#thanks to a particularly turbulent flight

[rose-in-the-snow]

Pop off about the airline industry, give us the tea

Mostly just the fact they treat customers like total garbage and will add any fee they can possibly think of to make more money. I bought some plane tickets recently and there is now four classes on planes. (First class, business class, and Coach but now between business and coach there is a new class for Extra legroom for a $20-25 up-charge.)

Want wifi? Charge. Want snacks? Charge. Want a regular amount of legroom? Charge. Afraid that you might need to cancel your ticket? Charge.

During Covid they keep crying how no one was flying and they were losing money so they BEGGED the government to give them more. Which of course the government did. Now people are flying again but they are crying again because fuel costs so much so they need MORE MONEY. And they lobby the government constantly so I'm sure they will get more.

But do customers see a decrease in ticket prices anytime the government gives the airlines money? Of course no.

Then there's the fact there has been such a consolidation in the industry that you have just a few options to choose to fly.

I live near a big international airport and there' s really only 7 major national ones I can think of.

But there used to be so many other airlines.

US Airways, Pan Am, Trans World Airlines (TWA), Northwest, AirTran Airways, and Continental Airlines are just a few of the airlines that used to exist but have since merged with current airlines.

My family used to fly Northwest so it is not like these mergers took places decades ago.

Then there's the fact of hub cities, where airlines route most of their planes through . On their own that's fine but the fact is there is so much overlap in which airlines have which cities as hubs (3 have Dallas, 5 have Chicago, 4 have New York, 5 have Los Angeles, and 3 have Atlanta)

Want to visit someone outside of the major cities? Your trip is now even longer!

(And with having to change airplanes means more chances for up-charges for seats, drinks, etc)

And of course, what other options is there for travel?

I mean you have trains but there are much more limited and if you only have a few days off, they won't work. Boats? What if you want to visit a landlocked place? Cars? Again the length of the trip and you are now responsible for the travel and directions.

Basically they cry that they need more money from the government even though they are constantly increasing their fees for customers and reducing perks.

To them customers are just dollar signs because they figure, what else are you going to do?

[acotarxreader]

Papertrail

Azriel X Reader

Synopsis: For months Azriel had gotten to know you through the intelligence letters you penned from the Autumn Court but finally meeting reveals your twisted reality.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, descriptions of injury as a result of domestic violence.

A/N: I hope you guys like this fic, I enjoyed writing it despite the nature of the beast. Please proceed with caution or not at all if you believe the themes in this lil guy to be upsetting.

P.S this got equal votes with the silly one in the poll but I'm listening to Evermore rn so ye're getting the angsty one hehe

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Azriel’s grin dashed across his face like a Cheshire cat as he tried and failed to tuck it away in the presence of his friends. He read through the words over and over again, a lighthearted quiet laugh leaving him. 

“What do you have there Az?”

“Nothing” he replied too quickly to Mor thrown across the sofa of the Town House, her eyebrow raising as he began to carefully fold it back away. 

“They’re his love letters” Cassian cooed from the hallway, shaking off his jacket as the Spymaster tried to do the same to the maroon growing in his cheeks. 

“Leave it Cass” the letter found safety within Azriel's jacket pocket again, usually these would be disposed of after reading but Azriel knew he’d need the comfort of your words again after this trip. 

“I think it's cute”

“It's not cute Feyre, it's intel” 

“Intel? Is that what you single people call it these days” Cassian smirked, finding his place next to Nesta on the couch, arm thrown over the back of the seat behind her. Azriel fought the way the word single made his heart twinge even if it was said in jest.

“It's none of your business is what it is, where's Rhys, we'll be late” Azriel tried his best to change the topic but it became like a cat playing with a mouse.

“You should see him when they arrive Mor, he blushes so much you'd swear he was from Dawn” 

“I do not blush!” A playful couch cushion met Cassian's laughing face, the group joining in, a smile escaped Azriel to his own annoyance.

“Tell us Az, do you have as much correspondence with your other insiders?”

“Yes”

“Liar” Mor laughed, the sound of Rhysand landing in the garden echoing through the joyous house. 

“You write her more than anyone, your face betrays you when you're writing”

“It does n-”

“Who’s face betrays them?” Rhysand flexed his wings gently after the long flight before planting a kiss on the top of Feyre's head and joining his family gathered in the living room. The group looked in unison towards Azriel, all grinning widely. 

“Ah, Az’ little love affair”

“It's not a love affair! I've never even met her, she writes me intel and I writ-”

“-That you love her on bathroom stall doors” The group laughed at Mor's quip as the group stood to leave Velaris for another laborious visit to the Autumn Court. 

“I don’t-I don’t love her”

“Sur Az, maybe try telling your face that” Cassian called back to him as he draped his coat across his broad shoulders once again. 

—------

The meeting with the Autumn Court had its usual turbulence but thanks to the information you had provided, no major surprises were brought before the Inner Circle. Azriel watched from his usual perch in the corner of the meeting room, Rhysand and Beron engaged in their typical vitriol. The Spymaster's gaze landed on Beron’s particularly brutish General as he stood to the side of his High Lord. 

“Kelvin, show our dear guests their way out, we've reached an impasse” Beron bit out to the tower of a male who stood obligingly, the negotiations reaching their usual stalemate. 

“Your High Lord seemed especially prepared for this meeting, Shadowsinger” Kelvin whispered to Azriel as the group made their way to the exit of Forest House. 

“That’s his job”

“Even still, interesting how there seemed to be a prepared argument for every notion that was put before him, I would hate to hear that people aren’t playing by the rules” Azriel didn’t let any part of the thinly veiled threat rattle him, only a scoff left him, brushing off the accusation. 

The group ducked out into the Summer air through a large door they were directed to, Kelvin stopping Azriel to continue their conversation just before the threshold. Azriels hand went into his trouser pocket in a practised nonchalant movement, his jacket draping over his scarred hand. A shadow leapt to the ground of the now empty hallway before Azriel even noticed, his beloved slip of paper meeting the ground with softness. Kelvin was quicker to retrieve than the shadows were to conceal, a rookie mistake Azriel cursed himself for mentally. 

“Hmm, your correspondence Shadowsinger” The paper sat slotted between the General's first and middle finger towards Azriel, he moved to take it back, much too quickly, it being pulled back from his grasp again.

“Hm, eager to retrieve?”

“It’s nothing” Azriel lied through his teeth, wondering how much damage to diplomacy would be caused by slaughtering Kelvin where he stood. Kelvin splayed his two fingers slightly, pulling the folded paper apart to reveal a small sliver of your penmanship, his face hardening instantly as a shadow shot to snatch the paper back. Azriel was just glad that that particular letter had been personal and not vital intel, no major security threat in its exposure could be achieved. 

“Right well, enjoy your night” Kelvin's abrupt, frosty end to the conversation was not lost on Azriel as he watched the giant male seemingly stomp down the stone corridor. 

“C’mon Az, it's time to go” Cassian's voice tore Azriels eyes from Kelvin's back.

-

Further meetings between the Courts were relatively uneventful, Kelvin kept his distance from the group and made himself unavailable for meetings with any of the inner circle. Azriel had contacted all the Autumn Court spies he had to ensure they stayed on alert, all had replied except for you. Every night Azriel would wait for the note he’d sent down the line to you to reappear, but it never did. After a month of radio silence, Azriel had become increasingly irritable and restless in his work, had even tried to contact the Fae who had initially put you in touch, but nothing came of that lead. He paced his small living quarters in the residence the Night Court used in the Autumn Court, unable to take his mind away from the imaginary scenarios in his head. 

“Az, you’re going to put a hole in the floor” Cassian stepped squarely into his brother's path, his arms catching hold of the paling Illyrian's shoulders. 

“We have to get downstairs, the ball is starting and if you’re not there, Beron will think you’re off snooping and get spooked” Azriel shook his head in agreement to the logic, moving from Cassian's grasp to fix his suit jacket. 

The two entered the already bustling ballroom with the coordinated power that comes with centuries of familiarity. The Autumn Court guests meshed in with the Court of Nightmares guests Rhysand had invited, this attempt at building bridges seeming to work, as long as the alcohol was freely flowing. 

An hour or so later, Azriel had managed to escape a particularly persistent fae in favour of a darkened corner of the space. His eyes traced over the various members of the gathering, all deeply swirled in an alcohol-induced truce. He watched the tower he knew to be Kelvin tip his head back in laughter at some comment one of his lackeys had made. His gaze was pulled back to the General with the sudden appearance of a much smaller fae at his side, a smile that didn’t meet her eyes gracing her face. Azriel’s shadows instinctively shot with quiet excellence to wrap softly around your ankles beneath your dress. You cautiously tore your attention from the conversation, locking eyes with the Spymaster across the dance floor. The colour drained from your face and almost as quickly reappeared, you just gave the smallest of nods towards the Illyrian. Azriel’s thoughts went wild at the sight of you, feeling every cell in his body confirm to him that you were who he’d spent all his time thinking about these days. He moved a step forward in your direction, your head ever so slightly shaking no to the movement. Azriel felt his nerves scream at him to walk towards you, fighting some level of primal instinct as he stayed fixed on the spot. 

“Drink Shadowsinger?” Eris’ voice caused his head to snap in the direction of the source. 

“Not poisoned is it?” Azriel took the flute of shimmering gold, some of his shadows returning to glass, swirling around it before confirming to him it was safe. 

“One day you’ll trust me”

“Maybe it’ll be the day you keel over and die” Eris laughed at the sarcasm before noticing Azriel’s eyes land back on you. 

“Ah, YN” Azriel’s head darted back to the eldest son of Autumn, his somewhat amused words confirming your identity to what his instincts had already told him. The female he had spent months learning so much about but never dreamed of meeting was stood in the flesh mere metres away and you seemed to want to keep it that way. 

“You know her?”

“In a social sense, she is Kelvin’s wife-” he took a deep drink from his glass, seemingly drowning a comment in the liquid. Wife. You were married. Azriel fought to keep upright, you had never mentioned anything about being involved with anyone, how could you be married to someone else, you both had shared such love through your correspondence, all for it to be a lie, Azriel thought. It became clear then how you had such unbridled access to the workings and plans of the Autumn Court, that you were married to the male who made them. 

“-She hasn’t been around much lately-” Eris continued “-she tends to avoid these kinds of gatherings, he must have let her out to play”

“Let her?” Eris necked the remainder of his drink, depositing the glassware on the tray of a passing server. 

“This isn’t the Night Court Shadowsinger, Kelvin belongs to a very relic-like line of thought, she belongs to him, he controls the reins and she has to go along for the ride. He probably has something to gain from her presence here” Azriel’s heat boiled in his veins, threatening to come out as steam from his ears. Eris rolled his eyes at Azriel’s silence, growing bored of the interaction and heading to find someone else to play with.

You stood at the edge of the circle of large males, seemingly enjoying the conversation alongside your husband. Azriel noticed the way your long dress clung to your bones, sleeves as long as your arms with a neckline that practically touched your ears, an odd choice for the Summer, even in the Autumn Court Azriel thought. You dipped your head slightly as Azriel watched you make your exit from the group, Kelvin’s eyes heating your back until you entered an adjacent hallway. Before Kelvin would notice, Azriel dissolved into the shadowy corner, his shadows eager to reunite with you. 

“Just a moment” you called back to the soft tapping on the bathroom door. You supported your weight on the counter of the sink, glaring into your own reflection as you tilted your head side to side to inspect the coverage of the make-up you had applied over any traces of betrayal. Your attention was taken from the mirror as a shadow slipped beneath the entrance, you watched it approach you with such gentle caution until you moved to unlock the door with a shaking hand. Hazel eyes looked deeply into yours, afraid to blink in case it was all a dream. 

“Hello stranger” You couldn’t find a reply to him, only reaching for his shirt and hauling him into the bathroom. 

“Are you fucking crazy?! Did anyone see you!?” You rattled out, pacing up and down the small space, Azriels shadows wrapping around you. You looked down at them with a loving smile, a sense of familiarity between you and them.

“No, no one saw me, I-I can’t believe you’re here and…and you’re married!” you stopped dead in your tracks at Azriel’s slightly raised tone. You dragged a hand down your face, trying to pull some control back to the tiled space. 

“I-I didn’t think it was relevant”

“Not relevant!?” Azriel rasped out, his hands partially flailing out in exasperation, and your eyes clung to their movement. 

“It-its a need-to-know basis”

“I would think I would be a part of that, fuck it we told each other practically everything else about one another!” His volume grew moderately, heat rising at the back of your neck.

“Don’t be mad at me Azriel, please” A shiver shot down his spine at the sound of his name on your lips, any semblance of annoyance fleeing the scene. 

“I’m not, I’m just glad that you’re okay, the radio silence frightened me” he closed the distance between you, the smell of mist and mint flowing around you as his hands laced into yours. 

“Azriel, I’m-I’m married”

“Happily?” he laughed out, it dying in the air with your lack of reply, worry starting to transverse his face.

“YN?”

“I-”

“YN!” Kelvin’s voice accompanied by heavy pounding against the solid oak door, your whole body flinching at the interruption. 

“Coming!” you called back, the rattle in your voice cutting into Azriel’s ears, your hands pulled from his soft hold. 

“Azriel please go”

“YN, I don’t like this” his hushed tone matching yours, Kelvin's footsteps haunting the hallway. 

“Azriel, please just go”

“I’ll go if you promise to meet me later”

“Azriel”

“YN! Come on!” the pounding on the door returning, the handle vibrating much like your bones. 

“Fine, fine, I promise, go” you rushed over to the door, your hand landing on the handle tremulously and after whispering where to meet you later, Azriel reluctantly dissolved into shadow once again. 

-

Azriel reentered the party like a bull in a china shop, unable to refocus after your encounter, he waited for you and your husband to reappear, but you didn’t, the party swirling around him. He counted the minutes down until the party had come to a natural stopping point and he could escape to meet you in the wooded area behind your house, allowing conversations to ebb and flow around him. 

Finally, he could make his excuses to head to bed, spending all of a minute changing into his training clothing for easier agility. He snuck through the shadows of Forest House as though made of their atoms, moving with precision through passageways until he found his way to the city, slinking through the dwindling crowd with ease. 

Azriel waited in the wooded area for nearly an hour, his shadows casing the vast forest for your presence with nothing to show for it. He decided to take things into his own hands as the depths of nights swaddled him. He moved closer to the two-storey property, the glow of the kitchen light filling the small patio beneath a colossal oak tree.

Azriel could make out the outline of Kelvin and a few others from the party, clearly having decided to continue the revelry in his home. Music flowed out through the opened window, his shadows sneaking through the cracks to scope out the ground floor, returning to Azriel with no knowledge of your presence in the private party. Azriels eyes landed on the flicker of a candle from the upstairs of the property, his shadows beginning to leap around him. Scaling the large tree was an easy feat for the skilled Illyrian and soon he was level to the window. 

The blood drained entirely from the Shadowsingers face at the scene through the window. You sat in a ball, knees split open and huddled into your chest, the dress that shielded you earlier now in tatters around your ankles leaving the cruel water colouring decorating your body on full display. The beautiful colours of Autumn coated your flesh in their brutality as crimson flowed from a gash, tinging your hair. 

Downstairs Azriel could hear booming laughter from the group, fresh new thoughts of slaughter entering his mind.  A shadow faintly tipped against the window, the sound rocketing through every cell of your body as you jolted with the fright. Your tear-stained eyes landed on the Night Court’s Spymaster who clung to the trunk of the tree outside your chamber. Your tremoring muscles lifted you from the splitting wood, over a shattered lamp covered in your blood. You delicately pushed into the hinges of the window until it gave in under your weak strength, the Summer air rushing in to meet you. Azriel skirted across the limb of the tree to slip into the space, your eyes fixated on the wood as he landed nimbly. 

“Y-YN?” he approached you like a wild deer stuck in a bear trap, afraid speed would cause you to bolt and lead to further injury.

“I-I’m so-rry I didn’t-didn’t come meet y-you” you managed through your quivering throat, the taste of blood and bile poisoning the words. Azriel gave you a small hush, his shadows surveying every stretch of your skin they could.

“We need to get you out of here” he spoke so quietly you almost missed it in the drumming of your ears.

“I-I can’t go with you”

“YN, theres-theres so much blood in your hair” his hand calmly raised to brush the maroon matting away from your face, the source at the crown of your head gleaming in the moonlight. 

“He-I shouldn’t have been so-so long away from him ear-earlier” You fought every urge to lean into Azriel’s touch, an unfamiliar sense of trust towards a male's hand growing in you. 

“Fuck that” Was all Azriel could think to say, moving quickly and quietly away from you again. His shadows wrapped around you to support you as you stood watching the fleet-footed Illyrian grab some things from around the room, the sound of the brutish males merrymaking downstairs covering his movements. 

“Azriel”

“YN, you’re coming with me” some of his shadows returned to his ears in almost an excited fashion.

“Good idea” he replied to them as they darted out the window again, your heartbroken eyes began to swell with tears of pain and anguish.

“Will you be warm enough in this?” He pulled a thick coat from the splintering wardrobe, Azriel getting the feeling it had been a heavy feature of your battlefield, wishing the thought away.

“Azriel, I-I can’t go, I’m his”

“No-” he turned to face you as he spoke, seriousness coating the entire word as he held out the coat to you again “-You belong to no one other than yourself YN”

“Azriel, that’s not how that-that works here”

“Well it is now” He sheathed your mottled skin, the thick fabric, its weight causing your exhausted legs to buckle slightly, Azriel’s arm instinctively wrapping around your chest to support you from the side. You sucked air sharply through your teeth, Azriel releasing you again.

“Sorry YN, I didn’t mean to hurt you” his eyes searched yours frantically as you folded your arms across yourself, your hand tracing the growing deep magenta along your ribcage.

“It's ok-okay Azriel” he turned back to the small satchel he had begun to fill, slipping it over his shoulders. He moved back to the climb to the reach of the tree, arm outstretched inviting you to take hold of him. 

“Azriel” 

“YN, either you come with me or we both stay” his soft but firm voice had you rocking from foot to foot trying to decide what to do, caught between your potential future and your definitive present.

You looked towards the destroyed room in front of you and back again at the Illyrian offering you the answer to your prayers. You exhaled as deep as your chest would allow you to, moving closer to the window, the sound of crunching ceramic beneath your feet the only sound in the room. The only sound in the room. The only sound in the room. 

The door swung screeching on its rusting hinges as the General of the Autumn Court crashed into the room in a drunk swirl of rage, amplified by the sight of his wife’s rescue. Azriel leapt from his perch to block you as a blood-curdling scream left you, instinctively hitting the ground for cover. Before Kelvin could reach for you, Truth-Teller found its home in the thigh of the male, his blood springing free from his network of vessels, reaching and mixing with your own on the floor. The giant hit the flooring with an almost deafening thud, writhing in pain, alcohol stealing any chance of a coordinated retaliation. Azriel retrieved the knife, hovering over his new greatest enemy. 

“You will suffer a thousand deaths for this, but not right now, not when it would be merciful” Venom dripped from his bone-chilling tone, a cadence you knew would never be directed at you. Shadows once again filled the room, scraps of paper in their grasp covered the space as Azriel crossed back towards you, pulling you back to your feet and into his arms. Swarms of multiplying shadow cascaded and concealed you both until they dissolved, leaving the two of you in the warmth of a small living area. 

“Now, home again” Azriel breathed out in relief, you found a small smile grow, mirroring his ease as he pulled you to his side and over to a plush loveseat. 

“Azriel I-I can’t believe what-what just happened”

“And I can’t believe I had enough restraint not to murder him where he stood, but Rhysand hates paperwork and besides, I have bigger plans for him” Shadows nipped the side of his shoulder playfully as he retrieved a cup of floral tea from the kitchenette in his small studio apartment.

“Fine, we have plans for him, so praise starved my little friends. Go fetch Madja for me sweeties” he played back to them as they darted off happily. 

“And what exactly have you all planned?”

“Well, Beron is suspicious the Court has a leak and with some careful…editing, now he’ll find his leak” he passed the cup down to you, covering your legs in a throw blanket.

“You had the shadows plant letters in the house for Beron to find?”

“Well, in the morning we’ll send Eris word that you found the letters and he attacked you for trying to tell the truth” he slotted into the seat next to you, a damp cloth in hand to run along your tangled hair, freeing up the clumps of blood. 

“And when they ask why I’m here?”

“Eris will award you with an emissary to the Night Court position, so loyal to the Autumn Court, the perfect fae to keep an eye on us” You found a slight laugh leave you, the sound bringing a grin to Azriel’s face. The sound of light tapping on the front door accompanied by Azriels returning shadows signalled Madjas arrival.

—-------------------

You awoke the next morning to the plush fabric of Azriel’s king size bed, the fabric swaddling your freshly stitched skin. You reluctantly opened your eyes, afraid you had dreamed the past twenty-four hours as you forced yourself upright in the bed. You looked around the cosy well-loved space, hints of Azriel everywhere, except for the Illyrian himself. He had left his makeshift bed on his couch early in the morning, eager to begin his ruse. 

You crossed the room to the small kitchenette on your world-weary legs, a tray sat gleaming on the counter with fresh scones and the fixings to make the floral tea you loved last night. A smile grew as you heated water on the stove for the tea. 

While the water rolled to a boil, you wandered around the space, taking in the world that Azriel had let you into in his letters, still in disbelief, that this had all happened. Your hand crossed over the bag on his desk, the random assortment of wares Azriel had packed making you laugh slightly. The water hissing as it boiled over the rim of the saucepan had you rushing over to it, bumping into a tall tower of boxes as you reached for the stove. You jumped at the sound of crashing files from behind you, scrunching your face before reluctantly turning to the mess you had made. You cursed aloud, kneeling to collect the reams of paper as Azriel knocked before entering his own home. 

“Hey YN, all don- what’s going on here?” He laughed before panic started to dash across his face, rushing to conceal the content of the parchments. 

“Azriel…are these….are these my notes to you?” you held a small collection in your hands, Azriel reaching to snatch them from you in a protective manner.

“Don’t…don’t tell Rhys I’ve kept them” he said with almost shame, crouched across from you as he carefully folded the paper. 

“Wh-why did you keep them?”

“Because they’re you YN” he looked from the penmanship to the female who gifted him the words that kept him company for months. You leaned off the backs of your legs to reach across the piles of history between you both until you met Azriel’s mouth with yours. He leaned further into the kiss, the two of you still kneeling in the nest of paper. His hands traced gently across your waist as yours wrapped around his shoulders, your inner gravities pulling one another together with tender force. Scarred hands ran up the length of your back, meeting equal chasms and fissures, both of your marred stretches of skin feeling whole again. The feelings of true safety and security flowed between you both coupled with the energy of shadow and fire finding home in one another. It felt as time no longer existed, never-ending and final, like nothing beyond the pools of paper mattered. You separated as the need for air sailed towards critical, your hands slid down his chest as his slipped around the nape of your neck, you both leaning in to rest your foreheads together, careful to not reopen your wound. 

“YN, you’re my…”

“Mate” your glowing soft eyes landed on his smiling hazel as they seemingly sparkled. 

“I was going to say my everything but I believe those are both the same from here on in”  

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Whatcha think friends??

The lovelies: @milswrites @sarawritestories

[sadesluvr]

Turbulence

You join the mile-high club with a mysterious English gentleman. 

A/N: First BT fic! Been obsessed with this movie, and just had to make something with one of our favourite assassins. I had to do a weird amount of research on flying for this... It won’t be my last so follow for more! :)

Set pre movie. 

Word count: 2.5K 

Tags: SMUT / Porn with little plot / Minor spoilers for references in Bullet Train (2022) / Unprotected sex / Creampies / Hookups / Mentions of birth control / Quickies / Canon-typical language / Canon-typical banter / Minors + Ageless blogs DNI

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard Flight 4B7 to Tokyo. We are currently second in line for take-off and are expected to be in the air in approximately five minutes time. At this time, we ask you to please fasten your seatbelts and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones. Smoking is prohibited for the duration of the flight. I’m Goldie, and thank you for choosing our airline. Enjoy your flight!” 

Hanging the speaker up, you smoothed out your skirt as you fixed yourself to take the final walk before take-off. ‘Goldie’ wasn’t your real name of course, but a nickname given to you by a sleazy boss. You would’ve hated it, but you found that it greatly helped with creepy passengers who were searching for a place in the coveted ‘mile high club’, or those who simply flew with the intention of sleeping with flight attendants across the world. On the contrary, it was always cute when toddlers cooed your name from across the plane, calling for you as if you’d known them their entire life.  

As you pushed past the curtain to the business class, your eyes fell on a pair of men; one dark-skinned with curly dyed hair, the other with long, slicked back hair and a moustache. They wouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary had the moustached man not been holding a phone to his ear. Great. There was always at least one person who never listened to the announcements, but there was something about those who rode in first or business class that held a different kind of entitlement entirely. 

Swallowing, you put on your best customer service and sauntered over to them. The dark-skinned man noticed you first, raising his brows before nudging the one next to him, who seemed deep into an important, but strained, conversation. 

“...Yeah, yeah. We get the kid and the briefcase, then the train to Kyoto...Yes, we know who we’re dealing with, I forwarded Lemon the briefing. Right, can we go now? Take-offs in two minutes --” 

“Excuse me,” you cut in. “You’re going to need to hang that up...” 

The man did a double take, holding his phone away from his ear as he glanced up at you. If it wasn’t his old English accent that captivated you, it was his eyes, a striking blue with hints of grey that seemed to stare directly into your soul.  

“I’m going now.” He said snarkily to the person on the phone before hanging up, placing the object into the pocket of his navy-blue suit before staring up at you with a charming, but cheeky smile. 

“My apologies darlin’,” he said, his voice as smooth as butter. “Work won’t give us a break.”  

“Don’t I know it?” you replied, shifting your weight as you prepared to move on. “Thank you, sir. Enjoy your flight...” you said before looking down at his hands; strong and adorned with gold rings.  

“...Nice watch.” You finished with a knowing smile. Given the parts of the broken conversation you’d heard, and the elaborate way they were dressed, you figured that they were at least some kind of secret service members - not that it was any of your business, of course. Still, there was something particularly arousing about the blue-eyed man in the three-piece navy suit with the nice watch, and you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you broke your ‘no-sex-on-the-job’ rule, just this once. If he wasn’t busy with mission stuff, of course. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He replied, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he smiled, watching you as you walked off, admiring the questionably short length of your skirt in the process. Sitting back in his seat, he chuckled to himself before turning to see his brother Lemon hastily swiping through the movie selection on the screens. 

“The fuck are you doing?” 

“Tryin’ to see if they’ve got Thomas...” Lemon said matter-of-factly. “It’s alright though. I always come prepared.” he finished, tapping his laptop pointedly. Tangerine frowned, shaking his head as he sat back in his seat, side eyeing you as you made your way to your jumpseat in the corner.  

It was going to be a long journey, but at least he had a nice view. 

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

As soon as it had been safe to take seatbelts off, you’d wasted no time in making your way back down to the business area. The best part about the job was that you were able to walk about, getting a good glimpse at the passengers you thought were attractive – all under the guise of providing good customer service. The man with watch was reading a book, whilst the other seemed engrossed with whatever was on the screen, with his fingers covering his face in a concerned manner. They seemed like polar opposites, yet seemed to work so well together, something that made your job a lot easier when it came to seating passengers. If only everyone was like them. 

If it hadn’t been obvious, you were rather interested in the blue-eyed gentleman in particular. Whilst he hadn’t given you definite signs he was interested, you fixed your make up in your compact mirror regardless, and opened a button on your blouse so it was just a little lower than industry guidelines. It never hurt to try, and it certainly wasn’t as if you were going to see him again. 

Smiling, you guided a cart down the narrow aisles, stopping at the pair of men. 

“Refreshments?” 

The dark-skinned man, ‘Lemon’, as he had been referred to, answered first, eagerly pausing his screen to speak to you. 

“I’d love somethin’, love,” he said, holding the same accent as his partner. “D’ya have anything fizzy?” 

“Of course,” you hummed. “We have Coke – regular, Diet and Zero, Dr Pepper, Sprite, some SanPellegrino --” 

“I’ll have a Coke, love. Make it Diet...” he said, and you nodded, quickly finding the box for the right can. “It’s a shame ya don’t do any bubble milk tea up here...I got a real craving for one...” 

You laughed as you handed him the can. “Luckily for you Tokyo is full of great places to get one. You probably could even find one in their vending machines...Don’t get those in the West, do you?” 

“Certainly not in London,” he chuckled, opening the can and taking a swig before pursing his lips and tapping a finger on his chin. “Say, I don’t suppose you could settle a little argument for me, could you?”  “Oh here we go...” the other man interjected, drawing himself from his book to huff and look between the two of you. “Fucking unbelievable.” 

Lemon rolled his eyes.  

“That SanPellegrino of yours...Which flavour do you sell the most?” 

You bit your lip. 

“Depends...It’s usually lemon because people think it might taste like lemonade. The orange one never goes to waste, though...” 

Lemon gave the other man a pointed look, and he scoffed before looking at you. 

“Not to completely waste your time, love, but if you had to choose between a lemon or a tangerine...” he didn’t finish, probably because it would’ve pained him to, and moved his hands as if he were balancing weights on scales.  

You stared blankly between the two men, confused but utterly endeared. 

“Tangerines are good on their own, but lemons are far more versatile...”  “See?” Lemon said triumphantly, celebrating with himself before shaking your hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, darlin’.” He grinned before restarting his movie, moving on as if nothing had happened. You chuckled to yourself, conscious of the hundred other guests that needed you, but looked back to lock eyes with the other man, ready to ask him the same question. He wore a knowing smirk on his face, the curve of his pink lips still evident under his thick moustache and tutted chidingly. 

“Really thought you’d be on my side there, sweetheart,” he sighed. “Suppose you can’t trust everyone, can you?” 

“I’m sorry,” you pouted. “You must give it to him though. Lemons are pretty good.” 

“Darlin’ I don’t have a problem with the message, but the messenger,” he said, nodding to the man next to him. “He’s a grown arse lad watching Thomas, that one.” 

You chuckled, glimpsing at the screen to see that it was indeed correct. Shaking your head, you scanned the crafted features of his face before raising a brow. 

“So, what’s your poison?” 

“A gorgeous lady pushing a cart, it seems.” 

“Smooth,” you hummed, unable to ignore the way a dangerous heat shot through your stomach and down to your core, making your legs feel like jelly. He’d hardly done anything, and yet you were under his spell. “What would you like to drink?” 

“Nothin’ at the moment, love,” he grinned. “I’m a bit peckish, if anythin’...” 

Sighing, you quickly checked the man out again, this time eyeing his body. Broad shoulders, muscular thighs, thick legs...The total package.  

“Hurry, up! I’m thirsty!” Someone from across the aisles said. The man was about to argue, but you halted him, nodding in the direction where the voice came from.  

“I tell you what,” you said softly, lowering your voice as you stared into his eyes, your composure so controlled that it would’ve been impossible to tell that your heart was pounding in your chest as you spoke. “-- Us staff have our own snacks. If you meet me by the toilets in fifteen, I can get you some...” 

“Don’t leave me hangin’, sweetheart.” The man grinned, not-so subtly uncrossing his legs and giving a cheeky wink before you headed off down the aisle. Gripping onto the handle of the cart, you tried your hardest to walk straight, excitement boiling in your loins as you counted down those fifteen crucial minutes with every strained smile at a customer. 

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

He was there when you arrived. 

“Took ya’ long enough -” was all he said before cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a passionate kiss, pressing your body against the wall of the bathroom. It was by far the most glamorous place to have sex, but there was something about the sleaziness of it all (with such a put-together man, nonetheless) that made it that more enticing. His scent was an ode to his masculinity; aromatic and woody, and it consumed you as he kissed down your neck, nipping at your collarbone as his large hands caressed the sides of your body. You moaned, writhing your front against his pelvis, desperate to feel the outline of his erection against your own. Admittedly, you weren’t entirely sure what to do with your hands, settling to drape them around his neck in fear of messing up his hair. He seemed like a man who took pride in his appearance, and he certainly wasn’t going to be able to fix it up in an airplane bathroom. 

“Feel me, darling. I don’t bite...” he whispered, his hands now sliding between your thighs as he fought to push your panties to the side. You took this as a hint, and you combed your fingers through his roots with one hand, whilst the other fumbled to undo the button on his trousers, difficult to do with his considerable bulge. You let out a broken gasp as you felt his cock, likely over average sized with a nice girth, and he shuddered in response. 

“Goldie, is it? You’re a naughty one...” he sighed, slipping a finger into your wet cunt. 

“Mhmmm,” you crooned. “’S nickname. I don’t suppose you’ll give me yours?” 

“You’re a bright bird, ‘m sure ya figured it out.” 

“Tangerine, huh?” you hummed, throwing your head back as he began to finger fuck you, his gold rings adding the extra girth that would prepare you nicely for his cock. “I like tangerines...” 

“Ya didn’t seem to back there.” 

“Well, give me a reason to...” you chuckled, and he grinned, grunting before he hoisted your leg up around his waist, his cock dangerously near your entrance. 

“Better be quick,” you teased, staring at him through your lashes. “They’ll get suspicious if I’m not back in five.” 

Tangerine chuckled.  

“I can do that. Just know it’s not a reflection of me at my best.” he sniffed. 

“Good to know.” 

Your words were unfounded as he pushed into you, his girth filling you completely as you moulded perfectly around his cock, gripping onto his shirt as he began to buck his hips. The man grunted, accosting himself to the feel of your warm, wet hole – raw and unfiltered, sighing into the nape of your neck as he fucked you. He steadied himself with his hands, gripping onto your thigh with one as the other rested above you, lending him the luxury of staring into your eyes as he drilled you. 

“God...” you panted, your lips wet and raw from his kisses. “T-Tan -- You’re so good...” 

“That’s it, love,” he beckoned, words rolling off his tongue like honey as he rolled his hips deeper into you. “Say my name...” 

“Tangerine...” you whined, eyes fluttering shut as you drowned out the vacuum-like ambience around you, focusing on the small grunts and sweet nothings the man whispered into your ear, his warm breath sending chills up your spine. The room around you was making a slight creaking sound, and you barely even cared that your calf was banging slightly against the door.  

With every passing second his thrusts became more focused, solely intended to bring you both to that point of ecstasy- yet you didn’t doubt that Tangerine was the kind of man who made sure you finished, even if he himself didn’t.  

His hair was beginning to become undone now, brown strands falling in front of his face, just barely clouding his vision, but enough to make him look even hotter. Both of your shirts became more and more dishevelled as he pressed up against you, the muffled sound of his clothed thigh against your bare ones becoming more frequent as he growled, the sound coming from deep within his muscular chest. 

“Fucking hell, darlin’...’M gonna make a mess...” he hissed through laboured breaths. “I’ve gotta pull out --” 

“It’s alright,” you lulled, and you could’ve sworn that his cock twitched at the phrase. “I’m on the pill...” 

“You naughty girl...You’re gonna get me in trouble --” he groaned, throwing his head back as he gave you a few fast and sloppy pumps, shutting his eyes as you clamped down on him during your own release, creaming around his cock as he filled you with his own. You dug your nails into his clothes as you rode off your respective highs, hair and clothes askew as he rubbed small circles your trembling leg before lowering it to the ground. 

Panting, there was a brief silence as you dressed yourselves, with Tangerine preening himself in the tiny mirror. 

“You look good as gold.” You said with a smirk, fixing your hat.  

“Thanks,” he said with a broad smile, popping some gum into his mouth as he looked you up and down. “You’re a dime a dozen, y’know? Fly this route often?” 

“Sometimes,” you hummed, opening the door so that the sign no longer read ‘occupied’. “Why, are you thinking of coming back?” 

“I’ll be headed to Kyoto,” he said, looking around before he stepped out. “Maybe I’ll catch you there.” 

“Yeah,” you grinned, fixing the final button on your shirt. He’ fucked you so good you could barely even remember what your next journey was. “Maybe.” 

[b0r3dtod3ath]

Hey Sophie, I hope you’re having the best week! I saw your requests were open and I was wondering if you could do something for either Lando or Charles. Where their gf is travelling a lot with them and is starting to get anxious and exhausted and she’s really stressed on a flight (maybe at the time, she’s flying with another driver whose her bestfriend) and they spill to Lando/Charles exactly what’s going on? Thank you xxx

an: Thank you for the request and patience! I'm sorry you had to wait so long.

The cabin was dimly lit as the plane flew through the night sky, its engines humming softly in the background. Seated next to each other in first class you, Charles and Lando exchanged tired glances. You were fidgeting nervously, your hands playing with your fingers or gripping the armrest. You had been traveling with Charles frequently lately, wanting to be close to your boyfriend and to support him during races around the world. You thought you could handle traveling and your online job. But as the miles accumulated, so did your exhaustion.

Tonight’s fight seemed particularly turbulent as there were some thunderstorms going on. You nerves were on the edge, you were feeling overstimulated and tired. You glanced at Lando, sleeping in his seat next to Charles. You two knew each other even before you started darting the Monegasque. You kind of wished to switch seats and be comforted by your best friends presence as you knew he would understand you. 

"Charles," you finally whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

"Yeah?" he replied, turning to look at you with concern.

"I... I need to talk to you about something," you began hesitantly, your gaze fixed on your shaky hands.

Charles reached out and gently squeezed your knee, silently urging you to continue.

"I... I don't know how much longer I can do this," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "The constant traveling, the pressure... it's all starting to take its toll on me”.

Charles listened attentively as you poured out your feelings, his heart aching at the sight of your distress. He had been so focused on his own career and responsibilities that he hadn't fully realized what you were going through. 

Meanwhile, Lando glanced over at the two of you, sensing the tension in the air. 

"Hey, is everything okay?" Lando asked, his brow furrowing with concern as he took in your tear-stained face.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I... I'm just really tired right now," you admitted, words coming out in a rush. "Flying, racing, my job…  it's all a little too much”.

Lando nodded understandingly, offering you a sympathetic smile. "I get it. It's a lot to handle, especially with everything going on. But you're not alone. We're all here for you. And you don’t have to follow us to every race. It’s our job”.

“Yes. That’s true. I love having you by my side but if it’s better for you to attend only a few races then I don’t mind” said Charles stroking your hand with his thumb. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you felt the weight of the spoken words sink in. As Charles kissed you tear-stained cheek, you knew that you could find a way to make it work. 

May 26 2024

[legendary-pink-dot]

Airport Pickup

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x female reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Unprotected PiV, fingering, semi-public sex, established relationship, light dirty talk because I like to think Frankie is a Sex Talker, Tom has a cousin and he's an asshole too

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Frankie hates airports when he isn't there to fly or work. The crowds, the noise, endless passengers complaining to airport employees who were just trying to do their jobs and get through the day. But he’s sitting there waiting today for you.

Notes: No use of "Y/N". No mention of Frankie's child. Frankie starts off grumpy but gets a happy ending. Thank you @goodwithcheese for the prompt and prodding, and to my magic slut coven for cheerleading @arcanefox207 @magpiepills 💜

Fuck. Frankie hates airports when he isn't there to fly or work. The crowds, the noise, endless passengers complaining to airport employees who were just trying to do their jobs and get through the day. But he’s sitting there waiting today for you, through a lengthy delay of your flight arrival and then another one.

Six weeks was a long time to be apart. Way too long. It didn't help that you'd been halfway across the globe -- the time zones and your respective work schedules had made it almost impossible to stay in touch other than a couple quick calls and some texts. He missed your conversations, the shared dinners after work, the drawn-out nights of sex. Right now, especially the sex.

Frankie frowns as your text comes in: Just landed. Delayed b/c crew was late. Pilot is Cpt Davis 🙄

Captain Davis -- fuck. Tom's idiot cousin Chad. Frankie hated him. Not only was Chad an asshole, but a shitty pilot too. Frankie had had the misfortune of flying commercial on one of Chad's flights and knew within two minutes that the minor pitch, yaw and roll corrections -- or lack thereof, in this case -- during the particularly turbulent takeoff were an indication that this pilot didn't give a shit about his passengers. Sure, a captain's primary job is to get people safely to their destination, but what happened to having pride in your work? Fucking jerk.

Frankie shakes his head in disgust as he heads to the coffee shop for your favorite order, stopping at a convenience kiosk on the way to pick up an extra pack of Dramamine for you. Just in case.

~~ * ~~

You stare dumbly at ten identical black suitcases endlessly rounding the baggage carousel as people push past you. Why is baggage claim always a shitshow? You were exhausted from 18 hours of travelling and jetlag, and the turbulence during the flight had stirred up your motion sickness so badly that you’d run out of Dramamine. Bed sounded good right now. Just your cozy bed, 10 hours of sleep, and Frankie waking you up with kisses and hot licks of his tongue. Is that too much to ask for?

Frankie had texted to say he was in the waiting area, and you were so eager to see him. Six weeks was way too long to be apart, and everything ached to be reunited -- your heart, your fingers, your cunt. Anticipation had gotten too much on the last leg of your flight and you'd even tried getting yourself off in the tiny airplane bathroom, but no luck. It just wasn't happening and you'd given up in frustration, ending with no orgasm and also a nice bruise from banging your elbow against the sink.

Finally, your neon blue bag (chosen specifically to be unique and bright so you didn't have to think at times like these) comes into sight. You haul it off the carousel and head straight for the exit.

Frustration melts away as you spot Frankie waving, making his way through the waiting crowd. He's wearing a green sweater, the one he only puts on for special occasions as his version of "dressing up". It would be an awful color on most people but it perfectly brought out the golden tone of his skin, the richness of his brown eyes, the chocolate of his curls peeking out under his navy blue cap. It makes your heart skip a beat that he still makes an effort to look good for you.

"Come here." He envelops you in a bear hug and you bury your face into his neck, inhaling the smell of fresh coffee, his leather jacket, his freshly washed hair curling out under his cap. The scent of Frankie. You drink your fill of it, of him, cinching your arms around his broad back and letting your body sigh and melt into his. "I missed you so much."

~~ * ~~

Dim lighting in the parking garage makes it feel even colder despite the long welcoming hug, the hot coffee you’d downed in the elevator, the extra Dramamine, even the pre-warmed comfort of Frankie's leather jacket. You hadn't missed how his eyes had travelled up your bare legs as you put the jacket on, taking in and appreciating the sight of you. He did love when you wore sundresses. Which is why you had changed into one before getting off the plane.

Tucked into a dark corner space is his truck, looking lonely with few other vehicles around. Frankie tosses your suitcase into the bed of the truck and immediately pushes you up against the passenger door to kiss you hungrily, his hands firm on the back of your neck and around your waist to press you closer to him, giving you a proper welcome home. His mouth is warm and inviting, and you slip your tongue inside it to generate and seek out more heat.

"Tired?" he checks in after a couple minutes, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. "How's your motion sickness?"

"The Dramamine's kicking in now." You shiver involuntarily in your thin dress. "I'm cold though."

"A sundress, in this temperature? Didn't you check the weather here before your flight took off?"

"But I wore it just for you, Francisco," you whisper, nipping at his mouth. "I know it turns you on."

Frankie groans as he slides his hand along your bare thigh, a featherlight touch against the chill-textured flesh. "You're too good to me. Let me warm you up, cariño. Get in the back seat."

Last time you'd been in the back of his truck, you had been splayed across the bench seat, hands tied by and gripping the seatbelts on both sides as he ate you out, coaxing two strong and heady orgasms out of your body as the sun rose over the beach you had parked at. A good memory, one you had recalled several times during the long lonely nights in your hotel room on this trip.

He opens the door, and you eagerly climb in.

Frankie slides onto the seat, closing the door with a firm but quiet click. You climb into his lap and straddle his thighs, letting him pull you close again, his hands roving under the jacket and rubbing your back while yours snake underneath his sweater to borrow heat from his chest. The curve of his neck and shoulder is warm and you gratefully nuzzle your face into it, inhaling his scent again to imprint it in your memory, so happy to be back.

"Mmmm. Really missed you," you breathe into his skin, the cold tip of your nose rubbing circles over his throat and poking under the neck of his sweater to tease his collarbone. "Missed this."

"Me too. So much," he croons, sliding a hand through your long hair. He adjusts the angle of your head just perfectly to kiss you again, gentle at first and with increasing hunger until your tongue traces his plush lower lip, dipping in to slide in and out of its cleft, and he moans into your mouth.

"Fuck. Do that again."

You continue teasing his mouth with the tip of your tongue as his hands descend to grip your ass and grind his hardening cock against your core, rough denim snagging on thin cotton and lace. You're toasty warm now and you shed his leather jacket, also taking his hat off so you can weave your fingers through the curls in his hair, pulling gently as you rock against him, feeling his heat transfer to your center, the tip of his length in his jeans making contact with just the right spot to make you moan as you rut against him.

Frankie takes advantage of your open mouth and slides a finger in. "Suck. Get it wet for me." You comply and swirl your tongue around his finger, licking and sucking and slurping as if it were his cock, savoring the anticipation of knowing it would soon be inside you.

"Good girl." His finger drips with your saliva and he slides it through your folds, his other hand pulling the crotch of your lace panties aside and holding it there. Letting the cold air kiss your heated flesh. "Hmmm. So wet for me already though, aren't you? So hot," he rasps against your throat, feeling the vibration from the sound that travels up and out of it as he slides a second thick finger into your pussy. You clench around their sweet pressure, his fingers always able to reach places inside you that your own can't.

Within seconds you're shamelessly fucking his fingers, rocking back and forth and building more and more heat in your core, his thumb doing a better job against your clit than your own had in the airplane bathroom, when a bright light flashes through the windshield. Frankie grabs you and pulls you down to lie on the seat, covering your body with his as if shielding you from gunfire. Years retired from Delta Force but his combat instincts never fade, apparently.

"What's happening?"

"Security guard on patrol. I know most of them here and don't need 'em catching me fucking in my truck like a teenager," he whispers into your ear as the flashlight glare fades away. "I'd never hear the end of it."

You stare into his eyes, his face hovering just an inch from yours, those brown eyes you love so much looking darker than ever in the dim fluorescent filtering through the truck. You kiss him with hunger and want. "I need you inside me. Please. Can't wait until we get home."

"I got you, cariño. I'm gonna fuck you good. Get up and turn around."

He hauls you back up and turns you to face the front of the truck this time, straddling his thighs again, and you plant your feet on the floor as he pushes you forward, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down just enough to free his cock, hard and leaking precum, eager to sink home into you. His hands roam up the front of your dress and gently squeeze your tits. You feel the prickle of his mustache caressing the back of your neck as he presses kisses there, and you shiver from pleasure this time, not the cold.

"Patrol will be back soon. You're gonna be the lookout while I take care of you, okay?"

You hook your fingers around your panties and slide them all the way off.

"Fuck yes, Frankie. Show me how much you missed me."

Frankie groans and grabs your hips, lifting up the hem of your sundress, and you grab the back of the front seats for leverage and control as he slowly guides the thick tip of his cock through your folds and into the first few inches of your entrance, setting on fire every nerve ending along the way. It's a stretch, always a stretch with Frankie, but especially in this position, your thighs spread wide across his lap and toes just barely brushing the floor. Your back arches against his chest as he slides the rest of the way in, all the way to the hilt, your moan mixing with his grunted sigh to echo through the small enclosed space of the truck.

"You like that?" He gives an experimental thrust and you cry out, for another, for more. "Did you miss my cock?"

"Yes," you whimper, your voice shaking but not hesitant. "So much. Give it to me."

The leather of the seats in front of you is smooth on your fingers as you bend further forward, changing the angle, inviting him to fuck you in earnest and he does, his practiced hand finding your clit without you needing to ask. Frankie always wants to give you the world if he could.

You forget the security guards, the time on the clock until they come back, not caring and soon no longer cognizant of whether time is passing normally or whether you've been suspended in it. The only thing in your orbit is the feeling of Frankie's cock travelling deep into your heat and discovering every sensitive spot inside as if it was the first time he's explored it. Fire and tension build in your core as his fingers dig into your hip to hold you in place, his thumb working your clit in tandem with his thrusts, the rough texture adding an extra sensation that you've never managed to replicate alone.

"Fuck." Half a whimper and half a plea, and Frankie answers it with a loud groan. Your fingers grip the seats so tight that you create marks in the leather. "More, Frankie, please, don't stop. "

"So fucking tight for me, cariño." Frankie sounds utterly wrecked behind you, voice rich and full, his free hand snaking up to clutch the back of your neck, holding you at the perfect angle for him to drive in and out relentlessly, deep and hard the way he knows you crave. "So sweet. Always so good to me when you come home."

Sounds reverberate off the windows: heavy breaths, flesh against flesh, your moans, Frankie's grunts and whimpers as his rhythm inside you starts to falter, both of you close.

A final few strokes of his fingers across your clit and the tight coil inside you snaps, his other hand slapping over your mouth just in time to contain your sounds as you cry out, feeling his cock twitch and pulse as he comes hard, spurting hot inside you. He buries his face in your hair to muffle his own loud groan and it vibrates loud across your scalp and down your spine as you grind your ass into his lap a few more times to draw out the pleasure for both of you, your walls fluttering around his softening cock, until the sensitivity becomes too much.

Collapsing back against his chest is all you can manage and his arms encircle you, holding you close and breathing heavy into your hair. You feel his heartbeat as it winds down, slowing its thumping against your back through the thin cotton of your sundress. Your surroundings take shape as you come down from your high: Frankie has got you. You're home again.

A sudden flash of light through the windshield blinds you both. "Morales? Hey man, I thought that was you! Have fun with your girl, see ya at the bar Friday night!"

You both groan. It wasn't even a security guard -- it was Chad Davis and his frat-boy smirk.

"Fuck me," Frankie sighs in disgust. "I hate airports."

[runwayrunway]

No. 54 - Ryanair

You are watching a video on a popular video sharing service. It is a full episode of a popular and long-running show, generously uploaded for free. It is narrated by a calm man with a BBC accent of the sort which belongs exclusively in documentaries.

The narrator names a date between 1903 and the current year. It is accompanied by a location - an airport. An airplane is on approach. It has a certain number of people on board, and it flies for some airline. There are pilots, most likely two of them. They make some sort of mistake, and maybe there's an issue with the weather, or the ILS is down, or the instruments are giving misleading information, or some other thing has gone tailcone over teakettle in an alarmingly short timespan and now their approach is tremendously unstable. They aren't on the glideslope. They're too fast or too slow. They really need to declare a missed approach, but for whatever reason they don't.

The plane lands, or 'lands' - finds itself on the ground, regardless - either on or short of the runway. It bounces, or flips over, or just pancakes into the ground. The fuselage cracks, or splits, or peels open, or horribly catches fire. There is an evacuation. It's all very stressful at minimum, and an unmitigated tragedy at worst.

You scroll down to the comments for some reason. "Average Ryanair landing," says one near the top.

Ryanair (not to be confused with Ryan Air, a real but unrelated airline) is Europe's largest air carrier. It has over 550 airplanes and serves over 200 destinations. It is difficult to imagine an airline with a worse reputation - their CEO is a literal troll, their customer service is legendarily poor, and their ultra-low-cost model is one in which you inevitably get what you pay for. They are memetically despised, and their rough landings are the stuff of legend.

And yet their livery is understated, with a certain head-held-high gravitas. It is difficult to describe the legitimate cognitive dissonance which arises from Ryanair's aerosartorial choices, an effect that seems to touch more people than just me. On another airline, I wouldn't find this livery particularly thought-provoking. Enough substance to write a post about, but not something which lurks in my mind and draws my attention. But on Ryanair, it's downright fascinating.

I've said what I've said, but I'm actually a defender of Ryanair. Look, it's like getting a ticket on a bus or the metro. It's cheap (at least in theory - they seem to be getting pricier lately) and it gets you where you need to go and it's probably not going to be that long of a flight anyway so, I mean, whatever. I've flown some pretty long flights before in-flight entertainment was standard, Ryanair is fine. I never even noticed the hard landings until I saw people talking about them, and to be perfectly honest I didn't notice them afterward either. Maybe I'm just not bothered by hard landings, the same way I'm not bothered by turbulence. Who really knows? My point is that I'm something of a Ryanair apologist. I live in the US, where you just don't get dirt cheap flights like that and getting anywhere outside of your home metropolitan area by train (and even sometimes bus) costs even more than flying. Ryanair could make me board the plane by abseiling up it myself to save money on airstairs and I'd be fine with it if the price was right. I'm not a millionaire. I haven't got the money to go jetsetting around Europe on a real airline. So I mean this when I say it: thank goodness for Ryanair.

I mean, I'm not saying this because Ryanair is good, don't get me wrong. They are the Big Bill Hell's of airlines. They are the closest thing we have to John Mulaney's version of Delta. Ryanair is not just no-frills, it's hot-glued fabric scraps in the vague shape of a garment. They are legitimately comical in their commitment to service so Kafkaesquely bad that you almost wish you'd travelled by trebuchet instead! And all this for the low, low price of...well, I mean, they do get pretty low.

When I released my first questionnaire I added a question about Ryanair specifically because of its reputation and my own feelings about the airline. Multiple people did agree with me - well, it's definitely not comfortable at all, you won't enjoy yourself, but it's so obscenely cheap that this isn't really objectionable. You are getting exactly what you pay for. And, well, if you do want some semblance of the full-service experience you can pay an extra fee. Or a lot of extra fees. That's how they get you. The ULCC model relies on stripping out everything possible and then charging you extra for it. That does mean that if you need things like printed boarding passes or the ability to pay by credit card that come standard with literally any other airline you could end up paying a decent amount for your miserable cramped flight, but if you truly want the bare minimum they will charge you appropriately, and that is so important to me, because I have too little money to insist on being comfortable.

I do feel...particularly sorry for one respondent.

It isn't bad press they are legitimately a nightmare. A attendant once lied to me and told me that type of plane just didn't have toilets (it did. There was a working toilet on board) then proceeded to lecture me about 'not planning ahead and going in the airport'

This is kind of hilarious in a sad way and I'm very sorry that this happened to you. Ryanair is infamous for its bad customer service but it's rare you'll hear about cabin crew behaving this poorly at any airline. While this particular incident was a one-off, you probably will have a pretty miserable time if you need to call the airline about literally anything.

One person just answered 'bitches'.

Well, that answers the question "what is Ryanair", but why is Ryanair?

The world is full of low-cost carriers. Wizz Air, EasyJet, airasia, Allegiant, Jetstar, FlySafair, Volaris, T'Way, Azul, Nok Air, Frontier, Lion Air, jetBlue, and SpiceJet are just some of the dozens which fill the skies. They are often colourful, frequently grumbled about, and essential.

Low-cost carriers, and especially ULCCs, are a relatively recent phenomenon. They only sprung into being after aviation stopped being by necessity a luxury product. It's generally agreed that PSA (Pacific Southwest Airlines), an intrastate carrier from California colloquially known as the Poor Sailor's Airline, was the first low-cost carrier. While the large interstate carriers of the time had a sort of detached gravitas to both their services and their prices, and were often prevented from lowering said prices anyway due to federal taxes that didn't apply to intrastate carriers like PSA, a ticket on "The World's Friendliest Airline" was cheap and the service was casual and personable. The low-cost model is built on being an option for a normal person. If you don't have the money to fly TWA, you can fly on an airline which is made for normal people and charges you accordingly.

The model didn't really catch on immediately, though. I couldn't exactly say why - it might have to do with the lack of demand for air travel that wasn't either commuter flights or long-haul. There was some activity in the market, with Loftleiðir (a precursor to Icelandair) offering cheap-as-dirt transatlantic flights in the 60s and Laker Airways having a three-year tenure in the late 70s serving a similar market from a Western European base. Even today the long-haul low-cost market they served is notoriously difficult to make anything work in.

What is generally thought to be the next major player in low-cost airlines, Southwest, emerged in 1971. David Neeleman further refined the model, first with innovations in cost-cutting at Morris Air and later by raising the bar for customer experience at jetBlue. David Neeleman, though, was active right at the turn of the millennium. Low-cost carriers only really began to emerge in real numbers in the 80s and 90s, with examples that are long-gone, like the infamous ValuJet, existing alongside ones US residents have probably seen at their local airport, like Spirit.

Spirit is different from jetBlue and Southwest. Spirit Airlines is not just a low-cost carrier but an ultra low-cost carrier. As the name suggests, the difference is one of scale. A low-cost carrier provides less comprehensive and less ritzy service than a full-service airline, but they do so in the tradition of PSA, trying to provide a comfortable experience that makes people want to choose their airline. The ULCC model, on the other hand, guts out literally every possible feature and then dangles it in front of you on a string, telling you to pay extra if you want it. These airlines do not provide a good experience. There will be no baggage allowances, no extra legroom, and no priority boarding. The base fare, however, is almost absurdly low relative to even low-cost carriers, and as air travel becomes a fact of life more and more the humble ULCC becomes a necessary part of the ecosystem as the only way many people can afford to travel.

Ryanair is technically 38 years old, but it's only been a low-cost carrier since 1990. This pivot is the brainchild of then-CFO, now CEO (and ouster of the eponymous Ryan) Michael O'Leary, one of the wealthiest and most unpleasant men in Ireland.

image: Associated Press Yes, this is actually a real image of the CEO of Ryanair. I imagine this may clear up a thing or two.

Why is Ryanair? Because Michael O'Leary, is the simple answer. Michael O'Leary is - and there is genuinely no better way to describe the man - a troll. If you take David Neeleman's image during his tenure at jetBlue, a sweet everyman trying to improve the experience by sitting in on flights and giving up his salary to employee medical funds, Michael O'Leary is the literal exact opposite of him on every point. A self-described "gobshite" and "obnoxious little bollocks" who has admitted to "not liking" aeroplanes, Michael O'Leary is a cruel, selfish, belligerent, publicity-seeking freakazoid on a mission to piss off everyone in Europe which has so far been largely successful.

I don't want anything I say about the man to come off as positive. Michael O'Leary is a wealthy ghoul (and, yes, he was born wealthy, no rags in his tale) who publicly berates, mistreats, and underpays his staff. He has expressed prejudice against racial and religious minorities, fat and disabled passengers, women, and just about anyone who expects to be treated with some measure of dignity. He has committed legitimate crimes, like impersonating journalists. He denies climate change and has accumulated his massive wealth by abusing the pilots and cabin crew who keep Ryanair adequate. In 2010 Ryanair was named one of the least ethical companies in the world. The fact that he is so absurd as to be hilarious isn't an endorsement or a defense of him.

That said, here is a short, curated list of Michael O'Leary's, and Ryanair's broadly (as their public image is really an extension of his and vice versa) most Ryanair shenanigans:

O'Leary installed a taxicab license plate on his luxury car and driving it in the bus lane to avoid traffic.

Advertisements have taken open and somewhat sneering shots at other major European airlines, like Lufthansa ('bye by Late-hansa'), British Airways ('expensive BAstards'), and the now-defunct Sabena (using a reference to the famous Manneken Pis statue). These have not been simple comparisons but outright name-calling.

One time they advertised sales to 'sunny' vacation destinations, like Norway.

Generally, their advertisements push so many boundaries that they were once found to have committed seven violations of advertising law in just two years, and I'm shocked they didn't begin an ad campaign centring around this dubious achievement.

They frequently misbrand airports way outside of major cities as being in that major city, with the most insane example being "Vienna Bratislava" - yes, Bratislava, the one in Slovakia.

Pilots are forced to pay for simulator checks while cabin crew are forced to pay for uniforms and training. Employees are even forbidden from charging their phones from office sockets, apparently.

Sometimes passengers are forced to carry their own luggage to the planes! Not carryons, luggage.

O'Leary, in a bold move, outright denied that the 2010 eruption of Eyjafjallajökull had created a massive cloud of volcanic ash hazardous to airplanes (it very obviously had).

He also said he would like for there to be a recession, since it would let Ryanair keep costs low. He said this in 2008.

One time he said travel agents ("fuckers") should be shot .

O'Leary claimed that Ryanair would begin offering business class, featuring "beds and blowjobs". I'm personally not sure I would want a Ryanair blowjob. That sounds really horrible.

Also, bold coming from an airline with no seatback pockets.

Apparently they tried to get planes delivered with no window shades (though they weren't able to because of regulations).

They've floated the idea of standing seats. I don't believe this will or indeed could ever happen but it definitely is truly dystopian.

Ryanair keeps trying to buy Aer Lingus. They keep failing, and they keep trying. Obviously, everyone in Ireland has a vested interest in making sure this does not happen.

Fundamentally, Ryanair doesn't care. They can and will essentially throw tantrums to get airports to charge them lower operating fees and if they can't get an airport to do this they just won't operate there. It's like negotiating with a seven-year-old. Except that seven-year-old is Europe's largest airline.

They wanted to buy the C919. This isn't, like, a bad thing, it's just really strange for a hardcore Boeing loyalist airline and I can't imagine how it would save them money.

image: Robot8A This is the interior of a Ryanair plane. Note the safety cards attached to the seatbacks due to the lack of pockets, plus additional adverts on the seatbacks and overhead bins like this is a sports match in a massive stadium. It's also just quite ugly.

Fundamentally, Ryanair is just perpetually doing Ryanair things. Why is Ryanair? Because Ryanair is one giant publicity stunt. A couple of people answered my question by referencing the CEO saying he'd like to charge people to use the toilet, and that's sort of true in the sense that he's said he'd like to do this, but he's always been pretty clear that it's a publicity stunt:

Short of committing murder, negative publicity sells more seats than positive publicity.

Like, it's a bit. He's doing a bit. He's 100% in on the joke. For every one of the more particularly insane claims, like charging to use the toilets, he's outright denied it. Even some claims that are pretty borderline are ones he's contradicted at other points. He's a legitimate bigot who's created one of the most nightmarish work environments out there and just wants to suck money out of people by any means necessary, and he's indefensible, but that's not really what people talk about when they talk about Ryanair. They talk about charging for toilets.

Charging for toilets continues to be the number one story that resurfaces in the press and it’s the gift that keeps on giving. We’ve never done it, but it keeps coming up on social networks every three or four months, the media picks up on it and then someone writes a story on it.

Which I think is misplaced effort when he's also, for instance, a climate change denier who forces disabled passengers to pay for wheelchairs. And I don't believe for a second his climate change denial is based on legitimate convictions - he just doesn't want to have to spend more money. He would absolutely knowingly feed the world into an incinerator if it lowered costs.

Anyway, here is a picture of him having his face violently introduced to a pie.

image: Olivier Hoslet

All of this said, there's no such thing as an ethical airline - he's just playing it up to the extreme for essentially business clickbait.

I feel like the best example of Ryanair's general...Ryanairness is their Twitter account, which I have a sneaking suspicion Michael O'Leary runs himself to save money. It's mostly composed of firing back at complaining customers, Formula 1 opinions, and jabs at everyone from Boris Johnson to the British Museum. (Heartbreaking: the worst person you know just made a great point.) Their description, 'we sell seats, not windows', references the frequent complaints about seat 11A, which does not have a window. (To be fair, their website does warn you about this.) Their weird window situation actually generated my all-time favourite Ryanair tweet.

Here are some other winners.

No, seriously, I think Michael O'Leary might be writing these. I also really don't know how to feel about the fact that it appears someone at the airline - potentially O'Leary himself - has made an edit of a yassified Ryanair plane.

But at the end of the day, it's Ryanair. O'Leary himself has described aeroplanes as "a bus with wings on". As one individual tweeted,

THANK YOU to [Ryanair], for letting me see Europe for Feck All

and that's why I do think I genuinely have primarily positive feelings about Ryanair as a product rather than a company - you truly do see Europe for Feck All. (O'Leary has claimed both that he would introduce $10 transatlantic tickets to the US, and that he would make tickets literally free and make all profits from ancillary fees - while neither has yet happened, it takes one hell of an airline to claim that it's on the table.)

Ryanair isn't affordable, it's dime store. It's an airline you bought from Wish.com. It's the free pen you stole from a cup of identical pens at the bank which stops working within days. You're not just in steerage, you're on a tramp steamer. You get exactly the misery you pay for, and you go from one place to a different place.

And it's worth noting that Ryanair has at least one positive feature - safety.

When I ran my first questionnaire I asked respondents what type of airline they thought was most dangerous. Other than what's shown there was also an option for mainline full service carriers; unsurprisingly, nobody chose this. There were 50 respondents but 5 declined to answer this particular question, so the sample size isn't really significant enough to draw any conclusions from, but it's what I have. (I kind of wish I could stop to re-run this with my current follower count, but this post is actually a request. No, not for my wonderful beloved followers - for my dentist. Not joking. Thank you for making my teeth not have holes in them.)

20% of respondents indicated that low-cost or ultra-low-cost airlines probably had the worst safety records and practices. It's completely understandable why someone would think this, but without going into the actual statistics of plane crashes this simply isn't true, and in fact they're the safest category on here. While it obviously depends on the specific airline, low-cost carriers as a category are no less safe than mainline carriers. This is despite the fact that they tend to fly shorter flights and thus they operate more takeoffs and landings, which are the points in a flight where the majority of crashes occur.

How does that make sense? Well, part of it is that the airline industry has gotten very close to eliminating accidental crashes via innovations in technology and an incredible safety culture built on years of hard lessons. The world has paid in blood for crew resource management and GPWS, but it has paid, and now the sorts of crashes that would have been unremarkable just 20 years ago are completely unthinkable. Actually, in the 2010s it's quite possible more people were killed by planes brought down deliberately than accidents. But beyond that, the costs low-cost airlines cut tend to be ones that aren't safety-critical. They tend to operate shiny new fleets (better fuel efficiency, purchased in bulk) with large maintenance teams (shorter turnaround and less planes grounded for long periods of time) at less congested airports (lower operating fees) and indeed when I think about famous accidents that involve massive cutting of corners it's nearly always full-service airlines, save for egregious examples of low-cost industry pariahs out of business within a few years. Focusing on eliminating operating costs by making the passenger experience cramped and miserable allows for pouring all your budget into running a smooth and well-oiled operation.

The axiom "if you think safety is expensive, try a crash" is often attributed to EasyJet founder Stelios Haji-Ioannou. And it's true. Beyond the cost of writing off a plane, of financial compensation to survivors and families, of lawyers and PR, of having to update your operation to make sure it never happens again...as O'Leary himself said, all press is good press...short of murder. A heinous, clearly negligent crash, on the other hand, can kill an airline as easily as it can kill people. It has done in the past and that threat will never stop being there. Airlines go out of business all the time for any number of mundane financial reasons. In many cases margins simply do not allow for something like a crash. Crashes have even ended the lives of deeply historic, beloved, well-established nationalized flag carriers, so this particular sword of Damocles could cut Ryanair's control cables just as easily. And they've managed to avoid this fate, with zero passenger fatalities and only one written-off airplane - the 2008 crash of flight 4102, caused by a birdstrike during landing.

And I'll be honest, "miserable and safe but a tenth the price of a train ticket from Boston to New York" (I am unfortunately not exaggerating) is a pretty appealing package to my non-millionaire self.

...so why do their planes look like this? I'm dead serious, it vexes me. I don't know what to make of this. Hey, did you remember I'm an airline livery review blog? Look, I can't help myself. Low-cost carriers as a topic, and how they're viewed, is probably the most interesting facet of the aviation industry to me. I feel like if I had infinite time and resources I might genuinely sit down, hit the databases and archives, run a few studies, and write a book about it - it's fascinating, and low-cost carriers are something that only economists and businesspeople seem to want to talk about. I think it's about time someone approached them through a lens of history and social psychology. There's not really academic value to what I do here, on Runway Runway, my tumblr blog where I call Lufthansa planes ugly, but if something doesn't exist I will create it even if my sample size is 50.

So how about how they're literally viewed - like, what their planes look like? Well, here are some low cost carriers I've reviewed. Notice something? They're bright and eye-catching. They don't take themselves too seriously. They're fun. The original low-cost carrier literally painted big smiles on their bright pink and orange planes.

Okay, yes, they don't all look like this. WestJet and IndiGo, for example, are fairly normal-looking. And there are full-service carriers like TAP Air Portugal (and condor. Absolutely condor.) that I would say have a pretty low-costy look to them. There is nothing wrong with that. Low-cost liveries are frequently colourful and exciting, with much more thought put into distinctiveness and charm instead of a passionless appeal to dignity. Indeed a lot of my most highly esteemed liveries, including all the ones pictured above, are low-cost airlines. GOL, for example, is a snappy, eye-catchy design in bright colours that's clearly not meant to look expensive. The same goes for Breeze Airways. There's even more examples out there I've yet to touch on, like EasyJet; ValuJet; Scoot; Spirit Airlines; Frontier Airlines; PLAY (and the late WOW air); Volotea; airasia, so on - to be dignified or clean is not the goal here. Even the names of low-cost carriers frequently are very hastily stapled together and generic, like EasyJet or Super Air Jet or Wings Air; JetSmart; SkyUp; Smartwings; FastJet; Sky Airline (just one!); MYAirlines; the classic ValuJet; flyadeal; and the legendary jet2.com, making no attempt at all to seem as if they have a legacy to fall back on. And there's even more out-there specimens, like Mango or even Nok Air. Many of them have specific themes, like Batik Air, Tigerair, or Buzz, which isn't something you see on full-service carriers, which brand themselves on national identity and the promise of luxury and good service - which is boring. Low-cost airlines, if they want to succeed, have to do something to make people remember they exist.

This is the fundamental shape taken by the low-cost product, which operates with few laurels to rest on and a mission of getting people to remember their website at any cost. Much like a can of Arizona iced "tea" guaranteed to cost ninety-nine cents, literally cheaper than a bottle of water, the package it comes in makes no attempt to look classy. And I am a heavy tea drinker who considers myself fairly discerning, whose favourite type of tea is gyokuro yamashiro (which is absurdly expensive), but you literally can't beat Arizona! It's potable and it's ninety-nine cents and it sort of resembles tea if you don't think too much about it and Massachusetts summers are surprisingly hot and the can is pretty and colourful. Sure, I'd rather have Ito En, but that costs normal money and Arizona costs 99 cents, and sometimes that's all I really have, and it gets the job done even if my teeth aren't enjoying the experience. A Wizz Air plane is a can of Arizona iced tea. It is ninety-nine cents and potable.

This isn't Arizona, this is a box of Darjeeling from Harrods. Ryanair outfits their fleet in handsome navy blue and gold. Their logo, an outline of a woman with harp-like wings taking flight, is simple yet elegant, and that feels so very wrong. I actually asked in my questionnaire what the colours of the Ryanair livery were, because I had seen people expressing casually that they weren't sure they could recognize so much as a Ryanair logo, and the results aren't worth showing in a chart because they're basically as good as random. I do want to specifically appreciate the person who answered "I don't remember but it must be whatever the cheapest colour of airplane paint is", though.

But the truth is that they have such a rich palette, and I do mean that in the sense of 'wealthy'. A deep royal blue paired with a saturated gold used as a sparing trim, these are the colours of an overstuffed plush armchair, not a budget airline. Aside from the name on the winglets and the giant billboard wordmark there is nothing, and I mean nothing, that is typical for a low-cost airline. This is not garish advertising, this is stately.

The layout itself is what I call "Deltalike". Delta certainly did not invent this style of livery but they are the carrier I associate most with it, likely due to the fact that I live right by one of their hubs. The Deltalike is a white plane with a painted tail unconnected to the main fuselage body, painted winglets, painted engines, and a painted underbelly large enough still be visible when viewed directly from the side. While a 'true' Deltalike uses a consistent palette for the engines, tail, and underbelly, there is significant variation. The detached tail is, in my opinion, the harbinger of the Deltalike, and I call liveries with an incomplete presentation of Deltalike features Deltalites.

This scheme is not as common as the Lufthansa Line variants but it is still very common, with its popularity probably peaking in the 2010s. Some examples of the true Deltalike include Air Canada, 2006 Icelandair, Azul, the old GOL livery, and jetBlue. Some colour-varied Deltalikes are the old Flair livery, the SAS red engine livery, and British Airways. An example Deltalite is the old Croatia Airlines scheme, which has a painted tail and belly and engines that are sort of painted. Sure, the engines are just grey and a bit of the tail extends onto the body, but it's got the colour concentrated in the right place and it has the painted belly, it's a Deltalite. A lot of liveries have painted engines and detached tails but no painted bellies, and I do consider these to be on the far end of the Deltalike spectrum, but they aren't what I mean when I refer to a Deltalike. They're what brown dwarves are to actual stars - related but not really the same.

Ryanair is a true Deltalike, but I would even call it an elevated Deltalike. The gold trim, like the cord adorning the hems a of a thick brocade smoking jacket, has an effortlessly shallow curve as it trims the rich blue underbelly, larger than that of a typical Deltalike and with a very deliberate shape to it which at the rearmost point covers half the fuselage by height but fades away to a sort of goatee at the front. This is not a plane which sat in a puddle of blue but an intentional cloak impeccably positioned, visible not just from the side but from the front. The engines, instead of being plain or just one colour with a website printed on, large and garish, are the same white and blue with yellow trim, the last traces of the setting sun melting into a glassy deep blue ocean below a stark white sky with which it inexplicably coexists. Sure, the detached tail still looks bad, it always does, but you can ignore it at most angles.

From below the dark blue creates that distinct cetacean effect, a certain brightness-inverted countershading effect, similar to what you see on airlines like KLM and other blue-side-up liveries. The underside doesn't have a huge, legible logo, visible even from the ground on final approach. One of the defining features of the low-cost livery, in my mind, is a large, prominent website. It's tacky and a little pointless (I mean, surely they can Google your airline's name if your wordmark is large enough) but it is downright ubiquitous. Even full-service carriers frequently heavily feature their website, but it's nowhere on a Ryanair plane. That's so, so incredibly weird.

Just...think about it. Their entire identity is outrage marketing. They are the xQc of airlines - bigoted, constantly in the news, and obnoxious. And nobody remembers what their livery looks like because it doesn't look obnoxious. This is like if MrBeast's thumbnails were lovingly curated aesthetically pleasing shots of scenery that could pass for screenshots from an actual film. It's not tacky and cheap and it's not generic and cheap, it's elegant and cheap. And of all airlines to look like this...Ryanair? Seriously? Ryanair?

image: Associated Press

The CEO.

The airplanes.

Do you see what I mean? Do you see why I find this deeply strange? This is not a clickbait plane. This plane is downright unclickable. It has never been clicked. I bet if I covered the name up and showed it to people (again, I wish I'd had the time to do this) I could fool people into thinking this is like United. Hell, I've learned from my other survey that the average person clearly knows less about liveries than I, the Joker of liveries, do, and can't identify basically any from memory. I could probably fool at least one or two people into thinking this is Singapore Airlines. I may try this on a few co-workers and then get back to you.

How did we get here? I have no clue. While Ryanair did start out as a charter carrier rather than a low-cost airline, and they always had blue and yellow as their colours, their very early liveries were just white planes with wordmarks.

This livery seems to have appeared very early in the history of low-cost Ryanair. Unfortunately, I can't date it precisely - the only thing I can say is that the earliest photograph I could find in this livery was from 1994. Based on the fact that their planes were photographed in different liveries right up to then, including this very brief TAM-like BAC 1-11 livery, I think 1994 is most likely the point they committed to it.

Oh, Adam Rowden, what a different world you lived in.

Even for 1994 this is a pretty conservative livery. Sure, this was before the real boom of bright and venomous flying billboards, but it's still strange. And Ryanair is no stranger to literal flying billboards in the form of logojets for such companies as Vodafone and Hertz, often sort of hideous ones, though I imagine these days nobody would ever want to associate with them like that.

And they never changed it, except that they did - to the modern, softer curve. This I can pinpoint with much more accuracy. It was changed in mid-2003 as new aircraft were delivered, while the older livery was phased out together with the secondhand airframes which wore it. I do not understand this at all. If any airline were to just make the decision to go full circus tent and be as garish as possible it should be Ryanair, right? Ryanair is a brand incapable of cowardly behavior. But they look far more sober than even the average modern flag carrier livery. I guess they don't think they need an eye-catching livery, but I just don't buy that as a full explanation. Imagine the news they'd make for introducing something truly heinous. I think their genuine best move would just be to put a huge picture of Michael O'Leary's face, blown up massively and poorly aligned with visible JPEG artefacts, all over their fuselages. All of Europe would be furious. So why? Why is this the situation?

So what's the verdict? This may be the hardest decision I've made so far. The options here range widely. I'll lay them out.

If I were rating this based on pure visual appeal, I would give it a B-. I am dead serious - this is a visually pleasing, well-balanced livery, simple yet elegant. The detached tail is my only major complaint. But I think Saudia's planes are quite pretty and I graded them low because I think they fail at representing their airline or having a distinct identity, so this cannot be my sole criterion.

I almost want to give them an F because of just how un-Ryanair they are, like how Copa's livery is literally not the Copa livery, but that feels wrong because that's still the Ryanair livery, it's not just a refusal to design a livery at all.

Do I marry these two into a tepid union destined for either divorce or a dramatic act of arson after a seeming eternity of languishing in mutual dysfunction in Tallahassee? I really don't want to do that, because attempting to balance these factors betrays the fact of their contradiction, the mental strain I've been afflicted with over this simple, pointless choice with zero consequences except maybe one of my followers disagreeing with me, which is fine. Unlike certain individuals I will not call you swear words and say you're an idiot.

The final option is maybe my least favourite of them all, because it's capitulation. It's admitting Ryanair is special, just the most annoying golf-ball-sized hailstone in the blizzard of absurd and comical frustrations which is the airline industry. But I just don't know what to make of this miserable little pest, this plague on the patience and knees of the traveling public.

Z. FUCK YOU IT'S RYANAIR.

It defies categories by being good, but being Ryanair. I hate that. I hate it, I hate their beastly little CEO, and I dislike that their planes are sleek, elegant, and could easily pass for an airline that doesn't instruct stewardesses to kick their passengers' shins as they walk down the aisles. If I am buying a ten-euro plane ticket I do not think the plane should look like this, teleologically speaking. At the end of the day I just have no better way to quantify my feelings.

Prick.

[gemsbian]

Series: Pokemon Horizons Characters: Amethio, Murdock, Friede, Mollie Minor: Roy, Orla, Ludlow, Zir, Conia Word count: 2.3k

Amethio and Corviknight get caught in a storm while looking for Rayquaza. Friede refuses to let the teenager become an air traffic casualty, Amethio has to address the issues that come with being a picky eater, and Murdock tries his very best to get this emotionally repressed teenager to tell him what he wants for lunch.

The storm is worse off near the water’s surface and he doesn’t feel comfortable having his crew come up to surface for him to land. It is much safer for them to stay in the calm waters below. Amethio is choosing to stay out of the worst of the storm by flying higher than usual. It wasn’t too bad up here, but he and Corviknight had been flying for the better part of an hour since they met the storm.

Strong gusts of wind were having more of an effect on their stability and he felt Corviknight was growing tired. Corviknight are hardy pokemon capable of carrying a lot of weight over long distances, but fighting against a storm was probably like treading water for an hour. He… wasn’t exactly doing good at the moment.

Amethio sighed when he spotted the Rising Volt Tackler’s airship come into view. He knew they were chasing down Rayquaza, too, so it’s not a huge surprise to see them here, but he really does not want to deal with this right now, or ever.

To start, he’d left early that morning before breakfast, because the rapid change in weather was indicative that there may be a legendary pokemon like Rayquaza around. He’d been hoping for a rematch, but as it turned out, today’s bad weather was just bad weather.

The storm is worse off near the water’s surface with crashing waves and he doesn’t feel comfortable having his crew come up to surface again for him to land. It is much safer for them to stay in the calm waters below. They weren’t particularly close to dry land, so Amethio was opting to stay out of the worst of the storm by flying higher than usual. It wasn’t too bad up here, but he and Corviknight had been flying for the better part of an hour since they met the storm.

Strong gusts of wind were having more of an effect on their stability and he felt Corviknight was growing tired. Corviknight are hardy pokemon capable of carrying a lot of weight over long distances, but fighting against a storm was probably like treading water for an hour. He… wasn’t exactly doing good at the moment.

Not to mention, he hadn’t eaten since dinner yesterday and given it’s close to around noon now, he’s also feeling a bit fatigued.

Turbulence hits them and Amethio tries his best to steer them through it. Corviknight ends up spinning and Amethio sends a silent thank-you to his flight teacher for showing up how to stay on his Corviknight in tough winds and sharp turns. 

The first thing she’d taught him was actually how to safety fall off of his Corviknight, then she taught him how to stay on his pokemon. He remembers being a bit salty about it during the lessons, but in hindsight, it’s important he was taught in that order.

A few of the tricks he learned for flying in harsh weather was controlled spinning and controlled falling. He has trust in his partner to keep him safe, and while they’re a bit rusty, he’s also had lessons on ways to remount his pokemon in mid-air should he fall off. After a few seconds of a spinning dive that has Amethio holding on with a death grip, they’re dropped enough height to be out of the worst of the turbulence. Corviknight spreads it’s wings again, preventing further descent. 

Maybe he should tell his crew to resurface so he can land. He’s not sure how much longer he and Corviknight can safely hold out, especially when the storm doesn’t seem to be stopping.

In the distance, he sees an orange blob approaching him. The wind makes it hard to hear, but as Friede gets closer, Amethio can distinctly hear him shout,

“Board the ship!”

He contemplates for a brief second, but another bout of turbulence has him spinning again. He quickly rights himself and follows Charizard.

It’s a bit odd to land on the ship’s battle pad without having to fight through the barrier. The moment the barrier seals itself behind them, Amethio breathes a sigh of relief. The loudest part of the storm quiets and his brain finally calms down enough to register everything the howling wind drowned out. Such as the fact that he’s soaking wet, cold, and way hungrier than he previously realized. 

“What exactly were you doing in the storm?” Friede asks him. Amethio strokes his Corviknight’s head to say “you did well” while considering how to answer.

“I-” he starts, but doesn’t really want to explain that he has rushed into the storm hoping to find Rayquaza, even though he can guess that’s the same reason the Rising Volt Tacklers are here. 

The Hogator boy runs onto the landing pad but stops short when he sees Amethio.

“What’s he doing here?” there’s unhidden malice in his voice, though coming from a ten year old, Amethio isn’t exactly intimidated.

“I second that question” another voice chimes in, and he’s pretty sure the woman speaking is the ship’s mechanic. A pink haired lady is walking with them. Without saying a word, she tosses towels to both him and Friede, shooting a glare to Friede as she does so.

“Thank you” he says with a slight bow. His goal is currently Rayquaza and not the girl or Terapagos… but he most certainly does not want to test their hospitality when the alternative is flying back into the storm and making his own crew resurface.

“Calm down, calm down-” Friede says, waving his hands in a placating manner, “Amethio is only staying on board until the storm passes”

Amethio doesn’t try to defend himself. He just leans against his Corviknight, half burying his cheek in her neck feathers while trying to determine which of the crew members is going to be the most hostile to him. He feels that the pink-haired woman is probably the most strict person here. He’ll watch out for her.

“Does that mean you didn’t find Rayquaza?” Hogator-boy asks, disappointment evident in his tone.

“There’s always next time” Friede comforts, gently shooing the boy away to turn and face Amethio.

“As for you, your partner is tired, yeah?” Amethio nods, “It can rest in the infirmary with Mollie. That way it’ll be in full health when the storm ends”

“Thank you” Amethio says quietly. He’s grateful both for the help… and that Friede isn’t pestering him with questions. He knows how annoying the man can be. He recalls his Corviknight.

Friede not-so-subtly sticks right behind Amethio as he guides him to the infirmary, likely making sure he doesn’t run off on the ship. Truthfully, he’s a bit tired to be running anywhere at the moment. He hands over Corviknight’s pokeball to the pink-haired woman from before. She must be Mollie.

He’s hesitant to entrust his partner to a stranger, but he has faith in pokemon nurses to always put the health of their patients above all else.

“Amethio can stay in the infirmary with me” Mollie says to Friede.

“Are you sure?” Friede eyes him, and Amethio looks the other way.

“Yeah, I get the feeling he’s not exactly much of a threat at the moment” Amethio wants to feel insulted by that, he should be, but it’s true. He’s tired, he’s hungry, and he’s disappointed about the notable lack of Rayquaza in the storm.

“You fine with that?” Friede asks him, and Amethio nods. He steps into the room and lets Friede close the door behind them. Now it’s just him and Mollie in the room. And her Chansey.

“You can have a seat on the bed or one of the chairs over there” Mollie tells him. He doesn’t want to get the bed wet, so he opts for one of the rolling chairs. She takes the now-wet towel from him, and hands him a couple more dry ones.

He rolls himself against a wall, draping one towel over his shoulder while dabbing himself dry with the other one. He’s distantly aware of Mollie taking out Corviknight and tending to her. He shoots Zir and Conia a text update so they don’t worry about him still being in the storm.

___

About twenty minutes pass before the door opens again.

“Lunch is ready!” a man says, and Amethio has seen him before but doesn’t recognize him.

“Thanks Murdock” Mollie replies, then turns to him, “Come on” he stands up and follows her. He is hungry, but his stomach twists uncomfortably as he walks down the hallway.

He’s not a fan of eating in front of other people… and on top of that, he’s a picky eater. Zir and Conia know what he likes and how to accommodate him, but eating strange food in a strange place surrounded by strange people sounds like a living nightmare. He tries to comfort himself that maybe they’ll have something simple he wouldn’t mind eating.

There’s no way in hell Amethio is asking for them to go out of their way to make something he can eat. They’re being kind enough by tolerating his presence during the storm. Not to mention, he doesn’t like being a burden. It’s bad enough that he can’t eat normally, the last thing he wants to do is make that a problem for other people.

The moment they step in the dining area, Amethio discreetly switches from breathing through his nose to inhaling through his mouth to make the smell more tolerable. The scent of spices is strong in here, and it makes his stomach churn. There’s no way he’s eating.

He looks at the table, there’s a variety of different types of rice with different seasonings and toppings. Amethio likes rice, but he likes plain rice. He can’t stomach the spices and flavors before him. 

He’s always found it to be some cruel twist of fate that so many foods are inedible to him not because they’re too simple and bland, but because someone took a good thing and ruined it by adding more. Adding more to a food should make it better, yet this trend has been the bane of his existence since he was old enough to remember.

“You don’t want to sit down and eat?” The man, Murdock, asks. Amethio tries not to fidget with the attention on him.

“Sorry, I don’t really have an appetite right now” he says quietly. It’s a lie. He’s feeling a bit ill because of all the strong smells in here, but Amethio is very, very hungry. Though, he wouldn’t have had an easy time eating in front of others anyway, so maybe this is for the best.

“That’s too bad, why don’t you join Ludlow on the deck while we eat?” the mechanic woman asks, though it’s not a question. Amethio can respect them wanting him to be supervised, so he wordlessly follows her up to the aforementioned deck.

Luckily, the old man, Ludlow, isn’t exactly chatty so Amethio drapes himself against the seats in the same deck he once confronted Liko in, and watches the storm outside. He finds himself grateful to be indoors as he listens to the wind.

A few minutes later, or maybe it’s been longer than that, the elevator dings and Friede steps in with a plate of food. He walks over and sets it on the seat next to Amethio.

“I didn’t know if there were too many people for you to eat, so here you go” Friede explains, not waiting for a response before he steps back into the elevator.

Amethio looks at the plate next to him. He appreciates the sentiment, he really does, but the smell is too strong for him so he moves to the seats on the other side of the deck so he doesn’t gag. Ludlow isn’t really paying him any mind, which Amethio is thankful for. He slides against the wall and pulls his knees up to his chest, hugging them close to his body.

He always gets too emotional about things when he’s hungry but it’s just… not fair. That everyone else can eat normally and not have to worry about restaurants or dinner at friends’ houses having something he can eat. It’s exhausting. He wishes he weren’t so picky about this, even though he knows eating the food Friede brought him will make him sick. Why can’t he just be normal? 

He closes his eyes for a few minutes, and must have dozed off a bit because the next thing he knows a gentle hand is nudging his knee.

“Amethio, right?” Murdock asks him. He looks up. It’s still storming outside, he doubts he’s been out more than 15 minutes.

“Are you sure you’re not hungry? You seem a bit … sad” he asks, looking at him with kind eyes that make Amethio wish he’d be rude to him instead.

“I’m’sure” Amethio mumbles into his pantleg, refusing to look at Murdock. He knows it’s immature, but it’s hard to act like an adult when he’s hungry and has to face the reason he’s hungry head on. He doesn’t want his enemies to know anything about him, not his age, not his interests, and certainly not his stupid dietary restrictions which don’t even make sense.

“Really? Because if there’s anything you want to eat, I don’t mind making it. I’m a talented chef, you know” Murdock beams, choosing not to be put off by Amethio’s childish behavior. He stares up at Murdock, his face still mostly covered by his knees.

“Anything?” Amethio asks softly, hesitance in his voice.

“Anything.” Murdock replies, still kneeling in front of him. Amethio decides to stare intently at the floorboard next to him.

“Could you … “ he trails off slightly, uncomfortable with asking for help, “make rice? just plain rice.” he asks, still refusing to look at the man in front of him.

There’s a slight pause, which Amethio guesses is him processing the request.

“Of course!” Murdock says cheerily, opting to give Amethio a parting pat to the knee as he makes his way back down to the kitchen.

Less than ten minutes later, Murdock is back with a bowl of plain rice on a tray with some utensils. Amethio takes it and thanks him, trying not to think too hard about the comforting shoulder pat Murdock gives him before letting him eat in peace.

When the storm finally calms down, Mollie is the one to bring him his Corviknight and escort him to the landing pad to leave.

With renewed strength, he and Corviknight take off into the sky, making a course to meet with Zir and Conia now that the water’s surface is calm.

[emma23]

Headcanon y/n in a plane for the first time: Oscar Isaac characters reaction:

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Heyyy, here a other headcanon I really enjoy making them so if u guys have any ideas just tell me in the comments ! Hope u like it 💕

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Steven Grant:

Steven would be absolutely delighted, even more excited than Y/N. He’d have planned the whole flight experience for her, complete with a carry-on filled with snacks, books, and a pillow. During the takeoff, he’d hold her hand, pointing out interesting facts about aviation to keep her distracted from any nerves. His endless enthusiasm would make it almost impossible not to feel at ease.

“Did you know that the wings can bend up to five meters? Isn’t that amazing?” he’d say, practically bouncing in his seat.

Marc Spector:

Marc would stay quiet, but observant. He’d notice every tiny shift in Y/N’s expression, ready to step in if she felt scared. He’d have an arm around her, making her feel secure, but wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. The only time he’d react outwardly is during turbulence, leaning in with a reassuring, “I got you. Don’t worry, nothing’s gonna happen.” He’d want to be the calm force by her side, even if he wasn’t the most vocal about it.

Jake Lockley:

Jake would be more laid-back but with a slight protective edge. He’d play it cool, joking about how Y/N should be worried if he were the one flying the plane. During takeoff, he’d grip her hand, not saying much, but she’d feel the strength in his hold. When the plane settled, he’d give her a playful nudge. “See? Piece of cake. You’re braver than you think.”

 Anselm Vogelweide:

Anselm would be all dramatic flair and adventure. He’d sit back, hands folded, pretending to be unimpressed, but Y/N would catch him sneaking glances to make sure she’s doing okay. If she got nervous, he’d chuckle and throw an arm around her. “Relax, it’s not like we’re hurtling through the sky in a metal tube… oh wait.” He’d laugh, giving her an exaggerated wink to lighten the mood.

Blue Jones:

Blue would downplay any potential fear. He’d casually keep an eye on Y/N, commenting here and there but acting as if the whole flying thing was no big deal. If she showed any nervousness, he’d smirk and lean in close, saying, “Come on, you’re tougher than this. Think of it as just another ride.” His approach would be to distract her with light teasing, keeping his own protective edge on the down-low.

Poe Dameron:

Poe would be in his element, thrilled to guide her through it. He’d pepper her with stories of his own flying adventures, his enthusiasm contagious. When the ship started to take off, he’d squeeze her hand, grinning as if they were embarking on a personal mission. “Just think, Y/N—nothing beats the feeling of being up here. You’re gonna love it.” By the end, she’d feel like she was ready to pilot the ship herself, thanks to his confidence.

Santiago Garcia:

Santiago would be both protective and laid-back. He’d quietly make sure she’s comfortable, buckling her in with a little smirk. “You good?” he’d ask, offering a calm look. During the flight, he’d stay alert, keeping an arm around her, but he’d keep his cool, only saying something when absolutely necessary. If turbulence hit, he’d hold her hand firmly, murmuring, “Relax, I got you.” The reassurance would be in his calm, steady presence.

Nathan Bateman:

Nathan would be a mix of intrigue and subtle humor. He’d notice every little detail about her reaction, maybe throwing in a sarcastic comment here and there. “Scared? Really? It’s just a plane,” he’d say, smirking as she clung to her seat. If she got particularly nervous, he’d sigh, taking her hand reluctantly and muttering, “This isn’t my thing either, alright?” But he’d keep a subtle hand on her shoulder, making sure she felt safe in his own slightly detached way.

Jonathan Levy:

Jonathan would be attentive and gentle. He’d sense her nerves and quietly reassure her, keeping his voice calm and soft. “Hey, if this is too much, we can take it one step at a time,” he’d say, resting a hand over hers. During the flight, he’d keep talking, keeping her grounded with stories or comforting anecdotes. Every so often, he’d glance over to make sure she’s okay, his calm presence making her feel completely at ease.

Llewyn Davis:

Llewyn would play it cool with a touch of sarcasm. If she showed any sign of nerves, he’d tease her a little, giving her a sideways glance. “Didn’t know you’d be scared of a little flying.” But when it came time for takeoff, he’d subtly hold her hand without a word, staying close to make sure she knew he was there. After a while, he’d grumble, “I can play a song to take your mind off it… but don’t ask for any happy ones.”

[drvirgus]

The life you dreamed of

(Series)

Description: Y/n a K-pop Idol of the 5-Member Group Moonlight. But what happens when she falls in Love? How exactly is her life as an Idol and why did she become one?

Idol! Yeji X Idol! Reader

Warnings: Mention of Bullying and Suicide, curse words

Chapter 12:

Masterlist

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Smiling, I looked at the crowd as I, like the others, bowed before them and gripped my microphone a bit tighter. My eyes were sparkling with excitement. This was the first concert of our World Tour, starting in Seoul. After the concert, we would immediately head to the airport to fly to Thailand.

"Thank you, Sunny. We'll see you again in Korea soon. Moonlight loves you," Haewon said with a smile as we all bowed once more. Each of them held our light stick with a shade of green. Our green was a bit darker and not particularly neon, but it was beautiful. Fortunately, we got to choose the color, and green was my favorite.

The crowd cheered, and I could hear people calling Yunjin's, Hanni's, and Yuna's names. We slowly bid farewell to the Sunnys and left the stage. In our dressing room, I sighed and sat down. Hanni and Yuna were quite excited.

Yunjin sat down next to me. "You were all amazing... But we need to hurry since our flight is soon," Haewon said, looking at each of us. I chuckled and got up with a sigh. I put my hand on Yunjin's thigh to support myself.

I changed quickly into my usual outfit, as we were heading to the airport. I put on my jogging pants and a sweatshirt, just like always. I honestly didn't put much effort into it. There were already a few articles about me having one of the worst airport outfits.

"Y/n," I heard as I looked up from my phone. I was naturally one of the fastest and had started staring at my phone while waiting for the others. Now, Yuna was calling me from the door. I stood up and walked over to her.

My eyes widened when I noticed who was there. Yeji smiled slightly when she noticed me. Yuna continued into the dressing room and started changing. I closed the door behind me as I left the room. My eyes were on Yeji, and I started laughing in shock. "You were here?" I asked, and the older one nodded.

Smiling, I playfully tapped my foot against the wall. "You were amazing," Yeji said, making me almost choke on my tongue. I smiled broadly as I looked at her. "Thank you. I try to give my all at every concert," I replied, which made Yeji chuckle.

Both of us fell into a pleasant silence. We just smiled at each other.

"Y/n, we need to go," Haewon said as she briefly touched my back. I nodded immediately and watched them walk away to give Yeji and me some privacy. I smiled again at Yeji and started blushing shyly. "I have to go now," I said softly.

Yeji licked her lips and nodded. She exhaled as her eyes roamed my face. "Take care of yourself," she said just as softly. I had to nod slightly. "Yes, I will," I replied, feeling a bit breathless.

Yeji smiled. "Okay. I'll wait for your message. Don't forget about me," she requested, causing me to blush even more. I swallowed and got more nervous. "Yes," I said, almost breathlessly.

Yeji smirked. "Okay, I'm waiting for your message. Don't forget me," she said, smiling slightly. Her hand rested on my head as she gently stroked it. My face lit up. "Don't forget me either," I said with a light laugh, which Yeji immediately echoed.

"I won't forget you. Never," she said, now sounding a bit more serious. My smile faded as I felt my face turn red. Nervously, I let out a nervous laugh and pushed her away slightly. Yeji smiled at my reaction.

"See you, Yeji."

"See you, Y/N."

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With a furrowed brow, I looked at Hanni, who had just come back from the restroom and unfortunately ended up on my lap due to the turbulence. I immediately wrapped my arms around her waist to stabilize her. "Are you okay?" I asked sleepily. Hanni looked at me with her mouth agape. "I'm sorry," she immediately said and tried to get up, her hand on my chest, which hurt a bit.

"Ouch!" I exclaimed, causing Hanni to stop immediately and land back on my legs. Yunjin, seated next to me, burst into laughter. I turned to her and said, "That's why I prefer the window seat," slightly annoyed, and Yunjin responded with a teasing tongue sticking out. I sighed and watched Hanni as she repeatedly tried to get up but slipped on the blanket I had with me, which covered me.

I chuckled, saying, "It seems like you're doing it on purpose." Hanni blushed and finally managed to stand up. I laughed as I watched her return to her seat. "Fasten your seatbelt," I called out to her, and she nodded. With a smile, I immediately settled back into a comfortable position, pulling the blanket up to my chin.

"We're about to land," I heard Yunjin say, so I reluctantly opened my eyes. She laughed at my expression and shrugged her shoulders. "What's wrong? Do you want to keep dreaming about Yeji?" She asked, trying to tease me. My mouth dropped open. "I... dreamt about her?" I asked in a hushed voice, my voice breaking a bit.

Yunjin burst into laughter and observed my red cheeks. "Wow, you're really smitten with her, huh?" She inquired, and I immediately tried to deny it. I had moved my seat a bit forward to sit up straighter. The blanket fell onto my lap as I turned off the music. Fortunately, I had it playing softly, so I could still hear everything around me.

I swallowed as it seemed that Yunjin didn't believe me at all. She nodded her head but clearly didn't buy my words. I sighed and adjusted myself, rolling my eyes. "You're a pain," I muttered, but Yunjin just laughed in response. I fastened my seatbelt again as we began to descend for landing.

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Me (8:20): Checked in at the hotel

I placed my phone on the bed as I looked around my hotel room. Haewon and I were sharing a room, which is why she immediately settled on the bed. I joined her, as our room had a double bed. A sigh escaped me, prompting Haewon to look at me.

"What's wrong?" she asked. I smiled and turned my head to look at her. We stared into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity. "Nothing. Can't I just sigh?" I replied with a chuckle. Haewon rolled her eyes and lightly hit my stomach. I continued to laugh.

Soon, it was Haewon's turn to sigh. I turned to her, my smile fading. "What's wrong?" I inquired. Haewon's reply brought her grin back. "Nothing. Can't I just sigh?" she retorted playfully, trying to tease me. I retaliated by playfully hitting her. We both broke into laughter.

After a while of shared laughter, we settled into a comfortable silence. "So... about Yeji," Haewon began quietly. I immediately turned to the curious person next to me. Haewon seemed to choose her words carefully. I chuckled, "Ask away. Stop overthinking it."

"Do you have feelings for her?" she inquired, locking her curious eyes onto mine. I smiled and nodded, "I... yes." I took a deep breath. Haewon nodded in understanding, "Why?"

The question caught me off guard. "I... I don't know. I just feel comfortable around her," I replied in the same soft tone as Haewon.

The leader nodded her head, "My ass is vibrating." confused i looked at the younger person. She reached for my phone, which was buzzing, resting on her buttocks, and handed it to me. "Your lover," she said as she read the name of the person calling me.

My cheeks flushed as I took the phone. I answered the video call. In the camera, both Haewon and I were visible. I smiled as I noticed Yeji. She was standing in the bathroom, applying cream to her face. She glanced into the camera and smiled broadly.

"I see you're not alone," Yeji noted. She took her phone, apparently, after washing and drying her hands. She looked into the camera, "Hello, Haewon." Haewon immediately grinned and replied, "Hello, Yeji-Sunbaenim," in a polite tone.

With a loud cheer, Haewon suddenly sat up, leaving me looking at her in confusion. She smiled, winked at me, and said, "I'm going to check on the others and leave you two alone." My eyes widened in surprise as I pressed my phone to my chest and looked at Haewon in a panic.

However, Haewon just grinned and disappeared from the room. My cheeks turned slightly red as I adjusted my phone. Now, sitting on the bed, I stared at my phone screen. Yeji smiled as she noticed my gaze, "Is she gone?" she asked with a hint of curiosity. I nodded, which Yeji also confirmed.

A warm feeling enveloped me as I simply observed the other woman on the call. Yeji smiled as she noticed my gaze. "Oh, are you joining us in Mexico for Music Bank?" she inquired, her eyes filled with questions. Now, I furrowed my brow, "Oh, for Music Bank? Yes, I think so," I replied as I hummed in thought.

Yeji chuckled, raising her eyebrows. "So, we'll see each other there, right?" she asked, visibly delighted by the idea. My cheeks darkened even further, and I smiled as I nodded my head in agreement. Suddenly, Yeji's room door swung open. Shortly after, I noticed Ryujin practically throwing herself onto Yeji.

My eyes widened as I saw the phone almost falling to the ground, and I heard Yeji complaining. I smiled as I looked at Ryujin and Yeji. Ryujin opened her mouth. "Oh, that's Y/n, isn't it?" she remarked as she adjusted her glasses.

I smiled and repeated, "Oh, that's Ryujin," which made her laugh. Ryujin briefly glanced at Yeji and then back at the camera. "What were you two talking about?" she inquired, a knowing grin on her face. Yeji laughed, visibly nervous, and pushed Ryujin away, making me laugh again.

"We were just talking about Music Bank," I answered because Yeji didn't. Ryujin hummed in understanding. My door then opened, and I looked at the person entering inquisitively. Yuna came in and was waving Haewon's room key in her hand.

With a loud noise, Yuna dropped onto me. I raised an eyebrow as I looked at the younger girl. "What's up with all of you? First Hanni, now you?" I asked, which made Yuna laugh. She noticed my phone in my hand and immediately glanced at it.

Yuna then snatched my phone and, upon seeing Yeji and Ryujin on the screen, began talking to Ryujin. To be honest, I was a bit annoyed by it. They were interrupting my time with Yeji. My eyes burned into Yuna's head, but the younger girl didn't even notice. She just continued the conversation.

"What are you doing here?" I asked after a while, trying to be patient. Yuna turned her head to me. "Hmm? Oh, yeah. I'm supposed to get you," Yuna said but still didn't let go of my phone. My forehead furrowed in confusion, and Yuna grinned mischievously. "Haewon wants to go grab something to eat," Yuna explained, which made me nod understandingly.

My eyes returned to my phone, and Yuna said her goodbyes and hung up. She handed me my phone back and got up from my bed. My mouth hung open in disbelief as I stared at the younger girl. Yuna stood by the door and turned to me with a puzzled look. "Are you coming?" she asked, her hand on the doorknob.

Annoyed that I couldn't even say goodbye to Yeji, I sighed once more. My jaw tensed as I answered, "Yeah," curtly. I got up from my bed as well. Yuna simply looked at me with a questioning expression, unaware of why I was so irritated.

I took a deep breath, let out another sigh, and gave one more exasperated look. I placed my phone in my pants pocket. "It's nothing. Go," I said as I made a hand gesture, hoping that Yuna would finally move. She nodded her head and opened the door.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Yours, Forever | Chapter 7

PAIRING | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 3.1K

SUMMARY | After three months in Italy, Y/N was finally back home in New York, but things don't go according to plan. When Bucky comes back from a particularly bad mission, he is avoiding anything and everyone, until he gets pushed to his breaking point and Y/N has to pay the price for his mistake.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Swearing, violence (choking), mental health struggles.

A/N | Hi everyone, thank you so much for reading my first ever fic! I would like to start off by saying that English isn’t my first language (I’m Dutch after all 😉) so every mistake you find – spelling or otherwise – is completely my own. I would appreciate you spreading the love about this fic, and I ofcourse hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Likes and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Series masterlist | Chapter 6 | Chapter 8

The last day of the Italy trip had arrived, and both Y/N and Eve were sad to see their 3 month vacation come to an end, seeing how much fun they had. Once they are at the airport, they have to say goodbye again and it is just as painful as the first time when Y/N left to move to New York. After they said their goodbyes they each went to their respective gates, and waited for their planes to leave. Eve had a short flight ahead, but Y/N knew she was in for a long one and couldn't wait to see Bucky again, to cuddle him for as long as they possibly could, to kiss his perfect lips again until they can't think straight anymore. The flight goes without problems and little turbulence, and she even manages to finish 2 books she had downloaded onto her Kindle, so she made a mental note to update her reading goal of this year.

She got off the plane and texted her dad she arrived safe and would come see him later when she had the chance, she had a lot to catch up on with him, and ofcourse a lot of photos to to show him as well. Once she found her suitcases she moved into the arrival hall with a huge smile on her face, in the hopes to see her boyfriend again, but it dropped as soon as she saw Steve, not Bucky. ''Well, I'm happy to see you too!'' Steve said joking as he came up to her with his arms spread so he could take her in his arms and give him one of the bear hugs she loved so much. ''Sorry, I was expecting Bucky, he said he would be here, that's all. But I'm happy to see you too, you know that right?!'' she said, and looked behind Steve expectingly, to see who we was talking to earlier.

''Didn't know you needed a babysitter to get out of the compound, Rogers!'' Y/N joked when she looked at the man behind him, walking up to him with her hand stretched out. ''Hi, I'm Y/N, I'll be Steve's colleague soon when I start working for S.I. and Tony.'' she introduced herself. ''Uh, hi! I'm Lucas, Steve is my-'' ''Friend! He's just my friend.'' Steve quickly said, he didn't want anyone to know he has a boyfriend yet, since they only started dating a few weeks ago. And after all, he only came with him because he had no other choice, since Bucky mentioned last minute he was supposed to pick her up at the airport and they were in the middle of a date. ''Well, it's nice to meet you, Lucas!'' but Y/N already put 2 and 2 together that they were together. The crimson color on Steve's cheeks didn't make it hard to guess.

''Steve, why is Bucky not here? He specifically told me he would be the one picking me up today...'' she asked, not really sure if she wanted to know the answer. ''The team got called out on a last minute mission for a few days, so he asked my to pick you up since I'm still not cleared for field work yet.'' he explained. Both Lucas and Steve took one of Y/N's suitcases after some protest, but they insisted so she just went with it. Once they were almost at the car, Y/N said ''it's okay if you sit in the front Lucas, my legs aren't as long as yours anyway so you could use the leg room.'' with a knowing wink to Steve, and he felt a little relieved when he saw that. They got in the front and he immediately put his hand on Lucas' thigh as he drove them home, and Y/N couldn't be happier for him, he deserves it. The ride was silent, but she didn't mind after such a long flight, she couldn't wait to see her bed again.

Steve drove them to the Avengers Compound like Tony had asked, so she could sleep at his place and be there with Pepper, that way she didn't have to be alone on the first few nights back. ''Hey Pepper, how is my favorite momma to be doing today?'' she said and smiled at her when she saw her round belly again. ''Actually, you're just on time, she just kicked again for the first time in a few days, and you'll be the first to feel it, even before Tony!'' she beamed at her, and put Y/N's hand on the place where she could feel the baby kick. It was such an amazing feeling, and Y/N honestly couldn't wait to experience a life growing inside of herself one day. It would never cease to amaze her what the human body was capable of.

''My god, this feels amazing. Does Tony know she kicked at all, or are you going to wait to tell him?'' ''He does know she kicked already, and told me specifically not to let anyone feel the kicks before he got the chance, but I just can't say no to you!'' Pepper laughed, making the baby kick again. The two ladies get comfortable on the couch, Pepper with a glass of water and Y/N with a glass of white wine, she felt like she deserved one after the trip she just had. ''I have to tell you something, but you can't tell anyone! Steve just picked me up from the airport and apparently he has a boyfriend! He came along, but the weird thing is that when he wanted to introduce himself as Steve's boyfriend, Steve quickly said he's his friend...'' It's a good thing she knows him by now and she knows Pepper won't tell anyone, but Y/N really had to tell someone.

A few days later, the entire team comes back from their mission, and Steve and Y/N decided to wait for them in the hangar where the Quinjet would land, so they could both welcome them home. They landed it safely and as soon as the ramp opened, everyone came running towards Y/N for the hugs they so desperately needed and she was so willing to give to them now. Everyone, except the person she wanted to see the most, Bucky. He didn't even look at them but instead just walked straight into the Compound without saying a word. ''Sam? What's going on with Bucky?'' she asked carefully, but she felt a stinging sensation in her chest because he didn't even care enough to look at her. ''I don't know, he was the same as always when you're not there. He was still this staring machine we all know and love.'' he said, but his brows were furrowed in worry now. This wasn't like Bucky, and all of them were wondering what was going on.

The next week doesn't change anything, Bucky just keeps himself locked in his room, this mission hit him harder than he thought it would, he should've just listened to Tony and stayed home. He knew this was gonna be a hard mission with his past with HYDRA, but he didn't want to admit it. And now he is locked in his own room, not willing to come out for anything or anyone, just alone with his own thoughts and nightmares. With the flashbacks that have taken him over completely. He doesn't notice when he gets texts or calls, he doesn't answer the door when someone is there. Not when Steve knocked, not when Y/N was there to talk to him. He didn't care about anything else, he just wanted all the thoughts and nightmares to stop. He wanted to stop crying but he couldn't, this mission had proven to be too much for Bucky.

After yet another week, Y/N comes up to his door and bangs on it, hard. She can't take it anymore and demands to be let into his room, this isn't healthy she says. ''Bucky, please. This isn't good for you, and we miss you man. Hell, I miss you the most. I just wanna see my boyfriend, I wanna be there for you. WHY DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND I JUST WANNA HELP? Why doesn't that get through your thick skull?!'' she said, and that was a step too far for Bucky. He stormed out of his room and grabbed Y/N at her throat with his vibranium hand, squeezing harder than he intended but he just wanted her to stop talking. Steve and Tony heard something and came running into the hallway and went for Bucky and Y/N when they saw what was happening.

''BUCKY, WHAT THE FUCK! YOU'RE FUCKING HURTING HER!'' Steve yelled when he pulled Bucky off of Y/N with a firm tug, and they both fell back into his room. She collapsed onto her knees and tried to crawl away from him when Tony picked her up. ''It's okay honey, you're okay now. I won't let him hurt you, don't you worry about that.'' he said softly, reassuring her while trying to sooth her when she's crying and struggling to breathe. ''I'll take her to the medbay, please make sure he doesn't go anywhere near her Rogers!'' Tony said while rushing her off to see Bruce. When he was looking over Y/N Tony was calling Pepper and telling her what happened, saying that Y/N would be staying with them for a while longer, because he doesn't trust her anywhere around the Compound by herself right now.

As soon as Bucky pushed her against the wall, he immediately regretted his action, but his brain short circuited and he couldn't let go of Y/N. He had a release for his pent up anger, and was glad when Steve pulled him off of her, because God knows he couldn't have done it himself. He cried for hours and hours afterwards, not being able to comprehend the fact that he took his anger out on his perfect girlfriend. Although, he wasn't sure that's what he could call her now. Not after what he just did, and he couldn't wrap his head around why. He fucked up the one good thing in his life he had going for him since escaping HYDRA, since being back from Wakanda and having the Winter Soldier erased from him. But deep down he knew he would always be there, and this proved just that. He knew he didn't deserve her, but this is something he never meant to do. When he opened his bedroom door to go to the gym to get his anger out, he saw something silver shining on the floor. Y/N's necklace, he accidentally ripped it off her neck.

Bruce decided it would be the best to keep Y/N sedated for a little bit, in order for the pain medication to do it's work and for her to be able to breathe a little bit without pain. There are deep purple marks around her neck, wrapping almost all the way around, and she had a nasty head wound from where Bucky pushed her hard into the wall. ''I just don't fucking get why he would hurt her like that. She doesn't deserve this.'' Tony said to her dad, who he called too. He knew that the only other person she would want to have there, is her dad. ''Hey sunshine, it's dad. I'm not sure you can hear me, but I want you to know that I love you, so incredibly much. Tony called and I dropped everything, I literally dropped the apple pie I was making,'' he said laughing through his tears. ''You're safe now sunshine, everything is going to be okay.'' he said before he couldn't hold himself together any longer and started sobbing with his head on her hand, which he was holding with both hands.

When Y/N woke up, her dad and Tony were there, and she was happy to see the both of them, but at the same time she was in a lot of pain as well. ''Hey sunshine, it's okay. You don't have to talk, I know it hurts.'' her dad said with a soothing voice as he looked up to her. ''I have talked it over with Tony and we decided it is smart if you live with him and Pepper for a little while, so you can get back in the rhythm of work again once you're ready.'' and all she could do was give a small nod. ''I already got some of your clothes there, and some of your personal belongings like your laptop, iPad, some of your favorite books and a few photos, so you can make it a bit more like home.'' he said. Her dad gave her a kiss on her forehead and with a last 'I love you sunshine' he walked out the door and went back to the bakery, his heart feeling heavy in his chest.

It took about a week for Y/N to fully be settled into Tony and Pepper's house, which she would call home for the foreseeable future. She slowly got back into work, for now just working a few hours a day from home with Tony. The two of them took great care of her, and her dad visited most nights of the week after work. ''Hey sunshine, I'm happy to see you again!'' he said, and he was earlier than expected so he could join them for dinner. ''Hi dad.'' she said in a soft voice and a little smile. It broke his heart to see his little girl like this, but he's eternally grateful she's still alive, he even brought her favorite treat for dessert, his chocolate and caramel brownies.

After two weeks at their house, Y/N got a little restless and wanted to go back to the office again, even if it was just as an excuse to get out of the house. She didn't really want to see anybody there, the only one she could stand to see was Tony, and maybe Steve, but not the rest of them. When they get called in for an emergency meeting by Fury, they don't have a choice but to go. Tony doesn't want to leave Y/N alone, so she comes too. They walk into the conference room and to Y/N's delight, it's only Fury there. ''Hi Nick, how are you?'' she asks softly, and he can't believe what he's seeing. ''What the fuck happened here Y/N? You know I don't like my favorite person hurt like that?!'' Fury said, and Y/N couldn't help but smile when he said that. She loves the fact that a tough guy like Fury has such a soft spot for her. ''It's nothing, Nick. I'm fine now. It's just the bruising that has to go down, but it doesn't hurt anymore.''

''Fine? That doesn't look 'fine' to me. Who did this to you? Because I will personally and the motherfucker responsible for hurting you.'' Fury growled. ''Please don't, it has been handled. I promise!'' Y/N exclaimed, even though Bucky hurt her, he doesn't want any of that to happen to him. She feels like she deserved it, she had pushed him past his limit anyway. He didn't want to see her, and she shouldn't have bothered him. ''How is everything going at S.H.I.E.L.D.?'' Y/N asked, trying to change the topic, because she was not really comfortable talking about it. ''As long as everything still goes to shit I still have a job, so can't complain.'' he said, and he touched her arm with a soft, reassuring squeeze, letting her know he was on her side.

Slowly the Avengers walked into the room, and they were relieved when they saw Y/N was there, but they were worried that she wasn't her normal, cheerful self. Even though everyone knew what happened, nobody mentioned it, most of them just said hi or waved at her, until Steve came in. He walked straight up to her, asking for a hug. ''Is it okay if I hug you, Y/N? I just need to make sure you're still okay.'' and she agreed reluctantly. She wasn't in a hugging mood, but she didn't want to say no to Steve. Even though she didn't really hug him back, he still said how happy he was to see she was okay, before letting her go. Bucky walked into the room last, still looking a lot worse for wear, and Y/N immediately flinched at the look of him and went to stand behind Steve. ''It's okay, he won't hurt you again,'' Steve reassured her, keeping both his hands on her behind has back.

The moment Bucky walks into the conference room, he notices all eyes were looking to the front of the room, where he saw Y/N. They made eye contact and she flinched and quickly hid behind Steve when she saw him. He couldn't believe that he did that to her, he saw the purple handprint around her neck and his eyes were filled with regret. He sat down at the far end of the table and the briefing started, but all he noticed was Y/N, and the tears streaming down her face while Tony held her close and rubbed her back soothingly. He should be the one soothing her, not Tony. But he fucked that up when he attacked her, when he almost choked the life out of his precious doll. When the briefing was over, everyone slowly left the conference room, but Bucky stayed behind. ''Doll, can I just talk to you for a minute? I want to tell you how sorry-'' he started, but quickly got cut off by Tony.

''You don't get to call her doll anymore. You lost any and all privilege of that when you decided to hurt the one person who cared more for you than you could even imagine. When you hurt the woman who loved, hell, still loves you more than anything, but you had to go and fuck that up, didn't you? Because for some fucking reason, you can't see a good thing when it's right in front of you!'' Tony said, and Bucky got mad at him. ''You don't get to talk to me like that Stark. I would choose your next words carefully, or you'll be next.'' Bucky threatened him, and in his anger he punched the wall with his vibranium arm. This made Y/N flinch again and made her cry even harder, letting out long, hard sobs when she was held by Steve, in the safety of his arms. Bucky's gut just got filled with more and more regret when he saw that.

[theghostpinesmusic]

I've already written about a few "Thatch"s in my time as a guy who randomly writes blog posts on the internet about Goose jams that almost nobody reads (thanks if you do!), so I'm not going to do an introductory bit this time around. I'm also not going to link to every single one of those previous "Thatch" posts, but if you're interested in any of my previous Goose posts in general, this is probably the easiest way to wade through them.

If you're feeling unprepared for reading about the 6/5/24 "Thatch," here are the main things you need to know at the onset:

Goose is a band that makes good music, sometimes for upwards of twenty or thirty minutes at a time without stopping.

Usually only one or two of the geese play guitar at one time, though at least three of them can play guitar, theoretically speaking.

Most of the time, two of the geese play drums.

The collective noun for a group of geese is a "gaggle." If they are in flight, they are known as a "skein."

"Thatch" is a certified banger about Milo from Atlantis: The Lost Empire.

This version of "Thatch" is approximately the 4,000th version I've listened to, but it's only the second version the band has played live with their new drummer, Cotter Ellis.

Can you tell I've been writing assignment sheets for my classes all afternoon?

Anyway, last time I brought you all the good news about the 6/4 tour opener and, in particular, the massive version of "Borne" contained within. Well, it turns out that the band continued on to play a second show on 6/5 at the same venue! Go figure!

I'm honestly not sure why anyone would spend a second night in St. Louis after spending a first night there, but in this case I'm glad Goose did because 6/5 is a great show.

If you're only here for the big jams, this show does take a little while to get going (compared to, say, the 6/4 show with its monster opening "All I Need"); however, for my money the meat of the first set is well-sequenced and well-played despite the lack of deep improv. Any show that opens with "Atlas Dogs" > "Turbulence & The Night Rays," "Earthling or Alien?," and then a rare full-band "It Burns Within" is okay in my book.

"Tumble" was a bit stagnant for most of '23 to my ears, but has become an absolute monster jam vehicle since Cotter joined the band: the 6/5 version is a great example of that, and it's followed by a "Rockdale" that paints just far enough outside the lines to wrap up the first set in grand fashion. But I'm not writing about that!

Instead, I'm going to be covering most of the second set in my next two posts ("Thatch" in this one and "Red Bird -> Tomorrow Never Knows" in the next one) so...there's also a pretty cool "Creatures" in-between, too, I guess?

Suffice to say it's a badass enough second set that I'm spending my afternoon work break writing about parts of it two days in a row.

Let us begin with this here "Thatch"!

We get some brief set-opening space noises at the onset here, but the song proper starts at 0:35, and the drop into The Funk Kingdom hits at 1:20. This version seems to be played at a particularly slow tempo, which is a little odd to me considering lots of songs that felt slower-than-before in '22 and/or '23 have been getting played faster in '24. It doesn't super matter, I suppose: if playing "Thatch" slower makes it more interesting to the band, more power to them. I'm just used to them ripping through this tune and this version feels a bit more like wading through molasses.

Sexy, funky molasses...

Nerd fact: Peter's wearing the same Marvin The Martian shirt he was wearing for last year's Amsterdam "Thatch," one of my favorite bits of the Euro tour. I mean, I don't know if it's literally the same shirt, but I assume it is.

Anyway, after a tidy and efficient FONK workout, the band drops into Improv Mode at 6:28.

One thing I've noticed at this point, having watched a fair amount of '24 Goose shows, is how much more often and obviously Trevor leads the direction of the band's jamming. This is one of those points. Sure, everyone's adding touches right away (and Pete should know that I'm a sucker for that siren effect) but Trevor has the wheel and the rest of us are just along for the ride.

Around 7:20, Peter switches over to his xylophone patch, and things take a turn toward what we would have called "Plinko" in 2010. I dig this sound a lot: nobody is particularly soloing over everyone else, but everyone is locked in and playing together, ideas getting tossed out and responded to and sent back faster than I'm willing to bother pausing repeatedly to accurately break down and describe.

Around the 9:00 mark, Peter locks on to an evil, syncopated figure on the keys, and the rest of the band rolls with it (around it?). Rick's playing here is sinister and great, but hell, everyone's still piling onto the Group Improv train.

A really tension-y section kicks up around 9:50, and the band stays in it much longer than usual. The lights here are great, reflecting the frenetic sound of the jam.

As the tension section continues, Cotter's playing really starts to stand out to me. He has a flow to the way that he plays the drums that really complements thorny pieces of improv like this one.

Okay, so the band hangs out in this abstract space for way longer than usual, and around 12:00 or so, Peter starts using his synth (?) to make Weird Ghost Noises (?), which is a new thing to me.

Then the sirens come back, which is excellent!

Finally, at 13:33, Rick leads a neat transition back into the key of "Thatch" (whatever it is), and we get a little bit of more-typical Goose/Rick shredding leading up to the conclusion of the song at 14:46.

By Big-Time "Thatch" standards, this one is actually a bit on the short side, and now that I've revisited it, it is actually kind of one-dimensional. But that's okay because the one dimension is THE HELL DIMENSION

Seriously, it's no 2/23/24 "Chalkdust Torture," but that kind of sustained, abstract tension jamming is something I'm always happy to hear Goose explore for more than thirty seconds at a time. It makes this version of "Thatch" unique and worth revisiting even if it's no multi-headed hydra monster jam.

Although, speaking of multi-headed hydra monster jams, the "Red Bird" -> "Tomorrow Never Knows" from later on in this very set is coming up next time...

[blsahoo]

Pilot's Toolbox: Must-Have Skills and Knowledge for a Successful Aviation Career

Introduction

Starting a career in aviation is a thrilling adventure full of exceptional chances and difficulties. Whether you want to work as a commercial airline pilot, a cargo pilot, or even a private pilot, you need to possess a wide range of abilities and knowledge to succeed in this fast-paced industry. In this post, we'll examine the essential abilities and information that go into a pilot's toolkit, assisting you in getting ready for a fulfilling career in aviation.

Flight Training and Certification

One of the foundational pillars of an aviation career is obtaining the necessary flight training and certification. This process typically begins with obtaining a private pilot license (PPL), followed by further training and certification for various aircraft and operations, including instrument ratings, commercial licenses, and airline transport pilot licenses (ATPL). The more advanced your certifications, the more opportunities you'll have in your career.

Aircraft Knowledge

Fundamental to operating an airplane is understanding it. Pilots from Pilot training academy need to be knowledgeable about the systems, avionics, and performance capabilities of their aircraft. This information is essential for safe operation, emergency problem solving, and improving flight efficiency.

Navigation and Flight Planning

To plan and conduct flights safely and effectively, pilots must have excellent navigational skills. This includes using navigational aids, reading maps, figuring out how much gasoline is needed, and planning routes. While more sophisticated GPS navigation systems have been developed thanks to modern technology, traditional navigational abilities are still useful, particularly in times of need.

Meteorology and Weather Analysis

Aviation safety is significantly influenced by the weather. To evaluate the weather and decide on flight paths, altitudes, and time, pilots need a solid understanding of meteorology. The ability to evaluate weather forecasts, understand weather trends, and avoid turbulence are essential skills.

Decision-Making and Risk Management

Unexpected scenarios frequently arise for pilots in the cockpit. It is crucial to have the capacity to handle hazards quickly and intelligently. This involves analyzing hazards associated to the weather, engine problems, and other situations. Poor decision-making is often to blame for aviation disasters, making this ability crucial for a successful career.

Communication Skills

In aviation, good communication is essential with both air traffic controllers and other crew members. Strong radio communication abilities, fluency in aviation jargon, and the ability to transmit information in a clear and succinct manner are requirements for pilots. This skill is crucial since poor communication might result in dangerous circumstances.

Crew Resource Management (CRM)

CRM is essential for pilots working in multi-crew settings. In order to ensure the effective and safe operation of the aircraft, collaboration, communication, and leadership abilities are required. For an Aviation training job to be successful, it is essential to comprehend duties and responsibilities within the crew.

Regulatory Knowledge

Pilots must keep up with the most recent laws and regulations established by aviation authorities because aviation is a highly regulated sector. Understanding flying constraints, airspace restrictions, and safety procedures are part of this. Regulation adherence is a legal requirement, not an option.

Aeronautical Decision-Making (ADM)

The primary goal of ADM is to always make the right choices. To decide if a flight can proceed safely, pilots must evaluate a variety of criteria, including their own physical condition, the state of the aircraft, the weather, and the resources at their disposal. Pilots can reduce risk by using ADM.

Conclusion A pilot's toolbox, which is a comprehensive combination of abilities and information, is essential for a successful aviation career. Each element, including meteorology, decision-making skills, and regulatory knowledge, plays a role in a pilot's capacity to fly an aircraft safely and successfully. Since information and abilities in aviation are always changing, aspiring pilots should set out on their path with determination and a desire to keep studying. You can lay a strong basis for a fulfilling and prosperous Aviation training career by becoming proficient in these fundamental concepts.

[impactmintsfresh]

Home for the Holidays

Steve picks his little girl up from the airport for the holiday - this started because I watched Love Actually so it has to kick off with an airport scene right

Since you were going to be spending all December in America you had flown back to England to see friends and family, Steve had come with you then but due to an Avengers level threat he'd left again not long after. It had been a few weeks since you'd seen him and now you were practically vibrating in your seat as the seatbelt sign lit up. Or that may have been the copious amounts of sugary drinks you'd had.

Your seat was in first class, and soon as you realised you didn't have to pay the stupid prices and your Daddy was no where to be seen you had been throwing back coke and packets of M&Ms. Giggling to yourself you hoped Steve wouldn't notice. Or at least that he would be too overjoyed to see you that you didn't get punished for breaking the 'ask Daddy if you want sweeties' rule. 

The flight had been smooth thankfully, you weren't a particularly nervous flyer but bad turbulence can freak anyone out. You put your seatbelt on, returned your seat to its upright position and tried to calm your nerves about seeing Steve again. It was silly but a small part of you worried he wouldn't be there when you came through the gates. Maybe there was another threat, or he forgot. Your phone was still on airplane mode so you couldn't see all the texts and messages from Steve wishing you a safe flight and rambling about how excited he was to see you.

"You alright hunny?" The air hostess asked you. She had been the one keeping you topped up on sugar all 11 hours. You gave her a nod and your best brave smile. "Alright, but just in case your ears pop." She handed you another sweetie, this time a hard candy. Your Daddy would be losing his mind about taking candy from strangers, the idea of Steve fighting the woman made you giggle again. You thanked her and the plan began to land. 

The plane landed without any issues and you quickly grabbed your bag from the storage above. You knew it was a little rude but you couldn't help pushing past everyone to get to the front by the door.  As the doors opened the air hostess thanked you each for flying but you were already gone, "Merry Christmas" you screamed running down the corridor.

Security was a nightmare, the stupid guard kept asking about your business in America, and when you told him where you were staying he almost detained you. Thankfully as he started typing into his system, his phone rang.

The guards face paled and you were waved through with no more issues. You would get Tony an extra special present this year, or Pep. or Jarvis? Hard to tell who was working behind the scenes sometimes.

Waiting for your suitcases felt longer than the flight! You were bouncing on your toes as everyone else's suitcases came round several times before yours did. "Come on, come on" you were muttering to yourself, edging closer and closer to the carousel. 

Finally they arrived, plain black but covered in stickers from your travels with Steve. Finally, you made to grab them. Suddenly someone else's hands were in the way, "let me help with that?"

You turned to look at the guy who had just taken your case for you. He was around your age, preppy, and looking far too smug. You didn't like him. "No." You turned and grabbed the second case and started to push them away.

"Aw come on, not even a thank you? Those look heavy, want a hand pushing them?" Your mood was quickly turning, and you knew you needed to deal with this here and now or Steve would deal with it. 

"No, if I have to tell you again I will call security." His face scrunched up slightly.

"I was just being nice, don't need to be a bitch." He walked off and you tried to feel better, but you were close to crying. Why are people so rude!

Taking a deep breath you started to walk towards the gate, through those doors was your Daddy and everything would be better once you were in his arms. Thoughts started to creep in, 'what if he isn't there?', 'what if he forgot about you?'. You refused to cry and kept pushing your suitcases forward. One foot in front of the other. 

--

Steve had been checking your flight details constantly since you set off from Gatwick. He knew the exact time expected to get through customs and collect bags before you should be walking through those doors. 

His hands gripped the stupid sign he was holding and the stuffed bear nervously. If you weren't there in the next two minutes he was going through and finding you himself. He held back from having Tony find you on the security cameras, but only just. 

The sign had been Peter's idea. He said you would find it funny. Steve was currently in a black tux with a driver cap on, holding a sign with your last name. The bear he had gotten you was in a matching outfit. He felt incredibly stupid. 

One minute and seventeen seconds. 

--

Finally you made it to the other side of the door, you kept walking scanning the crowd for Steve but couldn't see him. Tears started to gather in your eyes, when you looked again you saw a sign with your name. Your heart fell, something must have come up and he sent someone to get you. 

You walked with your head down towards the man.

"I'll be honest, I thought you'd be happier to see me." The man chuckled nervously.

Your head shot up and the tears fell. "STEVE!" You jumped on to him, wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. He really laughed now and held onto you.

"Hey baby." He kissed the side of your face as best he could with you buried in his neck.

"Thought you forgot." He just about heard you, with your face muffled. 

"I haven't thought about anything but this moment since I left London." You squeezed him tighter wishing the tears would stop, but you were so overwhelmed. 

After a few minutes to collect yourself you let go of Steve. 

"Why are you dressed like this?" You could feel yourself just on the edge of being little but hoped you didn't slip before you were alone. 

"Peter thought it would be funny." You smiled as Steve took off the cap and put it on your head.

"I got you this as well baby." Your mouth opened slightly at the soft teddy dressed like your Daddy. He was so soft!

After that Steve grabbed your suitcases in one hand and you with the other, walking you towards the car. He could see you were slipping into your little headspace and that you wouldn't be comfortable later if you knew it had happened in such a public place. 

--

"There's an advent calendar waiting for you at home, but I think you can skip December 1st don't you?"

"Why?" You were confused, had you been bad already?

"I think someone has already had too many candies today, hmm?" Your eyes went wide.

"Whoa, how did you know?" Too little to even deny what had happened on the plane.

"Daddy always knows princess, it's my job." You giggled and the hand he wasn't steering with.

[whumptimebaby]

If it all ends tomorrow (would you find me?)

| Major Character Death | 1/1 | Whump | 15040 words | 05/11/2022 (MM/DD/YYYY)

CW: MCD, Plane Crash, Child Neglect, Broken Bones, Cussing

“Aaron Z. is terrified of flying. He happens to have a job that involves a lot of it, which really is something he should have considered before agreeing to join a boy band. If anything, the events of their 2002 tour confirmed that much.

But it’s 2003 now, and their company has them travelling the world to film ads, perform at events, and participate in fansigns. It almost feels inevitable, to him at least, that their plane would crash one day. He just never expected it to happen so soon.

He especially never expected it to take so much away from him.”

Links: AO3 | Full Fic Below Cut

There were very few things on the planet earth that could truly shake Aaron Z. to his core. Most of them were definitely not a part of his daily life, he didn’t exactly have to worry about alien invasions or waking up without a mouth, not under most circumstances. He had some bizarre fears, he could admit it, but none of them were part of the job, so to speak. Flying however, was.

He chalked it up to kids on the playground spreading horror stories about planes that went missing, or bragging about having relatives that died in a plane crash. He always thought that was a pretty messed up thing to brag about. He might’ve been a proud kid, but at least he was proud about things that actually happened. 

It also just so happened that, on their tour the year prior, he’d heard about a particularly horrific accident that involved two planes colliding. Colliding. 

After their first tour, way back in ‘97, he’d gotten used to flying. Robaire had made an effort to sit next to him whenever possible. He’d been mortified at the time, but in hindsight it was really sweet. For their entire second tour (‘99, one of the best experiences of his life), he was fine for most of the flights. He would inevitably grab the hand of whichever member was next to him when the plane took off and landed, and the boys knew to keep an eye on him during turbulence too. Their third tour, ‘02, was more of the same until those planes collided. He’d been so proud of himself for getting on planes too. 2001, after all, definitely wasn’t void of plane related tragedies. He’d really thought he’d overcome his fear.

The collision though, it really fucked him up. He was back to square one.

Currently, they were flying from New York to Paris for a promotional video shoot. Aaron Z. wasn’t sure exactly what they were filming, only that it was for a french television ad, and that Robaire was the only one expected to say anything. It didn’t bother him, if anything, he preferred to be in the background for that sort of thing. He could sit, or stand, and look pretty to the content of whoever hired them, but there was no way in hell he was going to speak in a language he didn’t know very well. No matter how many times Robaire told him his pronunciation was good, it still made him anxious.

Or maybe it was being in the air that was making him anxious. He’d already come down from a pretty massive panic attack, thanks in part to Taeyoung falling asleep on his shoulder. Turns out, when someone is sleeping on you, it becomes much easier to breathe along with them. Aaron Z. resented that the management team’s stupid advice about breathing worked. 

It wasn’t going to be the end of his flight anxiety though. The tight feeling in his chest, the urge to open the window cover to check that the wings were intact, the near constant checking on the other members of 4*Town, none of it would go away until they were far away from the airport. It varied in strength throughout the flight. They were four hours in, and this was his fifth wave of a panic attack, soon to be sixth if the subtle shaking of the plane picked up into proper turbulence. He twisted back in his seat, careful not to wake Taeyoung. 

Jesse had both of his earbuds in, eyes shut as he leaned against the window cover. Aaron T., seated in the middle, had tucked a blanket over his shoulders. He gave Z. a tired smile. Beside him, Robaire was nose-deep into a book he’d bought at the airport. It was a shitty romance novel (his words), but judging by how he’d devoured nearly half the book in the span of the flight, he’d probably only pretended it was an ironic purchase. 

“You okay?” Aaron T. pulled his attention back.

“Huh?” It still took him a moment to register what he’d said. “Yeah, I’m managing.”

Robaire looked up, his eyes flickering to the screen that showed where they were in their flight. “Three more hours.”

He swallowed, nodding. 

“You know we’re always here.” T. leaned forward, patting the space just below his shoulder so as not to disturb Taeyoung. 

“You don’t let me forget it.”

He turned back to face forward, watching the screen change from their current location to an advert for the magazine that sat in the pouch in front of him. He’d caught a glimpse of the cover when he’d reached for the emergency guide at the beginning of the flight, something about cooking and home decor. He thought about flipping through it, but everytime he opened the pouch, he saw the safety guide, and it sent a jab of panic through him all over again. 

Taeyoung jolted upright, suddenly alert, head turning fast as he frantically looked around. The motion sent Aaron Z.’s heart up to his throat. He must’ve shown it somehow, because once Taeyoung’s eyes settled on him, he started apologising profusely. 

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, you have to trust me, I promise I’m not trying to scare you, but I think we’re about to die.”

He blinked slowly.

“Taeyoung?” Robaire asked, “Take a moment, breathe, what’s going on?”

“We’re, I saw, it was real, I, I don’t, you were gone, the ocean, I—”

Aaron T. interrupted him, but Aaron Z. couldn’t hear it. Blood pounded through his ears, deafening whatever comfort the members were giving. Taeyoung was on the verge of tears. They were going to die. 

A hand landed on his shoulder, sending a violent jolt of panic straight into the centre of his chest. He yanked himself away, wrapping his arms protectively around himself. 

The hand was Jesse’s. He’d woken up, and was saying something to him, gesturing for him to lean back again. He obliged, and closed his eyes. Jesse’s thumb created well-practised circles at the base of his neck. He focused on the feeling the best he could. Jesse’s other arm wrapped around the side of the chair, and laid haphazardly around his waist. 

He rose from his seat. For the half-second that he was in the air, he did not breathe. 

His heart did not beat. 

He did not move. 

He slammed back down, his tailbone screaming as it took a beating from the chair. 

Another jolt sent him forward, and he just barely had time to get his hands in front of his face to brace for impact. His forearms caught him before he could hit the chair in front of him. 

He could hear again. People were instructing their kids to buckle in. Plastic clanked as trays were returned to their original, upright position. 

They were 100% going to die. This was the end. He’d boarded a plane for an advert he wasn’t even necessary in, and now he was going to die. His parents were going to lose their oldest son. His siblings, the same ones who called him on his father’s phone to wish him a safe flight, were going to be at his funeral. Would they even find a body? He’d always imagined having an open-casket funeral.

The oxygen mask dropped down, bopping in front of him as the plane continued to shake violently. He got a decent hold on it, and yanked the straps over his head. Even with the mask on, he couldn’t breathe. 

Taeyoung’s fingers snaked their way in between his. He’d squeezed his eyes shut, tears streaming down his pale cheeks. 

“Holy fuck!” Aaron T. cursed after another rough slam. “Jesus fucking christ, what the fuck is happening?”

“Put your mask on.” Robaire instructed, yelling above the growing sounds of people panicking. “I’m not kidding Aaron, put your fucking mask on.”

“What’s a mask going to do?”

“Just put it on,” Jesse begged, “Don’t be difficult, please put it on.”

“Okay, okay—”

He lifted out of his seat again, staying in the air for a solid second.

He knew that this was it. He squeezed Taeyoung’s hand as tightly as he could. Another second passed, the only thing keeping him from hitting the roof was the seatbelt across his lap. 

Taeyoung squeezed back. Aaron Z. choked on a sob. It was stuck in the back of his throat with the tears he couldn’t cry.

With unmeasurable force, he crashed headfirst into the seat in front of him. His lungs squeezed as he gasped. He waited for air to come, but the only thing that filled the cavity in his chest was pain. No matter how hard he tried to hold onto his consciousness, he slipped into complete darkness.

***

Returning to earth was the most painful thing Aaron Z. had ever experienced. He felt everything at once. 

His head pounded. It was easily as bad as his stress migraines, probably worse. The rest of his body ached too. It was duller, more subtle, only spiking as he rocked. Breathing was a nightmare. He was certain he’d broken a rib. 

Something, an arm, was wrapped tightly around him. The arm was freezing. He was freezing, and soaked, though now that he was tuned to just how cold and wet everything was, he could hear waves crashing against water. 

He opened his eyes. The setting sun cast an orange glow across the water. The waves, though small, looked like fire. 

Not too far off was an island. It looked close, but he recalled his mom telling him that water can mess with you that way. Cocky kids who tried to swim across the lake would drown. He wasn’t swimming though. The arm that gripped him so tightly held him against a piece of the plane. It was cold against his skin, but it was floating, so he didn’t have much to complain about. 

Speaking of the arm, it was attached to a very pale, very awake, very stressed Taeyoung. He was staring at the island, his breaths coming out laboured and heavy. 

“Tae?”

He flinched, holding him even tighter. 

“Oh my god, Jesus I,” He took a breath. “Hi.”

“You can let go.” Aaron Z. gripped the edge of the debris. “I can hold on.”

The arm around him disappeared, and Taeyoung rested his head down on their metal floaty. “Thank god.”

“Are you okay?” 

He scoffed. “Are you?”

“I mean, no, but all things considered it could be worse.” He paused. “What happened?”

“Huh?”

“Like, how did we get here?”

“Where am I starting from?” Taeyoung turned, worry creased his brows. “What do you remember?”

“Turbulence?”

“And?”

“You acting as a fucking prophet.”

He flushed. “Sorry.”

“No, no.” Fuck, he hadn’t intended to sound harsh. “Sorry, I’m just, this is just like a really shitty nightmare, and I, it’s hard to believe any of this is happening.”

“No, I understand.” Taeyoung swallowed hard. “I can’t really believe it either, and I was around for all of it.”

“What does that mean?”

“You missed a lot, after you went out I mean. The plane split.”

Jesus christ. He could picture it. 

“We all got out, and we were together for a while, but one of the engines exploded and the water got rough, and we lost Robaire.”

Aaron Z. felt dizzy. This was not happening. Their metal floaty lurched over a wave. He clutched it tighter.

“Sorry, sorry, poor choice of words. He got swept away, I meant literally lost, we couldn’t find him, and then it got a bit stormy, and Aaron T. was hurt, like, really hurt, so Jesse was holding him up, and we got separated in the storm.” 

“Jesus.”

“It was, yeah, it was not great.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Huh?” Taeyoung blinked. 

“Glad you’re alive.” 

“God, don’t say that. Of course I’m alive, we’re both alive. We’re all alive, just separated.”

“Right, you’re right.”

He shut his eyes. “Damn it.”

That was the last of their conversation. Aaron Z. wanted to say more, to offer any sort of comfort, but what could he say? That everything was going to be okay? They were stranded, lost at sea with nothing but an island on the horizon and a piece of their plane to hold onto. There was no comfort to give, no distraction from the magnitude of what had happened. 

They stayed silent until the sky’s oranges faded into the beginning of night. At some point, Taeyoung might have fallen asleep. Aaron couldn’t have known. 

When his feet touched the sand, soft but solid under the water, he nearly collapsed with relief. He stepped fully, letting himself under the water temporarily as he pulled the piece of the plane closer to shore. Upon resurfacing, Taeyoung was up straighter, staring right at him. 

As soon as they were both on their feet, and could stand comfortably despite the waves, they abandoned their debris floaty. Hand in hand and maintaining their silence, they trekked out of the water. 

The sand was warm. As soon as it was between his toes, he knew he was done for. It was nearly involuntary, how fast he was on his knees, and then laying on his stomach. The cold began to seep from his outer layers, leaking into the sand as the lingering heat brought him back to a reasonable temperature. 

Taeyoung joined him, sighing contentedly. 

Aaron Z. rolled over to face him. “Can I check you for injuries? I’d wait, but we’re losing light.”

“Right, sure, but you have to tell me what to look for so I can check you too.”

As dance captain, Aaron Z. was expected to have a decent knowledge of first aid. Sprains were common, and he needed to know when they were bad enough to warrant a doctor’s visit. Aaron T. was bad for that. He had a habit of exaggerating the tamest of his injuries, but when he’d broken his collarbone at a dance practice, he’d hidden it for days before admitting that the pain was stopping him from getting sleep. 

It hadn’t been a problem for Aaron Z. to learn basic first aid. As a kid, he used to skim medical books whenever his class went to the library, just in case something happened and he needed to know how to deal with it. To him, it was a completely normal experience to check the symptoms of various medical emergencies, just in case he thought he was experiencing normal things when he was really dying. His parents were certain he’d become a doctor. 

His therapist had a field day with that one. He mentioned it in a passing comment after the events of their 2002 tour, and he could’ve sworn there were dollar signs in her eyes. 

Regardless of how it came to be, his early… interest in medicine sure came in handy during dance practices, and it would definitely come in handy here. 

He gestured for Taeyoung to sit up, moving behind him.

“Can you take your shirt off? Just wanna check for internal bleeding.”

“Huh? Oh, sure.”

Aaron Z. watched as he fumbled with it. “Any nausea? Headaches?”

“We haven’t had anything to eat or drink since the plane crashed, of course I have a headache.”

“Chest pain?”

“No, ah fuck.” He hissed. “Could you help?”

“With your shirt? Why? What’s wrong?”

“I think,” he glanced back, offering a meek smile, “I think my arm is broken.”

“Let me see.”

He held his arm out, and Aaron Z. carefully peeled his hoodie sleeve back. Taeyoung tensed, pulling away. 

“Ow, ow.” His eyes squeezed shut as he breathed through it. “Sorry, here.”

“Are you sure? Don’t push yourself.”

“It’s gonna have to happen at some point, right? Better now so we can catch it early.”

“Let me know if you want me to stop.”

“Right, okay.”

He resumed, taking extra care around his upper arm. Swelling made the sweater tighter, and there was a subtle deformity to its shape. His arm was definitely broken, but the break was relatively tame, no skin breached. There was a chance it wouldn’t need surgery.

“What’s the diagnosis doc?”

“You carried me with this arm?”

He flushed, hiding his face with his other arm. “I wasn’t going to let you drown.” “You must have been in a lot of pain.”

“I was,” he admitted, “but letting you go would have hurt infinitely more, so thanks for waking up I guess. I needed that.”

Aaron Z. bit back a wave of guilt. Remorse could wait, for now, he had to do everything he could to make sure Taeyoung was okay. 

“It’s broken I take it?”

“Yeah, it’s broken.”

“Splendid.”

He moved so that he and Taeyoung were facing each other. His eyes shifted to meet his as Aaron lifted a hand to his cheek. He leaned into it.

“We got this far. The most crucial part is over, we’re out of the ocean.”

“What do you mean?”

“When a plane crashes at sea, most people die of hypothermia, maybe dehydration, but we made it to land.”

“Right, yeah.”

“It’s thanks to you that we have a chance of surviving all of this.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He bit the inside of his lip. “The ocean carried us here.”

“I more meant that you did good. You did everything right.” 

He blew out a breath, chuckling to himself. “Wow.” 

“What?”

“I just, for a while I couldn’t check your pulse, and I wasn’t sure if you were going to wake up, so I got thinking about if I could make it on my own, on the island I mean. I really thought I could do it if it came down to it, but I think that was some lame attempt at self-preservation, because really, how could I? Now that you’re here, and you’re you, it’s kinda laughable.

“I’m thankful you’re here is all. God, this is embarrassing, how was I so good at talking about feelings before?”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Aaron Z. encouraged, “have you ever been in a plane crash before?”

“No.”

“Then this is new for both of us.”

“Sorry.” Taeyoung tilted his head, a small frown toying at his lips. “You’re doing all this to comfort me, but you crashed too. Are you okay?”

“Don’t apologise.” He smiled encouragingly. “I’m as okay as I can be.”

Taeyoung looked past him, his eyes catching something. “Aaron, Aaron there’s smoke.”

Sure enough, a steady pillar of smoke rose from a small light further down the beach. It was tucked out of the way, obstructed partially by the treeline at the edge of the sand. A figure, very humanoid, was pacing back and forth. They were too far away to make out details, but it was abundantly clear. 

They weren’t the only survivors who’d made it to the island. 

“Should we…?”

“Are you kidding?” Taeyoung was already getting onto his feet. “There are three people that we should be looking for, and one of them could very well be at that fire.”

His throat tightened. He hadn’t thought about the other members in hours. It was a topic that he threw violently out of his mind before he could register what he was even thinking about. 

Taeyoung led the way, trekking forward at a pace that Aaron struggled to match. As they got closer, the figure disappeared into a shelter. It was poorly constructed, but large. Massive palm leaves were woven together to create a roof, held down on one end by decent sized rocks, and up on the other end with branches, creating a right triangle. The whole thing was barely tall enough for the figure to stand under at its tallest point, but had plenty of room for sleeping.

“Hey!” Taeyoung called out, “Excuse me, were you in the plane crash?”

The person poked their head out, revealing a familiar blonde middle part. “Tae?”

He broke into a sprint, Aaron Z., close behind. Taeyoung collided with Jesse, his good arm reaching around his neck. 

“I told you a fire was a good idea.” Aaron T.’s voice came from inside the shelter. Aaron Z. took a peek inside, waving to T. He was laying on his stomach, Jesse’s sweater draped over his bare back.

“T!” Taeyoung separated from Jesse, settling beside him in the shelter. “It’s good to see you.”

Jesse gestured for Aaron Z. to sit next to him. He reached his hands out over the fire, shuddering as the heat contrasted the cool night hanging on his damp shirt. 

“You’re awake.”

He nodded. “You’re alive.”

“Astute observation.”

God, he’d missed him. 

“Hey Z,” Aaron T. called, “the world couldn’t keep us apart for long. We really are a dynamic duo.”

“As if.” He rolled his eyes. “Only you could joke after surviving a plane crash.”

“Complain all you want, everyone knows you love me.”

“Whatever.” 

“Excuse me!” Taeyoung grew a shit-eating grin. “We are a very loving family, tell us you love us.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

Jesse gave him a disbelieving look. “Saying that is only gonna make them try harder.”

“Daddy Jesse is right.” Aaron T. matched Taeyoung’s evil smile. “Say it.”

“I’m sorry,” he sputtered, “Daddy Jesse?”

Aaron Z. bit back a laugh. “What did you do?”

“No, Daddy is too generous,” Taeyoung decided, “he’s too old, definitely a grandpa.”

“You’re right, you’re right. Robaire gives off single dad vibes anyways.”

“Where does that leave me?” He was almost afraid to ask. “A kid, like us.” “I don’t want to be catagorized with you.”

“You’re the good kid,” Taeyoung nodded, “definitely the reason Robaire thought it would be a good idea to have more kids.”

“And we’re your twin younger brothers.”

“No wonder you’re so annoying.”

“You love us,” Aaron T. teased, “no use in pretending you don’t.”

“I stopped loving you when you called Jesse ‘Daddy.’”

“Hey!” Taeyoung sat up. “I didn’t call him daddy.”

“You called me a grandpa.”

“Grandpa is a little more accurate,” Aaron Z. admitted.

“Traitor.”

“You encouraged them.”

“Z,” Taeyoung drew it out, “tell me you love me.”

“This is ridiculous.”

He pulled out the puppy-dog eyes, pouting just enough that it could be passed off as genuine if Aaron Z. didn’t know better. 

“I love you,” he mumbled. 

“Yes!” He kicked his feet, giddy. “You all bore witness, there’s no taking it back.”

“Unfair,” Aaron T. sniffed. “You have cute privileges, it doesn’t count.”

“Actually,” Z. interrupted, “he has ‘just survived a disaster together’ privileges.”

“I can think of a few more people that could apply to.”

“Jesse?” 

He covered his smile with his hand. “Yeah?”

“Love you.”

“You’re willing to tell the geezer you love him before you tell me? We’re the name twins, 2Aaron, they sell us as a package deal.”

“Stop asking, and maybe it’ll happen.”

“Taeyoung asked, and he got it!”

“That’s because I’m special,” he gloated. 

Usually, this was where Robaire would step in. He’d pretend to be annoyed, tell Aaron Z. to “just say it,” and everyone would laugh.

The silence pricked his skin, eating him alive. Like lungs begging for air, he needed that void to be filled. When they weren’t five, they were too small, too vulnerable, too exposed. 

 He could tell that everyone knew it. They simply weren’t complete without Robaire. 

Jesse got up, gesturing for Taeyoung to follow him. “Let’s go look for food. You didn’t see anything where you washed up, did you?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Cool, we’ll head down the other end of the beach then.”

Aaron Z. was about to ask if he should come along too, but Jesse nodded towards Aaron T. 

“Check on him,” he mouthed. 

Right. He could do that.

He watched them walk away, anxiety setting into his shoulders. Four was already too few. It was wrong. They’d just found each other again, if they were going somewhere, he should be going with them.

“What’s on your mind?” Aaron T. asked, “You look like an abandoned puppy.”

“Just worried.”

“They’ll be okay.”

“And Robaire?”

“He’ll be okay too,” he assured, “that bastard is good at everything, he’s probably leading the rescue team.”

“Ha.”

Concern momentarily laced his brows. “Z.”

“Taeyoung said you’re injured.”

“Yeah, well, our plane crashed.”

“He said it was bad.”

“Jesse took a look, said it wasn’t horrible, but he also looked like he was about to pass out, so—”

“Let me see.”

Aaron T. nodded his head back, and Aaron Z. made his way over. Carefully, he peeled Jesse’s sweater off his back.

It was bad.

It was really bad. 

His back was streaked with red, angry, probably infected wounds. They varied greatly in severity, but the sheer amount of them was petrifying. The skin that wasn’t torn was hot, nearly burning under his touch. His right shoulder was charred black and peeling. 

He dug his free hand in the sand, curling his fingers around it to stop the world from spinning. 

“How bad is it really?” He spoke with an uncharacteristically serious tone.  

“It’s uh…”

“Just tell me. I need to know.”

“You need help, like, hospital help, and you need it soon.”

“I thought so. It hurts like a bitch.”

Aaron Z. leaned back onto his hands, shutting his eyes for a moment. “Damn it.”

“Sorry.” “What for?”

“Shit, nevermind, pretend I didn’t say that.”

After covering him back up, he shuffled to lay down next to him. “Now is really not a good time for you to be hiding things.”

“Are you still going to therapy?”

“Once every two weeks, you?”

“Every thursday.” He was looking at the stars. “My therapist told me to stop apologising when I’m hurt.”

“I’m not going to lie, I didn’t think apologising was the problem.”

“What does that mean?”

“You don’t apologise for injuries, not around us. You just hide them.”

Aaron T. chuckled. “My therapist told me to stop doing that too.”

“I always thought it was a little concerning, but I couldn’t find the right time to ask about it.”

“You’re gonna have a field day with this one.” He rested his head on his arm, offering Z a smile. “You know my mom, right?”

Oh, he knew his mom. 

“When I was a kid, I used to watch other kid’s parents go running over to them when they fell on the playground or something, so I used to play rough, like really rough, so that when I got hurt she would come over to me.

“But she never gave me the time of day, so I kept upping the ante. I was playing on the monkey bars one day, and I fell off, broke my ankle, hurt like a bitch, but she came over and held me, so I didn’t care. She took me to the doctor, and was super sweet, I was having the time of my life. She even signed my cast, and showed me how to use my crutches, and I thought that maybe things would be normal.” “T—”

He looked back up at the sky. “But that night, when I got up to get water, I heard her arguing with my dad. She complained about the medical bill, money was tight, you know? And she complained about me. I sat there like an idiot for half an hour, just listening to her talk about how she couldn’t believe CPS hadn’t taken me away yet, and how she’d have to treat me worse so they would get rid of her sorry excuse for a son.”

“Jesus, that’s…” He searched for the word. “Fucked.”

“Yeah, I stopped telling her about injuries after that.” 

Anything he could’ve said died on his tongue. Aaron T. shuddered, his eyes squeezing shut for just a second. 

“Can we… can we move on?”

Sincerity crinkled his eyes, the purse of his lips almost apologetic. Leave it to Aaron T. to somehow find it in him to apologise for… what exactly? Changing the subject? It wasn’t often he heard Aaron T. say anything bad about his mother, let alone admit to it affecting him in any way. If Aaron wanted to talk about something else, he’d oblige.

It was the least he could do. If it were him, he’d want the same. 

“What do you think the local cuisine will be like?” It was a dull question, one that reminded him once again that the group was split up, but he knew Aaron T. could riff off it, so he asked anyway.

He didn’t miss the way he exhaled, relaxing into a smile. “I don’t want to stereotype, but I fear we may be living off of coconuts during our impromptu, unconventional vacation.”

He snorted. “Hopefully those wretched coconuts won’t be enough to ruin our surprise rest day.”

“I’m sure the sightseeing alone will make up for it, I hear deserted islands are beautiful this time of year.”

“Really? I’m looking forward to the salt water adventure package. I can’t wait to learn how to fish with my bare hands.”

“Please, that’s amatuer stuff, the campfire is where it’s at. There’s truly nothing like camping under the stars.”

“I hear stargazing holds a candle to sitting around the campfire.”

“Touche, you win this one.” Aaron Z. sighed. “You think they’ve found anything?”

Taeyoung rounded the corner, coming into view of the campsite. He waved his good arm wildly. 

“I think we’re about to find out.”

“Z!” He called, his sprint not slowing until he was completely lit by the campfire. Aaron Z. got up to meet him. 

“What—”

“We found Robaire. Jesse needs help.”

“Where?”

“There.” Taeyoung pointed to where he’d come from. “You’ll see them, we didn’t get very far.”

“Watch T.”

Aaron T. scoffed. 

“Right, yeah, okay, will do.”

He broke into a jog, picking up the pace as he rounded the corner. His lungs still ached with every breath. As each foot pounded into the ground, a sharp pain flared in his side. He really, definitely had broken at least two ribs. 

Taeyoung was right. Jesse was crouching at the shoreline, waving him over like a madman. When he got closer, Aaron Z. made out Robaire. He was on his back, eyes shut, but relaxed. He looked at peace.

He looked dead.

“Is he breathing?” “He just stopped.”

He nudged Jesse aside. “I’ve got him.”

After leaning in to check for his breath (not breathing, not good), and then for a pulse (no pulse, not good), he placed the heel of his hand on Robaire’s chest. CPR was almost second nature to him at this point. He’d practised obsessively on those dummies they used in first aid training. He’d asked for one for Christmas one year, and somehow his parents had gotten him one. They really must have thought they were going to have a doctor for a son.

It took twenty eight compressions for Robaire to gasp. 

In all honesty, Aaron Z. wasn’t expecting it to work. CPR doesn’t restart hearts after all, just keeps the blood flowing while you wait for an AED to arrive. To Aaron Z., that meant all the CPR did was prevent brain damage. He was no hero here. 

Jesse was looking at him like he was one though. He flopped backward, blowing out air. “Thank God.”

Robaire started to sit up, but Aaron Z. ushered him to stay down. “Take it easy man. You’re on an island, you survived a plane crash, your heart stopped, and just started again.”

His movements were groggy, but he nodded regardless. “T. and Tae?”

“They’re back at our shelter,” Jesse said, “they’re okay.”

“Shelter? How long has it been?”

“About seventeen hours since the plane crashed, but that’s a rough estimate.”

That was news to Aaron Z., had it really been that long? He tried to recall what Taeyoung told him about the things he’d missed. 

“Okay,” Robaire muttered, “okay.”

“Good to see you.”

“You too, I was worried.”

He couldn’t stop himself from making a face. “Why?”

“Is that so outlandish?” Robaire gave him a good-natured slap to the forearm. “Even if we hadn’t been in a band for years, you’re still afraid of planes.”

“Honestly, getting in a plane crash wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected, kinda feels anticlimactic after all that stress.”

“You’re funny.”

“I can be sometimes.”

Jesse got up, walked over a few feet, and tried to peer around the bend and back at camp. 

Robaire watched him. “What?”

“It just struck me that we left T. and Tae alone together.”

Uh oh.

“Maybe it’s time to head in.” Robaire tried to sit up again. Aaron Z. braced his back with a hand, using his other to help him to his feet. He was shaking, and still soaked. The fire would definitely help.

They walked back in silence. It was easy at first. Even with the weight of Robaire leaning on him, he couldn’t help feeling at ease. Everyone was alive. The last light from the setting sun was gone, leaving nothing but the stars and half moon. With no light pollution, it was almost like he could see the entire galaxy. 

The sand between his toes was still warm from the sun. He always loved the outdoors. He and Taeyoung often went hiking when they had days off. It scared the shit out of the boys, especially when they decided to go somewhere remote. He tried to always give them plenty of information about their routes and when they were planning on getting back, but even with all of that, he still knew that it freaked them out. 

He couldn’t stop going though. Nature was something he adored. Maybe that was why this crash hadn’t felt so bad. He was with his second family and in his second home. It’s not like he was too far out of his comfort zone.

That peace faded quickly though. The campfire came back into view, and he realized how stupid it all was. He was on a deserted island, no food, no drinkable water, no way to get help. His family was at home, would they have heard the news by now? He wondered if the company would have called them, he hated the thought that they could find out any other way. His youngest brother was probably sleeping before the plane even crashed, would he know?

And yes, his bandmates were here, but that wasn’t something to be celebrated. If he could have it his way, they’d be home safe, sleeping, unaware that anything was wrong at all. Instead, they were here, and they were hurt. Aaron T. needed help, he really, really, needed help, and he’d completely forgotten about checking Taeyoung for internal bleeding and, now that he was thinking about it, he’d never checked in with Jesse either, he could be hurt, he could be dying and Aaron Z. could have done something to stop it if he’d remembered to ask earlier and, oh god Robaire’s heart stopped, it could stop again and—

“I should probably warn you.” Jesse pulled him from his thoughts. He was talking to Robaire. “T is injured.”

He stayed silent, eyes straight forward.

“It’s… not good. He can’t really move, it’s all over his back.”

Jesse’s nose twitched. Robaire kept quiet. 

“Z, you got a look at it. What do you think?”

There was so much hope in his eyes. Aaron Z. nearly collapsed under it all. 

“If we get rescued soon, he should be fine.”

“How soon is soon?” Robaire asked quietly, nearly a whisper. 

“Within a few days.”

“Okay.” “Robaire!” Aaron T. yelled, waving him over. “And 4*Town becomes five once more.”

Taeyoung leapt up to join them as they helped him sit by the fire. Jesse pulled his shirt off as Robaire leaned into the fire, gesturing for him to do the same. They traded shirts, Robaire slipping the dry one over his shoulders and Jesse hanging the wet one up to dry. 

“Aren’t you going to get cold?” Taeyoung frowned.

“I’ll be fine.”

Aaron T. whistled. “You’ve been hitting the gym. Your arms look good.”

He flushed. “Thanks.”

Taeyoung plopped next to Robaire, pulling Jesse down so they were all sitting next to each other. Aaron Z. sat opposite to them, on the sand in front of the shelter. He was careful not to block the view or heat from T. 

“You’ve always had that kind of physique,” Taeyoung commented, “the first time I saw you without a shirt I thought you were a superhero.”

“No, no, you’ve got it wrong.” Jesse waved his hands quickly. “Z. is the one with a superhero body.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He crossed his arms, suddenly self-conscious.

Aaron T. giggled. “Okay Mr. Basketball.” 

“This isn’t a competition.” Taeyoung used his good arm to massage Jesse’s bicep. “You’re right, his arms are really nice.” “A whole one good thing came from getting injured, and it was getting fireman carried by Jesse.”

Robaire blinked. “He didn’t offer to carry me.”

“You were in a beef sandwich, you can’t complain.”

“Double hunkage,” Taeyoung exhaled. 

Jesse leaned closer to the fire. “Why is this such a big deal?”

“It’s just a little surprising.”

“What, that I work out? We go to the gym together.”

Aaron T. chimed in, “That ‘my lips are dry, I need my chapstick,’ old man Jesse is ripped.”

“Oh god I don’t have chapstick.”

“The jokes write themselves.” Taeyoung pulled out his signature pout. “But we do the same reps, why are you so much stronger than me?”

“That’s actually a solid question.” Aaron Z. was aware of Jesse’s overworking problem, but he couldn’t think of a time where he could sneak out to work out more than he was supposed to.

“It’s not what you think,” he said quickly, “The 2002 tour put some things into perspective, so I asked my nutritionist to help me make a plan to prioritise strength instead of a particular look.”

“Ah,” Taeyoung drew the word out. “So what I’m hearing is, you started training to be a literal superhero. No wonder the fans have been swooning extra hard lately.”

“Have they?”

“That got his attention.” Robaire smiled.

Jesse’s already pink cheeks grew to a deeper red. “Shut up.” “Jesse’s acting funny tonight,” Aaron T. commented.

“Shy,” Aaron Z. agreed.

“It’s just a lot of attention.”

“You love it.”

“Our resident diva.” Taeyoung leaned into his shoulder. “His only crime? Wanting to be loved.”

“Pft.” Robaire rolled his eyes. “I think you’ve given him enough tonight to last a month.”

“And I’ll give him even more.” 

“Okay, enough.” Jesse shoved him away, swatting the back of his head. Taeyoung whined, but broke into a giggle as soon as they made eye contact. 

“I guess we know who Taeyoung’s newest crush is.” 

“Excuse me?” He perked up, “What does that mean?”

Robaire tilted his head slightly. “You rotate who you cling to.”

“Do I really?”

“I thought it was on purpose,” Aaron Z. said.

“I didn’t realise.” Aaron T. yawned. “Hey Robaire?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell a campfire story or something, I’m getting tired.”

Aaron Z.’s heart skipped a beat. He ignored it. 

“What kind of story?” “I don’t know, just something.”

“Nothing scary,” Jesse added quickly, “Probably not the best idea, all things considered.”

“A not scary campfire story, you’ve really left me with a lot of options.” “Make it up.” T. shut his eyes, waving lazily at Robaire.

“Okay, okay jeez.”

Robaire launched into a story about a fictional boy band who got deserted on a fictional deserted island. He wove the tale into a positive experience, telling of how they explored until they found a beautiful, cascading waterfall. They set up their camp there, surrounded by the towering trees and soft grass. After a good night’s sleep, they discovered a chest behind the waterfall, holding an indescribable secret. 

Aaron Z. thought it was a little odd, but didn’t question Robaire’s creative genius.

“What do you mean ‘indescribable secret?’” Jesse was guiding a half-asleep Taeyoung over to the shelter.

“It’s different for each of the members.” “Mine would have a bed, I think.” Taeyoung hummed, stumbling as his feet caught the edge of the shelter. “Maybe just a mattress.”

Robaire chuckled fondly. “You might change your mind in the morning.”

“Hmm, maybe.”

Once he was laying down and comfortable, Jesse came back around to the fire. Aaron Z. got up too, moving to sit next to Robaire.

“I don’t know that a bed counts as a secret,” Jesse looked unimpressed.

“It definitely wasn’t what I had in mind, it was kind of a feeling, something they needed to feel.” 

“My chest would have safety in it then, I think.” Aaron Z. said.

He’d expected them to laugh. He should have known that they wouldn’t move on before he was thoroughly prodded. 

“You don’t feel safe?”

“No, I mean, yeah I don’t, I think it would be kind of stupid to feel safe after a plane crash, but that wasn’t really what I meant.”

They both looked at him expectantly. 

“Fuck.” He covered his face with his hands. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“We don’t have to.”

“I know you want to.”

“Of course I do,” Robaire admitted.

When he pulled his hands away, he caught Jesse’s eye. He had the same look on his face that he always got when he was about to push someone's buttons. Somehow, he always seemed to know exactly how to push someone without breaching any boundaries. 

“Keeping secrets I see.” 

“I’m not falling for it Jesse.”

He batted his eyelashes. “Falling for what?” “Your weird psychological tricks.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know full well.”

“What would the point even be?”

“I don’t know, malicious comfort?”

“Malicious comfort.” “Yeah, like—” He stopped himself.

“Like?”

He shot him a glare.

“Okay, fine, I’ll just go to bed.”

His heart picked up the pace, a pounding reminder that exhaustion was a symptom many people experience before dying. He tried to ignore it, but—

“Wait.” He grabbed Jesse’s arm as he tried to pass. 

He waited, very patiently, as Aaron Z. tried to get his thoughts together. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk, I just, I know you, both of you, you’re chronic overthinkers, and I’m overthinking.”

“So?”

“If I get you thinking the same way, you’re not going to be able to sleep.”

Robaire put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about that, okay?”

“I don’t know…” “Talk to us,” Jesse insisted.

He hesitated, before taking a deep breath in. “What if you don’t wake up?”

“Hey.” He squatted, placing his hands carefully on his cheeks. “I will, okay? I’m okay.”

 He chuckled to himself. “And Taeyoung? Aaron T.? Robaire, your heart could stop again, it stopped for a reason, right? I’m so scared that you’re gonna go to sleep, and I’ll have missed something, and you’ll die.”

Jesse’s grip on his face grew firmer. “You are not a doctor.”

“Huh?”

“You’re not a doctor. You don’t have to know everything, it’s not your job.” “Well yeah, but—”

“So you can’t fix it. You can’t fix whatever that plane broke in us.”

His throat tightened. 

“There is no controlling what happens out here. There is no ‘I could have done more’ or ‘I should have done this,’ there are only the choices we make. If we could do more, we would. That’s just how a crisis works. If someone doesn’t wake up, there is nothing you could have done to change that.”

It was similar to the advice he’d given Taeyoung when they first reached shore, but hearing it with much more direct wording sent his head spinning. 

There was truth to it, and that was the worst part. If there really was nothing he could do, what was there to blame? They sure as hell didn’t crash for a reason, so it had to be a mistake, but who’s? Who would be at fault if one of them…

No. It wasn’t a hypothetical he had to consider, because it wasn’t an option. Surely, the universe wasn’t that cruel. 

But things happen to people all the time. He turned away from Robaire and Jesse and swallowed hard, trying to stop the tears that were starting to form in the inner corners of his eyes. His gaze fell naturally on the sleeping T-line. He counted the seconds between the rise and fall of their chests. 

It was all so stupid. He shouldn’t be crying. 

Robaire’s arms snaked over his shoulders, pulling him into his chest. 

“You’re carrying too much,” he muttered into the top of his head, “let us take some.”

He shut his eyes, breathing in the smell of salt water, Jesse’s shirt, and Robaire. “Would it help if we slept together?” Robaire asked.

Heat hit his cheeks. “Pardon?”

“Very forward.” 

“Not like that,” he corrected quickly, “Cuddling or something, just being close, that way if you wake up, we’ll be right there, and you’ll know we’re okay.”

Or he could wake up and they’d be dead in his arms. He chose not to voice that though.

“Yeah actually, that would… that would be nice.” “We’re not going anywhere,” Jesse said.

“You can’t know that for sure.” “Maybe not.”

He scoffed. 

That’s how he ended up as the middle spoon. It still took him a long time to fall asleep. Even though he could hear everyone breathing, they could stop at any moment. Trying to silence the paranoid voice in his head was useless. No matter how much he reasoned with himself, he still spiralled into his feelings. 

He wanted to shake them awake, and beg them to keep their eyes open. It took an exhausting amount of effort to keep himself from moving. It took the sun rising for him to finally feel the heaviness of his eyes, the dull ache from holding so much tension, and the brain fog that came from not sleeping. Even despite that, he couldn’t give into it until Taeyoung stirred. He shut his eyes quickly, careful not to give away that he was still awake. That much was enough for him to disappear into whatever nightmare his brain would conjure from this whole mess.

***

“Z! Z, wake up.”

Somebody was shaking him. His heart kicked into overdrive as his eyes shot open. 

It was Aaron T. shaking him, he discovered quickly. Everyone else had evacuated the shelter. He counted them.

Aaron T. beside him, Jesse at the side of the camp, Robaire next to Jesse, Taeyoung—

What the actual fuck?

Taeyoung was running circles around… something. A mound of fur. A mound of fur that kept swatting at him. The sky behind him was a menacing grey, probably rain clouds. He was calm, all things considered. Aaron Z. knew he was reading the creature's body language, doing his best to predict whatever the… thing was gonna do next. 

“What is that?” He tried to keep his voice level. 

“A mountain lion,” Aaron T. replied, exasperated. “There are fucking mountain lions on this island. Where the fuck are we?”

“That looks like a cougar to me.” Robaire said.

“It’s both actually.” Taeyoung kept his attention on the big cat. “I think you’d know it by Puma, Z. That's what they’re called in your part of LA.”

“Jesus christ, Tae you’re playing with it.”

“It’s stressed,” he reasoned, “I can’t get it to follow me, I think it feels threatened.”

“So what do we do?”

The puma lashed out, charging forward suddenly with a low hiss. Taeyoung leapt back, his arms up.

“Tae,” Jesse warned.

“Don’t move,” he said, “it’s okay, it’s just stressed. If we hurt it, it will hurt us.”

The large cat turned slowly, teeth bared. Aaron Z. froze. 

“Hey!” The puma’s attention was brought back to Taeyoung when he yelled. “Pretty kitty, let’s go somewhere else.”

It huffed, rearing onto its hind legs to swat with both front paws. Taeyoung dodged cleanly. 

“It’s gonna hurt you.”

“It would have already.” 

Robaire shifted, uncomfortable, “Isn’t it trying to?”

“If it wanted us dead, we’d be dead. It’s just trying to scare us off.”

“So let’s go.”

“T. can’t move.”

Aaron Z. felt Aaron T. grow tense beside him. “Leave me behind.”

“What?” Taeyoung faltered. 

“I’m toast. Dead meat. Leave me here.”

“That’s not funny.” “I’m not joking.” Jesse took a step, probably unconsciously, but it drew the puma’s attention. “We’re not leaving you here with a cougar.”

Taeyoung tried to warn him. “Jesse—”

But the puma charged, paws flying. Jesse stumbled back, but the cat was faster. It knocked him down, teeth bared. His hands came up to cover his face, taking the brunt of the puma’s first swipe. 

Aaron Z. saw red. He was moving before he had the conscious thought to help him. 

He bodychecked the puma, lungs screaming as his broken ribs came into contact with it. The cat turned, howling as it tried to shoo him away. Robaire yanked Jesse from under it.

“Duck!” Taeyoung yelled.

So he did. He dropped to the ground in time to miss the puma leaping at him, but it didn’t stop running. It bolted toward the shelter. 

For just a moment, he saw Aaron T.’s eyes go wide. The image fried itself into his brain, the significance of it yet to be clear. It was absurdly clear, the way his lips drew tight, his shoulder lowering for just a second. 

Then the puma tore through the shelter, not missing a beat as it thrashed its way through the roof. The leaves fell, and with them, the thick branches that created the one solid wall of the shelter. 

Aaron Z. could only watch as it appeared from the rubble, the fur around its mouth and claws matted with blood. It hissed at them, and took off into the forest, disappearing into the thick wildlife. 

“T?” Robaire called urgently. He practically threw himself at the remains of their shelter. Aaron Z. followed close behind, pulling back the leaves and sticks as fast as he could. Aaron T. resurfaced, coughing. He’d somehow ended up on his back. “That was eventful.”

“Did it hurt you?” Aaron Z. pushed his hair out of his face. 

“Aside from stepping on me? No.”

He could feel himself start to shake. “You look horrible.”

“I bet you look worse, you look like you’re about to faint.”

Robaire finished clearing the rest of the debris away. “No, no, you’re really pale.”

He raised a hand to his cheek. “Am I?”

“Let me—” Aaron Z. fought to keep himself from hyperventilating. This was not happening. “Let me help him, I need space, let me see.” 

Robaire backed up.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Aaron T.’s eyes were dark with concern. “You don’t have to panic.” “What—” “There’s nothing you can do.”

“Aaron—”

“Stop, just stop.” He shook his head, “we’re wasting time, I don’t, can you all come here?” Aaron Z. was hardly aware of Robaire slipping an arm around him, let alone Taeyoung helping Jesse cross the clearing. 

“Please let me try to help,” he begged, “whatever the puma did, I can try—”

He scoffed, “The lion isn’t what did this, I was screwed as soon as that plane crashed, fuck, this sand is so itchy.”

“But—”

“You knew it too, you’ve known all along, you’ve always had really good intuition.” “Maybe he could help,” Taeyoung said, “it can’t be worth giving up, right?”

“I’m gonna be fucking pissed off if you don’t listen to me.”

Jesse cut in, “It couldn’t hurt—”

“I don’t have time,” he snapped, “I just want to spend it with you, please let me have this.”

“But if I could do something,” Aaron Z. said, “if I could help, you wouldn’t have to.”

“I’m dying Aaron. I don’t see any fucking rescue helicopters.”

He went quiet. Aaron T. was right, he had known it. He couldn’t argue, despite every ounce of him working to find another avenue, anything to give them just a little bit more time. 

There was nothing. He wasn’t a doctor. He couldn’t fix this.

The other members were staring at him, waiting for him to admit it. Why was this his job? He was starting to resent his early obsession with medicine. Aaron Z. was no grim reaper. Not once had he wished to be the one to decide when to give up on someone. 

Nobody else was going to though, and he really did already know. It wasn’t fair to waste T.’s time on the account of his own grief. He had to…

He swallowed hard. “You really never give us a break.”

Aaron T. rested his head back, sighing. “Thank you.”

“We’re with you.” Jesse’s voice was thick, almost husky.

“You better be, we’ve been in a band for how long? It’s only common courtesy.”

Taeyoung laughed, his voice wet with tears. “Of course.” “Don’t cry.” He frowned. “This isn’t sad.”

“Of course it’s sad, you know I hate goodbyes.”

“We’re just reminiscing and stuff, no goodbyes necessary.”

He sniffled. “I cry when we reminisce too.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Aaron Z. bit the inside of his cheek. “Do you need anything?”

“Just your undivided attention, and maybe a massage.”

“T.” “I’m serious, your fingers are magic.”

He adjusted so that Aaron T. was laying with his head in his lap. From this angle, Aaron Z. had full access to his unburnt shoulder, which he kneaded carefully.

“You know, I think this is fate, 4*Town was too powerful with five members, it only makes sense that the universe would take one of us out.”

He was met with silence. “C’mon, at least humour me.” 

Robaire crossed his arms, eyes narrow. “It’s not 4*Town without you.”

“Maybe you’ll rebrand to 3*Town then.”

“T.”

“Z? Can I ask for a favour?”

His heart forgot to beat. “Anything.”

“When you make it out of here, can you call my mom and tell her that I forgive her?”

“Huh?”

“I know I wasn’t wanted, but she did her best, even if she hurt me. She doesn’t deserve to live without knowing that I forgave her. I don’t want it to eat away at her.”

 That bitch didn’t deserve it. 

“She’s my mom Z.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll call her?”

“I’ll call her.” Aaron Z. leaned his head back, as though gravity would keep his eyes from getting teary. “You know we love you, right?” 

“I had a sneaking suspicion.”

“No, you know it, right? You really, really know it?”

“You’re my family,” he said simply, “the family I found, and I really have…” Aaron T. blinked a couple times, a tear breaching his ducts and crawling down his cheek. “Fuck, you’ve got me crying now. I was… you all really make me happy. I didn’t really know what it felt like to have someone care about me, you know? Not until you all… thanks for taking me in.” “God damn it,” Jesse muttered, “this isn’t fair, you can’t ban crying and then say shit like that.”

He smiled. “You’re sweet, super-grandpa.”

“As if.”

“Robaire?” 

He sat up a little straighter. “Yeah?”

“Don’t put too much pressure on yourself, okay? We all know you do, you really don’t have to. You might be 4*Town’s leader, but you’re not invincible. I know you’re going to try to go back into leader mode once everyone is safe, but there are people to do that for you, people who didn’t just survive a plane crash. Please, let yourself recover.”

He nodded slowly, shutting his eyes.

“And Jesse?”

“Mhm?” 

“You don’t have to play hero, it’s okay to take breaks. You’re worth more than the hours you put in, so much more. You have to find yourself outside of what you can give.”

He shook. “I’ll try.”

“Good, that’s good, Jesus fuck my back hurts, Tae?”

“T,” he said with a certain fondness.

“My man.”

“Ha.”

“Have fun, okay? Keep exploring, go on more hikes, see everything.” Aaron T. reached a hand up. Taeyoung took it. “I’ll be there with you, you’ll take me. Show me everything, and stop pretending negative reviews don’t bother you.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“You and me both.” Aaron T. looked back, offering Aaron Z. a weak smile. “Hey.”

He tried to match T.’s tone. “What wisdom are you about to bestow upon me?”

“Vulnerability is hard,” he said, “but it’s necessary. Just because you got branded as the stoic one doesn’t mean you have to be stoic around us. You’ve got a really great set of people around you, and I promise you they’re waiting for you to open up. I wish I got to know you more.”

“T…”

“It’s okay, you weren’t ready. From the parts of you that you offered me, I know you’re pretty great.”

His free hand balled into a fist. He used it to cover the bottom half of his face.

Aaron T. let out a breathy chuckle. “Glad I got that all out, I was worried for a second.”

“You’ve always been a fast talker,” Robaire remarked.

“You’re funny.”

“I try to be.”

He went quiet. Aaron Z. waited for him to say something.

“T?” Taeyoung squeezed his hand.

Anything at all.

“Sorry,” he blinked a couple of times, “it’s… not easy to focus, I think I have to go soon.”

Except for that. He didn’t want to hear that.

“We’re here.” It seemed to be the only thing Jesse knew how to say. “We’re with you.”

“You guys really are the best.”

“You make us better,” Robaire insisted.

His eyes closed. “I thought you were really cool to begin with.”

“I’ll never forget the meeting where you were introduced.”

“Ha!” His whole body shook with laughter. “I thought they were going to fire me on the spot.”

Taeyoung smiled just a little bit. “They should’ve known better than to leave us alone with access to water balloons and juice.”

Robaire pinched his brow. “You have no idea how many strings I had to pull to keep you two from getting kicked out before we debuted.”

“Thanks Robaire.” Aaron T. mimicked an elementary schooler, keeping the perfect amount of brat in his voice. 

“I remember being really surprised when they told me you were an acrobat,” Jesse said, “I mean, we met because you tripped up the stairs, I couldn’t believe that you could be so uncoordinated during day to day life, and then pull off a whole gymnastics routine like it was nothing.” “It only got more confusing!” Taeyoung added, “You got clumsier with age.”

“That’s confusing?” Aaron Z. raised a brow. “I thought it was so weird that he can’t swim.”

“Oh my god, yeah, Toronto ‘02 was strange in itself though.”

Jesse chimed in, “You’re lucky I carried you to the island.”

Aaron T. huffed. “Actually, I started taking swimming lessons after that.”

“You probably should have done that before nearly drowning in the hotel swimming pool.” Aaron Z. advised.

“Hey, I got myself four knights after that, small price to pay for being treated like royalty.”

“I don’t know about anyone else, but I was trying to treat you like a small child.”

“A toddler,” Robaire corrected. “Yeah, that’s more accurate.”

Aaron T. sighed. “I love you all so much, you’re such pieces of work.”

“I love you too.” Aaron Z. focused on every detail of the smile that followed, from the hint of his dimples to the scrunch of his upper cheeks. He memorised the freckles that littered his face and neck. Part of him wondered if Aaron T. looked at them the same way he looked at the stars. He always thought clusters of freckles looked like galaxies. 

Jesse spoke. “You sure are getting treated like royalty now though.”

“No kidding,” Taeyoung butt in, “affection with no hesitation from Aaron Z? I could only dream.”

Robaire shot him a look. Aaron Z. shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. 

“He’s always had a soft spot for T. though,” Jesse pointed out. “You tend to get pretty close to someone when you’re branded as one unit.” 

Robaire tilted his head. “But the fact that you two don’t argue speaks a lot about how compatible you are, doesn’t it?”

“We bicker over stupid shit though.”

“So do married couples,” Taeyoung said.

“I guess so.”

A natural silence fell between all of them, but Aaron Z. itched to fill it. He ran his fingers gently through Aaron T.’s hair. 

Nobody spoke. He could tell it was getting harder to maintain a normal conversation. The lull brought with it a haunting ache. His pain was deep, sitting right at the base of his throat. The backs of his eyes felt hollow, as though there was a cavity they threatened to sink into. 

Everything hurt. He thought that waking up after the plane crash, feeling each of his limbs as they rudely announced they were, in fact, still attached, would be the most painful thing he could ever experience. Now, his soul flared with searing, red, fresh pain, accompanied by the physical pain he was already feeling. The whole thing was so unbearable, he thought he may as well be dying instead. 

There was no more desperation, no more hope to hold onto, just the howl of a distant wind. As the first of his tears landed in the sand, the first drops of rain hit the back of his neck. 

“Is it raining?” Taeyoung asked. His voice wavered.

“I think so.” Robaire’s came back as little more than a whisper.

“What a great vacation,” he could almost hear Aaron T. say, “What, with the weather and our unconventional landing. I think I might have a word with our trip organiser.” 

He looked down at him. There was something he knew he needed to do, but he wasn’t ready yet. For now, he could pretend that he was just sleeping, that there was no reason to worry about why he hadn’t added to the conversation for the past couple minutes. He was just resting his eyes. 

Jesse was incapacitated, eyes red and narrow as he stared into space. Aaron Z. assumed he must have looked pretty similar. Taeyoung was resting his head on Jesse’s shoulder. He shook with each breath, holding himself with his intact arm. Even with the beginnings of rain, it was clear his cheeks were tearstained. 

And then there was Robaire. He was uncharacteristically void of anything. Aaron Z. was always confident he could get a read on him, he wore his emotions on his sleeve, but this Robaire was impenetrable. He couldn’t help but wonder if he felt a sense of responsibility for this. He was their leader, he put immense pressure on himself to make sure everyone was safe and okay. Maybe he wasn’t thinking anything at all. 

“You’re bleeding!” Taeyoung exclaimed suddenly. 

“Just the cougar,” Jesse muttered.

“You can’t hide shit like that.” Aaron Z. surprised himself.

He glared. “I was a little preoccupied.”

“It looks bad,” Taeyoung said.

“I don’t care.”

Aaron Z. gaped. “Excuse me?”

“Could you honestly tell me that you would?”

“I could tell you that you can’t die on us, if that changes anything.”

“Please don’t argue.” Robaire closed his eyes, reminiscent of when he got headaches. “Not right now.” “Sorry,” Taeyoung said. 

“What happened, Jesse?”

“It got my arm, it’s not bad.” “If you feel faint, or nauseated, or feverish, please tell me.” Aaron Z. held eye contact with him.

He looked away. “Okay.”

When the silence returned, it became all the more clear that a storm was coming. The rain hit the remains of their shelter, pattering loudly as the heavy drops hit the leaves. The distant sound of wind grew louder. 

“We need to move.” Robaire said.

“Yeah,” Aaron Z. muttered. 

Taeyoung, poor kid, looked gutted. “So soon? I mean, is there a chance we can stay?”

“It’s gonna get really cold really fast.”

“It’s just,” he fiddled with the sleeve of his hoodie, “T.”

It was time. He got another good look at his face. Aaron T.’s features were relaxed, peaceful, the calm amid the storm. Even though he knew he had to, and he knew what he would find, he still hesitated to press two fingers on the side of his neck.

Thump. Thump.

For a split second, he thought he was somehow feeling his own heartbeat through his fingers. There was no way.

He leaned down, bringing his ear down to Aaron T.’s face.

A soft, warm breath hit his cheek. 

Aaron Z. laughed. 

He leaned back, unable to control the fit of laughter that so unceremoniously tore out of him. He’d surely startled the other members, but he couldn’t help it.

He was alive. They still had a chance.

They still had a chance.

He could make it.

“Z?” Jesse tested.

“He’s alive.”

“What?”

“He’s alive, he’s, he’s breathing, he has a pulse.”

“Seriously?”

 Taeyoung broke into a full sob, burying himself in Jesse’s arms as soon as he offered an embrace.

“He’s alive?” Robaire checked, “Really alive?”

“Check for yourself.”

And he did, a grin breaking out as soon as he felt it. Privately, Aaron Z. was relieved that he hadn’t just gone crazy.

Jesse glanced between the two of them. “Really?”

Robaire nodded. 

“Dramatic asshole,” Taeyoung’s voice was muffled, “going on about how it was his time and all that. I can’t believe him, he’s gonna get such a kick out of this.”

***

It didn’t take long for the storm to chip away at their morale. It was freezing, really fucking freezing. Aaron Z’s clothing was completely soaked through. Even huddled with the other members, there was no warmth. They’d lost it all a long time ago. 

The initial rush of excitement faded as soon as further implications settled in. Aaron T. was unconscious, possibly comatose, and that still wasn’t good. It was better than dead, for sure, but not good. His pulse was steadily growing weaker. 

The sun had set and risen once since the storm started. He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t moved beyond his vaguely scheduled pulse checks. Every muscle was stiff from the wet and cold. He felt like a corpse. 

Their attempts at conversation had long died out too. Nobody was in the mood to chat. Even if they were, Aaron Z. didn’t have the energy to participate. He was down to basic functions, and that was being generous. The rainwater was fresh, and he’d ingested enough accidental mouthfuls that he wasn’t thirsty, but he had no business not feeling hungry. 

The wind buffeted from behind. He’d taken to pretending the wind burns brought him some warmth. It was bearable that way, listening to the howl and pretending it's beating was a blanket. 

It was exactly that reason, the sheer volume of the wind, that Aaron Z. didn’t hear the helicopter. He didn’t know it was there until Robaire pointed it out. 

“Holy shit.” He’d sat up straight. “That’s a helicopter.”

“What?” Jesse snapped his head up, following Robaire’s line of sight. Aaron Z. did too.

The poor helicopter was fighting for its life in the storm, but it was there nonetheless. 

Robaire leapt to his feet, Taeyoung and Jesse close behind. The three waved their arms, trying to catch the helicopter's attention. Aaron Z. stayed with Aaron T., but joined them in calling out.

“We’re here!”

“We need help!”

“Hello!”

And then. “We see you. We’re waiting for weather conditions to permit landing. We’re here to rescue you.”

The crackly voice from the helicopter’s speaker was a heavenly sound. He repeated the words in his head.

We see you. We’re waiting for weather conditions to permit landing. We’re here to rescue you. Soon, a second helicopter appeared, keeping a safe distance away. Then, a third. It was difficult not to get giddy.

Taeyoung collapsed into the sand. “Thank god.”

Jesse hit the ground too, maybe a little bit too hard. That wasn’t good.

“Jesse?” Taeyoung rolled over to face him.

Robaire knelt next to them. Aaron Z., as gently as he could, lifted T.’s head from his lap. 

“Z.” Taeyoung’s voice was laced with panic. “Z.”

“I’m coming.” 

He sprinted over, ushering the other two to back up. He fell into autopilot, checking for a pulse and breathing like he’d done far too many times over the past few days. Both were present, and to his relief, Jesse stirred after a couple more seconds.

“Jesse?” He gently adjusted the collar of his shirt. 

He mumbled something incoherent.

“You fainted,” he explained, “you’ve been out for fifteen, twentyish seconds.” “Hm.”

“Stay down, rest until you feel a bit better. Don’t try to get up.” He turned to Robaire. “Make sure he doesn’t try to get up. I’ve gotta…” “Yeah, go check.” He kept his pace as neutral as possible as he approached the place he left Aaron T. Somewhere inside him, anxiety stirred itself into the mess of emotions he’d been fighting to tame. Something was off. 

He knew before he checked. As a kid, he’d asked his father how to tell if someone was dead, or just sleeping. He’d said that unconsciously, you can hear people breathing, so you just know. It’s something you just know. 

He checked anyway. He pressed two fingers into the side of his neck. Aaron T. was cold, but that didn’t mean anything. They were all cold. 

He waited to feel something. 

…

He waited.

…

Maybe he was doing it wrong. He tried a different angle.

…

Another?

…

Maybe he’d gotten the sides mixed up. He was incredibly low on nutrients, he could be a little out of it. He tried the other side.

…

Who was he kidding? He’d been doing this for hours, he’d done it right the first time. He tried that again.

…

His hands were shaking, maybe that was it. His hands were shaking, that was why. He leaned in to listen for his breath. 

He listened. He waited to feel it. He waited for that same warmth.

It didn’t come. It never came. 

Fuck.

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. They’d had another shot. He’d stayed with them for a whole extra day. The helicopters were right there. 

They were right there.

They could have an AED on board.

He wasted no time starting chest compressions. Footsteps flurried towards him. 

“Z! Z, what’s going on?” 

“What does it fucking look like?” “What happened?” Taeyoung asked.

“I really need to focus.”

“Sorry, sorry.” “C’mon Aaron.” Aaron Z. paused to breathe air into his lungs. “We’re so close.” “The helicopters are landing!” Robaire announced. 

“Tell them we have one unresponsive, no pulse.” Taeyoung stayed hovering nearby, but called over his shoulder, “How’s Jesse?”

“Jesse’s fine,” Jesse retorted. 

He pounded down at his well-practised pace. “We’re going home soon. You better be coming with us.”

The sound of the other members became distant, almost as if he'd entered some kind of auditory tunnel vision. The rain washed it all away, pouring down his back, eerily similar to the cold drip of chills. Ironically, he felt himself come alive again. After some time, he began to warm up, sweat mixing with the rain that beaded his forehead. It was cruel that he could do everything in his power to keep Aaron T. from reaching the true point of no return, and find himself more revived than him. It was like he was leeching any remaining life from him.

A hand tried to pull him back, and he thrashed. 

“Z!” It was Robaire, he was behind him. 

He kept going, he had to keep him ready for the AED. 

Another hand. He shoved it away with his shoulder. 

“They're here, they're ready to take over.” 

Aaron Z. looked up, meeting the eyes of a person in a bright orange jacket. Her bangs were plastered to her forehead. She gave him a kind smile. 

And then Robaire’s arms were around him, pulling him back. He was too exhausted to object. 

He watched them take over CPR. He watched them set up the AED. He watched them administer the first shock. 

Aaron T. jolted once, remaining limp. 

Another person, clad in an equally hideous orange jacket, watched the machine for any signs of life. 

“Nothing.” 

He sat there, and watched. Robaire didn't leave him. He didn't dare move, he didn't want to mess anything up, all the while they cycled through those steps. CPR, “clear,” shock, jolt, wait, repeat. At some point, one of the helicopters left with Jesse and Taeyoung. He supposed it should make him feel better, but he didn't want to be very far away from them, let alone let them disappear in another aircraft during a storm. 

He couldn't think about that too much though. He couldn't take his eyes away from Aaron T. A part of him wished this was all happening with more grace. The dark grey sky was not the right backdrop for someone like T. It was another injustice.

Robaire squeezing him was the only indication that he'd missed something. He felt the breath catch in his throat. 

“Time of death,” The girl with the kind smile said. She wasn't smiling anymore. 

No. 

“13:27.” 

No, no, no no no no no. 

This wasn't happening. This was some cruel, twisted, anxiety induced dream. He was still on the plane. He was dreaming. He would wake up and tell everyone, and they would laugh. He would laugh too, because it was ridiculous. Aaron T. would pretend to be offended because he was the one to… yeah, but it would all be a good natured ruse. Robaire would comfort him, and he'd act annoyed, but after a dream like this he would need it. 

But everything was too real. Robaire’s failed attempts to muffle his sobs, that god forsaken rain, the search and rescue person who pried him away from the only thing that was normal, the hands that prodded him as he was checked for injuries, the questions he was asked and the hollow shell his voice had become, all of it tied him to reality.

It couldn’t be right. It couldn’t. Had it really been twenty minutes since the search and rescue team took over? That was how long they were supposed to try for. Would it really have made a difference though? Someone guided him toward one of the helicopters. Robaire sat on the blue, uncomfortable seats. He was shaking, clutching an ugly silver blanket. It looked like tinfoil. Aaron Z. had been given one too, but he was hardly aware of it hanging off his shoulders. Somebody else was holding it up for him. 

“I’m sorry,” Robaire said, hesitating for a moment before searching for Z.’s eyes.

“Me too.” He sat next to him, abandoning his tin foil blanket to join Robaire under his. 

He leaned into him. “You’re warm.” 

Aaron Z. pulled the blanket tighter around them. 

***

He was getting sick of his hospital room. There wasn’t enough light, it made him drowsy, and it smelled of hand sanitizer. 

He was the first to get cleared to leave his room without a nurse, go figure. His doctor was impressed with the accuracy in which he explained his symptoms. He’d gotten lucky, with a mild concussion and five broken ribs, he was by far the least injured and the only one who didn’t need surgery. 

His nurse, Madison, was wonderful. She gave him updates that he really wasn’t supposed to have. It was thanks to her that he knew anything about the other members at all. She spoke to him like they were friends, and he figured they were a similar age. Madison had admitted to knowing he was a member of 4*Town, but said she preferred other styles of music. That almost made it easier. 

Taeyoung was the only member he’d gotten to see since arriving. Their first conversation was one of the hardest he’d ever had. 

“Did he make it?”

He’d only managed to shake his head. 

Each visit got easier though. The crash took up less and less of their conversations, especially after their families stopped by. They were given magazines, snacks, and most importantly, phones. He’d asked his nurse about whether it was okay to text, and she assured him that they were far enough away from anything it could affect. 

He opened the chat between him and Taeyoung again, as he’d done at least twice in the last five minutes. 

Taeyoung: theyre taking me for surgery now!! i was told 4 hours ish so ill txt you when im awake :) 

Taeyoung: come visit after!! or else

Aaron: See you then! 

His nurse poked her head in the door, frowning when she saw him on his phone. “Put that away. Staring isn’t going to make it go any faster.”

“Hi Madison.”

“Hi Aaron.” She slipped in, shutting the door behind her. “I have updates.”

“Do tell.”

“Jesse’s just come off anaesthetic, they’re waiting for him to wake up.”

“He’s not awake yet?”

“I mean literally just, I walked by his room on the way here. He’s technically conscious, but the surgery was long, he’s pretty out of it.”

He sighed, relieved. Jesse’s surgery was the scariest one he’d been conscious for, easily the one with the highest mortality rate out of the three. Turns out, he’d had some pretty bad internal bleeding in his legs. 

He was still angry with himself for sleeping through the entirety of Robaire’s open heart surgery. He hadn’t even known it was happening until it was over. 

“Was the surgery successful?”

“They sounded optimistic. It’s looking like he’ll make a full recovery.”

He flipped his phone shut, putting it on the tiny plastic table next to his bed. 

“Ready for the second piece of news?”

“Shoot.”

“As of ten minutes ago, Robaire was cleared for visitors.”

He sat up. “Really?”

“His parents are still two hours away.”

“Can I go?”

“Keep it brief.” He practically flew through the door, only stopping to grab his phone. 

Madison called out after him, “304.” “Thank you, thank you, you’re the best.”

“Take the elevator!”

And he did, travelling two floors down. He’d grown accustomed to the help he got from the staff. The people working on the third floor already helped him get to Taeyoung’s room without much fuss from the public. 

One of the nurse’s, Dustin, gave him a funny look once he stepped through the elevator doors. “Where are you going?”

“304.”

“Oh? My patient?”

“I heard he was cleared for visitors.”

“Word travels fast apparently, follow me.”

He did as he was told, a hint of anxiety clawing in his throat.

Dustin knocked on the door. “Robaire? You have a visitor.”

“Come in.”

Aaron ducked in, awkwardly waving to his friend. He looked…

He looked bad, but significantly better. He was clean, for one. It almost looked like a stylist had come through.

“Z.”

“Robaire.”

“They won’t tell me anything.”

Dustin looked between the two of them. “Welp, I’ll be down the hall. You’re with Madison?”

Aaron nodded.

“She knows you’re here?”

“Yeah.”

“Just making sure.” He shut the door.

Robaire waited a few moments. “He hasn’t stopped talking about her.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m sensing some sparks.”

“Good to see you’re still a massive romantic.”

He rolled his eyes. “As if.”

“Madison tells me a lot, you know.”

“About Dustin?”

“About Taeyoung and Jesse.”

“Are they okay?”

He sat on the end of his bed. “They’re alive, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good to establish, but I was hoping for more detail.”

“Taeyoung is in surgery right now, they’re setting his arm. Jesse’s coming off anaesthetic, he had some internal bleeding.”

“And you?”

“Broken ribs and a concussion.” “Lucky bastard.”

He chuckled. “I hear you had heart surgery.”

“Mhm.”

“Wild.”

“You’re telling me. I don’t even remember getting here.”

“You feeling okay?”

Robaire shrugged. “Wish I was allowed to walk around.”

“You know that’s only partly what I meant.”

“I’m managing. Processing I guess.”

Something sparked in his chest, like a steel hatchet striking a piece of flint. “Any word from the agency?”

“Dustin said some lawyers stopped by.”

“Shit, why?”

“They’re suspecting foul play.”

Nausea, a feeling he’d become quite accustomed to, sent his head spinning. “What?”

“Apparently there’s evidence that suggests it was on purpose. Somebody did this on purpose.”

“There were kids on that plane.”

“I know.”

It was overwhelming. He rubbed his temples.

“I’ve been trying not to think about it. I’m sure our manager will be here soon to talk about it.”

“That’s a lot for you to take on.”

“Mark of a leader.”

“You can say no, you know.”

Robaire shook his head. “I could, but not knowing is worse.”

He was doing it again. It was the same as the pandapocalypse. “Just, maybe don’t shut us out this time.”

“I don’t think I could if I tried.”

“Oh?”

“Trauma’ll do that to you, I guess.”

“You should have your parents bring you a phone.”

“Is that allowed?”

He grabbed his phone from his pocket. “I’ve been texting Tae.”

“Can I send something?” “I’m sure he’d be happy to hear from you.”

Aaron handed the phone to him, watching as his thumbs darted around the keyboard. Robaire handed it back. He took a peek.

Aaron: Hey Tae! It’s Robaire, Z tells me you’re in surgery right now. I’ve been convinced to try and sneak a phone in, so I guess we’ll be able to text, but I wanted to say that it’s good to hear you’re okay. I can’t wait to see you again.

Aaron: <3

“Snooping are you?”

He glanced up for a moment. “No.”

“Hm.”

“Do you have paper? I’m going to leave you my number.”

“Are you going?”

“No,” he assured, “I just don’t want to forget.”

“I’m pretty sure I know your number.”

“I got a new one with this phone.”

“I don’t think I have paper.”

“Oh,” he said, “I’ll have Madison deliver it then, maybe it’ll give Dustin a chance to talk to her.”

His eyes sparkled. “Ten bucks they end up together before we’re all out of here.”

“Twenty bucks Madison has no interest in him.”

“Ouch, just say you don’t believe in romance.”

“Whatever, I just think she’s taken.” “Oh?”

He smiled, “She’s the kind of girl who could have anyone she wants.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for your nurse.”

“Not even close. You’d be head over heels though.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She listens.”

“The way to my heart. Why did you end up with this seemingly perfect nurse?”

“What’s wrong with Dustin?”

“He follows too many rules.”

“Sounds like you’re a match made in heaven.”

“I was worried about you, you know.”

His brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Dustin wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“I mean, it’s not like I was injured that badly.”

“I was more thinking about what we talked about on the island, the night before the cougar.”

He tried to pull the memory to the front of his mind. “What are you talking about?”

“The whole sleeping thing. I just figured it would be hard for you to sleep.”

“I haven’t really been sleeping,” he admitted, “Not since they told me about your surgery.”

“You must be exhausted.”

He was. He really was. The moments when he was talking to people were great, but they only lasted so long. He could only reread the same trashy gossip magazine so many times before he got lost in his thoughts. They were a bad place to be lost in. 

“Not really.”

Robaire’s brow raised, skeptical. “Does your doctor know?”

“No.” “Maybe they could put you on something.”

That was a no go. He was not going to let them drug him into sleep. He could miss something, he could, someone could, what if they couldn’t wake him up in time? Someone could crash, he could miss it. He could miss someone’s last moments. He could wake up to a fucking puma again. He could wake up back on that god-forsaken island.

“Maybe.”

“Are you actually going to ask, or are you just saying that?”

“You’re not my dad, Robaire.”

He flinched.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, I’m sorry.” Robaire shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I should trust you.”

Maybe not in this case, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to say that.

“Robaire—” “You did well, you know? I don’t know if you’re worried about that at all, but you did. I think you handled being on a deserted island better than the rest of us.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You were incredible.”

He felt his cheeks flame up. “What’s with the flattery?” “I’m just a little in awe. Waking up on the beach and seeing you there, I just, it was safe. I really appreciated you telling me what was going on, because I was very lost.”

“It’s just what I would have wanted someone to do for me.”

Robaire glared. “Take a compliment.”

Aaron scoffed. 

“Can you promise me something?”

“Maybe.”

“Try to sleep?”

He really didn’t want to. 

“Please? I know it’s not really fair to ask, I can only begin to imagine how hard that is, but I couldn’t stand anything happening to you.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me.”

“You need sleep. You look horrible.”

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to sleep again.” He tilted his head a little, frowning. “You’ll try though?” Something about Robaire made it hard to say no. That was a general rule of thumb when dealing with the other members of 4*Town. It took a supernatural amount of strength to say no when he asked for something, especially when it came to any kind of health. He was doomed as soon as he asked.

“I’ll try.”

The relief was evident in the way his whole face loosened. “Thanks. Really, thank you.”

“You’re in leader mode.”

“I know,” he said, “you’re still stoic.”

“Touche.”

“What’ve you been thinking about?”

“T.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t know how to come back from this.” “There’s no coming back,” he said simply, “it’s never going to be the same. No use pretending that it will.”

He paused, taking a moment to shove the little hints of sadness away. “I could drink to that.”

“I could drink, period.” “First rounds on me.”

“I’m starting to think you might be a literal God-sent angel.”

“Ha.”

“Do you think the gift shop carries any books?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t been down. I could ask Madison?”

“Have her pick something, I want to get a feel for the kind of person she is.”

“Why?”

“For Dustin, of course.”

“Right, of course.”

He leaned forward to shove him. “Go sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“You sure?”

“Trust me, I couldn’t go anywhere even if I wanted to.”

Aaron pulled him into a careful hug. “Say hi to your parents for me.”

“I will.” He left him with promises to send Madison with some of the things he’d been gifted so that he had something to do while he waited. Leaving Robaire’s room, he felt significantly better. Dustin, who was sitting at the nurses station, waved as he walked past. He made his way back to the elevator. 

At least, he was, until a conversation caught his ear.

“I don’t know why his mother was his emergency contact. She seemed really annoyed that we called.”

He froze. Two people in hospital attire were chatting, their voices slightly hushed, as though they weren’t supposed to be speaking. 

“Really?” The other person said, “Is she in a different time zone or something?”

“I don’t know, she didn’t say.”

“What did she say?”

“She asked why we were calling, and I told her that her son had been in an accident. She was completely unbothered.”

His whole body tensed. He couldn’t move.

The other person sounded scandalised. “No.”

“It gets worse. I told her that he’d died, and you know what she said?” “What?”

“Good riddance. It’s about damn time.” 

…

…

…

…

…

Good riddance. 

It’s about damn time.

“Put her on the phone.” 

“What?”

“Put her on the damn phone,” Aaron demanded, “She deserves to regret making him miserable, she, he was, he forgave her. She deserves to rot knowing that her son was better than she’ll ever be.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t—”

“I’m not asking. He might have put up with her, but I won’t. That bitch—”

“Aaron?” Dustin appeared around the corner. “What happened, why are you yelling?”

His eyes stung with tears, his voice catching in his throat. “He needed her. He deserved to be fucking loved, and she pulls this shit?”

“Who?” Dustin mouthed to the two hospital employees. “His mother. His own fucking mother.”

“Oh.” “She’s not worth it, she really isn’t, but he cared. He cared so much about her opinion and it sucked. She made him wilt, and no matter how much we tried to make him realise that she was human dogshit it never changed anything. I could never give him that.”

He clutched the wall for support. The two gossipers clambered over to him as he collapsed. He curled into himself, praying they would just leave.

“I couldn’t, I couldn’t give him that. All he wanted was love, and I couldn’t give him that.”

He curled tighter. 

“It’s not fair,” he sobbed, “it’s not, it’s not fair.”

He knew they were hovering nearby, but he was too tired to care. Let them witness whatever he was doing, maybe it was a divine punishment for assuming Aaron T.’s mother could be anything other than the selfish person she was.

He deserved so much better. 

The elevator dinged. “You’ve done enough,” a voice hissed, “go find Dr. Williams.”

“Who gave you the right—”

“That is my patient.” Oh. It was Madison. “Go, before I find her first. You might want to get your story straight before I have the chance to report you.”

Footsteps pattered off. Madison squatted next to him. “Oh Aaron.”

“She didn’t deserve him.”

“She didn’t.”

She helped him to his feet, guiding him back into the elevator. 

“Your room has more privacy,” she insisted. 

He didn’t say anything for the whole walk back, nor did he say anything once he was back in his room. Instead, he sat on the floor next to his bed, burying himself back into his knees.

“Can I get you anything?” She asked softly.

“No.”

“Okay. Do you want me to leave you for a while?”

He nodded. 

“Alright. You know how to call me if you need me.”

She got up to leave.

“Wait.”

“Yes?”

He took in a deep breath, and looked up. “Could I take something to help me sleep? I uh, haven’t been.”

She nodded. “I’ll ask your doctor.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

She shut the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

Nothing was going to fix this. No amount of doctor visits, no amount of therapy, no amount of time could mend the way he’d been bent out of shape. The thought terrified him. He was always going to have a piece of him missing. He wanted to believe he would end up okay. The remaining members (god, he hated thinking that way) showed great promise in their physical recovery. He wasn’t sure he could handle losing anyone else. 

But that was inconceivably far away. For now, he could only sit on the cold hospital floor, crying like the storm and shaking like the turbulence, waiting for the first part of him to heal.

[fruitcoops]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could do another fic involving jules and coops together? Just like sweet moments between the three? I loved the baby sitting series you did and could not stop thinking about it❤️❤️ Thank you!!

Yeah, of course! I love writing my boy at any opportunity. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but the relatives are my ocs!

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sirius asked under his breath as Remus finally—finally—appeared from the mass of people.

“It’s fine,” Remus said around a forced smile to a middle-aged man across the yard.

Sirius hid his mouth by pretending to look down at the nearest casserole dish. He didn’t even know what was in it; nobody had bothered with labels, and everyone’s dishes were the same basic florals in different colors. “I love you, Re, and I totally get the whole ‘meet the parents’ thing, but this is a bit much if I’m being honest.”

“Honey.” Remus’ shoulder pressed against his own. “I’m sorry you’re not having a good time, but my Aunt Jen would skin me alive if I didn’t bring the man I’m marrying to the family reunion. We can leave tomorrow if you really hate—oh, no.”

“Remus!” a shrill, excited voice called. Sirius felt his fiancé straighten up as a tall, redheaded woman in star-painted jeans hurried across the grass with three other women in tow. She reached up and gave Remus’ cheeks a squish, then leaned in a planted a lipstick-stamped kiss to his forehead. “How are you, my duckling? Was your flight alright? Make sure you stay away from the salt or else your feet will swell.”

“Hi, Aunt Jen,” Remus said, grimacing a little at her rib-crushing hug. “I’m doing well, and our flight was fine. How are you?”

“Peachy keen,” she assured him. Dark brown eyes lasered in on Sirius half a second later and he felt his fight or flight kick in. “And who are you?”

“Aunt Jen, this is—”

“It was rhetorical, honey,” Jen interrupted with a pat to Remus’ arm as she stepped closer to Sirius and immediately hauled him in for a hug. She was as tall as Remus, but broader in the shoulders and hips; he had never felt so engulfed by someone. It was a strangely enjoyable feeling.

“Aren’t you a handsome one?” the shortest of the group cooed, as if she was talking to a particularly small dog in a purse. “Our Remus always knew how to pick them.”

Remus furrowed his brows. “Aunt Lisa, this is the first boyfriend I’ve—”

“But he’s not just a boyfriend!” Jen trilled, giving Sirius’ cheek a pat. “He’s a fiancé, something I learned from your mother. Not from your father—oh, I gave him a talking-to about that—and not from you, duck.”

Sirius bit back a laugh at the nickname and spared a glance to his left, where Remus had gone pink all the way to his ears. “Sorry.”

“Introduce us!” the shortest insisted, taking the other two by the hands as pulling them forward with an eager smile.

“Everyone, this is Sirius Black, my fiancé.” Remus gestured between them, and the four women beamed at him. “Sirius, this is Aunt Jen, Aunt Lisa, Aunt Allison, and Aunt Mary, my dad’s sisters.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Sirius said, holding a hand out.

“No need to be so formal,” the brunette grumbled with a teasing grin. “We have heard so much about you from Lyall. After those damned pictures—”

“Allison,” Jen hissed.

“—after the damned pictures,” Allison repeated with a pointed look. “I was about ready to drive up to Gryffindor myself and give that lousy son of a bitch a piece of my mind—”

“Allison!”

“—but Lyall talked me down and I have been waiting to meet you ever since.” She finished with a soft huff and gave his arm a quick squeeze. “Remus is a lucky boy to have you. It’s very exciting to see you in person at last.”

Sirius’ heart gave a happy little ka-thump and he smiled. “I’m glad to be here. Thank you for having me.”

“He is so polite,” Lisa said to Remus out of the corner of her mouth with a wink and a thumbs-up. “Good choice.”

“You know what I just realized? We haven’t said hello to Jules yet. We’ll see you in a few, yeah?” Without waiting for an official answer, Remus wrapped an arm around Sirius’ waist and practically carried him away from the table. Once they were out of earshot—and the aunts had busied themselves with one of the younger Lupins—Remus relaxed with a slow exhale. “I am…so sorry.”

“For what?”

“I had no idea they were going to corner you like that. I mean, I did, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be for another few hours. They tend to move in a pack at reunions, like sharks. Or wolves.”

“They’re really sweet.”

“They are,” Remus said grudgingly, though Sirius could read the affection dripping off him like his favorite book. “My dad’s the youngest of five, and I was the first nephew. You can imagine how that went.”

“Baby of the baby?”

“Exactly.”

“Can I ask one thing?” Remus nodded, visibly confused, and Sirius found he couldn’t keep his grin down any longer. “Duckling?”

“I hoped you didn’t hear that,” he groaned as they headed toward the kids’ play area beneath a large oak. “Long story short, it involved five-year-old me, a pond, and a sinus infection that made me sound like a duck when I sneezed.”

“Oh my god,” Sirius laughed, earning himself a light elbow to the ribs. “And the name stuck?”

“Considering she was the one that had to stay with me while my folks were working, she could call me whatever the hell she wanted. Please don’t ask her about it unless you want a thirty-minute TED talk about the ins and outs of my sinuses.”

“She’s a doctor?”

“No, she just overshares.”

“Sirius!”

Sirius looked up and saw a herd of small children racing toward them, led by his favorite person under the age of eighteen; Jules crashed into his legs and squeezed him tight around the waist. “Hey, I missed you!”

Jules propped his chin below Sirius’ sternum and stared up at him with the classic hazel-gold eyes that were far more common than Sirius believed before they arrived in the Lupins’ backyard. “I missed you, too! How’s the team? How’s Harry? Is he still super small or did he do that weird thing that babies do where their legs grow and the rest of them still looks normal? How was your flight? Did you have turbulence?”

Sirius thought for a moment. “Good, also good, growing normally, and yes.”

“Sweet! Come play cornhole with us!” Jules grabbed his hand and dragged him along the grass at the closest thing he could manage to a sprint with Sirius’ added weight—the pre-teen years had lent him gangly legs, though he didn’t seem quite sure how to use them yet. He looked more like a foal than a sixth-grader.

“What the hell is cornhole?” Sirius muttered as the flock of kids ran ahead to grab armfuls of beanbags.

Remus grinned. “Something I’m about to kick your ass at.”

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

By the time the sun set, Sirius was exhausted. He had been introduced to dozens of people who looked just enough like Remus to be eerie, as well as plenty who seemed to have been acquired by one Lupin or another over the course of their life. Jules fluctuated between laminating himself to Sirius’ side and disappearing for an hour at a time, only to return more grass-stained and rumpled than ever as he begged Remus to swing him around by the ankles again. His ass had been thoroughly kicked at cornhole and freeze tag; it was a true miracle he hadn’t already passed out into a food coma. For all of his earlier griping, Sirius couldn’t think of a time in recent months when he had been more content.

“You’re a brave soul,” Remus remarked as they sat in the grass together and watched the fireflies wake. Though it was a warm night, it seemed the citronella candles littering the tables were doing their job of chasing off mosquitoes.

Sirius leaned his head on Remus’ shoulder. He smelled like grass and summertime and sunbaked warmth. “Am I?”

“Mhmm. I’m sure most people would have run screaming by now.”

“I like your family.”

A beat of silence passed; Remus rested his temple against the top of Sirius’ head. “I’m really glad to hear that. They’re weird and loud, but I love them.”

“And I love you.”

“Are you saying I’m weird and loud?”

“On occasion.”

“Asshole,” Remus laughed, giving him a nudge that hardly qualified as more than a gentle sway.

“Language, there are eight million kids around.”

“They’re busy.”

Sirius watched as small group run by in a wave of giggles, all clutching mason jars of fireflies with their names written on masking tape. “Thank you again for asking me to come with you.”

“Like I said, Aunt Jen would—”

“Remus.” He fell quiet. Sirius didn’t remember the last time he said Remus’ full name aloud. “Your family loves you so much. They’re everything I ever wanted growing up, and it means the world that you wanted to share them with me. All they want is to see you happy. It was amazing to finally meet them.”

“They really, really love you,” Remus said softly, his voice a little thick. “I had about twenty people tell me how wonderful you are. They all thanked me for bringing you, and not a single one mentioned the celebrity thing. Even my Uncle Jay didn’t say a word about hockey.”

“He was the one in the jersey?”

“I’ve known him for my entire life and I’ve never seen him without one.”

“Huh.” Sirius tucked his face closer to Remus’ neck and let the sound of the bullfrogs in a distant marsh lull him. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven. The adults will be up for a while, but the kids will start crashing soon.”

Footsteps on the cool grass rustled to their right and Sirius looked up. “Who wants pie?” Aunt Allison singsonged, breaking their quiet bubble with paper plates and utensils. “This one is blackberry, but we have peach, pumpkin, and a few others on the table if you’re still hungry.”

“Just a small piece, please,” Sirius said.

Allison paused and cocked her head, then burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re funny!”

“I am?”

“Don’t fight it,” Remus whispered.

“You are a growing boy,” Allison said as she cut a thick slice and plonked it onto his plate. “And there’s no such thing as too much pie.”

I’m 26, Sirius wanted to say, though he held it in. “Just a small one for me, as well,” Remus said.

“Ha!” Allison snorted. “You’re already too skinny. Eat your pie or you’ll end up a string bean like your father. The NHL might have given you muscle, but it’s useless if you don’t enjoy some of your favorite aunt’s—”

“—woah, hey now—”

“—pie once in a while.” Allison kissed the tops of their heads once both plates were secure and bowing in the middle. “I’m going to make sure the kids aren’t poking around in the river again. Sleep well, you two.”

Sirius stared down at his plate as she wandered away. “I’m honestly going to die if I eat this.”

“Yeah, please don’t make yourself sick on pie. You really don’t have to eat all of that. The aunts and uncles are convinced that none of us are eating properly once we turn eighteen.”

“Really?”

“I wish I was kidding. You’re going to sleep so well tonight, though.”

As if on cue, Sirius stifled a yawn with the back of his hand and cuddled under Remus’ arm again. A familiar shadow bounded over not two seconds later and he barely held down a groan. “Hey, can I join you?”

Remus shrugged. “ ‘course.”

“Sweet.” Jules settled himself across their laps, staring at the sky with his head pillowed on Sirius’ thigh. “Did you have fun? I’m really glad you could come.”

“I had a great time,” Sirius answered honestly. Now please move on so I can take a nap.

“Mom and dad and me got here yesterday, and Aunt Jen kept checking the door for you guys even though she knew you weren’t coming until today. She was worried you wouldn’t like us, I think.”

“That was never an option, Jules.”

“Yeah, I know.” A devilish grin flickered over his face. “Remus is the weirdest of all of us, and if you want to marry him—”

“Get off,” Remus grumbled, shoving Jules’ legs onto the picnic blanket. “You know, you were a lot nicer before you turned eleven. Can I return you and get a new one? I have the receipt somewhere.”

“Nope.”

“That’s all a birth certificate is, right?” Sirius raised his eyebrows. “If you bring it back in good condition, I hear they give you a ten percent discount.”

Jules scowled. “That’s so not true.”

“How do you think I got Regulus?”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Remus asked with a pointed look. “Run along, problem child.”

“Of the two of us, I’m the least problematic.” Despite his words, Jules clambered to his feet and dusted his hands off over Remus’ head. “I’m not the one that got a secret boyfriend and got engaged in a year. I’m so easy. Mom and dad want two of me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Remus sighed as he stretched out on the blanket. “They had a second kid because they wanted two of me.”

“You’re adopted.”

Remus cracked one eye open in disbelief. “No, I’m not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because—y’know what, go to bed. Or go find the stampede, I think they’re by the river.”

Sirius whistled lowly as Jules scampered off again. “That was impressive. Isn’t your aunt over there?”

“Yep.”

Realization clicked into place. “She’s going to make him go to bed.”

“Yep.”

“You’re brilliant.”

Remus smiled without opening his eyes, and tugged Sirius down by the sleeve to lay next to him. “You’re just figuring that out now?”

The stars were brighter than anywhere Sirius had ever seen; for a moment, he was struck speechless by the endless rivers of sparkling white overhead. He stared until his eyes burned from dryness, then put his head on Remus’ chest and kept on looking. There was no way he could tear his gaze from it. A few shooting stars streaked across the clear sky and he felt his heart skip a beat in pure amazement when he realized there was nothing else he would wish for in that moment. He could listen to Remus’ heartbeat and the sound of his new family talking against a backdrop of the night, relishing in a full belly and cool wind, and simply stay there for as long as he liked.

[sneezyminniejo]

enhypen motion sickness hcs ? also today I just learnt that jungwon, gets dizzy and nauseous easily by loud noises and strong smells. thanks twitter 😭

Heeseung isn't known to get motion sick. He's gotten sick a couple of times while on planes, but it's unclear whether that's from heights of motion sickness

Jay isn't known to get motion sick either. However if he's really tired, it can make him more susceptible to getting motion sick. Particularly if he's trying not to fall asleep in the car

Jake has told his members that he's prone to getting carsick, but it has yet to actually occur. He either grew out of it or his tendency to get motion sick isn't as high as he thinks

Sunghoon claims he doesn't get motion sick, but the first time the members were on a long haul car trip found Sunghoon with his head between his legs and him breathing deeply. He hasn't thrown up in the car yet, but the members don't trust him, so they bring supplies on the chance it happens

Sunoo doesn't get motion sick often. When he does get sick, it was likely from there being too much turbulence while flying or something similar. Sunoo is aware of this and makes sure to have air sick bags with him on the plane

Jungwon is the member that gets motion/carsick the most. If a car ride is longer than forty minutes, he begins to feel nauseous. He, like Sunoo, has issues with flights. However, takeoff, landing, and turbulence all find him with a stomach that's been a bit too jostled

Riki doesn't get motion sick at all. If he gets sick while in a car, chances are very high that he was already sick and hiding it from his hyungs. Riki has successfully played off an occasional stomach bug as motion sickness a couple of times, so his hyungs do think he gets motion sick, but are unable to predict when it'll happen because there's no pattern with the maknae