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twisted-wonderland-but-gayer · 9 months ago

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Language Barriers

Based off the idea that Yuu doesn't speak the same language or have the same culture norms in their world!! Got inspired for once

Content Info: GN!, 4.6K words-ish, Fluff/Comedy, Platonic except in Kalim's, Aztec refs in Leonas, NSFW jokes in Heartslabyul, Staff being parents, Trey bullying

Characters: Mozus Trein, Divus Crewel, Dire Crowley, Ashton Vargas, Sam, Riddle Rosehearts, Trey Clover, Cater Diamond, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Grim, Leona Kingscholar, Kalim al-Asim, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit

***

Since your arrival in Twisted Wonderland, you have begun to grasp the language and culture of this world. For the most part, at least.

You remember as clear as day when you first arrived, the pure confusion of the Headmage and those around you. Words from your lips were pure gibberish to them. They stared at you like you were an anomaly— and they were right. You are one.

‘Glitchy’ is the term they have used to describe your voice. “It is as though the sound around you warps everytime you speak.” The Headmage— Crowley— said.

The man had given you a necklace alongside an old dorm he housed you in. It was a simple looking necklace. A small mirror charm dangles in the center of it. Subtle enough to not draw attention to it.

It wasn't just a necklace however. It was a translator, a universal one.

The ‘glitches’ from your mouth had stopped and became the strange sounds the natives here spoke. Still, the necklace is just a buffer. Just because you can understand them doesn't mean you know what they're saying.

You still do not know the slang, the culture, the phrases, the grammar. Words still slipped your mind. You swear all you can hear is gibberish at times– and honestly you don’t doubt it occasionally is when students want to mess with you. You still had a lot to learn and there have been many miscommunications along the way. All part of the journey you suppose.

The staff here weren't coddling at all but they were accommodating. They made it clear that they favored no student more than the other. (At least that's what they claim.) But they also understood that holding you to the same standard would be unfair.

Mozus Trein

Professor Mozus Trein was a blessing when it came to learning about this world. His history classes made understanding this place easier. Trein would even give you extra context with his lessons to help you understand the everyday things and universal knowledge that you are unaware of.

His standards for your essays were different. He was no less strict on you but he was reasonable. He could tell that you truly understood the concept and put effort into your papers despite the language barrier and he is not going to punish you for learning.

You would get your paper back with a high grade and a page of corrections with explanations for each one. Why this comma here wrong. Why this was the wrong conjugation of that word. How this sentence could be improved.

“Excuse me, Professor?” You test the words as you speak them, accent slipping out. Trein looks to you from his desk. "Yes?”

“This word here is marked as wrong, but I remember you saying ‘I before E except after C.’” You tilt the paper to him and the older man adjusts himself on seat.

“Let me see here…” Trein paused to read the paper, expert eyes scanning for any potential mistakes. “Ah I see, that word there is an exception. ‘Sovereign’ doesn't follow that rule.” He closed his eyes as he explained and you nodded in understanding.

“I see, so I just have to memorize it. Are there any other words like that?” You didn't like how Trein seemed to frown as he thought about it. He hadn't realized how many there were. “Yes there are. A lot more than I anticipated I’m afraid,” a sigh escapes his lips and he shakes his head.

“I will not hold this against your grade since you have been improving with each assignment. Little mistakes like this will be forgiven so long as they are not repeated. Allow me to adjust your grade accordingly.”

You tilted your head as your B+ went to an A-. A small smile decorates your features. Trein nods to you and hands you your paper back. “There you are then. On to you next class.” You turn to leave but are stopped by when he speaks again.

“You should be proud of yourself, Yuu. You are the hardest working student I've have ever had the pleasure of teaching.” You perked up and your smile grew as you were onto your next class.

Divus Crewel

Professor Divus Crewel’s classes were difficult for completely different reasons. Math and numbers were the same for the most part aside from some minor symbol changes. Word problems were the bane of your existence however. Thankfully Divus can see that you understand the math. He'll often pass you or only take half a point off if you use the wrong equation or misunderstand the question and such.

He also gave you a small private lesson about alchemy as well. Teaching you the basic terms and proper protocols that most students would have learned early in their education. He'd show how to differentiate the effects an ingredient would have by the prefixes of their names or symbols on the vial.

But most importantly he would help you socially. What you should dress like for certain events. The correct way to speak so you could sound like a native. Social cues.

And he would refuse to admit it but you were his prized pup over the rest. He may or may not have slipped you a few perfumes or clothing under the guise of “Crowley not providing enough” or “Taking stress off of you to do better in class.” You knew better though.

After all, how could he play off giving a coat similar to his? It was less flashy and more suited to your tastes. It wasn't obvious to anyone else that you matched him unless they really observed. Perfect to wear in his class.

He's always looking out for you. Making sure you are safe and secure. And should you get injured from another adventure, he is there with a potion in hand.

Dire Crowley

Crowley was the one that gave you the necklace and a place to stay. Though eccentric and a bit well… lazy, you couldn’t deny that this was a good display of his generosity. Even if he does make you work for it.

Crowley was a strange one. He'd gift you some magical object one day and then forget you exist the next. He’d help you with your paperwork for accommodations and then forget to approve of them.

One time he dropped off a stack of paperwork on you to do for him but still left you a huge comprehensive guide that teaches you how to do each one. On top of that there was even a translation card meant to help you. If he put this much effort into these papers he'd be done by now. You assume he made this so he can drop more on you in the future. You swear he mentioned he's doing this to you to ‘prepare you for when you become the new headmage— er headmaster.’ Yeah right.

He'd give you dangerous tasks then become overprotective if any boy dare get too close to you. He'd help with anything but only if you stroke his ego. Yet despite it all he was still, as much as you hated to admit it, generous.

Despite everything, he has taken you in instead of abandoning you in this world. You swear sometimes he acts like a dad to you… When its convenient.

He's so annoying but you can’t find it in your heart to truly hate him. He may get you in trouble, but the moment it becomes too dangerous he steps in without hesitation to protect you and gives you a huge lecture after.

You hope you learn enough of the language to properly scold him.

Ashton Vargas

“Is this really necessary?” You ask the coach in front who re-wraps your hands tightly. “Absolutely it is!” The Coach's booming voice resonates in you as he pats you on your back rather roughly. “Give me another punch.”

You swallow and raise your hands again. You hesitate. “Come on kid you aren't gonna leave a dent in me!” You swallow and swing at his stomach. Vargas was right, he doesn't even flinch as your arm practically vibrates.

“That was a good form! I almost felt it.” A great guffaw rumbles in his chest. “Again!” Another punch, he looks down approvingly.

“Not bad, not bad at all. I sense a lot of potential in you, kid. That's enough for today.” You breathe a sigh of relief as you wipe your brow and unwrap your hands.

“Seems my training regiment is working, you're getting stronger by the day. Still— this on its own isn't enough. You need protein, kid! Lots of it. And you know what a good source of protein is?”

You stare at him for a moment. “Those uh…” the word slips your mind. “Chicken… capsules…?”

“Bingo! But they're called Eggs here Yuu.” Ashton puts a hand on his hip and makes a fist. “You should start with a dozen eggs per day and increase from there. I know that headmage can't be relied on to pay you in time, so I personally will deliver some bulking meals myself!”

“... Why are you doing this for me?” Your voice comes out a bit quiet as you speak. Ashton looks at you for a minute. “Why? Because you’re my student and I want to see you succeed. You got some serious strength hidden in you, and it would br a shame to see it wasted. Besides…”

As he speaks he starts taking down those punchy things, sandbags, you think. “The students here are quite rowdy. I want you to be able to defend yourself, especially since you don't have magic. You have to rely on brawn, Yuu! And I will be the one to awaken it.”

Vargas strikes a pose for a moment before relaxing. “Before you go I need to teach you some vocabulary.”

“Vocabulary…?”

“About your muscles of course!” The coach sat you down for a moment as he went into kinesiology. Micros and macros. Bulking. He broke it all down for you while flexing his muscles to emphasize his points.

“Now off you go Yuu, meet me here same time tomorrow, got it?”

Sam

Sam is a cool dude. You interact with him a lot. He never had an issue when you were first learning to speak. In fact he'd help you find the products you described to him. Of course he'd try and convince you to buy the more premium products but that's just business.

He'd even offer you a gig or two. His shelves don't stock themselves and his shadow friends wouldn't mind some extra help. Just know they can be a bit mischievous. While you were working you'd even get a small employee discount.

Even though your language has gotten better, there is still the occasional mix up.

“Ah, prefect! What can I do for you?” Sam queried while leaning on the counter top, delighted to see one of his favorite customers. “I am looking for… um…” You froze. What was that word again??

“The… white liquid?” You watched as Sam racked his brain for what you meant. “An invisibility potion?”

“No no! It's like… a juice?”

“Ah! I got it! Coconut milk!” The man snapped his fingers and winked. He frowned a bit when you shook your head.

“Wait here.” The shadow man watched as you ventured into the small smack aisle in front of him. Soon you took a bag of beef jerky and pointed to the small symbol on it. “What is this animal called again?”

“That's a cow.”

“Yes! I need the juice from it! The cow juice! What is its name? I forgot.” you perked up and beamed at him, hoping he understood. It all clicked for Sam, and he let out a hearty laugh at the realization.

“Do you mean milk, perchance?”

“Yes! I knew it had that sound! I need milk!” Sam chuckled again and waves his hand, sending a small shadow to retrieve some. “By the way would you be down to do some work tonight?”

“Tonight? Yeah, I can always use some extra cash.” The prefect was always so easy going. Guess they had to be in a place like this.

“Good. I'll apply your discount right now then!”

Heartslabyul

Your favorite Heartslabyul members have invited you to join them. Another Unbirthday party was to be hosted and the stars aligned today for the whole deck to help with the baking. It felt nice to be with them. They were like a family in a way, being with them felt like home. Alongside baking, there was some cooking being done too.

“Geez you really do like your eggs, huh?” Cater asked the spade who stirred his chopsticks with precision. He is determined to make the perfect tornado omelet.

“Oh you have no idea.” Ace tsked. “Whenever we go out to a restaurant it's the only thing he orders.”

“Not true!” Deuce's interjection wasn't as strong as it usually is, much to focused on his creation. “Yeah only if they dont offer any.” Ace retorts.

“Grim, it is unsanitary to touch the batter,” Riddle breaks up the impending argument to chide the direbeast ‘helping’ him stir, “Trey how many egg yolks do I add?”

“Three. You sure got it Riddle?” Riddle pouts a bit. He knows he got a shell in the batter last time but he's trying! “I'll get it right this time, you can count on it.”

“Ooh, give the egg whites to Deuce if you aren't using them!” Deuce mutters a thank you to Cater as he finishes up his omelet. “Does anyone else want one?”

No’s resound across the kitchen aside from you and Grim which makes Deuce smile. “Alright, what kind do you want Yuu? I'm still unsure on what kind you prefer.” Deuce looks a little embarrassed at not knowing despite how long you've been friends.

Before anyone could tease Deuce, Trey asks the worst question he possibly could without knowing. “Actually how do you like your eggs in the morning, Yuu? I rarely see you eat breakfast in the cafeteria.”

You pause for a moment, the pan you were greasing slipping slightly. Then you chuckled. “That's very bold of you Trey, I never expected you of all people to say that… But judging by everyone else's reaction, I assume it doesn't mean anything here?”

“Oh? Does it mean something different where you from?” Riddle asks, looking over at you. “It does actually.” Cater looks up from his phone he was reading the recipe from, noticing your amused expression. “What else could possibly it mean though?” You hold in a laugh. Perhaps this wasn't the best time to bring it up but you can't help it.

“Is that so? I sure hope I didn't say anything offensive. What does it mean?” Poor Trey; he chuckles as he decorates one of the finished cakes not knowing the storm that's brewing.

“You essentially just propositioned me in front of everyone.” The whole kitchen is silent as they stare at you. Trey looks flustered and confused out of his mind as an abundance of frosting squirts out of the bag. “I… pardon?”

Ace speaks first “Huh?! How does that make sense?”

“Proposition? What does that mean?”

“Don't worry about it Grim.” says the diamond. “Still that seems far fetched, it's rude of you to mess with Trey like that you know!”

“I'm not lying! It's actually what it means!” Trey is adjusting his glasses now, embarrassment growing. Riddle looks horrified, trying to find his words. He's trying to rack his brain for a response before deciding to ask about it. His voice comes out a little hesitant and unsure. “Are eggs part of some sort of courtship in your world…?”

“Um… sort of..?” At your words Deuce pales. Ace takes this opportunity to be a little shit per usual. “Wow! Seems like you have a chance then, Deucy!”

“Oh shut it Ace! Wait, have I been propositioning you this whole time?!” His face is red and he's hiding in his hands. He has offered so many egg dishes over the years. Oh God he must have made you so uncomfortable— this isn't what an honor student would do!

“I still don't know what that means…” Grim grumbles.

“No no! Offering eggs is fine, it's just that particular phrase has very different connotations in my world.”

Ace is snickering at the whole situation, but especially at Deuce’s panic. He's also just as confused, however. Trey finally has the courage to speak. “Um, how exactly does that mean…” He trails off, defeated. “I'm sorry Yuu, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“You didn't. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tease you too much…”

“Okay, but how exactly does that mean that?”

“Yeah I'm with Cater on this one…” Ace adds.

“Enlighten me.” Riddle puts his hands on his hips, morbid curiosity getting the better of him.

“So… When someone asks that they essentially mean to say they're gonna invite you to spend the night with them and cook you breakfast in the morning.” Trey looks even more embarrassed but so does Riddle.

“So it's a sleepover? That's it?” Grim asks just to be waived off by Cater again who vibrating with laughter.

“That's a pretty convoluted way of asking…” Deuce looks to the side, also a little flustered. “Yeah it makes no sense for me either, and I'm from that world, but that is what it means…”

“Wow so Trey really is bold!” Cater snickers as Ace joins in with a “I never knew you had it in you.”

“Enough with this vulgar talk!” Riddle commands, clearly demanding the conversation to be over.

“I am never gonna live this down aren't I?”

Leona Kingscholar

I am gonna nerd a lil abt aztec mythology rn and I'm not apologizing

Herbivore is what he called you. It was meant to be an insult but you never took offense. There is no other creature that fights harder than prey that is fighting for their life or backed into a corner. If anything it was a compliment. You've seen how hard they can fight.

Yet today Leona took the title further. “You are honestly like a little rabbit. All this confidence and attitude, yet harmless.” You raised a brow at him. “Thank you.”

Leona's eyes shift ever so slightly. “You're taking it as a compliment?” You tilt your head. “I assume rabbit in this world is synonymous with fragility here…? Odd. They're a symbol of warriors back in my world.”

“Is that so?” Leona speaks boredly, but he doesn't excuse himself or tell you to shut up. “Yeah, rabbits are these mighty warriors that are completely invincible. Children of one of the 5 sin gods too. Nothing can kill them. Centzon Tōtōchtin are no joke. Odd how they're considered weak here.”

You think for a moment. “But they are known to be constantly drunk all the time and play around, so I guess that could be an insult…” Leona just rubs his head. “Take it however you want…”

Kalim al-Asim

“Look at all the stars!” Kalim exclaims, pointing up at the sky. He lands his carpet along the sand dunes, eyes full of wonder. He then looks to you with bated breath, waiting for your reaction.

“It's beautiful…” You whisper, overlooking the patterns of stars decorating the night sky. It was straight out of a painting, vast and whimsical. Kalim was glowing at your happiness. “Aaah, I'm glad you like it! I was hoping you would!”

You lean back against the ground. Shooting stars dart across the sky along the twinkling lights in a beautiful display. Your eyes land on the moon, admiring how different it was from your own.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn't it?” You freeze for a moment. “Haha, careful saying that to people from my world Kalim, not that you'll be running into anyone else from there anytime soon…”

Kalim looks over to you, brows slightly furrowed. “Eh? What do you mean?” You look back up the moon again. “Saying ‘the moon looks beautiful tonight’ where I’m from means I love you.” There's a moment of silence as Kalim ponders.

“Well then the moon looks beautiful tonight! I love all of my friends!” Kalim grins at you, fist pumped to his chest.

“It's not like that, Kalim. It's for romantic feelings. Funny, since coming here I've had a lot of experiences that would be considered flirtatious in my word…” You laugh a bit before a small frown appears on your features but Kalim snaps you out if it.

“So what you're saying is… it's a love confession?” His eyes are glimmering, the moon reflecting on them beautifully.

“You got it.”

“Then the moon looks beautiful tonight.”

Jamil Viper

So in TWST the languages aren't called the same thing in our world but I couldn't figure out the language of the Scalding Sands so I made one up. Can be a psuedo-prequel to my other fic Missing Yuu. It can be read here!

“Your Arabic is so similar yet so different than my world's version” Jamil pauses his mumbling and hums in question. “Arabic?”

“It's a language where I'm from. It sounds very similar to yours. Like I swear it could be some sort of dialect of it.”

“Scaldic, you mean?” You nod looking over at him from where you lay in his bed. “Is that what it's called? It's a pretty language.” Jamil messes with the stereo in his room, taking out an old CD and browsing for another he wanted to show you. “Maybe once you get more comfortable in this language, I can teach you a bit.”

“That would be lovely, thanks Jamil” As the sounds of shuffling continue from his search and you absentmindedly mess with your necklace before sitting up. “Wait! I know!”

Jamil perks and turns to you, watching as you start to take off your necklace. “Here put this on, you've shown me so much music from your world, let me show you some from mine!”

You offer the necklace over, shaking it a little for encouragement. Jamil takes it gently and examines the necklace. He lifts up his hair and slips it on, feeling a warmth on his chest from where the mirror lay.

You speak, and Jamil braces against the weird feeling of the necklace warping your glitched gibberish from your throat into his native language. “Can you hear me?” The words echoed in his head a bit. He took a moment to fully process them as they reverberated in his head.

He almost replies in his native tongue, but the amulet compels him to speak another language. Your language.“Yes, I can.” He replies, slurring a bit as he feels his words echo and warp. Strange… he knows what he's saying but he can't understand it.

“You have an accent, well that makes sense…” You chuckle a bit as he sits beside you, taking a moment to adjust to the sensation. “I never thought about how the enchantments on these worked. I assumed that it would be instant. Is this what it's like for you?”

“Crowley said it would probably be different for me cause I'm not from this world. See why I ask you to repeat things all the time? … thanks for not getting too annoyed with that by the way.”

You tap away on your phone for a moment. “Here we go, I got some songs in Arabic for you, look.” Jamil watches you press play and takes in the music. It was ethereal, so different yet so similar to his worlds. Uncanny yet compelling. Then the lyrics start and he furrows his brows.

“It really is like Scaldic.” he replies, closing his eyes. “Its like if I focus hard enough I can hear it in my own language, but I cant.”

“See what I mean?” Jamil nods. “I think I'm picking up some words though, but there's no guarantee the meaning is the same.”

“Yeah it's how I feel all the time here… its frustrating at times. Oddly enough there are some words that stay the same, mostly food for example. Like mahalabia or horchata for example.”

“Huh, odd how that works…” the music coursing through his body invigorates him. He can imagine all the potential ways to move to this.

“Yeah. And it's the same dish too— well sort of. It tastes so similar yet so different. I miss my world's food, but I'm slowly forgetting the taste of it. Its just vauge memory.” Jamil peers over to the saddened expression on your face. He never even considered that part of being from another world.

“... How about we listen to your music while cooking, then? I'm sure we can make something that tastes like home.” Your face brightens. “That sounds nice.”

Vil Schoenheit

“Thank you for putting up with my accent, it must be annoying to deal with.” You sip on the tea he offered you, trying your best to abide by the manners in this world. Vil merely looked at you.

“It's not annoying at all. Your accent is fine just the way it is.” He almost seemed disappointed by the insinuation.

“Ah… Sorry I just saw that Epel’s usually not allowed to use his accent around you, so I assumed I shouldn't either.” Vil sighs.

“That's different. You have already proven yourself strong and beautiful enough to be who you are. Epel on the other hand needs to learn to accept himself for who he is first before he can truly be the person he wants to be. He must prove to me he can love himself as he is. If I hated accents, I wouldn't have let Rook speak in his."

“Ah I see… Thank you.” It wasn't everyday that you get praise from the Vil Schoenheit. “Your speech has improved, though I may point out there are some words you may need to work on. Your accent may make it sound like you are talking about something else entirely. Hmm…”

You hold your breath as he thinks. “I want you to grow into the best spudling you can be, so how about you take voice lessons from me?” Vil seems to smirk at your surprised expression. “From you..?”

Vil nods. “Yes. This way you can grow more confident in your speech and vocabulary. That voice of yours is beautiful, it just needs to be tuned.” You look at your tea then to him. “I accept.”

#twisted wonderland x reader #dire crowley x reader #mozus trein x reader #twst sam x reader #divus crewel x reader #ashton vargas x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #ace trapolla x reader #deuce spade x reader #twst grim x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #disney twst #twisted wonderland

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yeonzzzn · 8 months ago

Text

everytime ; yang jungwon

pairing: drummer!jungwon x afab!reader word count: 2.2k synopsis: when jungwon and his bandmates are having a show in town, you can’t help but feel that magnetic pull towards him. warnings: swearing, suggestive content, kind of a bit angsty, jungwon and reader are toxic towards each other, wonnie is secretly down bad for reader, making out, finger sucking, reader licks won’s drumstick, MINORS DNI!!!!

You roll your eyes at his smirk, crossing your arms and facing away from him, staring at your best friend, “Out of all the things we could have done tonight, you chose this?!”

She gives you a teasing smile, “What? Can’t handle seeing Jungwon?”

As if the mention of his name could be heard from the crowd, Jungwon whistles out, clearly directing it to you.

Some of Jungwon’s fangirls got their panties all wet and fanned their faces with their hands and giggled amongst themselves thinking that the whistle was for them. You groaned and rolled your eyes again, “I hate him and hate his fans even more.”

Jungwon whistles again from the stage and you finally look at him, glaring. He continued his smirk at you, twirling his drumstick between his fingers, puckering his lips, sending you a kiss.

You give him a fake smile and lift your middle finger at him, only for the corners of his lips to form in a smile, a small chuckle escaping his mouth as he looks down at his drum set. Jungwon loved the reactions he got out of you, mostly the reactions of pissing you off and being between your legs.

It wasn’t always like this between the two of you, at least not at first. It was a random Friday night and your best friend dragged you out of your apartment and off to the club all because it was hosting a debut band's first showing. That’s how you met Jungwon.

The moment you locked eyes with him from the front row, there was a spark that hit the both of you. Jungwon couldn’t keep his eyes off you and same to him for you. You found him breathtaking. Loved the crease of his dimple every time he smiled and was moved by the way he played the drums. He has such a talent and love for the instrument, you could see it in the way he played. With how the drumsticks beat against the drums and how he smiles and moves his body with each beat. He was born for music, it didn’t take a genius to see it. And after the show, Jungwon made it his mission to approach you and you both hit it off greatly. You danced close together all night and woke up beside him in his bed the next morning. You left his apartment that day with his phone number and the schedule for his band’s concerts and where they were playing. Your best friend also ended up hooking up with their guitarist, Jake. It seemed perfect, because you wouldn’t have to show up to these events alone and your best friend also would be potentially dating a band member too? How could it be passed up?

Jungwon was perfect in every way, that was until…well…until he wasn’t.

As time went on, the crowds grew bigger, the venues got bigger, and the more Jungwon stopped speaking to you. The everyday texting went to him only texting you only when he wanted to get his dick wet. You even had to get the information on their next shows from your friend. His attitude changed more and more as his follower count went up on Instagram. Jungwon showed his true colors and the next time you saw him, he had a flock of females in his arms, throwing out smirks, whistles, and blowing kisses your way as if to taunt you.

And the rest is history.

But every time you saw him, you still felt that magnetic pull. Every. Single. Time. He had a way of drawing you in, flirting with you, and trapping you in places you couldn’t escape, using any chance he could get to pin his body to yours. You have to admit, the sex is fantastic. It always left you giddy and folding like a fucking teenager. And that’s why you hate him so much. For making you feel things he doesn’t deserve to feel from you.

And tonight wasn’t any different, except you’ve learned how to act like a bitch around him to conceal your deep-down feelings. The last you heard about Jungwon and his bandmates is that they went on tour. You forced yourself to not keep up and told your friend to keep all information to herself. So yeah, you had no idea they were even back in town, let alone playing at this club that started it all for them.

Jake blew kisses out to your friend, her doing the stupid “grabbing” it and placing it to her heart. Honestly, it made you want to throw up, at how cute they are. You might be giving them the stink eye, but deep down you were truly happy for them. Jake never misses a chance to post her all over his socials. They were truly happy.

“Hello, everyone,” Jay, their lead bass guitarist, smiled big, “It’s nice to be back in town after a tour!”

The crowd cheered and you had to fight the urge to cup your hands over your ears.

“You all ready for a fucking good time tonight?!?” Heeseung, the keyboard/pianist of the group, yelled into his mic, clapping his hands together.

The crowd went batshit crazy.

“Woah,” Jake smirked, leaning closer to his mic as he tuned his guitar, “That wasn’t loud enough, was it guys?”

Sunghoon, their lead singer, leaned against Jake, bringing his mic close to his lips, “We sat, are YOU READY FOR A FUCKING GOOD TIME TONIGHT!?!”

And the crowd went wild. Oooohh!!! Ahhh!!!

You felt like setting the venue on fire.

“Jungwon,” Jay pointed at the drummer, “Set it off.”

“Say less,” he smirked, lifting his arms above his head and slapping the drumsticks together four times, keeping direct eye contact with you until you finally looked away.

You always loved their music, and tonight made you fall more in love with it. Even with all that love, the moment the concert ended and the lights came back on and the boys left the stage, you decided to take your leave, “I’m going to head out,” you said to your friend, preparing to dip before Jungwon could speak to you.

“Nope!” she smiled, pulling two VIP badges from her bag, “You aren’t going anywhere!”

You stared at her, confused as to why the fuck she thinks this is a good idea, “No.”

She pouted, “YN, come on! It’s been a year!”

Yeah, not long enough.

“You know how I feel about this,” you cross your arms, hoping she’ll change her mind.

But unfortunately for you, the badge was around your neck and you stood backstage with your nose scrunched being face to face with Jungwon.

“I think your nose is broken,” he tapped the tip of his drumstick on your nose, “What is that sniffer smelling?”

“You, obviously.”

“I smell pretty great, don’t I?”

You raised a brow, “If you consider shit good smelling, then maybe your sniffer is broken.”

Jungwon laughed, “You never change.”

You looked away from him, spotting your friend with Jake hand-in-hand as they smiled and made loving faces at each other.

Jungwon stared off at them too, “I’m happy for them,” he whispered, twirling the drumstick, “They are good for each other.”

You nodded, “They are good together.”

Jungwon faced you, studying the curves and structures of your face, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch you, but settled with, “Could be us,” in a teasing tone.

You scoffed, tilting your head at him, “Why us? When you have a whole crowd of whores waiting for you to walk the floors of the club.”

He smirked, sliding the tip of the drumstick against the side of your face, “Hmm, but weren’t you one of those whores at some point?”

You pushed the drumstick away, “Fuck off, Won.”

God he loved hearing his nickname from you fall out of your mouth, like it belongs there.

“Such a dirty mouth,” he murmurs, once again touching the tip of the stick to your nose and moving downward, “What should we do about this mouth of yours?”

He ran the stick to your bottom lip, pulling it down. The moment he saw the corners of your lips curl, he was done for.

You push your tongue out, tasting the woody on your buds, and lick up, flatting your tongue against the drumstick the higher you get to the tip. Jungwon was fighting to not fold at this dirty act. His brain remembers the last time you went down on him and sent shivers down his spine.

He didn’t even realize the soft moan that left his lips and jaw slightly slack until the noise came out.

Jungwon might know how to tease you, but you sure as hell know how to play the game back.

“Shit, YN,” he whispers, quickly pulling the stick off your tongue, “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry, need me to go get one of your fangirls to do it instead of me?”

Absolutely not.

Jungwon chuckles, “Why do I need their mouths when yours is right here?”

You roll your eyes, focusing them off towards the stage, “Still a fucking asshole.”

Jungwon softened at those words. He hated himself more than you hate him. Hated himself so fucking badly for the shit he put you through. For letting the fame get to his head. For letting you go so easily and his actions that caused it. He remembers the night Jake busted down his door yelling at him because your friend called saying you were in tears because of his actions. It tore him apart.

Truthfully, Jungwon was terrified to lose you. So scared you’d see his imperfections or how much he loved the attention his fans gave him that you’d run. You single-handedly were the best thing to walk into his life. He thinks about you every single day and wishes time machines were invented so he could go back and have a redo with you.

But time machines don’t exist. And neither does his second chance with you. Jungwon accepted the only way he could have you was the hate sex or the aggressive make-out sessions when he saw you. Being on tour the last year was torture and he was one hundred percent sure you blocked his number and all his socials.

Not that he blames you.

“YN,” he calls for you, touching the tips of his fingers to your elbow, slowly wrapping them around your arm, “Please.”

You knew what he was asking of you. To give in to him. And like an idiot, you leaned into his touch, giving in.

Like a moth to a flame.

Everytime.

You go back to him everytime.

It took one look into his brown eyes, seeing the feelings he has that he never speaks out loud. His hand finds yours, locking your fingers together and pulling you as he steps backward, you idly following behind him.

You could feel your friend and Jake’s eyes following the both of you, along with Heeseung, Jay, and Sunghoon catching a glance as Jungwon pulls you out the back door, disregarding his drumsticks on a nearby table.

One moment the cool night summer air hit your skin, the next you were straddling Jungwon in the back seat of his car. Lips moving against his and hands roaming up and down your back, squeezing your waist gently each time.

A whole year without feeling you against him, a year without kissing you and he felt like was losing his mind. His body on fire just by having you pressed closely to him and your hands in his hair. Words stuck in his throat on all the things he wished he could say to you but settled with kissing you so deeply, tenderly, and passionately. The pull you always felt towards him, he also felt with you. Never being able to get away from you.

Going back to you everytime.

No one else was you. And never would be.

Jungwon settles his hands on your hips, pressing you harder down on him and bucking his hips up. Your jaw went slack at the sensation of his length against your heat, Jungwon finding it the perfect moment to slide his index and middle fingers into your mouth, pressing down your tongue.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, wrapping your lips around his digits, “So dirty, baby,” he whispers, spreading the digits to feel your tongue move between them, “I’ve missed you so much.”

He doesn’t know how the words managed to escape his mouth, but the soft moan that vibrated his fingers told him well enough you missed him too. Because you did, truthfully.

The loss of his fingers leaving your mouth had you pouting, but his lips pressed back to yours, moving in perfect rhythm. You don’t know how much time has passed, how or when your clothes ended up in the front seat of his car, but you didn’t care. The warmth of his body, hands grazing your skin, and tongues dancing together were all that mattered.

“Can I have you?” he whispers against your lips, never once taking what you didn’t want to give out.

“Please, Wonnie,” you whisper back, “I need you.”

And oh man, how badly he needed you.

Neither of you would ever understand it, this pull towards each other. Or how whatever god keeps bringing you two back together. Never would understand truly how deep both your feelings run.

But secretly, both you and Jungwon hope for a second chance.

Everytime.

— tags: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns

@in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi

@eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty

@ladyartemesia @criminalyun @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

@jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @vixialuvs @onlyhyunjin

@enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng

@moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee @teddybeartaetae

@kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @hee-lvrr @1309zip

@moon0fthenight @jakeflvrz @021894s @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @surrik-i

@heeseungsbm @niki-riki-nishimura-riki

#wonnie #yang jungwon #jungwon #jungwon x reader #reader x jungwon #enhypen #enhypen x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen suggestive #yeonzzzn writing

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typewritingyip · 17 days ago

Text

The Arcturus Missions

Part Thirty Three - Crash

Part Thirty Two

———

Overuse was experienced by the earliest pilots from nearly day one, back when the tech was not being adapted for the human ability, when it was a machine being connected to flesh with no failsafes. Most of the scientists thought that would be the most dangerous time to be a pilot.

It was overwhelming and painful, but those first pilots had more determination than anyone before or after them. Going through the motions of being a pilot, the unknown all around them.

The amount of time in a suit that leads to overuse depends on the compatibility level of the pilot, though not as expected, the more compatible the worse the symptoms, the less compatible the easier.

Any extended amount of time in a suit can lead to overuse, the crash, or both. Just depends on the type of connection, the coding in the suit, and the health of the pilot.

—

When they crash landed on an alien planet light years from Earth, one of the many things Breakdown hadn’t expected was becoming the designated ambulance for his unit. Let alone come to understand that for seemingly all sentient beings of any type, they all seemed to hate the doctor as much as humans did.

Hell, as much as he did most of the time, but this one had an attractive personality.

Dragging them kicking and screaming to Knockout was not how envisioned a fun assignment, every few minutes able to take up post and let his cannon go at the enemies, that was the fun part. All the rest of it was mundane until Knockout was able to wipe his brow and take a moment to sigh.

That was why he did it, to have just a moment of the mech's time, to try and draw a smile from the medic. Why did he always fumble when it came to those in the medical profession?

Lowering the dripping mech to the slab, Breakdown sighs deeply, shifting back to look over to Knockout.

Knockout was focused, completely in the zone and the transformed tools from his hands were working precisely. He glanced up and the movement stopped for a moment, he smiled before looking back down at his patient, “Take a capture, it will last longer.” And Breakdown’s throat tightened slightly before he clears it.

“Knockout, this should be it for the time being, the Quintessons are falling back now that it’s daytime again.” Knockout hummed and kept working, energon splattering up his arm, Breakdown took a partial step back before turning and leaving the med-tent quickly.

Doctors and nurses might be attractive, but certainly not while they were working or being splattered with toxic substances.

Breakdown almost ran straight into Ironhide, who scowled for a moment before looking up at him, “Damn you’re tall. Where are you going in such a hurry?” Clearing his throat slightly, he glanced over his shoulder at medical and Ironhide nodded, “Ah, yeah, that’s understandable. Unfortunately, I think my prime is hiding in there for the moment.” He sighed before gesturing, “Sunstreaker was looking for you, over that way.” Nodding a bit, Breakdown sighs, “Thank you, sir.”

Turning, Breakdown started that direction as Ironhide stared, “So, they're not all civilians.” He frowned slightly, watching the different hitch to Breakdown’s step, his frown intensifying as he watched a section down near Breakdown’s ped fold back up against his leg.

Not at all like a t-cog transformation, more hydraulic than that. Slowly, he moved into medical and over towards where Optimus had claimed a space to work, surrounded by familiar faces.

Better here than in command where Megatron would likely be. Venting slowly, he moves over.

Optimus looks up, “We need to speak about the humans.” Ironhide tried not to swear, “Everytime I turn around, we need to speak about the humans.” But he drags over a stool and sits anyway.

—

Sunstreaker was waiting, rather impatiently, for Breakdown and Hound to show back up. Most of the blood and gore from the Quintessons had been rinsed off and the dull aches from battle were starting to come in, his cameras also were drifting in and out of focus annoyingly.

The sun had risen and it was almost midday and to be perfectly honest with himself, he was starving but didn’t want to eat till they were all there. There was a certain peace of mind Sunstreaker preferred to have when it came to the crew and taking care of themselves, them eating together just seemed to help that.

He knew Breakdown was in medical, helping Knockout move around a few of the wounded but he hadn’t seen Hound since they split up that night. It had been hours since he saw the man, but people were still coming in off the field.

Drumming his fingers on his knee, Sunstreaker sighed deeply. Bluestreak had gone to some meeting somewhere and now he was alone, enjoying the lack of conversation, but still alone. Being alone was difficult for him.

Tilting his head back, he stared at the slightly orange sky, it reminded him of the days after major cities had been partially destroyed. Some things didn’t seem to change, no matter what planet you were on.

Groaning, he stood and started towards the main part of camp, rolling his neck as his implants oozed uncomfortably. It eased the burning he’d been dealing with but the discharge was worse, always worse than the burning. Sunstreaker cursed and shook his head a bit to get it away from the worst of his connectors.

Once the others were sat down to eat, they could all disconnect for an hour or two, not the handful of minutes they’d gotten, who knows how long ago now. Frowning a bit, Sunny scratched at his neck, gloved hand coming away covered in discharge and light traces of blood.

He sighed again, rubbing his face with his other hand. Through his speakers, he could hear the light tinkle of broken glass over the protective cover, he tried not to wince.

Everyone looked exhausted, then again even he felt exhausted, they’d had fights but nothing like this or even the events of the last few days. There was something in the air that was unfamiliar to Sunny, because he was a civilian.

For the rest, for the cybertronian’s, it was far more familiar. The feeling of desperation and deterioration, the ware and tear you only get from war, the feeling of loss even with a win because you all knew that it would just drag to the next.

Coming into the main part of camp, Sunny only got in a few steps before Breakdown came from around the side of the medical tent, nodding to him slightly, that was one down but where was the other?

—

New Kaon in the middle of the day was hot, it didn’t have much in the way of water or organic materials, so it was hard to avoid the heat. Most of the mecha who lived here got used to having more coolant than they’d need on Cybertron.

Unfortunately for the humans, there was limited air conditioning in their suits with the new seals for space travel. Normally, it was too cold for them and New Kaon at night was not a comfortable cool night, it was the brisk near zero temperatures that any desert would reach.

In all, not conducive to the life inside of a metal suit.

It had been hours since anyone heard from Hound.

His comms were still offline from during the main attack.

There was very rarely good news when one of the humans would go radio silent for an extended amount of time.

—

Sand, there was sand obstructing his view and a lot of it, when the hell did he get back to Mojave?

Hound started to come to slowly, painfully as he was more away of himself than his suit. After the first few dazed minutes, everything hurt. He was hitting that wall at the edge of overuse, the wall that could lead to the crash.

There had only been a handful of MECHA pilots who’d experienced the crash in the past, mostly in suits much bigger than his own, though a few of them hybrid-class like he was now. Damn his head was pounding.

Unable to open his eyes, Hound groaned painfully, focusing on the connection with his suit more as he woke up. The more he focused, the more he could see even without opening his eyes. He was being dragged over the sand, arms over someone’s shoulders, and it made them ache even more from the strain.

Coherent thoughts were capable, coherent speech was not. Hound was trying to speak, but nothing was coming out, at least nothing that he could hear, god how had it gotten this bad?

The voices outside were muffled, the people dragging him were striking in color but he really couldn’t tell who it was.

With a groan, Hound attempts to que his microphone, “Guys, I’m fine.” But he wasn’t entirely convinced that was what he said, or that any sound came out. Groaning again, he hangs his head and closes his eyes, or feels like he does.

It felt like the briefest of moments that his eyes were close, but he’d still been a fair distance from base camp when he’d collapsed, now there were a few structures in his view as well as rapidly approaching suits of familiar yellow and blue.

He didn’t know what was worse, having to be towed back into camp or for there to be other pilots nearby to watch.

The arms of his suit were quickly drapped over Sunstreaker and Breakdown’s shoulders, no longer being dragged through the sand and more helped along towards the medical tent. With a flick, Hound turns off the translator, “I’m okay.” This time he could tell that he’d actually spoke and not made strangled sound.

“Like hell you are.” Sunstreaker sounded pissed, shifting the suit closer slightly and almost throwing off Breakdown’s balance, “No one has heard from you in hours, Hound.” Breakdown’s voice was quiet, almost too quiet to hear and Hound’s head lulled again.

Shade and cooled air of the medical tent almost made Hound sigh from relief, his suit was cooking him alive, but he glanced up and caught the eye of several medics who were in fact staring in horror. He could almost imagine the sight.

Two mechs, one of which with a shattered visor, holding up another who could have the paint melting off his plating.

Breakdown was quick though, pulling them towards a corner and drawing a curtain around Hound and Sunstreaker, leaving Sunny to help Hound down to the cot while he attempted to smooth things over with Knockout. Least that’s what Hound thought.

He was shoved non-to-gently down onto the slab and Sunny was quick to ping him. All the instruction he needed to close his eyes again and disconnect.

The suit was boiling and he was thankful to be kneeling on the floor of his cockpit instead of in the piloting chair, taking several slow and deep breaths, he answered Sunny’s hail. Though he didn’t have a mirror, Hound could imagine how terrible he looked from the state of Sunny’s expression.

”Yeah, I know.” Shoving off the ground on wobbly legs, Hound limps over towards his cot where everything was stored, “Hound.” He waves behind him as he tried two different times to grab hold of the cooling kit.

Another ping hits their comm and Sunny answers for him, though thankfully Breakdown stays quiet about Hound’s current state, “We’ll be left alone for now, Knockout will probably be over in a while to check on you and Hound.” Nodding a bit, Sunny didn’t shift his gaze from Hound’s slowly moving form.

stripping off the exterior of his assistance suit helped, then pulling on the cooling vest provided just that little bit extra relief. He’d be sweating if he wasn’t dehydrated, “Hound,” Now it was Breakdown’s turn to worry, sighing he shuffles back to camera with food and water, cooling kit in tow.

”I know, I know, it was stupid.” Lowering himself to the floor, he pulls off the boots of his suit and sighs, closing his eyes briefly before starting to drink from the water pouch, “I fear it was worse than stupid.” Hound chuckles slightly.

Nodding a bit though, he shrugs, “You and me both Breakdown, but the job is the job.” He winced as his head twinged painfully, shifting back to the cooling pack to pull out something else.

He held a cold compress to his face, groaning painfully as his head pounded. Hound hung his head as mecha flitted in and out of the med tent on the other side of the curtain, “I’ll be fine, I’ve come to this edge before.” Sunny was worrying his lip and Breakdown was lightly shaking his head.

”One of my brothers, he went through the crash—“ Hound held up a hand, trying not to glare, “I have not crashed, this isn’t that.” It was the clearest his voice had been in hours.

Sunstreaker and Breakdown spare each other a glance before looking away.

He’d be fine in an hour or two, even better once he got some sleep and ate some real food, but for now if anyone were to enter their closed off area, he would be perceived on the outside as unconscious.

Adjusting the screens, he shifts Sunstreaker and Breakdown onto a monitor each, plus a single angle with an outside view. Sitting back, he kept the compress to his face and opened one of the containers of food he had, frowning lightly at the offputting yellow shade of the fruit.

Lifting a piece, he slowly started to each but kept his head down. Hound couldn’t even look at them now, couldn’t bear to bring himself to look at them, mainly because every time he did they were cringing.

That’s how you could tell it was bad, when other pilots who experienced so much the same as you would shrink away from your appearance. To be fair, a shower would help immensely in it, getting rid of the dried blood that was turning the white compress pink and oozing discharge which had gone from clear to now nearly the same shade of green as Quint blood.

The Crash was close, too close considering they were in the middle of a war zone.

Hound sipped some more water and wiped the blood from his nose, holding back a hard cough painfully, Sunstreaker shuddered, “Hound.” He held up a hand for a moment before lowering the water pouch, “I’m fine Sunny, I just need some sleep.”

But Breakdown shook his head, “Hound, the crash can kill you.” Sighing slowly, he pushes off the ground and moves back over to his bunk to get a change of clothes and some more bandages, “Better me than one of you, to know what our limit is.” He tried hard not to scratch his implants.

—

North Iacon had some Quint sightings and Sideswipe was staring at one of the scouts right now. If it were any other time, any other place, it would have been no question to go after it. He almost had.

Chromia kept her hand on his shoulder while Skids and Punch moved in, guns raised, quick and lethal without damage to the surrounding area, “I still don’t quiet understand why you don’t carry a firearm Sideswipe.” her voice was quiet, watching.

He stayed quiet too, staring with wide eyes as the pair of them shot the Quintesson more than a dozen times a piece before it went down, “Uh, because I’m a civilian. And that, we don’t have the same sort of tech for guns back home, we, uh, use something different.” Wincing when a tentacle swung out and sent both Skids and Punch faceplating onto the frozen ground.

With a heavy sigh, Chromia patted his shoulder before moving in quickly, gun coming seemingly from nowhere to offer assistance, it should be dead but at least it was stuck on the ground.

Even as it was literally wiping the floor with Skids and Punch.

”This is why the civilians don’t have guns on Earth, because we figure out faster ways of handling the enemy, even when it means breaking shit and getting things dirty.” The Quint screamed before the fourth shot from Chromia split it’s skull.

Moonracer, Anode, and Lug were just behind him, he could hear them muttering in a language slightly different from main Cybertronian, but the translator was still trying to pick it up.

Sighing slowly, he lowers himself back to the seat nearest the heater, watching the team move in a practiced ease he hadn’t seen before. Looking even to those who had been late to the party they seemed to fall into some sort of pattern as well.

Then Chromia smiled at him, “Come on Sideswipe, there’ll be more where that came from, whoever gets the most confirmed gets off the night shift.” He smiled just a bit and stood, moving over, “Uh, you realize humans need more sleep than you all do, right?” There were a few chuckles as they started towards the border.

“Yeah, if you get the most,” “Which I doubt.” Moonracer added, elbowing Lug with a smirk, “Then you get your next shift off. We got a deal?” And he smirked, quickly shaking her hand.

—

To be fair, he really did look unconscious from the outside, so it was no wonder that Knockout scared the crap out of Sunstreaker when he near silently peaked into their curtained room

The medic was frowning at all of them, from the seemingly unconscious Hound, to Sunstreaker with his shattered visor, and Breakdown who appeared to be fine but had alarmed the prime enough to turn the opposite corner of his medical bay or in this case tent, into a meeting room.

Sunny looked up at him and struggled with his cameras to get them to focus on Knockout, frowning a bit, “Uh, hi.” Knockout’s gaze was frightening, especially when he scowled, “Are you going to let me replace your visor, or will I need some seekers to hold you down?” Sunny gulped and disconnected from the comm, relieving some of Hound’s headache.

”So, uh, my visor.” He gestures lightly before Knockout had hold of his hand and was pulling him out, “I’ve already asked Bluestreak to come sit with you, but this needs to be done, now.” Glancing back, Breakdown pulled the curtain closed again.

Sighing slowly, Sunstreaker swore as he was sat on a slab all his own and Knockout filled his cameras, light shining into them quickly, “Oh god.” Wincing slightly as he attempted to turn down the brightness, “So, your visual feed is sensitive to light in this state.” Suddenly, Sunstreaker understood why everyone avoided all the medics.

He’d met two and had yet to have a pleasant experience with one.

It was hard not to flinch back as Knockout started to remove the bandages and cover, “Don’t worry Sunstreaker, it all will be alright.” Knockout smiled lightly, for a moment before the cover came away and he froze.

To his credit, he didn’t start swearing, but he nearly tore the curtains around the slab Sunny was on even when Bluestreak started to come over, if mecha could look pale that is how Sunstreaker would describe it.

Barely catching Blue’s glance, he figured that for them, however his suits so-called face looked pretty gruesome. If he had to describe it, the poor mech looked ready to be sick.

Knockout came back in after composing himself, taking a breath, “So, you don’t feel any pain?” Shaking his head a bit, Sunny shrugs slightly, “No, not really.” Even Knockout looked ready to be sick, “Is it that bad?” Closing his eyes, Knockout needed a moment.

The medics hand gently rested on Sunstreaker’s shoulder, “Sunny, when you became this, pilot, what all did they change?” Frowning a bit, he couldn’t help but shift uneasily, “What do you mean?” Groaning and hanging his head, Knockout gained his composure, “Sunstreaker, you don’t have eyes.” He was getting choked up, “They took your eyes.”

For a moment, Sunny wanted to laugh from the relief of it, but thought better of it. Shifting some, he clears his throat, “Do visored mecha usually still have eyes behind the glass?” Knockout nodded. Sighing slowly, Sunny brought a hand up carefully, “I have cameras, dozens of small cameras.” He bit his lip for a second, “All pilots have cameras behind their visors.”

Knockout swore loudly.

—

Hound wasn’t entirely sure how long it had been, but he’d curled up on the cot in the corner after Sunstreaker had been dragged off and disconnected their comm. Breakdown had settled down for some sleep himself, so he figured it was safe enough outside.

He was still exhausted, he couldn't have slept for more than an hour but it was better than nothing, both him and his suit had cooled off significantly in that time which was a relief.

Sitting up slowly, he grabs the mostly empty water pouch and drains it the rest of the way with a sigh. His head was spinning and every part of him ached. The nausea was back and his heart was beating harder every five beats or so, if he didn’t know better he’d think he was sick.

Then again, overuse was a type of sickness. Turning to the box he kept, he pulled out some assortment of medical items from the Odyssey, the painkillers he was just about out of were tossed aside for the small slip of antibiotics.

They originally weren’t supposed to make the manifest, but he’d packed enough for each of them to be on the edge of death at least twice. Hound couldn’t help but save his for the rainiest of days, popping open the foil like protection to get to the medication, drinking down the last of that pouch to take them.

Of course, doing one smart thing does not take away from at least two days worth of stupid ones.

Standing and shuffling over, Hound starts to pull on the pieces of his assistance suit, groaning a bit from the weight of it. He would be fine if he could just get back in the piloting seat, back in the right headspace of it all.

Dragging on his helmet, he was limping back to the main console and started to adjust his settings.

It wasn’t hard to remember how he used to like them, some were the same between hunter and striker, but there were subtle differences. Preference in camera angle and scanning capabilities. He needed to be able to see, not view, but actually see.

The piloting chair had never felt so comfortable as Hound went about adjusting his settings, smiling lightly at the basic maintenance, ignoring the pain.

Ignoring the drainage, each pound from the headaches, hallucinations, all the sensitivities, how tired he was, his stomach turning uneasily even with putting water in it, the rash across his arms and shoulders that was new, the bleeding, and of course the way he felt like if he’d slept any longer he could have simply keeled over and died.

Smiling with some sense of satisfaction, Hound glanced over towards where Breakdown was shown, still dozing over their comms before he grabbed the cabling for his suit.

His heart was racing, fight or flight was there and both sides had valid arguments. Taking a breath, Hound closed his eyes.

They were so close, if they could just keep New Kaon safe they’d earn a rest. He’d earn a rest, maybe some time in Iacon, maybe some time by himself in Iacon. To actually see the planets he was protecting, to even tend to the garden they had in the apartment for more than five minutes.

To have a moment to feel alive again, to feel himself again, and that meant being connected with the suit, to hunt and kill the enemy.

With gritted teeth, Hound took a deep breath and reattached his oxygen mask, adjusting the data on his helmet’s visor.

Connecting, his implants zap lightly against the cabbeling as he attempts to stand from both the slab and his piloting chair.

The best way to describe what Hound saw was as if he blue-screened, which in a way his suit did. The connection was not precise enough and with the side effects of overuse, it was enough to trigger the reaction.

When the cabling for the suit cannot make a proper connection with a pilot, likely caused by discharge from overuse, it leads to one catastrophic conclusion.

The Crash hit him like a bus and he was going in and out. Having been standing one moment, then to on his hands and knees the next, gasping to breath. There was a loud crash somewhere in the distance that he thought absently could have actually been him.

All the voices around him were going in and out, like he was going in and out of consciousness. Who knows, maybe he was.

There was one sole good thing about the crash, once you crashed you wouldn’t again; mostly because you either survived by the skin of your teeth or, well.

A second experience with the crash was unheard of and supposedly impossible, the only unfortunate thing was that Hound had experienced one so long ago he’d forgotten till now.

Or he was made to forget till he was in it again.

Back before making the change to Striker. A hunter crash, now a striker one. Something deep in him told him that if he made it through it, there wouldn’t be another looming in the darkness.

His suit hit the ground and there were hands on his shoulders quickly, trying to lift his dead weight, “What’s going on?” The voice was still muffled and unfamiliar in his current state, coming through exterior audio only.

“He’s in the crash.” Breakdown’s voice was clearer, piped in through comms. There was more distant talking, more muffled as Hound’s ears went numb before Breakdown came through clear again, “No, not a crash. The Crash, move.” He was hauled back up onto the medical slab and it jarred his back some.

The light shined at his cameras was blinding, then it was like he couldn’t breathe, the procedure of drawing someone from the crash when they were trapped. It was horrific, but necessary.

Hound still couldn’t hear, seizing painfully in his seat, it wasn’t until his head hit the back of the seat and there was a deafening snap through his brain did everything seem to come back into focus.

He still couldn’t breath, so his hand came down hard on Breakdown's, which was pressed hard against a line in his side that connected him to the main air tanks. Gasping once Breakdown pulled away, he started to cough painfully.

Breakdown was staring, watching Hound through their comm line, watching the man pull himself back from the edge of death with the same stupid determination that almost put him there. After a moment, they shared a glance.

The Crash hit it’s first pilot, so who would be next?

Unable to help it, Hound went back to coughing and hacking, even as he removed his oxygen mask. The drift connection was almost painfully weak compared to what it had been last night, but then again, almost dying would make those connections weaker.

Breakdown kept watching, holding back the medics with a pained determination, “There is nothing to be done, he will either live, or he will die.” And that was as simple as it was. Heartbreakingly simple.

———

A/N

Wow, what a chapter. I swear, I did not mean for it to seem like it was ending on another cliffhanger. (Meaning, Hound is not dead, he is out the other side of The Crash) I probably need to go more in depth about what the crash is at some other point.

I hope this chapter makes sense? It’s been a rough week, which I’ll go into later this next week in a rant post. But yeah, not a fun time for me recently.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter as much as I did writing it. I tried to get it up on Friday, but I was literally midnight when I finished writing out this authors note. Go figure. I’ll reblog in the morning though to those who live in different time zones. :)