up.

Instantly, you put your hand on Triton's chest to stop him. Worried with the amounts of cuts and blood he was covered in that he could possibly have a fatal injury, “Shh. Don’t move, Triton. It’s okay. I got you.”

Triton seems to thankfully listen to your words and stop moving, relaxing back into your arms. Instead using the energy he had left to open his eyes to look up at you. Though, as you stared down at him with concern, you could tell he couldn’t properly see you. His eyes shrinking and dilating in an attempt to see what was in front of him.

“Triton, can you see meeeE—“

Gasping, you instantly pull Triton closer to your body as you are carelessly lifted off the ground by Poseidon. The blonde male with one arm underneath your knees and the other holding your waist behind the small of your back stands up as if you two weighed nothing. Even slightly throwing you up in the air to adjust his grip. You stared confused at Poseidon whose gaze looked away from you for the first time since he arrived. Instead staring out at the waves of the sea.

As the male began to walk towards the water, you wanted to question what he was doing. Wanted to question why in the world he had picked you up and was currently holding you. Why he hadn’t killed you on the spot. Why he was walking towards the water. But chose against saying the thoughts that were present in your mind. Remembering fearfully the sharp gaze he gave when you not only called his name but also spoke out of turn.

However, you soon regret not speaking your thoughts out loud. Or, at the very least, putting up a fight.

“H-Hey! What are you?!” You screech out as Poseidon travels further into the sea. The cold crashing waves now hitting your feet and soon traveling up to the rest of your body as Poseidon continues further in. “Hey! Stop! We’-I’ll Drow—“

“Shut up.” Poseidon barks out. Even though he doesn’t bother to give you a glance, you still hear the venom in his voice and freeze up. You looked worriedly around you as the water got higher and higher, all the way up til your chest and neck.

“A-Ah.” You can’t help but let out as you see Triton’s head starts to sink underneath the water. Quickly, you fix your grip on the boy and lift his head above the water. Even if he was an aquatic god, you still weren’t sure if he could breathe underwater. However, the only problem with lifting Triton above the water is that it pushed you further under. The waves now crashing against your chin instead of your neck.

“W-Wait—“

As you gasped out your last word, your head went under. You struggled slightly as Poseidon continued to trech forward but couldn’t do much as you didn’t want Triton’s head to drop underneath the water. Even if you knew it was fruitless and Triton would eventually go under, You hoped he would wake up and make an escape.

Stupid human.

As Poseidon's head finally goes under the water and he begins to float down, deeper into the sea, he finally turns his head back to stare at you. You really were pathetic and stupid as the other humans. Lifting his son’s, Prince of the sea, head above the water as if he could actually drown. What a joke.

What in the world did his brother see in you? Making a huge show in the courtroom about how you would be the perfect substitute for Amphitrite. How everyone should at least give you the chance to be Triton’s nanny and take care of him. How you would help the child grow and shit. How you would actually pay attention to him.

Poseidon feels himself freeze for a moment before tightening his grip more on you. Your body had already began to grow limp in his arms. If he so pleased, he bet he could just tighten his grip more on your frame and you would shatter in a million pieces.

Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic. Fragile.

Poseidon grunts out in disapproval at the disgusting passing thought in his mind. You were just a pathetic being. One that would pathetically die right here.

Poseidon once again grunts as the feeling of annoyance passes by in his mind. It must have been all those stories Zeus shared at the trial while he secretly observed you two. As a perfect being he shouldn’t be so easily swindled by such thoughts. His son once again was making him weak.

This is why I stayed away in the first place, Poseidon thought as he rolled his eyes.

Slowly, Poseidon trails his hand up from the small of your back to your cheek. He tilts your head that was flopped to the side with his thumb so that you looked at him.

‘The perfect substitute for Amphitrite’. His brother sure was cruel. You were nothing but a small mouse compared to the apex predator that was his, likely, soon to be ex-wife. The minute Amphitrite lays her eyes on you she would surely kill you.

Poseidon gives your cheek a slight stroke around the bruise that was settling there. You really were pathetic, getting a bruise from such a weak grip.

Little by little, Poseidon leaned down closer to your face. His nose grazing yours slightly causes him to pause as he once again observes you. He wondered if what he would do next would end up getting you killed.

You truly were Pathetic after all. Even amongst all the humans he has met over the many millenniums. Though, he couldn’t deny, much better than the venomous Amphitrite.

I’ll just throw you away later when I’m done, Poseidon decides as he finally closes the gap. His lips swallowing yours in a harsh kiss as he brings his palm away from your cheek to wrap around the back of your neck. For once in his life being careful not to snap someone’s spine in half.

Fragile.

That thought once again passes by in Poseidon’s mind as he continues to hold you close to him. Fragile like fine china. Yet also soft…, warm… A contrast to his cold and strong marble like body. The body of a god.

Disgusting.

Finally, Poseidon pulls away, scrunching up his nose in distaste. It seems he’ll have to ‘talk’ to his brother about interfering in his personal life again. Though, it’s not like his brother ever listened to begin with.

What a pain.

—.—.—.—.—

Were you dead?

No, you were definitely still alive. For your body felt like a ton of bricks. So much so that even lifting a finger exceeded all of your energy available.

But how were you still alive?

Did Poseidon possibly save you in the end? Knowing that asshole it wasn’t likely. Perhaps Zeus swooped in at the end or Triton saved you. A possibility…but also still highly unlikely. You guessed you would have to find out for yourself.

“Ugh…” You groan out as you attempt to open your eyes only to shut them again. The light in the room felt all too blinding. That wouldn't work, you couldn’t see anything in front of you but it wasn’t like you had any other options, you would have to try again. “Shit…”

You once again attempt to open your eyes. Your vision was still hindered by the light this time but it was at the very least bearable.

Ah, that’s painful. You can’t help but hiss out as you attempt to lift your arm to cover the light coming into your eyes.

It seems you would have to wait patiently for your vision to… return…

You feel yourself freeze as something blurry comes into your view. It was blue and shiny, seeming to levitate or float towards your face.

“W-what…?” You can’t help but spit out as you stare at the thing approaching you. Blinking and unblinking as you attempt to make your eyes address what was in front of you, “A-A fish…?”

It was in fact a fish. A giant one at that, if you had to guess it was about the length of your forearm. But, how was it floating there in front of you…? Fish can only exist in wa—

“Hello My Lady!”

The…

The Fish…. Just talked.

You stared in horror at the thing in front of you. You had to be out of it, there was no way that a fish had just talked to you. Nevertheless be actually able to breathe air…

“No way…” You gasped out as you finally drifted your gaze away from the fish. Now that your eyes had finally fully adjusted, you could finally see where you were.

You were…

Underwater.

Specifically you were underwater in a fantasy noble-like bedroom: Ginormous in size, able to fit a huge bed, couch, dressers and, of course, still plenty of space to be able to walk around. The only difference from the fantasy-like bedroom that one would see in novels was that it was clearly flooded with water.

“My lady?” The fish calls once again, “Are you okay?”

“How—how? What— You…” You gasp out in confusion, only to suddenly stop and grab at your throat. How were you breathing underwater to begin with?

“M-My Lady please calm down!” The fish shouts out worriedly as it watches you panic. “I promise I’ll explain everything once you calm down.”

You pause at the fish’s words, he was correct. You had to calm down if you wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on with you. You attempt to take a deep breath to calm yourself but quickly scrap the idea as it felt way too odd to you. Instead choosing to just nod your head to get on with the fish’s explanation, “O-okay…”

“Thank you, My lady.” The fish tells you as it somehow bows, at the least what looks like a bow, “My name is Marine and I’m a Servant at Lord Poseidon’s Palace…”

So, Poseidon must have saved you. But,… why… it didn’t make sense with all he stated on the shore. Zeus or Triton must have made some sort of interference to save you.

“…Please do not worry as you are still alive and well. The reason you are breathing underwater and communicating with me is due to the blessing you gain from Lord Poseidon.”

“B-Blessing..?” You ask a gasp as you look down at yourself. Patting yourself in certain places to make sure you were all well only to let out a small groan. It seemed you were still sore and in pain.

“Please be careful, My Lady.” Marine tells you worriedly as pats you with his fin. Seeming to attempt to push you backwards so you can lay back down. Thankfully, once you comply with Marine’s request, it answers your question, “Gods can usually bestow 3 things on humans: Curses, Blessings and Ambrosia. Though this can differ from god to god based on what they can accomplish. Curses are pretty self explanatory but Blessings and Ambrosia are complicated. Blessings are gifts or abilities that are bestowed upon humans by gods. In Lord Poseidon’s case he bestowed upon you the ability to breathe underwater and communicate with sea life like other aquatic folk.”

“I see…”

“Finally, Ambrosia is what happens when a human consumes the blood of a god. If said human somehow survives the consumption, they are bestowed the gift of being a Demi-god. So far only one human has survived consuming Ambrosia and that is Lord Hercules.”

Dangerous. Not just in the way of how powerful Ambrosia is but in how many times you could have accidentally consumed it from Triton alone. Even though a God’s skin is stronger than a human’s it wasn’t by much as they could still bleed just as easily. The amount of times you had to bandage Triton’s scrapes when he tripped or bumped into something proved that.

“My Lady?”

At Marine’s call, you are startled out of your thoughts, “Ah sorry. I—“

“P-please don't apologize! You are my lady, you have nothing to apologize for.” Marine shouts out as he visibly pales, “I am your servant, it is actually my fault for disturbing you while you were clearly thinking.”

“A-ah I wouldn’t say that…” You murmured out, clearly disagreeing with what Marine was telling you. Though… You find yourself pause as a thought suddenly hits you, “Marine, Why are you calling me ‘My Lady’?”

“Why that’s because you are the new lady of the Manor.”

“T-the manor? What Manor?”

“Southern Manor, Of cours—“ Marine seems to pause at his words as he realizes something. “I sincerely apologize, My Lady. I totally forgot that since you are from the human realm that you have no idea what has happened here.”

Marine looks around the room before finally spotting what he was looking for and swimming over to it. A map…? You sit up slightly as you look over at the giant map that mount the wall above a dresser.

“At the Palace, there are 5 Manors that make up its body. Pacific Manor, The main Manor that holds the king and queen of the sea. Arctic Manor, which holds and trains the knights that protect Atlantis. Atlantic Manor, Lord Triton’s as well as any future heirs Manor. Indian Manor, which holds Lord Triton’s classes, storage and other needed rooms. And Finally, Southern Manor…., for Lord Poseidon’s Mistresses.”

“M-mistresses?!” You spit out as you shoot up from your spot. You couldn’t believe what you had just heard. In no ways would you bed Poseidon. This wasn’t what you wanted when you accepted to be Triton’s mother. You didn’t want to actually be with his father.

“P-please calm down, My Lady. You aren’t one of Lord Poseidon’s Mistresses. My Lord has never taken a Mistress ever.” At Marine’s explanation, you let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. “The reason I call you My lady is simply because you are now Lord Triton’s official guardian along with Lord Poseidon after Lady Amphitrite was ruled irresponsible for such duties. Due to Lady Amphitrite still not officially divorced from Lord Poseidon, she still lives in Pacific Manor. So you can not live there as of now and the second best place is here in Southern Manor.”

“O-oh…” You choke out. Though you were happy that you were officially Triton’s guardian and can still stay by the boy’s side, you weren’t sure how long you would last. Especially since you were sure that woman was now going to be out for your throat. “…but couldn’t she just come over to this Manor if she so pleased?”

“Not at all, My lady. Do not worry.” Marine informs you as it points its fin to the cluster of three manors at the top. “The Atlantic Manor, Southern Manor and Indian Manor were all originally designed to hold an intricate sea garden in the middle. This idea was later scrapped by Lady Amphitrite but, by the time she denied it, a tall metal fence had already been put up that surrounded the three buildings to keep unauthorized visitors out from the garden. Under Lord Poseidon’s watch, early this morning a sea witch put up a spell that forbade Lady Amphitrite from entering anywhere in the gated area. So she will not be able to get anywhere near you or Lord Triton.”

“Oh. Thank goodness” You mutter out as you let out a sigh of relief. Finally, you and Triton could live in somewhat peace after—

Triton…!

How could you possibly forget about what happened with Marissa? Was Triton treated for his wounds once he got back?

“My Lady, you can’t get up—“

“Marine. Please take me to see Triton. I need to see him at once!”

Author Note: Ooooop— We got a little insight on how Poseidon feels about the reader and still what in the world happened to Triton? I’m just glad Vol. 2 is up and I can’t wait for the next chapter. Yet, Triton… I miss you 😢. Come back soon in my writing, bud. We need you to lighten up the atmosphere.

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq @sproutcorner @orophaea @anime-lover-forever-1127

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv poseidon x reader #snv poseidon #snv #record of ragnarok #bivalve

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allisondraste · 3 years

Text

Death and Other Things That Should Have Been Fatal

Fandom: Mass Effect

Pairing: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian

Word Count: 4715

Summary: A follow up to Cockroaches and Other Things That Just Keep Living, Shepard wakes up after destroying the Reapers and copes with the fallout. Thankfully, she doesn't have to do so alone.

[Click Here for AO3]

“Shepard?”

The voice was little more than static in her ear, jarring her back into excruciating consciousness, head throbbing, extremities numb. Spears of pain coursed through her chest with each and every breath, and she didn’t know whether it was the several broken ribs or the sight of Anderson's lifeless body slouched next to her. She tore her gaze away from the closest thing she’d ever had to a good father figure, eyes fluttering closed as she attempted to focus only on the person speaking to her.

“Garrus?” His was the first name that rolled off her tongue, the only person in the galaxy she wanted that disembodied voice to be.

“No.” Came the stern reply. There was a long pause as any hope for comfort in her final moments came crashing down around her. Then the voice spoke again. “It’s Hackett.”

A jolt of resentment toward the Admiral coursed through her at his introduction. What more could he possibly want from her? Had she not already done enough, sacrificed enough for just a ghost of a chance to stop the reapers. Surely someone else could take it from there. Why did everything fall on her?

Because someone else would have gotten it wrong.

She shook herself out of her head and back to the present. She would have been mortified under normal circumstances, but she couldn’t bring herself to give a damn now. “I apologize sir, I’m— What do you need me to do?”

“The Crucible is docked, but is not activated,” he explained, “We think there’s something that needs to be done on your end. Is there a trigger? Some sort of terminal?”

His words clung to the air around her, and her eyes locked onto the terminal the Illusive Man had used earlier. It was just a few feet in front of her and still so far away. She tried and failed to bring herself to her feet, legs buckling beneath her and sending her plummeting to the floor. Hot tears burned in her eyes as a new array of pain shot through her body, and she groaned in agony.

“Shepard?”

“I’m here, sir,” she growled, forcing herself up onto an elbow and dragging her body to the terminal, vision beginning to blur at the corners.. Not yet , she pleaded with her consciousness as she reached up toward the terminal, hand sweeping clumsily across the haptic display. Not. Yet. “I’m at the terminal but I… I don’t— I can’t find—”

Her vision went dark, supporting arm trembling and giving out as her consciousness faded. Hackett’s voice called out to her repeatedly, further and further away until it was gone entirely.

She awoke to bright, burning light, buzzing in her ears, sensations anyone else would have associated with death. But Shepard had been dead before, and this was nothing like the last time. She’d never forget that dark, quiet empty.

“Shepard,” shouted a voice, both familiar and foreign, “Wake up.”

“What?” Blood dripped into her eyes from a wound she couldn’t feel. “Where am I?”

She scrubbed her face with the back of her hand, blinking until her vision cleared. Her body screamed in protest as she rose to her knees, louder still as she brought herself to her feet and searched for who—or what— had spoken to her.

“The Citadel,” came the reply, “It is my home.”

She snapped her head in the direction of the voice, it’s owner a glowing, translucent entity in the shape of a ghost. Her heart slammed against her aching ribs, and a name rushed to her mouth before she could stop it. “Kaidan?”

The entity examined her for a moment that felt more like an eternity, long enough for her initial relief to fade, consumed by dread as she awaited its answer.

“No,” it stated in a cold, matter-of-fact way Kaidan could never have managed, “I am the Catalyst.”

Rage ignited in her stomach and chest at the sound of him twisted and distorted by a chorus of synthetic echoes, and she growled. “I thought the Citadel was the Catalyst.”

“The Citadel is part of me,” it explained, then paused, tilting its head in examination of her again, “My appearance disturbs you.”

Shepard let out a derisive snort. “Yeah. You could say that.”

“I apologize,” it said, “I chose a form that I believed would help us communicate. You had fond memories of this one.”

“Too fond.” She looked down, unable to meet its vacant eyes. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Is this one more suitable?” It’s voice shifted registers and when she glanced up Thane stood before her.

Hot tears burned in her eyes but she held them back and shook her head. “No.”

“Perhaps you would prefer this?” This time it’s tone was higher pitched, clipped. Mordin.

“No,” she spat through clenched teeth, “I’d prefer if you’d just pick a nightmare and tell me whether you can help me or not. ”

“Very well,” it said, Kaidan once again as it motioned for her to follow after it toward the beam of light before them. “Perhaps we can help each other.”

She limped after it, listening as it spoke, as it explained its creation, it’s function, the purpose for its very existence. It was nothing the Leviathan had not already revealed to her, but spun in a way that painted the Reapers as innocent pawns simply fulfilling their duty, wiping out entire civilizations to ensure galactic balance, to protect organic life from its own chaos.

Bullshit , she thought as flashes of destruction played behind her eyelids with each laborious blink. She remembered the sinking void in her gut as she fled Earth, watching it burn beneath Reaper hands. She thought of Palaven, the harrowed Turian faces as their military and government collapsed, the anger and disbelief that vibrated in Garrus’ voice and beneath his skin. She recalled Thessia, the most advanced civilization in the galaxy reduced to rubble before her eyes and she, helpless to even salvage one artifact, Liara’s anguished sobs as she trembled in her arms.

The Catalyst and its Reapers were responsible for every lost colony in Batarian space that Shepard had shouldered instead. Every single face on the memorial wall at the Citadel, every orphaned child and refugee, every life touched by this goddamn war, and the lives of those in every cycle that came before— it was all their fault. They had corrupted and indoctrinated some of the greatest minds of her time, broken some of the strongest wills. She wondered what had been said to convince Saren and Benezia. What had the Catalyst become to take hold of The Illusive Man?

The echoes of Sovereign’s boasts of supremacy and Harbinger’s threats of annihilation rang out in her ears as clear as the days they’d been spoken. And this entity, this artificial intelligence with the power and capability to stop it all, expected her to believe they were simply creatures bound to a purpose. The Catalyst truly believed she would help it achieve its pinnacle of evolution.

No, just because it was in a shark’s nature to eat her, did not mean she would allow it to do so. Despite the original intent behind their creations, the Reapers were monsters, and they had to be stopped. The galaxy deserved justice. She took one lumbering step toward the trigger on the right, one step closer to settling things once and for all.

“It will happen again,” the Catalyst called after her, “Machines will be rebuilt, and chaos will continue. Organics and synthetics cannot coexist separately.

“That’s…not true,” she grunted, and took another step, “The geth and the quarians have brokered peace.”

“It will not last.”

“You don’t know that,” she shouted, fists clenched at her sides, “The beauty of chaos is that you can’t know that.”

The entity fell silent, briefly considering what she said, then continued. “Perhaps not; however if you choose to destroy the Reapers, the geth will be destroyed as well. The two will not have the opportunity to disprove your hypothesis.”

A pang of guilt pierced her and she halted in her tracks.“All of them?”

“Yes. The Crucible’s beam is powerful but unfocused. It will be unable to distinguish between Reaper technology and other forms of synthetic life.”

Another pang of guilt as realization dawned on her. That meant EDI would die, too. Someone who was every bit a friend and member of her crew as anyone else, someone who had put herself on the line multiple times to protect Shepard, to make certain she could get the job done. EDI, who confessed just before the battle that she finally felt alive. Now, Shepard was forced to weigh her newfound life and the newfound intelligence of the geth race, against the destruction of the Reapers.

What was it Garrus had called it? Ruthless calculus, that brutal math that awaited anyone who spent enough time at war. Shepard had done plenty of those calculations, had made more than her fair share of difficult decisions, and she’d dealt with the consequences, good and bad.

This time, it was different, more final. And she was entirely alone. The future of the galaxy lay upon her weary back, and she was far past the point of compromise.

Shepard wanted the Reapers to pay for what they had done for millennia, wanted to watch them disintegrate in space as the cheers of her fleet rang out over the comms. She wanted to know with certainty that the war was over.

More than anything, however, and most heavy on her mind, she wanted to survive. It was a potent wave of selfishness that overwhelmed her as she thought of her friends back on the Normandy, of the relationships she’d forged and that had forged her. Her heart ached at the thought of never seeing them again, never hearing their voices. She was sick at the possibility that her last moments with those who had carried her through every storm were hurried and spent in a war torn camp on Earth.

Knowing that they were worried and waiting for her to return, remembering Garrus’ desperate plea that she come back alive, it was more than she needed to motivate her to do so. For the first time in her three decades of life, she had something to go home to. She had given so much of herself to save the galaxy, and she had more than earned the right to live in it.

There was no certainty that destroying the Reapers would ensure her survival, but it was the only choice without the certainty that she would die. She was willing to take her chances. She had to. With a trembling arm she raised her pistol, aimed at the glass case guarding the trigger mechanism, and fired.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as the glass shattered and her vision faded to white. “I’m so sorry.”

Shepard had been dead enough times to know that sound always came first, the discomforting beeping of medical equipment and garbled chatter ringing out in the darkness as her nervous system attempted to orient itself. Smell and taste came next, a package deal. This time the antiseptic and the metallic tang of blood barely masked the rank of burnt flesh.

Then the pain set in, dull but constant and everywhere, numbed only slightly by neural blockers and local anesthetic. She did not need to see her injuries to know how serious they were, how fatal they should have been. Yet there she lay, once again waking up from something that would have killed anyone else.

And she was alone. Again.

She began to panic as her eyes opened to the empty, sterile room, setting off the many monitors she was hooked up to. Her heart pounded violently, each breath she took sharp and shallow as she yanked herself free from the dozens of tubes and IVs constraining her. How long had she been out this time? What covert operation for which secret, extremist organization had found and resurrected her for their benefit? How much more could one galaxy ask of her?

There was a hiss of opening doors and an unfamiliar asari entered the room urgently, arms extended out in front of her. In one breath she reassured Shepard that everything was going to be all right and in the next called for a medical restraint, a sedative. She stepped slowly toward Shepard as one would approach a frightened, feral animal, and two more uniformed aliens entered the room. Shepard stood tall, despite the ache in her bones and glared at the three of them.

“Ma’am, I know you must be very disoriented right now, and I am happy to answer any and all of your questions,” the asari said, holding her hands up, “But you are in no shape to be out of bed. I need you to calm down before you hurt yourself further.”

Shepard glanced from the asari to the two salarians on either side of her. They all wore generic attire that was standard for medical professionals across the galaxy, but their uniforms had no indication of their names or who they worked for. She crossed her arms and winced through the pain as she argued. “How about you start by telling me where I am, then I’ll decide if I want to calm down or not.”

Just as she finished speaking the doors opened again, this time to faces she knew, and the subsequent wave of relief that washed over her nearly knocked her back into the bed on it’s own. On the right stood Dr. Michel, who she remembered helping out on several occasions during the Reaper War. A bit sweet on Garrus, if she remembered correctly. On the left, wearing a smirk and a raised eyebrow, was none other than Miranda Lawson.

“Sit down, Shepard,” Miranda asserted in her trademark tone. She flashed the hint of a smile and continued, “The residents aren’t being paid enough for you to harass them.”

Shepard’s eyes flicked over to the three aliens who’d been tending to her just moments before. They were now speaking nervously with the doctor, who muttered something about tests they needed to run followed by some other medical jargon that Shepard couldn’t decipher. She did as her friend directed and eased herself back down onto her bed, offering a sheepish grin as she did so. “I feel like such an ass.”

“Don’t,” Dr. Michel chimed in as she approached the bed, and began to scan Shepard with her omni-tool, “You have been in a coma for almost a month. It was expected that you would be agitated when you awoke, especially considering everything you’ve been through.”

Shepard’s chest swelled with something like gratitude. A month . She’d only been out for a month, and she had woken up in what she could now tell was Huerta Memorial under the care of a physician she trusted and one of her closest friends. This was nothing like the last time she died. She looked up at Miranda and asked,“Had to put me back together again, I see?”

“I only helped this time,” Miranda explained as she worked to reconnect some of the IVs Shepard had ripped out, “Dr. Michel contacted me a few weeks ago for a consultation about your cybernetic augmentation. I was already on the Citadel, so I came in person to oversee the repairs.”

“Is everything working?”

“Mostly,” Miranda shrugged, “Not quite up to specifications, but your injuries are still healing. With time, you should be fine.”

“And hopefully far away from any more life-threatening battles, yes,” remarked Michel, moving to a terminal near the wall and transferring data collected from her omni-tool scans.

Shepard let out a huff, and let herself recline onto the bed, walls crumbling away at the comforting conversation. She took a breath and let her eyes flutter closed for just a minute, and said, “If I can. If the galaxy will let me.”

“The galaxy’s going to have to,” announced an unmistakable voice from the door, and Shepard bolted upright to face it. To face him .

She hadn’t even heard the door open, and yet there stood her turian, with all that easy confidence he’d always carried himself with and a bouquet of indistinguishable gift shop flowers in each hand. Her pulse jumped, a fact the vitals monitor in the corner was quick to inform her and everyone in the room about. She would never live that one down.

“Garrus!”

“Is that cardiac arrest—“ he motioned toward the screen with one of the bouquets— “Or, uh… are you just happy to see me?”

Shepard just rolled her eyes, unable to stop the grin that twitched at the corners of her mouth as he sauntered up to the bedside.

“I wasn’t sure which you’d like better,” Garrus explained, glancing with uncertainty between the flowers in each hand, “So I got both. There’s also some chocolate and a few books of hanar poetry back at the gift shop if you just absolutely hate the flowers. I can run back down and—“

She laughed and shook her head at him. “They’re perfect.”

“Are you sure?” He examined each bouquet again. “You might need the poetry to bore you back into a coma.”

“I thought that anthology was quite beautiful and romantic, myself,” Michel remarked, amused. She approached Shepard again and administered something that relieved the throbbing pain in her head she’d barely noticed in all the commotion. “There, that should keep you comfortable for a time. I will come and check on you in a few hours ”

“I’ll be going as well,” Miranda said, eyeing Shepard and Garrus knowingly. “Call me if you need anything.”

She turned to follow the doctor out of the room but stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, and Shepard? I’m glad we got to see each other again “

Shepard nodded. “So am I.”

With that Miranda left the room, the door sliding shut behind her. Shepard turned her gaze up to Garrus who was already looking at her, pale eyes scanning every inch of her face intently. His mandibles twitched and flared in the very specific way they always did when he was agitated or worried. He shook his head, discarded both bundles of flowers onto the nearby bedside table, and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her, staring off at the wall in silence.

“Shepard I— I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” he said finally, turning to look at her and placing a hand on her leg, “I’d just gone to get some air…I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“It’s okay,” she reassured him, reaching for his hand and wondering just how many sleepless hours he’d sat by her bed waiting for her to come to. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers, lingering there for several long moments. She brought a hand up to trace the rough ridges of scarring along the right side of his face. His eyes fluttered closed at the touch, and he let out a heavy sigh, as if she’d lifted some invisible weight off of him with just the tips of her fingers.

“You know,” she spoke up, breaking the powerful silence between them, “I think I finally have some scars that’ll give you a run for your credits.”

Garrus laughed, but it was quiet—almost sad— and he pulled back to examine her.

“How bad is it,” she asked, “There aren’t any mirrors in here.”

He laughed again, this time with more enthusiasm. “Hell, Shepard, I don’t know. You always were ugly, so it’s hard for me to say.”

“Okay,” she admitted with a smirk, “I had that one coming.”

The room went quiet again, with the exception of the buzzing and whirring of the equipment around them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though— nothing had ever been uncomfortable with Garrus— but it was heavy with unspoken pain and unasked questions for which Shepard wasn’t sure she wanted answers.

“How’s everyone else,” she ventured.

“Recovering,” he answered with a sigh, “Joker tried to outrun the blast, but even the Normandy wasn’t quick enough. Crash landed on some human colony world. Everyone made it except—“

“EDI,” she said, name bitter on her tongue. She’d hoped the catalyst had been lying about the Crucible’s effect on synthetic life.

“Yes… how did you—“

This time, she was not able to dam up the wave of emotions that crashed into her. Tears rushed to her eyes, shame and remorse tightening her chest like a vice. She was a soldier, and she knew that sacrifices won wars, but that did not make it any easier.

“It’s a long story,” she said with a sniff, looking away from him and attempting to wipe away the tears before he could see them, as if he hadn’t already.

“Well—” Garrus reached out and grabbed her chin, gently, giving it a tug until she brought her gaze back to him. “It’s a good thing I cleared my afternoon schedule, then. Tell me everything.”

And so she did. With a shaky voice, she recounted everything that happened from the time she called the evac for Garrus and Liara to the moment she was struck by the Crucible’s blast. She told him about The Illusive Man, Anderson, the Catalyst who wore Kaidan’s face, and the impossible choice she was given. He listened to every word, offered her his hand, and didn’t complain as her grip grew tighter and tighter with each devastating revelation.

When she was finished, eyes swollen and head throbbing, she looked at him and said, “I fucked up, Garrus. I had a chance to save EDI and the geth, but I just… couldn’t do it. I was so angry and… scared , and—“

“Shepard,” Garrus interrupted her, laughing and shaking his head.

“What?”

“You’re about the only person I know who could save the whole damn galaxy and feel guilty because you didn’t save it better.”

“My life isn’t worth more than EDI’s was, and it definitely isn’t more important than the entire geth race,” Shepard argued.

Garrus blinked back at her a few times, then responded. “It is to me.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but the words didn’t come, so she clamped it shut and frowned. Her entire argument fell apart in the wake of his blunt confession. How the hell was she supposed to respond to something like that?

“It was selfish,” she finally managed past the lump in her throat, “It was genocide.”

“Maybe,” he answered, firmly, “Maybe not. We have no way of knowing that anything the Catalyst told you was true.”

“Why would it lie?”

“I don’t know, maybe to save it’s own ass?” His words were pointed but not directed to her. “It was clearly trying to get in your head, Shepard, using Alenko like that.”

“But—”

“No,” he snapped, “You made the right call, and no one is going to fault you for it except you.”

“ Garrus …” she began, but trailed off when she noticed him looking down at their intertwined fingers, shaking his head and seeming to struggle with his emotions.

When he spoke up, his voice was hoarse. “You’ll forgive me if I say I don’t think you owe anyone—not EDI, not the geth, not the Alliance, not the rest of the galaxy— any more than you’ve already given.”

He paused for a beat, then added in a lighter tone, “Except me. You owe me a long retirement on your fancy Alliance pension.”

Shepard snorted out a laugh, despite everything, and reached up to take his face in her hands. She pulled him closer to her, just so that she could press a kiss against the side of his mouth.

“I’ll think about it,” she whispered.

Just as they pulled apart, the door opened and they both turned to see who had entered. Dr. Michel stood at the threshold smiling at them apologetically. “I am sorry for the interruption, but—”

“Someone tell Garrus to quit hogging the Commander,” complained an all too familiar voice as he pushed past the doctor and into the room. “The rest of us have been waiting just as long as he has.”

“Joker,” Shepard exclaimed, nearly jumping up out of the bed to greet him.

“The one and only,” he said proudly then held up a small plastic crate to show her, “And I brought you something. Basically had to wrestle the Alliance brass for it when they declared you dead.”

“What—,” she asked as she squinted at the box, noticing movement in the corner, “Is that my hamster?”

He sat the container down carefully on the table next to the flowers Garrus had tossed aside, “It’s not two bouquets of useless flowers or anything, but, well…you know.”

“We can’t all be as romantic as you,” Garrus said sarcastically as he stood up and stepped away from the bed, allowing the other man space to approach Shepard.

“Thank you, Joker,” Shepard said with a nod as she sat up in the bed, “And about EDI, I—“

He cut her off with the shake of his head, clearly not ready to discuss it. “Not your fault, Commander.”

Shepard just nodded, sorry, but not wanting to force the issue. Joker puffed his chest out and saluted her, just as more commotion rang out from the door. She darted her eyes across the room again to see the flood of other people pouring in from the hallway.

Ash was the first to rush to the bedside, throwing appropriate Alliance protocol out the window as she threw her arms unceremoniously around Shepard. The embrace was firm, but not so forceful that it caused her aching body any extra pain, and when Ash pulled away, Shepard could see the tears glistening in her eyes. She stiffened up and saluted just as Joker had done, and said “Ma’am.”

Much to Shepard’s surprise, Ash then approached Garrus and embraced him briefly as well, pulling away and then giving him a pat on the arm.

The others followed suit after that, offering words of gratitude that she had saved the galaxy, and relief that she’d managed to pull through. Tali and Liara had followed Ash’s example and hugged her. The others didn’t but greeted her with enthusiasm all the same. Vega mentioned how “epic” it was when the fleet realized she’d made it to the Citadel and got the arms opened while Traynor and Cortez nodded along. Javik, in his typical fashion stood quietly in the corner but nodded at her with a look of admiration she had yet to see from the Prothean. Dr. Chakwas and the crew from engineering squeezed themselves in the now cramped space as well. Chakwas approached the bed and gave Shepard’s hand a firm squeeze.

Humbling was not a strong enough word to describe the experience of seeing everyone who’d been on the Normandy with her in that final journey to Earth gathered around celebrating her survival. They had all meant so much to her, and only now did she realize that she’d meant the same to them.

She’d grown accustomed to being a sole survivor, watching her own back and carrying on alone with each of her mistakes strapped to her shoulders. She was used to blaming herself with the voices of those she lost, of nightmares and flashbacks and consoling herself back to sleep in the middle of the night. She had trained herself to be numb because she could not bear feeling guilty.

Now, she didn’t have to. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she had people who cared about her, people who she trusted, and they had survived. For the first time, she wasn’t alone with her grief and she didn’t have to be numb. She had friends who would hold her together while she sorted herself out, just as she had done for each and every one of them.

“You okay,” Garrus asked as he approached the bedside again, letting a hand tousle her hair gently before falling to her shoulder.

“Yeah.” She nodded and glanced around the room slowly, taking it all in. “I really actually am.”

#mass effect #mass effect legendary edition #garrus vakarian #femshep #shakarian #angst #hurt/comfort #fanfic #my writing

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rataltouille · 3 years

Text

FORCE MAJEURE: NOVEL INTRO

[this is my original work, do not use / repurpose / plagiarise in any form]

GENRE: literary fiction.

SETTING: south india, early 2010s.

POV & TENSE: dual pov; present tense + third person limited.

STAGE: prepping for camp nano [my current goal for camp is 10k!]

THEMES + AESTHETICS: fatalism, chance and luck, the duality of everything, corruption, chaos vs order, manipulation, power, sacrifice, loneliness, free will, love vs obsession. the sound of waves crashing against rocks, sitting in an empty house and watching a watery dawn, saltwater seeping into your pores as you swim deeper and deeper underwater; driving through neon cities under a full moon, laughter mixing with the bright sounds of people, the buzz of contact in a room full of strangers.

CONTENT WARNINGS: cults and religious trauma, implications + discussions of emotional abuse, terrible parents, manipulation, gaslighting. [note: this wip is very new so more content warnings may be added as i go]

SUMMARY:

when twins ananya and naveen get separated while escaping their home, they find themselves in completely different places—one stumbling onto a hidden commune by the beach, the other pulled into a group of thieves in the city. this story is a dark coming-of-age where the twins must confront their obsessions with things they can’t control and what they’re willing to do to belong.

aka “i know everything happens for a reason but what the fuck”

CHARACTERS:

omg my children <3 [all picrew credits to @/sagravi’s picrew!]

ANANYA [pronounced as: uh-nun-yah]

she/they [she’s very non-binary but doesn't have the term for it in the book? so in my head she uses she/they but in the book uses she/her]

looks like she can kill you, will instead make you fall in love and slowly [and unknowingly] break your heart <3

“have you ever seen a woman so beautiful you started crying?”

unintentionally funny. says something mean and people will laugh not realising she actually meant it

carries around a lot of anger about the multiple ways in which people have wronged her and now and then just goes feral [as she should, really]

aroace and has a very longterm, very on screen crisis about it. what i learnt from this is that i cannot write an uplifting aroace story and tbh i don't know what that says about me as someone who’s also aroace.

very emotionally attached to her parents :) very emotionally detached from people in general :) suffering™

does not have a good time

NAVEEN [pronounced as: nuh-veen]

he/him [also very non-binary]

looks baby, is actually very sad

“i do not have a fake social media personality. i am genuinely this mentally ill in real life”

unintentionally unfunny. he cries himself to sleep at night because his puns weren’t well received [me too honestly]

very queer!! he’s mspec but doesn’t label himself, and honestly king <3 he also gets caught in a bisexual love triangle. the way i was anti-love triangles until this guy appeared🧍

was always the twin who was idolised and seen as the family’s future which not only put a lot of pressure on him but also strained his relationship with ananya in unexpected ways which is just :(

does not have a good time

literally i fell in love with the twins so quickly; they are so cool and are most definitely my genvy. their relationship is very central to the story despite them being separated for the most of it [if the story plays out that way]. i’m excited to actually start drafting to learn more about them + their dynamic!!

SO HOW’D THIS HAPPEN?

so a few days ago my brain said “new fun ya contemporary concept about queer twins in high school” and then within five minutes of its existence my brain also said “contemporary ya my ass it’s now adult litfic deal with it” and at this point i’m just like. okay.

this book is my second novel and also my *bangs posts and pans* camp nano wip! [please as if i haven't mentioned this seventy times already] coincidentally my academic year + finals also end on the first of april so this is such a perfect time to start a new project!!

ALSO i’m jumping on the trend of making a temporary taglist for weekly updates like all the cool, sexy writeblrs who are doing it [read as: atlas fam] so!! let me know [dm/ask/reply/mention in reblog] if you want to be added to the camp nano taglist!! if you want to keep up with the wip after camp, you can ask to be added to my general taglist. heads up that i won't be tagging my general taglist for the weekly updates!!

everything about this project is tagged as force majeure and the writing updates as force majeure update. also here’s the link to the very very in-progress playlist. you can send me an ask / message me if you’d like to be added to my taglist or have any questions about the project. and that’s about it for now!!

#wip intro #camp nano 2021 #writeblr #am writing #wtwcommunity #ofcolourtracking #crabappletracking #atlastracking #tw cults #just releasing that with the desi protags + setting that this is technically an own voices story🧎#which makes me very happy tbh #force majeure

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class1akids · 3 years

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I disagree with the anon who Shoto is weak. I personally think he's way too op but he still hasn't seen or understood the full potential of his quirk and chances are that Horikoshi won't allow him to do so. He can be the number one hero if he wants but he is (and I might be going way too far with this but) in a way a parallel to Hawks and I think he'll become like Hawks, the I don't care just let me do whatever I want I don't want responsibility but I can handle it because I'm a fucking prodigy kind of hero. He doesn't really have ambition that can compare to the others, he not too determined and he's a go with the flow person. And that's one of his fatal flaws. His lack of ambition and charisma is the reason he will never be number one hero even if you offer it to him on a silver platter because he will decline that offer no matter what.

Todoroki suffers from a form of complex PTSD and that's something that often goes overlooked. I think being number one is a trigger for him, something that reminds him of one of the darkest times in his life. In my opinion Horikoshi really fucked up his character his backstory was good and could've actually been something holding him back but then Izuku just says, "your power, don't be enji, okay vibe check done, ptsd gone" and BOOM he's suddenly a different character. Horikoshi could've made his growth more gradual while making this moment a sort of turning point. A few inspirational words doesn't just get rid of a trigger (his fire side), it's usually a gradual change of slowly letting go (I speak from experience sadly) of the memories of abuse.

Todoroki's attitude towards his father changing was rushed and we didn't really get to see the full potential of this character who was going through so much. Instead Horikoshi decided to just make it all happen off-screen.

....I just realised that I went from talking about Shoto's quirk to his trauma like it was nothing-

I agree that Shouto doesn’t know how to reach for the No. 1. spot, but I don’t see that as a bad thing, because I don’t see the No. 1. ranking = strongest person.

The ranking board is one of the worst parts of hero society. It tells us that the value of lives can be measured like commodity. That someone who arrest 10 smallfry villains is as strong as someone who rescues an abused kid - because they are all just an “incident”. Of course, you get no points for taking a small, traumatized Tenko to a shelter, because there is nothing flashy about that.

Shouto’s entire family was destroyed in pursuit of that No. 1. spot, and Endeavor reaching that goal doesn’t make him overall a better hero than let’s say Aizawa, who probably was never even a blip in the ranking board - it just shows that none of it was worth it.

Yes, there are lots of parallels between Hawks and Shouto, for very good reasons, but them being ambitionless or weak or whatever is not one. It’s just Shouto has to find his own ambition that looks different from his father’s ambition for him. Endeavor wanted him to be strong to be No 1 and beat All Might, Shouto wants to be strong so he can stand with his friends and not be the weak link and to be able to bring reassurance to people. The motivation is different, but wanting to be strong to help others is not a lack of ambition.

Same with Hawks, who after being used his whole life by the HPSC, he has to find his own motivation and he wants to be a good person who is willing to put everything on the line for his friends. I think the fact that Hawks didn’t kick Endeavor off the leaderboard after the war is not because he doesn’t want the responsibility or his running away - he’s very clearly calling the shots now. He offered to stand with Endeavor because he cares about him and wants to help him. It’s as simple as that.

As for Shouto’s trauma, no he didn’t get magically cured by Deku. It’s a pretty slow process (much slower than let’s say Deku learning all his extra quirks) actually and his complex PTSD keeps biting Shouto in the ass every step of the way:

losing the final

he pushes through to go try to learn from Endeavor

He tries to push it away, it comes back in the Licensing Exam, when it’s pretty much shown that he can’t become a hero until he overcomes that

He struggles with showing who he is to the kids at the Remedial class in positive terms

He has to watch an reconcile the fact that despite everything he cares if Endeavor lives or dies

But that doesn’t mean he can just forgive

His trauma comes back in flashbacks in the middle of a training fight

And has to swallow that Endeavor was right - he can go higher and stronger so he needs to find the motivation to do exactly what Endeavor wanted him to do...

And just when things feel like they are on track, Touya appears - and crashes down everything again - with point-blank hatred for Shouto

That sends Shouto into a whole new round of self-reflection

To me it’s very clear that Shouto’s motivation and his healing from trauma go hand in hand. The friendships he makes is his motivator and source of strength, together with his love for his family, and not the leaderboard. But I think having that as a push doesn’t make him weaker, but rather stronger.

I don’t see him as a go-with-the-flow character, but much more someone who struggles a lot with identity, with the fact that his path to strength is to become more and more like Endeavor - the same moves, the same equipment, when all he wants to do is not be like him. And that he has to reconcile these things.

#bnha meta #todoroki shouto #hawks #Shouto Hawks parallels #shouto's healing process is pretty gradual

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sorry-i-ship-drarry · 3 years

Text

30. Scared, potter ?

Prompt used- Grabbing onto their arm | FLUFF | Draco finally reveals how he fell in love with harry | can't believe I've already reached 30 days with these prompts.

Laughter cackled into the room with people draco had enormously grown to love. It's weird how fast time flies when you are surrounded by people who care about you regardless of how many shit days you may have and draco was a happy victim of it. All his life he had never cared for anyone else, treated them as if they were nothing untill he himself felt like one of those people, what it felt like to be nothing and he hated every second of it and when finally life gave him a second chance by a simple act of fate, he rose out the person who was completely opposite of who he used to be and he was proud of it and more proud were the people who once had hated him. It was a miracle how draco was sat amongst these people now, but he could not be more happier to reach where he is today and everyone he have right now. 5 years of learning, progress, trying to clear his name, he had finally became the person he wanted to be and love, it was just a small Miracle that happened by his side, so unpredictable but exactly what he needed and if there was one person who struck through it all was none other than, harry james Potter. His so called arch nemesis.

He met harry by a very simple mistake actually. One day he was serving coffee in a muggle coffee shop to pay his rent and the next day he knew he had almost been fired for spilling coffee over someone, and obviously that someone had to be harry. They got to talking about how different lives were, how difficult and yet they had the most complex similarities. It took harry exactly 9 months and 3 days during draco's final trials to get a job for him in the auror office, claiming if they didn't take him it would one of the most stupid choice they'd ever make because they'd lose a brilliant mind. Draco's first instincts were obviously disliking harry for doing something like that for him and maintained distance as much as he could but showed his gratitude in different ways like anonymously sending harry his favourite deserts every Friday and cup of coffee every morning. It wasn't until they both had been paired up for a mission related to a death Eater that they collided once again. According to the recruiters, it was important they had someone who was familiar with the death Eater ways, draco and a person they feared the most who vanquished the dark lord, harry. One scene to another, the tension building up one day led them into fighting and eventually resulted in them not talking until during the end of the mission when Draco got fatal injury, not because of the case but because of a muggle driver basically hitting draco. Eventually harry had to assign the mission to officials under him and draco being on bed rest, since it was a muggle injury and treating it the wizarding ways could've possibly been a hindrance in his 100 percent recovery.

And now this is where they are, sitting on top of the grimauld place, on its roof , lit up by almost 70 golden fairy lights, sheltered by a silver tent with a bunch of their friends and families assembled for the rehearsal dinner, or so the muggle called. It was just a last party from harry potter and draco malfoy.

Neville clinked his work lightly on his champagne glass raising it " Time for toast"

Draco cleared his throat grabbing attention from everyone across the table. Harry looked at him, bewildered since he definitely didn't knew Draco planned this.

" I'd like to take a few moments from all of you for this. I- I am blessed to have you all in my life and I met most of you when my life hit rock bottom and through it all, you guys have supported me unconditionally and I'm forever in debt for that"

They all raised their glasses in appreciation.

" and to you harry, tomorrow morning I will be pronouncing my vows and I know we've practically written them together, I can assure you no words are ever enough to what I feel for you. I've met you by a simple act of fate and it is my choice to choose my destiny to spend the rest of my life loving you just like you love me.

I met harry 6 years 3 months and exactly 25 days ago. I was merely counting the days of my life to make it through all of it and by far that day had been a huge blessing. A lot of you have asked me when did I realise I was in love with him and I've Always said that it was somewhere along the way but the truth is I have been saving this answer my whole life for this specific day. 3 years ago when I got hit by a car and had stitches up and down my body, 2 fractures and almost a broken nose, thank goodness for that though, I love my nose, harry being the absolute gentlemen he is, dropped the damn case to take care of my lousy ass. So this one day during my 1 month bed rest, harry had been late and I was absolutely glad he was because of ego issues, I heard my bell rang, I got up and took sometime to reach the door and by the time I had even checked who it was, the person had left, leaving a parcel in my letter box. Being me, I went downstairs to pick it up and just as I started to go back upstairs, a floor below mine I almost rolled down the stairs and guess who was the knight in shining armour, harry. He ranted the hell out of me for choosing to do that and simply grabbed my hand, put it around his neck and carried me back up. The entire day he kept bashing on about what would've happened if he wasn't there. That's when I fell In love. It wasn't magical or something as people describe it, I felt what I had been deprived of my whole life, care and love. The way he just went on and on about it, just showed me how much he cared and the same exact night he stayed over claiming he is never leaving my fucking ass alone, guess he took that too seriously by the way, I fell in love that night of him scolding me. And that's the answer I've saved up all these years. And I'm pretty sure harry is still never leaving my fucking ass alone if in future I get injured, just the consequences and situations would be far different " and draco raised his glass again.

" to harry and draco " Ron grinned, his arms wrapped around Blaise's waist.

" to harry and draco " everyone cheered

" to us " they silently whispered smiling at each other, with a look in their eyes, that was simply just their own, their love.

" I actually can't believe you took an entire minute to make this speech with basically no phrases such as electricity running through or how admirable harry looked. I means it's all sorta sparky " Ron joked. A few people around him laughed too including harry and draco.

As time went on, when everyone was almost done with dinner and simply hanging away slow dancing, chatting, making jokes, harry intertwined his fingers with those of draco's under the table and rested his head against draco's shoulder. Draco looked on his side to see his fiance finding his comfort in his neck. Smiling to himself, draco pressed a long kiss on top of Harry's head, bringing their hands to his lips and kissing over Harry's knuckles before resuming laughing at yet another one of Ron's jokes.

By midnight everyone had started to go downstairs in the house to crash over and a few of them leaving. Finishing up with the cleaning harry and draco too finally departed to their seperate bedrooms as per before marriage rituals. It was almost half an hour later when Draco heard a soft knock on his door. He opened the door cautiously to find harry standing there with a small smile.

" breaking the rules as usual " draco smirked as he turned around to let harry in behind him.

" well, that's just who I am. Besides your room have a nice balcony. Could use it " harry said as he shut the door softly and followed draco.

Draco finally turned smiling at his fiance, just staring at harry until he pulled them into the balcony, letting the moon wash over their bodies, making Harry's eyes sparkle more and draco's hair looking softer than usual.

" can you actually believe, we're getting married in less than 24 hours " draco said as he looked at the sky.

" it doesn't seem so different, does it ?" Harry asked as he stepped closer to draco and grabbing his hands to intertwine their fingers again.

" it doesn't " draco smiled as he kissed Harry's forehead. He too smiled at Draco and finally hugged draco, his arms hanging loosely around his waist , his head rested against draco's chest to hear the faint loveliest sound of his heartbeat. Draco put his chin on top of Harry's head, his arms too hanging loosely around Harry's back and just staying there like that.

" can I ask you something ?" Harry finally asked after moments of silence while watching the moon, different memories, different thoughts running in their own heads.

Draco hummed in response. Harry looked up at Draco, staring blankly as if he was trying to find something, but there was no freckle or a mole or anything left on draco's face yet for him to discover. He knew Draco better than he knew himself and it was just a small proud achievement.

" during that speech, you said something about saving your answer for this day, did you know we'd ever reach this far ?"

Draco pouted looking behind harry deciding on how to phrase it.

" I didn't. If this were to ever end, the secret would've died with me but I knew the only time I'd ever reveal it would the day before our marriage. And I did "

" so you Always wanted to get married ?"harry asked curiously in a Playful way.

" I think yeah. I never had anything close to having what we have, I'd had been a fool not to imagine whatever comes next " draco smiled at harry fondly, his hands tightening around his waist.

Harry looked at Draco amazed. Despite being together for so long, being with each other was Always a different adventure each day and this was their kind of adventure.

" when did you knew you loved me ?" Draco finally asked not looking away from harry.

" well- I think it was during the time you joined DMLE. Those deserts every Friday and the cup of coffee, they had the same handwriting on the Little notes you put into the desert box and on the coffee cup, I knew they were from you long before you told me, courtesy of stalking you all around 6th year "

" So you were obsessed with me " draco teased smirking.

" whatever helps you sleep at night " harry chuckled before he pressed his head against draco's chest again and stayed there in silence until harry had finally gone to his own bedroom, as silently as he had came.

The next day when harry and Draco finally stood against each other on the alter, after the vows, the ring ceremony, the speeches, the minister finally claimed

" I now pronounce you husband and husband, you may kiss each other "

Harry smirked at Draco holding his hands

" scared potter ?"

" you wish, Malfoy " draco smirked back.

And then they kissed, promising an eternity of love that even this life wasn't enough..

Requests open. This might be one of my favourite ones.

Day 29- sweet, sexy and practically fainting | Day 31- would you come back to me

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

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Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 2.3

"What the heck?!" Paimon yelled almost gave away the team's position on the top of the cliff as she stared into the valley. "Uh, Paimon thinks something fishy is going on down there!"

"Hm?" Aether followed her eyes until he too, stood there stunned.

"What's wrong?" You followed suit and soon everyone was looking over the cliff.

"Finally. I've been itching for a fight," Childe smirked in satisfaction as he watched over seven abyss mages gather around a bonfire they created. They appeared to be chanting or performing a ritual, but you were all too-high up to hear them.

"You're always itching for a fight," you rolled your eyes.

"It's one of life's greatest pleasures! Maybe if you were stronger, you'd see it that way too--Ow!" He rubbed the spot along his ribcage that you had elbowed.

"This is peculiar," Zhongli appeared lost in thought as he stared into space. "It is common for abyss mages to appear alone, in two's or three's, but in a group of ten?"

Xiao looked equally troubled and conjured his lance. "I'll take care of them."

"No," the former god objected. "Even at this distance, we'd still be in danger of becoming collateral damage if you went all out."

"But he took out the lawachurl on his own while we were in the immediate area," you pointed out.

"That is because one enemy requires little power. Abyss mages of this number and caliber would require more energy." Xiao didn't object to this, so he must have agreed with his master. "I will go along with the traveler and Childe. You two should remain here unless it is absolutely necessary to intervene."

"Why can't I go with you?"

"You haven't fought an abyss mage before." Aether finally peeled his eyes away from the cliff. "It would be better if we found an isolated one for you. These are too powerful."

"Ever heard of 'hit the ground running?' I can do this." Your eyes shone with determination.

Childe admired your resolve for a moment. "I say we let her," he vouched. "All she's fought so far are hilichurls. This would be a great way to gain experience."

"It may not be the wisest choice." Zhongli glanced back at the cliff before surveying you. "You lack a vision, which means you are unable to break their shields. Physical damage will get you nowhere unless the shield is broken--"

"I can break them for her," Childe countered.

"--Then there is the issue of healing. Vision holders are able to withstand more damage than the average human. Theoretically speaking, you may only be able to withstand a single hit."

"I've already taken a direct hit from a lawachurl and survived," you gestured toward your leg. "How much worse could it actually get?"

You could burn to death, Xiao nearly answered.

"I knew I liked you for a reason," Childe pulled you close with an arm around your shoulders. "I don't see the harm in bringing her. She's more stubborn than I am when it comes to pushing limits. If anything, she's too stubborn to die that quickly and pathetically."

Zhongli thought for a moment before looking to Aether. "I have shared my thoughts on the matter. Traveler, since you are the head of the group..."

Aether nodded and stepped forward. "I counted eight pyro and two dendro mages. Childe and Zhongli will break the shields. I'll work on getting rid of the dendro ones first. She can fight the ones that get isolated from the group. Xiao, can you cover her?"

"Mm." The yaksha nodded.

You didn't know what to expect when it came to getting to the base of the cliff, but you sure didn't expect Xiao to carry you bridal-style as he leapt from rock to rock. He landed near some bushes before you had time to react.

"We'll approach last," Xiao watched the group of mages around the fire. They were chanting something in their native language. "Are you sure you're ready?"

"Life happens whether you're ready or not," you answered. "I'd rather throw myself into the fire now than sit in a slowly-heating pot for forever."

Still as strange as ever. Xiao stood. "Let's move."

Xiao made sure you were far enough away from the dendro mages at all times. While their stupid vines hurt, they were more infuriating than painful. He'd rather not have you lose to agitation like you do with Childe every day. The abyss mages were scattered across the grass with a few shields already broken.

You were fighting at the edge of the battle, with Xiao watching you at a distance. He wasn't going to intervene unless you were finding yourself overwhelmed. Luckily, you were handling the chaos pretty well. That was until one of the mages sent a fireball your way when you let your guard down. Xiao grabbed ahold of you before you got hit and landed a few feet out of it's reach.

"Pay attention," he scolded and stepped away from you.

"Sorry!" You looked back to the battle. Two mages were recovering from their shields being broken. You ran for those, noting the positions of all other enemies along the way.

While you knew everyone's positions, you hadn't noticed when they had begun to surround you. Childe, Zhongli, and Aether were finishing off the two dendro mages after several minutes of being taunted by them. Six pyro mages surrounded you, and Xiao continued to watch from the sidelines. Contrary to the appearance of the mob, you were handling yourself just fine. You were about to deal the finishing blow to one of the mages when something inside of you clicked.

"Momma!" You ran as fast as you could with your chubby little legs into the village. "Is there a party today?" Small fingers tugged on your mother's summer dress.

"Party? There's no party, sweetie. We're going to have lunch at your grandma's today."

You shook your head wildly. "Party!"

"Sure, sweetie. It's a party," your mother sighed in resignation with a smile. "Come on. I've got the ingredients for lunch now. Want to help me cook?"

"But--"

"It's for the party," she sung to get you excited. She grabbed your hand and began to take you back to your home. You glanced back in the direction you came with a conflicted look on your face.

"Momma?" You gasped without realizing you were in the present moment. Your sword was still in mid-swing.

"Hey!" Someone's voice failed to reach you.

"Hey! Momma! The party is here!" You jumped up and down on the porch of your house. "The party is here! The party is here!"

"Sweetie, how many times do I have to tell you--" Your mother came out of the house with a plate of snacks that were immediately dropped onto the floor. The crash caught your attention and you looked back at her. She had wide eyes and was as pale as a ghost. "G-Gerald!" She called back into the house without removing her gaze from the tens of abyss mages making their way towards your house and the rest of the village.

"What?" Your father exited the house and froze. "Get...get her out of here and run. I'll warn the others."

"But--!"

"Just go! I'll stay and defend the village!"

"Momma...?" You were beginning to get worried over their panic. Why were they panicking? It was just a party...

"Hey! What're you doing? Get back!" A faint voice interrupted your memory.

"Where'd everyone go? There's a party!" You coughed and walked around the deserted village square. Before you knew it you were lying on your back, completely unaware of the fatal injury to your side and the warm blood soaking into your clothes. "There's a...party..." Momma's lullaby sprang to mind, and you began to hum it in hopes that everyone would come back to join you for the celebration. You were getting sleepy now, but you forced yourself to stay awake so you could welcome everyone back.

"I said get back!" Xiao pushed you out of the way and yanked you out of your memories. He spun his lance and dove into the earth, sending a mini shockwave into the abyss mages. He was holding back immensely, but he killed all six in one blow. His lance disappeared from his hand as he stood with his back to you. He let out an exasperated sigh. "If you cannot bring yourself to kill, speak my name."

You didn't answer, but your eyes widened for a split second. 'Speak my name.' He was there when it happened. He was the one who saved me. Your gaze rose to the back of his head.

Xiao turned around only to find your face streaked with tears. It wasn't what he expected, and his eyes widened as he searched for any obvious injuries on you. "Did I...?" A small shake of your head eased the tension in his shoulders. He knelt in front of you and wondered how to proceed. None of the abyss mages had hurt you, but they were about to when he intervened.

"Nice hit, comrade! Those mages were troublesome." Childe's voice rang out in the now-silent landscape. He and Aether high-fived as they approached with Zhongli in tow. Their happiness over the victory were soon quelled when they saw your face.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" Aether ran until he was behind Xiao.

"An injury? You were handling them well, I thought." Childe joined the traveler at his side.

Zhongli approached last, and was the only one that noticed the distinct familiarity in which you regarded the yaksha kneeling before you.

#genshin impact xiao #genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #fanfiction #xiao fanfiction #short story #one shot

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akatsuki-shin · 3 years

Photo

There’s this “MXTX Big Bang” event being held in Twitter for fan-artists and fic-writers in the MXTX fandom, and after thinking it over, I finally decided to join it - which means I have to commit myself to writing a minimum of 50k fic. xD

So I thought I’d write a HuaLian Pirate AU story based in this small headcanon idea that I’ve posted before.

The end product may or may be different from that headcanon, but hopefully I can make it on time. Please wish me luck. ^^

In the mean time, here is a sneak peak to the story’s prologue. Hope you guys will like it. :)

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

“Mermaids are the temptresses of death”, some say. To sing the most alluring songs for the unguarded seafarers, to present their unparalleled beauty to these men slaving day and night during the voyage… They care not for a person’s heart, be it righteous or crooked, be it young marines serving their emperor, tradesmen making a living, or marauders roaming the water for prey. How many ships have been led to their end, sinking under the rocks towards eternal slumber at the bottom of the ocean? How many lives have been lost, seeking for charming belles only to find themselves deceived by wicked enchantresses? Truly a vicious creature, the heralds of demise for men of the sea.

But who could really testify of the truth, if all those who chanced upon an encounter with these nefarious beauties ended up falling to their fatal trap?

“Mermaids are graceful sea creatures”, others say. Waving soft Dragon Silk, pure white as ice and frost. Once in a blue moon, a lucky few may find a mirage cast by these beings, an opportunity to get their hands on the mystical fabric said to never become moist even when soaked in deep water. Beautiful and gentle, when they weep, their tears will turn into shiny pearls. They have ways to heal incurable disease, and the kindest ones are willing to grant wishes, even giving their heart to love a mortal.

But who could attest to this truth, if even the storytellers have no way of proving whether the words they speak comes from experience or mere hearsay?

The sky that night was blackened as if heavens had chosen to abandon the mortal world, thunder striking like the wrath of a mighty god. Dark clouds agglomerated into thick, massive wisps, sending ruthless rainfall down onto the earth. The tides were violent; the calm surface of the sea during the day was nowhere to be seen. For sailors exposed to this weather in the open, they could only pray that nature would still have some mercy on them. There was no use trying to escape; it was already good enough that their ship remained afloat and they were tied safely up there, not thrown into the raging water.

Somewhere on the chaotic water, sharp rocks of various sizes stood still amidst the splashes and crashes of the dreadful waves. The tallest ones were no bigger than the size of a standing grown man, while the rest looked more like fragments of broken big chunks of stones. Whether there was a titan of a mountain hidden beneath the surface, one could only try to guess.

Atop this cluster of rocks, on a slightly slanted, flat crag near the center, there was an unexpected object lying motionless, something so out of place that no one would ever imagine to see in the middle of the open sea. A human, a young boy in his early adolescence, was sprawled there alone under the fierce thunderstorm. His clothes were torn and dirty, rags that could no longer be discerned what color they originally were. His face was deadly pale, with the black strands of his wet, unkempt hair sticking to his face. The only visible sign of life was his unstable breathing, causing his scrawny frame to faintly convulsed every few seconds or so.

Would someone find him in this stranded place? Even if he could survive the storm, what means could he use to return to land with nothing but rocks and water around him? The boy was shifting in and out of consciousness. He had swallowed and breathed in too much sea water, and he had vomited a lot of it, as well, until his internal organs were churning. It was painful to breathe; the heavy drops of rainwater kept hitting his face, choking his nostrils. His skinny limbs trembled from the cold, but this gale did not seem like it was going to end so soon, much less pitying an insignificant existence such as him.

At this moment, it appears that death would be the kindest gift he could receive, lest he would suffer even more. However, although his life was fleeting away, the dying boy felt something holding onto his soul, keeping it chained to the world of the living. He heard a song; the most beautiful song he had ever listened to in his short, inexperienced life. The voice was soft and gentle, he could not tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman.

One thought arose in his mind: “Is this how the mermaids’ singing sounds like?” After all, who else but these half human-half fish sirens would be chanting melodies in the middle of the briny deep? Yet he could not sense any malice from it, not even the slightest hint of seduction intending to lead him into harm. It was simply pleasant to hear, like a soothing lullaby, and he did not know since when someone had been placing a hand on his forehead, sending warmth flowing into his numb, freezing senses.

His body was weakened, but somehow, there was a tiny fire newly lit aflame in his heart. With much difficulty, the boy forced his eyes open to see just who it was staying by his side in this godforsaken place.

A beautiful visage.

Dark eyes as bright as the clearest sky. Even when the night was shrouded in this savage tempest, the two spheres that were a pair of eyes were like stars twinkling down from heaven. This person was fair, so fair that the boy was afraid his filthy self would stain their existence. Long black hair fell from this person’s shoulders, down to the surface of the crag where he lied. The boy involuntarily followed the raven strands, and it was then that he realized something was not quite right.

Under this person’s torso, the part that was supposed to be a pair of legs was replaced with something else.

Glimmering silver so pure it was almost translucent, what this person had was none other than the tail of a fish.

#Tian Guan Ci Fu #TGCF #Heaven Officials Blessing #HuaLian #Hua Cheng #Xie Lian #HuaLian Pirate AU #Mo Xiang Tong Xiu #MXTX

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somedayonbroadway · 3 years

Note

Hehe hi, I would cry if I could see you Star Wars AU with javid somehow?

You mean Jack and Davey as Poe and Finn because that should’ve been a relationship already and I’m one hundred percent going to write this like it was.

Star Wars AU — Javid

Characters

Jack Kelly — Poe Dameron

David Jacobs — Finn

Racetrack Higgins — Rey

Spot Conlon — Kylo Ren

Medda Larkin — General Leia Organa

Todd Kloppman — Luke Skywalker

Bryan Denton — Han Solo

So, since this is specifically a request for Javid, this is mostly going to be focused on their relationship, but if you guys would like to read more about other characters or read a scene from any of this, just shoot me an ask (also, sorry I’m so behind on these asks. My brain has been going through a lot) and I will get to it as soon as I can!

Anyways…

On the desert planet of Jakku, Resistance pilot Jack Kelly is in search of a lost map leading to the disappeared Jedi, Todd Kloppman. Jack Kelly is the fastest pilot in the resistance.

While searching Jakku and finding a piece of the map to the missing Jedi, the planet is raided by First Order Stormtroopers. People are slaughtered easily and Jack tries to escape in his ship, only to be shot down and barely escape with minor injuries. He gives the map he found to his droid, an NY unit. NY-99.

The droid escapes. Jack isn’t so lucky.

Though he puts up a brave fight, even shooting with his blaster at Sidus Vis (yes I made that up), a very dangerous member of the Dark Side of the force, and while not known throughout the galaxy as a Sith, is skilled with a saber and with the force. As Jack shoots at him, Vis stops his blast in mid air and uses the force to trap the pilot until the stormtroopers can seize him and cuff him, forcibly dragging him onto the ship before Vis knocks him out completely and takes him to a Star Killer above the planet to interrogate him.

Meanwhile, a Stormtrooper out on his first mission makes a decision that could prove fatal to him. Down in Jakku as he watches the death and destruction around him and watches a pilot get captured to be tortured, he finds himself not understanding why he’s even holding a blaster at innocent people. He doesn’t shoot at all. Not even when they heard all of the villagers into the center of their army and were ordered to leave no living souls. He lowers his blaster.

Later, back on board the star destroyer, the Stormtrooper, DV-0511, is told to turn in his blaster for inspection. He knows he’ll be put back in training. The thing is, DV-0511 doesn’t want to live this life. And he knows of someone on board who just might be able and willing to help him.

On the other side of the ship, Jack is being brutally tortured. Throughout all of the pain he faces, he refuses to give up the location of the resistance or the new hiding place of the map to Todd Kloppman. That is, until Sidus Vis takes over the interrogation. He uses the force to literally get inside Jack’s mind very excruciatingly and pull the information out of him, getting the make, model and location of Jack’s droid and the map.

After getting this information, Vis takes off his helmet and “thanks” Jack for his cooperation, to which Jack responds “Anytime, Spottie,” very bitterly after seeing the small, circle like burns on Vis’s cheek.

After Jack is left alone, told he’d be executed in the next few hours, a lone Stormtrooper comes in and unlocks Jack’s bindings, telling him that he was here to break him out, however as Jack is able to read people very well, he sees the desperation in the stormtrooper’s eyes and deduces that he’s trying to escape too and he needs a pilot. DV-0511 doesn’t deny this.

Jack is led at gunpoint by this stranger that he has to trust to a tie fighter. DV-0511 questions his flight skills to which Jack responds that he can fly anything. The hit a small bump in the road when they fight the tie fighter is feathered down, but they manage to get away anyway with the stormtrooper shooting at those who try to follow them. Jack asks for the other man’s name, to which he responds, DV-0511. Jack says he won’t be calling any man by a number and states that he’d call him Davey instead.

Davey says he would very much like that before trying to instruct Jack to get out of the system. When Jack responds that they’d be going back to Jakku to retrieve a map to Todd Kloppman, Davey loses focus and they get shot down, crash landing on Jakku.

Davey wakes up and tries to rush back to the crash. All he manages to save is Jack’s jacket.

Disheartened by losing the only potential friend he’d ever had, Davey keeps the jacket, stripping off his uniform and making his way to the nearest village where he meets a feisty scavenger named Anthony. Anthony attacks him and accuses him of stealing a jacket from the master of a droid that he’d befriended.

Davey is tasked with telling NY-99 that his master is dead, but lies to Anthony about being a member of the resistance and attempts to help him escape from a group of stormtroopers sent to get their hands on the droid. In the end, it’s Anthony who ends up helping Davey escape in a junkyard where they find a ship Anthony calls garbage and take off in it as a last resort.

After escaping, Davey gets NY-99 to tell Anthony where The Resistance base is to keep his cover and they make their way to that system, meeting several people along the way, including Bryan Denton, an idol of Anthony’s who reveals to him that the ship they’d stolen is the Manhattan, the fastest ship in the galaxy.

Denton eventually takes them to another planet where Davey finally works up the courage to tell Anthony the truth and begs the kid he’s become close to to run away with him, but Anthony says he can’t.

Before Davey can leave the planet, losing track of Anthony and Denton and everyone else, the planet is attacked by the First Order and a lightsaber is shoved into his hands. He’s called a traitor, nearly killed before he’s saved by a pilot flying overhead who’s the fastest and most skilled pilot Davey has ever witnessed.

He sees Anthony get kidnapped and begs Denton to help him save the boy, so they are taken back to the Resistance base. There, Davey is greeted by a very familiar, cocky and healed up pilot, Jack Kelly, who rushes to him, pulls him into a hug and realizes that Davey looks amazing in his jacket that he thought he lost in the wreck.

Jack explains that he woke up in the sand, unable to see the ship or Davey and he found his way back here. He apologizes for leaving Davey behind and tells him it was a shame he lost such a pretty face. After Davey recovers from his flustered state, he asks Jack for help.

Jack and Miss Medda help devise a plan to save Anthony who ends up almost saving himself. Anthony and Davey find that Sidus Vis’s name is actually Sean and that he’s Denton’s son. And Sean kills his father right then and there, when he sees him.

And it kills him inside.

Anthony and Sidus Vis end up out on StarKiller Base, fighting with lightsabers and though Davey tries to help, he ends up getting hurt and Anthony has to knock Sean out and drag Davey back to the Manhattan.

Jack is leading a fleet trying to destroy StarKiller base before it gains enough energy to destroy the Resistance.

The Resistance flees and Jack rushes back to Davey who he has become attached to. He stays with him as he rests while Anthony goes off to Todd Kloppman and asks him to train him in the ways of the force.

Not long after these events occur, General Larkin leads the resistance in fleeing, as imperial ships are coming to wipe the last of them out. Jack, who is jumpy and aching to be placed in charge of something, leads a costly attack against the resistance against Medda’s orders. This attack does end well, but it gets Jack put under the watchful eye of another leader of The Resistance, though Jack insisted he be allowed to get in a ship and blow something up.

Eventually, Medda grants him permission, running low on fuel and options, to blow something up, though by that point it’s too late and they are being attacked. The First Order blows up a part of the ship, killing nearly every leader on board and nearly killing Medda who only barely manages to save herself with the force. Jack is horrified by this as he’s very close to Medda and he helps get her to safety before he rushes to Davey, who is still recovering a bit.

Jack hesitantly sends Davey out with Katherine, a mechanic, on a mission to disable the tracker Jack knows is being used to track them through jumps. Jack has to sneak them out as the standing general seems to have alternative motives for getting them to safety and seems to see other people as disposable.

After Davey and Katherine leave, Jack attempts to lead a mutiny, only ending up getting stunned and held prisoner by Medda herself who tells him he’s not quite ready to be a leader yet.

Davey and Katherine manage to get captured while attempting to complete their mission only to later escape and meet what’s left of the resistance back on the planet Crait where there’s an abandoned base, but the quickly get cornered and Katherine attempts to attack, leading Jack and Davey to follow on speeders and buy them some time. Katherine ends up getting hurt trying to keep Davey from getting himself killed and he and Jack manage to save her and take her back to safety where the fleet realizes they have to run.

They try to find some kind of exit only to be met with Anthony, who clears a path for them and helps them escape.

A while after these events occur, Jack and Davey are out on a mission where the Manhattan gets fairly damaged and Anthony, or as Jack has come to call him, “Racer”, is not happy with this in the least, but at the first sight of NY-99, who stayed behind with Anthony, the two hotheads break out into a fight that Davey has to break up and Race makes fun of Davey angrily for how he loves to put his hand on Jack’s chest to calm him down.

After they all calm down, Anthony eventually finds that they need to depart on another mission to Pasaana. (I don’t know these movies as well as I know the originals so they won’t be quite as detailed). According to the now deceased Todd Kloppman’s notes, a wayfinder can lead them to the location of Emperor Snyder, who has somehow managed to survive. They go to find this wayfinder, but Spot, as they’ve all begun calling him, creates a connection with Anthony to find his location and comes to hunt him down.

With the help of an old friend of Denton’s, Race, Jack and Davey manage to escape, finding a clue to the location of the wayfinder after they all get sucked down into quicksand. Jack falls first and he manages to catch Davey and then Race. Jack is determined to be the leader but is continuously outshined by Race who finds that he can use the force to heal a monster they find in the cave they get trapped in for a moment.

When they try to make their way back to The Manhattan, a First Order Fleet attacks and captures Denton’s old friend and Sidus Vis and Race get into a battle, trying to use the force to stop the ship that’s flying away with him. The ship explodes when Anthony accidentally shoots a lightning bolt from his hand.

After all of this, the group discovers that the dagger they found has an ancient language that they need translated. Jack sighs and admits that he knows where to go. Realizing they don’t know much about Jack’s past, Race and Davey find that Jack used to be a spice runner and Jack gets very defensive when they start to ask questions. He ends up finding them a droidsmith to help reset one of their droid's memories so it can read the message out to them. Since the message was written out in an ancient Sith language, the droid was forbidden from translating it.

After they translate the message, Race senses that Denton’s old friend is still alive and Davey and Jack get captured trying to save him. When they are taken for execution, Jack asks what Davey had been trying to tell Race earlier. Davey starts arguing with him and asking if this is the best time and Jack rolls his eyes, asking him if he was supposed to wait till later and they start bickering as the General behind them raises a gun to their heads, eventually prompting Davey to give into his own urges and kiss Jack passionately, believing that they were both going to die, only for the general to kill the stormtroopers behind them and admit that he was the spy they’d been in contact with for months now.

Now that they’re both very confused and flustered, Jack and Davey run back to escape on The Manhattan and don’t say a word about what happened, eventually getting back to Race.

Race goes to get the wayfinder from the Endor system, on the remains of the Second Death Star while Davey and Jack fly back to base only to find that General Larkin is committing a dying act, trying to reach out to her stepson and adopted son, Sean, who became Sidus Vis years ago.

It’s after she dies that someone reveals to Jack that he is to be the next leader of the resistance. Though, as soon as he hears this, Jack finds himself panicking a bit until Davey touches his shoulder and asks him what he wants to do. Jack asks for his help. He couldn’t lead the resistance alone and he trusts Davey more than anyone in the Galaxy.

So Jack and Davey lead the resistance together and go to find Race who sends them coordinates to his location. They send out a message to as many people as they can, asking them for help and support, as much help as they can get, and they go to end the war. During this battle, it becomes increasingly clear that they’re fighting a losing battle until several ships from all over the Galaxy appear to help them.

Davey nearly gets himself killed trying to take out a ship from on top of it. He jumps from his own ship to try and take it out and nearly gets left behind. Jack tries to save him but is beaten to it by Denton’s old friend (TBD, I don’t know who Lando would be, yet).

And the Resistance wins the battle, going back to base to celebrate.

After learning that Race survived and everything that happened all Jack and Davey and Race can do is hug each other and celebrate the fact that we won until Davey asks Jack if they’re ever gonna talk about that kiss.

Jack just suggests they do it again.

Anyway, there is my very, very rough draft of a Javid Star Wars story. I am so willing to write any scenes from this that any of you guys would like to see, just let me know!

For more Mood Boards and AUs, click here!

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sprnklersplashes · 3 years

Text

theo/robin- “we broke up but I was in an accident and you're still my emergency and you dropped everything to come to the hospital”

also on ao3

He grabs the phone at what he suspects is a second before it stops ringing. After pushing himself off the couch and throwing about five hundred things off the coffee table in search of it. He can feel Moth’s stink eye on him even as he turns and heads into the hall, half-closing the living room door. Not just because he disrupted the organised chaos of their coffee table, but because he violated their ‘no answering the phone during the movie’ rule. He’ll make it up to her, he tells himself. He’ll do the coffee run tomorrow. Even she can’t remain mad after an iced latte.

He hears her pause the movie and thinks maybe he’ll throw in a cupcake too.

“Hello?” he asks.

“Robin Goodfellow?”

“Yep.” He’s just a little suspicious, because the voice definitely isn’t one he recognises, and hardly anyone has his number, just Moth and a few close friends. It’s a little unusual, but not too much, and certainly not enough to scare him or anything.

“This is Greendale hospital.We’re calling you because you’re the emergency contact for Theo Putnam.”

Apparently, he spoke too soon.

The first part is enough to send a shiver running up his spine. He thankfully doesn’t have too much experience in hospitals, but the word still puts him on edge. His experiences might be few and far between, but he’s smart enough to know that calls from hospitals mean bad news, 99% of the time.

And yet, that’s not even the part he’s focussing on. Instead he’s focussing on the name uttered on the other line. A name that makes him feel like he’s drowning, and flying, and dying all at once, just at the mention of it.

“Theo?” he asks. Slowly, the information begins to come together, clicking like a jigsaw puzzle. Theo. Hospital. Hospital. Theo. Emergency contact. Him. Emergency. Theo in hospital for an emergency. He breathes out steadily, one hand flat against the wall, and swallows past the lump in his throat. “Theo Putnam?”

“Yes.” The operator’s voice is soft, careful, coaxing him to stay calm, and it would work were it not clearly rehearsed. They’re trained to stay calm in any kind of crisis. Robin is yet to learn that. “He was in a motorbike accident. We’ve tried to get ahold of his father, but we’ve been unable to reach him.”

Robin looks down at his watch. Of course, he thinks. Thursday night. 8pm. If nothing has changed, then Mr Putnam is out in the fields right now, his phone left on the kitchen table because, in his words, ‘it’s too expensive to take out and get lost’. Theo had tried, and failed, to explain to him that the point of a cellphone is for people to reach him whenever they need to. Briefly, he hopes that the hospital doesn’t see Mr Putnam as some neglectful asshole for this.

But there’s more pressing things than Mr Putnam’s reputation.

“Is-is he okay?” He pushes his hair away from his face and pretends not to notice the trembling hand, or how the warmth has fled his skin entirely.

“Yes. We believe there’s nothing fatal. Like I said, he crashed his motorbike and was badly hurt. And since he’s a minor, we need someone to come in and fill out some paperwork for him, and take him home. He’s in no state to drive himself.”

I bet he isn’t. Robin lets out a soft curse and leans against the wall. Now that the worst-case scenario is over, he lets himself think about how much bullshit this all is, and how much of an asshole Theo is because, seriously dude, you didn’t update your emergency contact info? Why was I even there to begin with?

His heart flutters though, just a little, when he thinks about it, and he tries not to hate himself for it.

“Mr Goodfellow?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I-I’ll be right there. Thanks. Bye.” He hangs up before they can say anything else, and lets the dial tone ring in his ear, flood his mind and leave it blank, before springing into action.

And of course, Moth is standing in the doorway when he turns, her grin only growing wider when he jumps.

“Jesus, Moth.”

“Where you off to, hot shot?” she teases, like she doesn’t know. Like she paused the movie so they could watch it together. Like that name didn’t set alarm bells off for her as much as it did for him.

Moth never liked Theo, and never made an attempt to hide it. Not even when he brought him around, or when Theo tried to get on her good side. He gets it, to some extent, given that they;re brother and sister in all but blood, and protecting him was a job she began early on. But even he soon got bored of her speeches about how Theo isn’t good enough for him, how he’s risking too much for a small town farm boy. He reminded her that he was hardly high class himself-an ex foster care brat who only just got a full-time job as a tattoo artist. Her rants didn’t stop bringing Theo round though, and towards the end he just started tuning her out. He assumed, hoped, that one day she’d get tired, or bored, and then finally see the good in Theo, and they’d all live happily ever after.

So much for that.

She wasn’t necessarily happy when Robin came home that night, eyes full of tears and heart freshly broken. She made him some tea, turned on Taylor Swift and let him cry his sad little heart out. So no, she wasn’t happy. But still.

Now he pushes past her into the living room, grabs his jacket from the coffee table, and prepares himself for some more of her bullshit.

“I guess I owe Mer ten bucks,” she sighs. Her response is so far from what he expected-which was something closer to a rant about how he’s better than this-that he freezes in place, his eyes narrowing in a silent demand for the answer. She just shrugs, her lips pursed like it all makes perfect sense. “She bet me you wouldn’t last six months without him. I thought you were stronger than that, but that’s what I get for believing in you.”

“Okay, first off, can you and your girlfriend stop making bets on my love life,” he says. “And second, he was in an accident, for your information.” He pulls his jacket on and turns down the collar. “He’s in the hospital. I'm his emergency contact.”

“Oh,” is all she says. She’s not one for admitting when she’s wrong, not out loud, so she just steps aside and tosses the keys into his open hand. It’s enough for him though, and he taps her shoulder as he passes her in thanks. “Text me when you’re coming home,” she says just as he opens the door. “And if you need anything. And… if he’s okay.”

He nods, the gesture minute, and jogs outside. He throws himself into the car and peels out of the driveway, shaking fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. He picks the first radio station he can and turns it almost all the way up, letting it drown out his thoughts.

It doesn’t work, but no-one can say he didn’t try.

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

He’s not in the waiting room five minutes before he puts his headphones in. It’s the same logic as the music in the car; drown out the sounds, forget where he is. The paperwork sits on his lap, supported by a wooden clipboard that’s seen better days and a receptionist with tired, sympathetic eyes sporting dark shadows. She tells him she’ll come and get him whenever he can see him, and less than a minute later, appears with a paper cup of coffee. ‘You look like you could use it,’ she said before leaving him to the paperwork.

The coffee sucks, but the gesture is appreciated.

He texts the Midsummer Night's group chat, updating them on what little has happened so far. Moth is surprisingly sympathetic, messaging him privately saying she hopes he’s okay, Merry offering words of comfort and the others piling on with the love and support. It’s beautiful, and it’s sweet, but it’s suffocating. He mutes the chat before he can see someone else asking if there’s anything they can do and puts on a podcast that has yet to let him down. From there he reads through the paperwork and mindlessly puts his signature wherever he needs to. He tenses at the sight of the word ‘surgery’, even if the word ‘minor’ is before it and shudders at the word ‘accident’. He turns the volume up on his podcast every time his thoughts start going down a road he doesn’t like, as if Theo will be okay if he doesn’t let himself think about it.

By the time the nurse taps him on the shoulder, he’s getting dirty looks from the lady two seats down that tells him everything she thinks about his podcast choices.

“Hey,” the nurse quietly, like he might bolt if she scares him. “The surgery went well, and we moved him to the recovery room. He’s awake, if you want to go see him.”

She leads him down a perfectly-polished corridor, neon lights distorted in the shiny reflection, and quickly up in a too-small elevator before stopping outside what must be Theo’s room. Room 203, with the word RECOVERY printed on the wood in grubby white letters. The nurse tells him something in a soft, polite voice and he thanks her before leaving, because he wasn’t raised in a barn, and then it’s just him and the door. And Theo, on the other side of it.

It takes more effort than it should just to put his hand on the handle.

It’s been four months now. Four months, two weeks, five days, because yeah, he counted. Four months since Theo’s insecurities got the better of him and he told Robin to leave, since Robin got tired of trying to work it out and told him that he’d come back whenever he’s ready. A week later, Roz appeared on Robin’s doorstep with most of his things in a box-a mixtape he’d made for Theo’s birthday, one of his shirts, his cap, a book he’d forgotten about. Four months of waiting beside the phone, of not-so-subtly checking out his social medias.

Four months without waking up next to him, or meeting him for coffee, or sharing milkshakes, or having his face pressed into the crook of his neck.

Four months had never felt so long, and now here they are.

He doesn’t feel himself turning the handle, only sees the door slowly opening before him, a cold wash spreading over his body. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting. Stony silence. A potted plant being thrown at his head. A colourful array of curse words telling Robin exactly where to go. Or maybe, in his wildest dreams, Theo bursting into tears and begging him to take him back.

He doesn’t know what he expects, but what he gets is Theo blinking at him, surprise slowly trickling through the medication-induced haze.

“Hi,” he says slowly. That’s the first word Theo has said to him in four months. Hi. His response is ‘hey’, so it’s not like he’s much better, but still.

He closes the door and moves closer, stopping a good few feet from Theo’s bed. He isn’t an asshole, and so he lets the fog clear a good bit before he starts saying anything. He had planned on going straight into a lecture, but state he’s in, he now feels bad doing so. His skin is almost as pale as the sheets he’s lying on, his right cheek sporting a nasty looking purple bruise, smaller marks and cuts trailing along his neck and jaw. The arm facing Robin is wrapped in layers of white bandage, while the opposite leg sits atop the sheets and wrapped in a cast. He moves, little by little, until he can see that side of his body, which seems to be more bruises than skin. He winces on instinct, and then remembers that he still can’t see what’s beneath the blanket and hospital gown.

“What are you doing here?” Theo asks after a while.

“I’m still your emergency contact,” he replies, and he tries not to laugh when Theo curses under his breath. He chuckles humorlessly. “Seriously, you need to get that changed.”

“Yeah, I’ll make that a priority.”

“Well, you should. I changed my contact info two months ago. When-” The words catch in his throat. When it became clear to him that Theo didn’t want him back. When he texted him and waited around for two days for a reply. When it was obvious that Theo had moved on and he should do the same. “Well, I did.”

“Oh well good for y-” He gasps sharply, the word turning into a strained cry as he clearly pulls on something he shouldn't have. Robin’s at his side in less than a moment, his hands on his shoulders because he’s unsure where else to put them. They stay there, sitting in that half-embrace, as the seconds pass and the tension fades from Theo’s face. Robin watches and resists the urge to run his thumb along Theo’s jaw.

“You okay?”

“Peachy keen,” he replies in a voice that implies anything but. Now that he’s closer, Theo somehow looks worse than he did when he came in. He can see the bruises poking out from beneath the hospital-issued gown, along with freshly-covered cuts. He remembers the nurse telling him something about needing stitches and he tries not to shudder.

Theo’s eyes follow his and, because Theo is a bastard, he smiles.

“I look pretty badass huh?”

“Not the word I would use.” Theo pouts and damn it, Robin can’t help it. He laughs; he’s not made of stone. Theo laughs too, as much as his beaten-up body will allow, and raises an eyebrow at him. “So is this the part where you tell me ‘I told you so’?”

“No. Because I am not an asshole.”

But in complete fairness, he did tell him so. Several times, in fact. He told him over and over again that that bike was a death trap and would it kill him to wear a helmet for the love of God and there’s no way he should be on that thing when he doesn’t even have a permit and does he know the reason motorbike insurance is so much cheaper than car insurance? He had told him all of that, over and over again, and Theo had just laughed and kissed his cheek and told him he’s cute when he’s protective.

Well now he’s cute and right.

“No,” Theo says after a pause. “You’re not an asshole.” He tilts his chin slightly and looks at him, his eyes still slightly dazed, probably from the pain meds. “You came all the way out here because you heard I got hurt. That’s not an asshole thing to do.”

“Yeah, well… You’d have done the same for me.” He doesn’t deny it. Instead he just huffs a soft laugh and looks down at his sheets, his free hand toying with the fabric. Maybe it’s just him, he hopes it’s just him, but it feels too bold, what he said. Like he had just asked, or at least implied, something about them not being entirely over. His heart skips a beat, and so he quickly changes the subject. “They said they’re trying to reach your dad. I know he’s usually busy these nights. They said they’ll keep trying to reach him.”

“Oh God.” Theo’s head hits the pillow, a low groan escaping him. “My dad.”

“Yeah.” Theo opens one eye and looks at him and sighs heavily, grunting slightly with his sore chest. “You may not tell me you told me so, but my dad definitely will.”

“Well, to be fair… he told you so.” He chuckles when Theo flips him off, a scowl on his bruised face. Robin feels braver, and moves closer again.

“Do you know what happened to the bike?” he asks.

“Nope,” he sighs. “I haven’t seen that bike since I crashed it. And I kind of forgot to ask the paramedics what they were going to do with it.” He picks at the sheet. “But given how I ended up, she’s probably scrap metal by now.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know how much you loved that bike.”

“No you’re not,” he replies dryly. “You hated it.”

“No, I hated the risk attached to it. That’s different.” He finds himself, somehow, standing at the foot of Theo’s bed, his hands shoved into his pockets. He opens his mouth to say something else, but he doesn’t know what, and it feels weird. Words always came easy with Theo. That happens when you have someone you can be yourself around. When there’s no need to hide anything because you’re not afraid of what they’ll do. There was never any need for hesitation or hint of discomfort between them. Not until right now.

He doesn’t know what to say, but he doesn’t want to go either. He’ll stay until his dad comes, he decides. Until he knows Theo’s going to be okay.

And it’s probably a good thing he does, given that his ever-restless ex boyfriend grows bored of laying down and tries to push himself up, despite his beaten-up body’s protests. He gasps sharply, a short, stifled grunt escapes him, but he keeps acting as though it didn’t happen. Robin rolls his eyes and moves over to him; one hand on his arm and the other adjusting his pillows. Theo scowls again, because he would walk on broken legs before asking for help, but he doesn’t push him away.

“Here, careful… there you go.” Theo sits up against the wall, his back supported by pillows. Robin settles next to him on the mattress, watching his face for any indication that he should go. He doesn’t get one. Instead, he gets a smile, and the ghosting of fingertips along his hand.

“Thank you,” he says. “For… for coming here.”

“It’s fine,” he replies. His mouth runs dry, his heart beating louder and louder being so close to him. He’s missed him. Holy crap, he’s missed him. He’s missed him for months and it all slams into him now, like a speeding train hitting him. Theo doesn’t meet his eyes, doesn’t say anything, just keeps tracing patterns on his hand, his finger getting faster and faster by the minute. He knows him well enough to know what that means. He doesn’t push though, because finally being this close to him is something he doesn’t want to risk losing.

“Robin,” he begins after a long while. “About what I said to you-”

“It’s fine,” he says again, a little too quickly this time.

“It’s not,” he says firmly, shaking his head slightly. “It wasn’t. What I said, the way I said it…” He closes his eyes briefly, probably reliving the night they broke up. He’s recalled it countless times since then. “You didn’t deserve it. And don’t-” He holds up his finger to silence him before Robin can even say anything. “Tell me that it’s okay, you Canadian asshole. Because it wasn’t.”

He laughs at that, even if it’s short-lived. He felt bad for thinking it sometimes, but it never felt right, what Theo had said to him. Half-sentences about not wanting to hold him back, how he can’t stay and give up everything just for him. How he ended it with “I don’t want you anymore” and told him to go. Aside from maybe cheating on him, he doesn’t know how it could have been worse. Leaving him with a broken heart and so many unanswered questions.

“Okay, it was,” he says. “Thank you for apologising.” Theo smiles, barely, and his fingers move quicker against his hand. He doesn’t say anything, not out loud, but he does rest his free hand on Theo’s knee. A brave move, maybe, but also a silent signal that it’s okay. That whatever he has to say, he can say it. God knows when they’ll see each other again, so they might as well.

He must hear it, but even so it takes a lifetime for him to say “I got scared.” He leans back on the pillows, the three words having drained him, and Robin processes it.

“You got scared?” he asks. “Scared of what?”

“Of us,” he sighs. “Of you and me and… how serious it was all getting. And… and your family, and my family, and school. And it was all getting so serious and I-I freaked out.” He swallows thickly and pulls his good knee close to his chest, a small whimper escaping him. He doesn’t know if it’s from the pain or something else. “I’m sorry.”

They fall silent, and Robin digests what he said. For the past few months, he’s lived with constant confusion over their break-up, and it was just over the past week that it was slowly morphing into acceptance that Theo had just outgrown him. Now there’s this, and his view is shaken up again.

“Oh,” he replies. That might be the only thing he’s capable of saying, given how tight his throat is. He tries to clear it, only to find tears blurring his vision. “Theo… what happened?” Something comes back to him, one night near the end, with Theo over at his place. Him arguing quietly with Moth in the kitchen, her whispering that Theo will ‘ruin his life’. It hadn’t occurred to him how thin the walls in their house actually are. “Did you hear me and Moth?”

“Some of it,” he mumbles. Robin opens his mouth, a fire against Moth ready, but Theo holds up his hand, his pained expression grinding him to a halt. “It’s not just Moth though. It’s everyone else. You heard it too right?” He laughs bitterly. “When people said how weird it was that we were getting so serious so fast.”

Robin doesn’t say anything. Theo’s right; people did talk. It wasn’t because it was two boys, which for Greenedale, is saying something. It was the fact that they’d only been together a few weeks before they were staying at each other’s houses. It was that just two months into their relationship, Robin gave Theo his father’s ring. They talked even more when Robin let it slip they were looking at apartments to share for when Theo went off to college. So yes, people talked, but they weren’t listening. Or apparently, he wasn’t.

“Since when do you care what other people think?” he asks after a while.

“I don’t. But I care about you,” he says. “I care because what if they were right? Robin, you were planning on moving out of Greenedale for me.”

“Yeah, and I said I was okay with it.”

“Well what if I wasn’t?” His voice is tight, shaking, and when tears run down his red cheeks, Robin doesn’t hesitate in wiping them away. Theo leans into his touch, shivering slightly at his skin against his. His hand comes up and wraps around his wrist, his thumb rubbing against the back of Robin’s as he tries to compose himself. “What if I wasn’t okay with dragging you across the country?”

“Is that what you think you were doing?” he asks. “Theo… you weren’t dragging me anywhere. I wanted to go with you.” He swallows thickly before adding, “I still do.” Theo closes his eyes and runs his hand through his hair, his fingers catching on knots.

“Yeah I know,” he whispers, and Robin isn’t sure if he’s talking to him or to himself. “I know that now.” Theo hesitates for a moment, uncertainty in his eyes, but then he wriggles closer, despite his beaten-up body, and Robin does the same until they’re just a breath apart. Close enough for Robin to count the freckles on Theo’s cheeks. Holy crap, he loves those freckles. He loves him, every part of him.

Moth was wrong; he wasn’t lasting six months without him.

“Why did you come here?” Theo asks.

“Because I’m your emergency contact,” he reminds him.

“Mm-mm.” He shakes his head. “Roz is third on the list. You know that. You could have left it to her. Why did you come?”

“Because you were hurt,” he says, and he means it. It’s the truth, but not the whole truth, and they both know it. “Because I miss you.”

Theo laughs, and kisses the inside of his wrist.

“I miss you too,” he says, and the tears running down Robin’s face aren’t from heartbreak this time.

The kiss starts slowly, their foreheads pressed together before their lips touch. Robin moves to hold the back of Theo’s head, his free hand on his hip, still mindful of the condition his ex(?) boyfriend is in. Theo’s hand curls into Robin’s shirt, his other tangled in his hair. He feels Theo’s grin against his mouth, feels his own heart finally being put back together. Feels the weight of the past four months finally slipping away, leaving a new future open for them. Together.

But he also feels Theo’s hand shaking, his short, pained gasp against his mouth, and so he pulls away, leaving a small frown on his boyfriend’s face.

“I’m not going to make out with you on a hospital bed,” he tells him. “No matter how badly I want to.” Theo huffs a laugh and nods.

“Fair enough,” he says. He doesn’t let go of Robin’s hand though, instead linking their fingers together. “What about when I get out of here, we can maybe talk about this? About you and me and…. Everything. And I can try not to freak out this time.”

Robin pushes Theo’s hair away from his face, mindful of the bruises, and smiles.

“I’d like that.” He moves in to kiss him again, fully intending to keep it small this time, but they’re interrupted by the door opening, and a familiar, frantic voice cutting through the air.

“Theo? Oh my God, I left my phone in the house and I just got the call from the hospital, are you-”

He stops his rant just as Robin turns around, his and Theo’s faces a matching shade of red. He feels flashed back to when Mr Putnam caught them in Theo’s room, his mouth hanging open and his eyes darting between them just like he did then, waiting for an explanation. Except they’re not in Theo’s bedroom this time around, and this is the first time Joe has seen him in months, so he sympathises for him this time around.

“So…” he begins. “You two got back together?”

Theo just laughs and buries his face in Robin’s shoulder.

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