Sylus takes notice one night, as you’re resting against him, of the exact way you position yourself in his hold.
You press your body to one side of his, until you’re basically molded against him. Your heart lays above his, it’s beating harmonizing with his own until they inevitably sync together.
Your head rests slightly on his collarbone, your face lingering just above his neck leaving your nose to occasionally bump it after a deep breath. Breaths which fan across his skin and give him little goosebumps.
Though it isn’t any of this that truely catches his attention.
One of your hands lays gently on his chest.
Sprawled exactly where in a past life a final blow had taken his life.
Your fingers graze where the gash would have been, leaving soft touches instead of dripping blood.
You’re unaware of what had happened ages ago, though subconsciously you apologize. Holding him close now as you couldn’t before. Perhaps it was part of your soul coming to its peace as you laid with him now.
His hand shakes slightly as it comes to trace your own, he turns, placing a kiss to the crown of your head and begins to focus once again on your steady breaths and your heart's rhythmic beat.
Perhaps this will be enough of a resolution to relax his own soul as well, that way his part and yours can come and rest together again as you two do now.
You pushed the eyeshadow palette to the side as Rumi laid below you, watching you decide on what to do next. You’d been bugging her for a while now about designing her show makeup and it was on this dull day in the middle of their break that she had finally agreed.
It wasn’t professional, or high effort, it was simply an idol and her partner sprawled out in bed. The weight of your chest laid on hers, your elbows propping you up just enough to look down at her as you created your masterpiece. You placed some blush to her cheeks, a light dust of color to finish off what you’d been working so hard on.
You set the blush aside, readjusting your weight to look down at Rumi once more, your eyes wandering over her features to take in what you had created. Halfway through your observations you stopped, your gaze lingering on her patterns. Slowly you brought your hand up, brushing your fingers over the patterns that spread across her forehead. Your eyes traced the movement memorizing the shape as your fingers ran along her skin.
“I’m glad you don’t cover them up.” You spoke softly, your fingers moving further up to tuck back some of her loose hairs.
She looked at you silently for a moment, watching you focus, holding onto the gentleness within your stare. “Yeah?” She responded, her voice barely above a whisper.
You smiled, bringing your hand down to cup her cheek, “Yeah.” You finalized meeting her gaze.
A warmth settled in her chest, something about you, your acceptance of what she’d tried to hide for so long, made her fall even harder for you.
And maybe, she thought after a moment, you’d have to do her makeup more often.
Synopsis: Falling in love with a voice of someone out of reach is dangerous, but being surrounded by an ocean of blood doesn’t do wonders for a man’s judgment. And when he hears you laugh it feels like maybe humanity has hope yet. So perhaps getting to know you isn’t the worst decision he’s made.
Word Count: 5.5K+
Warnings: MAJOR IRON LUNG SPOILERS!! THIS IS BASICALLY A RETELLING OF SEVERAL MOVIE SCENES SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!! Descriptions of blood, going insane, dehumanization (?), cussing, basically everything that was in the movie, plus angst (that differs from the movie), reader is referred to as “beautiful” once
A/N: (at the end)
Simon couldn’t decide what was worse: the immense feeling of dread that hung over the submarine or the sweltering heat inside of it, but both he decided to ignore. If he does this, he earns his freedom, simple as that. So long as the C.O.I. keeps their word there should be no issues.
The vessel shakes, chains rattle from above, and a voice cuts through the static of the speaker.
“Beginning the descent.”
The tone is final, fact, as if actually saying there’s no turning back now. It doesn’t address him, not yet, it exists to inform, to follow a protocol he’s unaware of. He’s unaware of everything down here, no training, no way out, just the vast ocean of blood and him.
“Mission clock started.”
The submarine sinks further, moving slower as it fights against the pressure of the blood outside. And for the first time since being welded into this death trap he’s finally addressed directly.
“How are you feeling convict?” The voice hangs on that word, as though it feels out of place, “Ready to do some good?”
Does it matter? Whether this turns out to be helpful or not it gains him his freedom, that’s all that really counts. Yet he replies anyways, “Yeah.”
The voice turns back to procedural, he’d hardly recognized the shift. Speaking to him, it wasn’t the stern tone from before. It wasn’t drastic, whoever on the other end certainly wasn’t a friend, but it existed. It was nice, a sliver of empathy in this situation.
“Cruising depth in two minutes.”
Another jolt comes as the submarine continues downwards.
“There seems to be some voltage irregularities with the instruments so keep an eye out for sparks, flames, those kinds of things.” The shift in tone happens once more as the voice over the radio talks to him. But even that change can’t hide the fear the warning brings.
“Flames?” He speaks up, “Why would there be flames?”
A small sigh, then a response, “We don’t know, but I thought I should warn you.”
“You did test this thing, right?”
Another voice cuts through the line, it's irritated, and suddenly Simon realizes just how much warmth the other person possesses in comparison.
“This is the test. Now stop with the questions and focus on the mission.”
There’s a rustling on the other end as he assumes the microphone is being passed back. There’s a scoff, a muffled argument, and then the original speaker comes back.
“Sorry, that was our captain. She doesn’t really appreciate questions.”
“You aren’t the captain?”
A laugh, real, quiet, but real. And then, “No, I’m just the radio operator but don’t be fooled I’ve been here just as long as her and know just as much. I’ll be leading you through this.”
That’s helpful. At least he assumes it is.
“Okay, you’re approaching cruising depth. We’ve welded you in as tight as we can, and the ship is basically a tank, but be cautious about how deep you go. It can take some pressure but there’s a limit, the terrain is unpredictable but try not to wander too far into the red. Got it?”
“Yeah I understand.”
“Alright, there’s going to be several points where the radio cuts out. We don’t have a strong enough signal to reach everywhere you’ll be going, but I will do my best to stay with you as long as I can.”
He doesn’t know if he should be reassured or not. But judging from the fact that he has no clue what he’s doing, and whoever is speaking to him seems to, he chooses to be content with it.
“Closing porthole shielding.”
He watches as the glass in front of him is slowly covered, questions arising in his mind the longer he sits. “What is it exactly that I’m looking for? No one’s told me what it is.” He asks.
The captain’s voice comes back, harsher than before, “We don’t know. You’re the first one down, all we have are surface scans. Which is why you’re there.”
He turns to the control panel, it doesn’t look like rocket science, but some training sure would’ve been nice. The captain’s voice continues to disrupt his thoughts.
“You know we salvaged that glass from Filament Station? Not a scratch on it. Pretty lucky. Funny how some things survive and others don’t.”
It felt mocking, as if every word was chosen deliberately to bring him down. Luckily it isn’t long before the radio operator takes over.
“Approaching maximum depth. Find the coordinates on the map, document as instructed. You’re entering a dead zone so we won’t be able to reach you for a while. Good Luck.”
Some of the words get garbled because of what he assumes is a bad connection but there’s no time to focus on that. The sooner he starts this expedition the sooner he can be released.
The ship groans under the pressure of the sea, it echoes off the walls and makes everything feel hollow, empty. The sound reminds him that he’s alone, trapped at the bottom of an ocean, for god knows how long.
It’s the next day when the voice comes back.
“Convict? Are you there?”
There it is again, the evident distaste at how they refer to him, at what he is: a convict.
Simon hesitates at first, he knows what he’s doing, any distractions waste time he can spend on his mission. But whoever is on the radio is there to help, to inform, he has no reason not to respond.
“Yeah. I’m here.”
“Good,” they say, a short sigh coming with it, followed by a yawn.
“You sound tired.” He points out, unsure as to what this conversation is supposed to build towards. But he figures he might as well engage with it, it’s not like he gets any other interaction down here.
A chuckle mixes with the static of the speaker, “Thanks for noticing, I didn’t sleep much last night. I was too worried.”
Simon checks the angle of the submarine before he speaks again. “Worried? Why? Is something going wrong?”
“No, no, I mean nothing drastic,” the voice reassures, “It’s just that we were supposed to be able to make contact with you again yesterday and our signals never came through. I was worried something may have happened to you.”
That’s…confusing. Why would they be worried about him? Isn’t that the whole point of sending down a convict? Because they’re disposable?
“Me? Why would you guys be worried about me?”
It couldn’t have been that they were concerned for him. The photographs maybe or whatever evidence he’d gotten from being down here, but not him surely.
“Well they weren’t, not as much as they should’ve been anyway. I don’t know. I guess, for me, the idea of sending anyone into an unexplored ocean of blood is nerve wracking. I’d want them to come back safe, convict or not, we’re all people.”
He takes in every word, thinks them over, as if trying to find some kind of dishonesty. No one in the C.O.I. cares about the convicts, it’s that simple. And yet whoever was on the other end of this did care. They cared immensely from the sound of it. It’s strange, it’s been a long time since Simon could say someone cared about him.
“So you stayed up all night worrying about me?” He wonders aloud.
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
At least someone was looking out for him. But even so this conversation wasn’t furthering the mission in any way, which is what he assumed they were supposed to help with.
“Hey, so, when this oxygen meter hits the last light that means I still have like a quarter left right? That’s not zero is it?”
“Right.” The voice responds, “The ship has enough air to last one person a good while, but try to get the mission done soon. You don’t have a lifetime supply or anything.”
Good to know. He’d wished he’d known it sooner, but that was the case for basically everything.
“I’ve found some interesting stuff down here,” he continues, “I don’t know if you guys can see any of it but I think you should take a look.”
“The photos upload to us after a little while, how close are you to completing the mission?”
So they can see what he’s found, interesting.
“I have a few spots left to investigate but hopefully it’ll be over soon.”
“I’ll make sure to add that to my report. You’ve done some good work, I’ll check in again soon but keep it up.”
With that the line cuts out and he’s left alone again. He thought these conversations were supposed to be about information and nothing more, so why is it that without that voice the submarine feels darker than before?
Whatever, it doesn’t matter, the voice will be back again soon but the ocean that surrounds him isn’t going anywhere. He has to seek out his assignment or he’ll never be free. He needs to focus, and not on the sudden loneliness the silence brings.
By the time the voice comes back it’s the least of his worries. A skeleton unmarked on the map, the ship shaking, everything feels unstable. He’s ready to leave, freedom be damned. He just wants to live.
The voice fills the space, it's nervous, falling over their words as they rush to check in with him. “Hello? Are you okay? What happened? What’s your status?”
He groans, being flung around in a tight space doesn’t feel great, “I’m here.” He mumbles, pushing himself up.
“Okay…okay.” They breathe a sigh of relief, “Is the ship damaged at all? What happened?”
“I don’t know,” he replies.
A disagreement comes from the other line, what he makes out of it is someone concerned about the ship's hull integrity, and the other is concerned about him. Eventually one voice, which he assumes is the radio operator, gives up and the captain’s voice takes their place.
“Convict, is the ship damaged? Is the hull okay?”
“I don’t know! You never told me anything would be down here!”
“Is there a problem with the ship? We have to know before we send you back down.”
Back? What does that mean? No way in hell was he going back after experiencing that.
“No fucking way! I’m done! Bring me back up, throw me in prison, I don’t fucking care! I’m not doing this.”
He starts to get angry, talking over every point the captain tries to make, ignoring everything that comes over the radio. Ignoring everything until it turns back to the operator's voice. “Hey, hey!” They start, gaining his attention, “I need you to calm down and listen to me, okay?”
“I’m done.” He mumbles again.
“Alright, we can talk about that in a minute. I need you to investigate the ship for hull damage, because if you fell, and if there’s damage, that means leaks. And leaks mean you die. So, can you please calm down and look?”
He takes a breath, listening and looking around. No alarms go off, no blood floods in, everything seems stable, everything except himself. “Yeah,” he hesitates, “everything seems fine. I think.”
“Okay,” they say, a breath of relief is hidden as they pull away from the microphone. A mumbled conversation comes from the other side as the situation is relayed to everyone above, “We’re going to check on your progress well everything settles.”
“Settles?”
“Remember what I said about the terrain? How its unpredictable? That’s because it isn’t rock, it’s not solid, just congealed blood and some gas bubbles.” Behind their words is some kind of chaos, overlapping voices, speaking about who knows what. But the radio operator stays on the line with him. “Are you okay? A shift like that can damage the hull but also the people inside the sub, any injuries?”
“Maybe a few bruises.” He speaks up, looking himself over.
“Nothing's broken?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good.”
Something about their tone, their voice, their words, is comforting. Maybe it has something to do with being down here alone for so long. Or maybe they’re genuinely growing on him, either way he couldn’t think of any one else he’d want on the other side of this right now.
Though just as soon as that realization comes the captain’s voice takes over the line once more. “Convict, did you find a skeleton?”
“Yeah.” He mumbles.
A conversation is still held on the other end, orders are given, questions are asked, but eventually the attention is directed back to him. “Convict, are you absolutely sure it was a skeleton?”
“I mean, yeah, I’ve seen a skeleton before. How stupid do you think I am?”
Silence for a moment. Not even a sound comes from the radio before her voice comes back.
“We’re pulling you up. Standby.”
The ship shakes, moves, and he’s tossed around a bit more as garbled words take over the other end of the radio.
The next interaction he has is face to face, the porthole shield lowers and in front of him is the captain. Questions are asked, answers are given, and she turns to discuss with her crew. But the decision is made to send him back down.
“You’re not listening to me!” He argues, “There’s something else!”
She turns back to him, analyzing his desperation.
“It’s not like I don’t want the deal, I want it. But it’s not worth it. Not for me, and not for you.” He reasons, “You’re not hearing me when I say there’s something else. Something alive.” Simon takes a minute, thinks over his words, what he knows, who he knows. “Where is the radio operator? I want to talk to them, they’ll understand.”
“No can do.” The captain responds, “This is my crew, and you report to me, this isn’t a call you get to make. You’re going back down. We’re putting an attachment on the front, all you have to do is point it in the right direction, it should grab on to something.”
“So what do I do? Just ram it?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
An argument ensues, this isn’t right. He’s done his part, he’s done more than his part. They need to uphold their end of the deal. And they just aren’t listening.
But the camera, the x-ray, wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know. They couldn’t have expected him to.
“Drop him.”
And it was done, quickly, without any adjustments or hesitations. It jostled the sub and tossed him down. A voice came over the radio, a new one, unfamiliar. “Calmed down yet? You can’t be too upset, not after the stunt you pulled.”
Simon groans as he pushes himself up from the ground, “Who are you? Where’s the operator? I want to talk to them.”
“No can do. They’re helping to take Jack, you know that guy you irradiated? To the medical staff, so you’re stuck with me.”
Great, sent back down to hell with an unfamiliar navigator and a death wish of an objective. Whatever, get the sample, get out, and then he’s free, surely.
No matter what some fucked up message from another pilot says. He’s making it out of here alive.
A voice cuts through the static after his discovery of a missing skeleton. This time it’s familiar, welcoming, at least the operator is back, not everything has gone wrong.
“Hello?” They start.
“Hello? Can you hear me?”
“Yes, yes I can hear you. What’s going on?” They ask.
“You mean why am I moving away from where the skeleton is supposed to be?”
“That among many other things, but we’ll start there.”
He takes in a deep breath, analyzing the map against the control panel. “This is going to sound made up.” He murmurs, “But the skeleton is gone.”
“Gone?”
“I’m at the coordinates but all it is is a big hill. Maybe it got buried, I don’t know.”
“Hold on.” The voice disappears for a few moments, and he waits. A few pictures are taken, to double check or just to pass the time, he isn’t sure which. “We’re picking up something a few meters ahead of you.” The voice chimes back in, “Just keep heading that way.”
“Roger that.” He says, and silence overtakes the sub once more. Condensation builds on the walls and drips down to the floor. “Can I just ask something?”
“Fire away.”
“Why is it so damn hot in here?”
There’s a laugh somewhere on the other side, “I’m not completely sure. I bet there isn’t any kind of air circulation or conditioning in the sub so that probably has something to do with it. But also an ocean of blood is warmer than one of water so it’s likely the heat from outside is affecting the inside as well.”
Simon groans in response, that means there’s no way to fix it. Not besides removing a few layers. The movement must catch the attention of the operator because now they take their turn to ask a question. “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean? I’m still heading towards the skeleton?”
“Yeah, but all I can hear is rustling on your end. Is everything okay?”
He laughs gently, “Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m just taking off a few layers. If there’s nothing I can do to fix the heat I could at least try that.”
“I guess that’s true.” They start, “But you’re not like completely stripping down, right?”
He laughs then, fully, for the first time in a long time. “No,” he reassures after a moment, “No, we haven’t reached that point quite yet.”
“Good. Because if we pulled you up after this and you were completely naked it would be quite the first impression.” They give, sharing in his soft laughter.
“First impression? Does that mean I’m actually going to get to meet you when they pull me back up?”
There’s a silence on the other end, a quiet internal debate. “Yeah.” They respond finally, “You’ll get to meet me. And I’ll get to meet you.”
Simon can’t help the smile that comes to his face, the thought is nice, something new to look forward to. Until it’s interrupted by the controls beeping, warning of an upcoming obstacle.
The skeleton. Right. The mission.
But the picture is wrong, this isn’t how it was before. And no amount of ground shifting could have caused it.
“What do you mean?” They ask.
“It just doesn’t look right.”
“Okay, well,” they hesitate, “can you still get a sample?”
He looks over the picture again, “Probably. But this doesn’t feel right.”
“I know, I know. But if you come back without a sample they’ll send you right back down. So just, gather what you can, they’ll have to deal with that.”
“Then I’m free?” He asks.
“Yeah, then you’re free.” They reassure.
And hearing it then, from them, a direct answer. Fills his chest with something lighter than hope. If this is really it. If this is all he has to do. To be free, to meet whoever’s been leading him through this, it’s well worth it. But there’s something else, one other worry that plagues him. “Even after what I did? With the radiation?” He worries aloud.
“That wasn’t your fault, besides you upheld your part of the deal. It’s time for us to do the same.” They reassure.
“I am sorry. I never meant for that to happen.” He continues.
“I know. I don’t blame you.” They start, their words catching, as if they want to say something more, dig a bit deeper, expose more of themself to him. But instead, “Let’s get this over with, yeah?”
He sits back down, staring at the controls, “So what? I just ram into this thing at full speed?”
“I guess so. I’m no engineer but the hull is expertly welded, it’ll hold, and it should take most of the impact. So just go for it.”
He sucks in a breath, nothing about this seems thought out, but it’s the quickest way to being a free man. So he pushes forward, the coordinates spike up, the lights blink faster. There’s an impact, and then? Nothing.
“I think I got it.” He speaks up, hesitant.
“Are you sure?”
“Let me check.” He backs up and takes a picture. Nothing much has changed aside from a hole in the jaw. “I think I got it, there’s a hole in the jaw.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, at least I’m pretty sure.”
“Okay, good.” A conversation is muffled on the other end before the voice comes back, “Hold onto something, we’re bringing you up. See you on the other side.”
The line cuts off into static and he sighs, he’s finally done. He glances back to the picture. Looking it over, but in the top corner, hidden behind the skeleton is a blur of something else.
He tries to speak up, to warn them, but it’s too late. They begin pulling him up.
“Hold on! Something else is down there!”
The voice cuts back in, “What do you mean “something else”? Something alive? Are you sure?”
“Yes! Yes! It was looking directly at me.”
He hears a gasp on the other end, but it’s the least of his worries as the sub begins to rock and resist ascending.
“Something’s got me!”
“Okay hold on!” The operator says, and he overhears an argument between them and the captain. They want to cut the line, release the sample, save him. But the captain argues the sample is too necessary to lose. The argument fades away as the sub rocks harder, flinging him against the walls once more, knocking him out cold.
By the time he wakes everything is dark, echoing with groans from the hull, it's eerily more lonesome than before.
He can’t keep track of how much time passes, not between mapping his area, discovering things he shouldn’t, and having experiences beyond belief. No, time is the least of his worries.
When he finally makes contact with someone again, it isn’t right, it isn’t true, it isn’t real. A light of hope given to him just to be extinguished in the end. Perhaps it was symbolic, a look into what lies ahead for him.
He’s abandoned, alone, besides the creatures that have clawed their way into his mind. The things he’s seen, heard, and lived are everything but true. Or perhaps they are real, and everything outside of what exists miles deep in an ocean of blood is what’s false.
His mind can’t keep up, his heart races, trying to come up with anything to keep him sane. And that’s when he hears it.
The voice that’s guided him for so long. Through the dreary darkness of this sea, and into the light of their words. The radio operator from before. The only one to care, to empathize, to make him laugh in such a dire time.
“Hello?”
But how could he believe it’s real, how could he buy into that after everything? What if it’s just his mind playing tricks? Attempting to give him exactly what he wants before it’s finally over.
“Is that really you?”
Maybe it’s better not to respond. To ignore it until it passes. Maybe that’s what he should’ve done before.
“Are you there?”
But it’s so much easier to allow yourself to snap under the weight of it all, “Stop fucking with me.” To let it out on whoever crosses your path, real or not. “I’m done, I’m done being fucked with. The radio is broken, you aren’t there, you aren’t you.”
The line goes quiet, contemplating, but the person on the other side continues. “I don’t understand how you survived. It’s been days, you should’ve run out of oxygen ages ago.” The voice chokes up from gentle sobs, he’s alive, somehow.
There’s a rage that builds within the submarine, a rage that builds within him. “What did I do in the hangar?”
“What?”
“What did I do? How many people were there?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Just tell me!” He pushes.
“Three! Okay? And you used the camera which blasted them with an immense amount of radiation.” The voice steadies, “How are you alive?”
“You’re lying,” he continues. This isn’t real, not after everything else, “It’s not possible.” The radio is unbroken, still completely intact. But how could that be true? “What’s my name?” He whispers, a broken kind of whisper. The kind that reveals damage, but only to those who care to look, and they were certainly that kind.
“I’m so sorry,” they hesitate, stumbling over their words, “I don’t think I ever asked for your name.”
“You sent me down here to die without even knowing my name.”
The sentence is painful, mostly because it holds the truth, “I never wanted you to die. I don’t think that they cared, and I should’ve spoken up for you, I should’ve tried harder, but I don’t want you to die. I never have.” That’s true too, at least he thinks it is. They’ve only ever shown compassion, only ever tried to help. But even so he’s still trapped. “Look, I don’t know how you’re alive. We all thought you died days ago, I mean you shouldn’t have enough oxygen for this. I’m glad you’re still here. But how are you still alive?”
“I really don’t know, I don’t know. But I think I’ve done enough. I just want to go home.” He begs.
“I know,” the voice cuts in, calm, caring, “just hold on. Let me talk to everyone and we’ll come up with a plan.”
He tries to compose himself as he listens in, hearing only a dispute on the other side but not being able to make any of it out. He assumes it’s between the operator and the captain, as usual, which means it can’t be anything good. It seems harsher than usual, more intense in the way it carries on. Whatever is happening, whoever is arguing, neither is backing down.
After a long while of muffled arguing someone finally speaks to him again. This time it’s the captain, “Convict?”
“Yeah. I’m here. So what’s the plan? How am I getting out of here?”
The line goes quiet and then, “I don’t think that’s going to be possible.”
It’s a punch to the gut. After everything, all that he’s gone through, all that he’s learned, he’s just another sacrifice they’ve chosen to make. “Not worth it”. Never enough, not until he has what they really want. Information. Information from SM8 that they couldn’t recover otherwise.
It’s foolish that this is what it takes. What it takes for them to care enough about him. But it works and the deal is made.
But it goes wrong, so wrong, even in comparison to everything he’s already gone through. More blood is claimed to the sea, whispers turn to screams, and he’s faced with a choice bigger than himself.
When he returns from the crawl space, drenched in blood with the black box in hand, the radio operator’s voice greets him. “Hello? Are you there? What’s going on?”
Even with the desperation that laces it, the concern in the tone, the nervousness behind each word, it still takes a weight off his shoulders. Let’s him breathe as if it’s his first and last time.
“Hey.” He greets simply, slipping to the floor to fasten the life vest around the black box.
“Oh my gosh, you’re alive.” The anxiety fades into relief, “I was so worried, what happened? Where did you go?”
“The crawl space, I needed to get something important.”
“Okay, well, are you alright? The thirty minutes is almost up, are you at the meeting point?”
“I don’t,” he hesitates, choking on his words as if he himself doesn’t want to believe it, “I don’t think there is a meeting point. I don’t think I’m getting out of here. I don’t think I was ever supposed to.”
“What? What do you mean?” The anxiety comes back in a wave of concern and questions. Questions he can’t answer.
“Can you, just talk to me? Please.” His voice is tight, close to tears. And it melts away everything else entirely.
“Yeah,” they respond carefully, “I can do that. What do you want to talk about?” It’s kind, gentle, so much of the little he’s felt in life. It’s all here, from a stranger. No, not a stranger, but someone who’s turned into something far more.
“Tell me about yourself. We never shared our names, I’m Simon.”
“Simon,” you test the name on your tongue, and it feels more natural than anything you’ve ever said. In turn you introduce yourself. You don’t know what’s happening, not in the safety of your spacecraft. But you care enough to stay, to console him. “What else do you want to know?”
“What do you look like?” His voice cuts in, “I don’t want to die without imagining it.”
That’s a hard one, how do you describe yourself to someone? What would he notice first? What would he care to know?
“Well, I’m wearing this shitty required uniform from the C.O.I. that looks exactly like everyone else’s. Because apparently individuality is a sin around here.” His laugh comes in, it’s soft, perfect. You’d only heard it once or twice but you’d never get over the way it made you feel. You think for a moment, and remember the files aboard the ship, “Simon, next to your chair is some binders. In the blue one is an overlook of everyone you may speak to on your mission. If you find my last initial you’ll see my page, and a picture of me. You won’t have to imagine anything.”
You hear movement, slow, deliberate. Then pages turning over until that too stops. The line is quiet, and you aren’t sure what to make of it.
You don’t see how he’s mesmerized by your smile, how his fingers trace the edge of the photo like it’s sacred. And maybe in this moment, maybe to him, it is.
“You’re beautiful.”
Your heart skips a beat. It’s genuine, full of an adoration you’ve never heard before. And you aren’t quite sure how to respond. Luckily he speaks up again.
“Have you ever seen me?”
You look at the files on your desk, and the first thing to meet you is his mugshot, then medical records, and several other reports of either photographs with him or words about him. Since the beginning of this expedition you were supposed to know him inside and out, not personally, not as a human, but as a criminal. But even still it didn’t take away how you felt, how he made you feel.
“Yeah, I’ve seen you.”
“What do you think? Someone you’d maybe let take you on a date?”
“A date?” You chuckle, “Where would we go? There aren't many places since the quiet rapture.”
“I’ve never liked the idea of something flashy anyway, I’d much rather just talk with you. Maybe make dinner together. Simple, sweet, easy. As long as it’s with you it wouldn’t matter.” He explains.
“That sounds nice.”
You smile, it really does. And if you close your eyes tight enough. If you shut out everything besides him. You can almost see it, the two of you, together. You don’t realize that he’s doing the exact same thing.
“You never answered my question, would you even go with me?”
“I would, you look like someone I’d be happy with, really happy. ”
You hear him sigh, grateful to hear your true feelings.
“If I’m going to die,” He speaks up again, “I think you deserve to know, that I think I’m in love with you.” He laughs at his own words, as if realizing how unbelievable it sounds.
You suck in a breath, “Simon.” You gasp out, voice tight.
“And I know that’s crazy to say considering we’ve never met face to face. But you’re the only person that’s ever made me feel like me. Not The Butcher, or The Convict, just Simon. So, I love you.”
You hear the ship groan on the other side, something is causing movement, something is coming. You hear as he moves around, preparing himself.
You don’t see how he tucks your picture close to himself, don’t see how he struggles against the blood ocean overtaking the sub. Or how he gives one last smile at your choked out, “I love you too.”
All you hear is the silence that comes after. There’s no static, no radio to pick up on, there’s no one on the other end. Just you, alone, and the memory of a man you’ve never even met.
Falling in love with a voice isn’t the best decision one could make. It’s a hopeless feat. But when that voice is the only thing to bring light to the darkness of yourself, you stop caring about how realistic the end goal is. Especially when surrounded by a vast ocean of blood and they exist as your only salvation.
I had this idea since I first watched the movie but honestly I don’t know how to feel about the final product. I’m most definitely going to revisit this if Iron Lung comes out on streaming or physically because I’m sure I can make this better if I could analyze the movie. This is actually based on the several times I’ve gone to see it, so it should be pretty accurate. In fact one time was solely dedicated to making sure this followed the plot well enough. So hopefully you guys enjoy this belated Valentine’s gift, I’m also working on requests right now but that’s a whole separate thing.
I also kind of want to post this on AO3, but I don’t even know where to start with that, or if I like this enough for it to be my first piece of work there. I do think that a lot of people look for fanfiction over there rather than here though. So who knows? Maybe I will commit to doing that.
“I look into your eyes and I think back to the son of mine, you’re as old as he was when I left for war…”
Odysseus can’t help but smile as he gazes down to the baby boy cradled in his arms.
He’d spent years trying to get home, trying to see his family again. It had never occurred to him that his family may have grown in his absence.
His son, his boy, Telemachus, had grown into a wonderful man. More than that, a wonderful husband and father.
Odysseus had learned quickly about you, his sons betrothed, as he settled in back home.
He watched as his son reminded him of himself, hopelessly in love and devoted to his wife. A proud feeling swelling in his chest as he reminisced and caught the softness of his son's eyes on you.
His pride only grows as he watches his son become a father. A little baby boy that reminds Odysseus so much of the one he left behind all those years ago.
Odysseus watches his son hold his own boy, watches as he shares his immeasurable joy with you, listens as Penelope tells their grandson stories, and imagines what it must have been like after he’d gone.
Baby Telemachus being rocked to sleep with stories of adventures filling his head, growing and only knowing his father as myth, finding you and falling deeply into love just as his father before him had.
Now Odysseus’s grandson rests in the nursery where his son once laid. Now a grandfather, Odysseus rocks the boy to sleep the same way he had so few times with his own son.
And as he lays him in his crib to rest he’s grateful to not miss this. To be here to watch his son be a part of all the things he couldn’t.
For Telemachus to experience all the firsts with his boy that Odysseus missed with him.
Sylus watched as you ran your fingers across the back of the stray you had recently taken in. The small kitten was nothing more than a black ball as it curled in your lap yet he could hear its purring even from his place across the room.
He had nothing against the small animal, he regularly took care of discarded animals himself, it was just that while the cat loved you it must have adored him.
For the past week it could be constantly found with him, padding its way quickly across the floor in an attempt to keep up with his large strides whenever he left the room.
Regularly rubbing against his legs and begging for his attention.
Meowing softly whenever he would fail to acknowledge it or when he would forget and accidentally close the door to his office before it had the chance to enter as well.
Even now it sat content with you only as it kept a watchful eye on him.
It simply had to be around him whenever it could, even when he would scold and scruff it for pawing at Mephisto it would purr in his hold until he would give up and pet it for the next few minutes.
It was quite funny to you, to watch your dear partner have to deal with the small animal, to hear his complaints of already having to deal with one Kitten only for you to bring home another.
Yet he would say these same complaints while gently petting the sleeping cat in his lap.
And then he would wonder why you never believed him when he said he wasn’t attached. When in fact he had obviously become rather adjusted to his two kittens roaming around and asking for his attention.
Synopsis: Headcanons involving the Huntrix girls falling for you and what kind of fame you possess
A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this! I’m still working on general dating Headcanons for these three but I might end up doing more with this concept because I really ended up enjoying it.
Rumi with another Idol
★ You and Rumi had met on several instances though most were because of award shows
★ Often times you and Huntrix would perform at the same venues it was only reasonable that after some time you’d get to know one another
★ You became friends quickly, bonding over shared experiences and tribulations
★ At some point you become a feature on one of Huntrix’s new songs
★ A collaboration that the fans end up absolutely loving which only leads to more moments together
★ Joining them at interviews and shows as the song runs its course of popularity
★ You and Rumi naturally became closer over time, meeting up for things unrelated to your careers until eventually you both started to fall for each other
★ For a while you both tiptoed around the feelings
★ You knew how your fans were, how they’d react knowing two of the most popular idols were together
★ But one night you corner Rumi after one of her shows and everything comes crumbling down
★ After that you start dating in secret
★ It becomes a careful song and dance; avoiding topics that may lead to exposure of your relationships but still risking it to see one another perform
★ You help one another when it comes to singing, finding the right transitions for sets, making sure the notes get hit right and the lyrics are clear
★ And after you’re done being idols for the day you relax into one another allowing it to become simply you and her, nothing more or less
★ Rumi only falls for you harder when she sees that side of you, the comfortable side you keep away from everyone else
★ After a while the fans get suspicious
★ Rumors and theories spread like wildfire over both of your fanbases
★ Catching onto the quick looks you give one another or how you’re always attending each other’s shows
★ You let them have their fun
★ Watching as people make countless posts about the evidence they can find and what they think is happening behind the scenes
★ And when it’s gone on long enough you make it official
★ Which causes social media to absolutely blow up with responses some saying they called it, others believing it to be a trick, a few completely against it
★ Yet neither of you cared
★ You didn’t need people online to tell you who to care about or date, you had one another and honestly the truth was better than any speculation online
Mira with a Model
★ Mira learns about you through Bobby, who’d been trying to find some bigger names to promote the new Huntrix merchandise
★ He reached out to your agency leading to a deal where you and some other top models would do a shoot for them if in turn they got to meet the members of Huntrix
★ And that was that
★ She’d spotted you as soon as they entered the venue
★ You carried yourself differently
★ Some of the models were nervous, others in over their head, or bored out of their minds
★ But not you
★ You had a smile on your face as a new intern directed you, showing you around and what you’d be modeling
★ You didn’t question the photographer even with the strangest of requests
★ And you helped Bobby when no one else listened
★ You were just, different
★ Even when meeting them you didn’t freak out
★ Didn’t scramble for an autograph or a photo
★ You waited patiently for your colleagues chaos to end
★ Introduced yourself with a smile and thanked them for the opportunity
★ That moment made a place in Mira’s mind, one she thought back to even weeks after the interaction
★ Up until she messages you herself, reaching out to just talk to you
★ And even online you were kind, patient, and polite
★ And Mira didn’t know what to do with the fact that she started falling for it, falling for you
★ She invited you to one of their shows, a backstage ticket, per Zoey and Rumi’s advice
★ She couldn’t help the warmth that overtook her when she saw you
★ You lit up when you came face to face
★ Smiling and congratulating her on a show well done
★ And something about it all changed for Mira; she asks you out soon afterwards wanting, needing, to see you again
★ It doesn’t take long before you start dating
★ No one knew besides a select few
★ Many suspected, especially after Mira made an appearance for your agency, but Mira had made a name of standing up for herself and not tolerating rumors so no one questioned it
★ And behind it all, back stage or behind the camera there was just you two
★ And that’s all you needed
Zoey with an Actor
★ You and Zoey knew of one another long before meeting
★ You were a star in one of her favorite K-dramas and you obviously loved Huntrix’s songs
★ The two of you finally get the chance to meet one another when the director of your show begs Huntrix to write a song for the upcoming season
★ They agree, mostly because Zoey would’ve probably lost it if they didn’t, and are invited to the premiere because of it
★ Your first interaction comes up because of a photo
★ Several reporters wanted a picture of you and your co-star with Huntrix
★ Which led to you all posing together and eventually talking after the press has had their fun
★ You and Zoey hit it off almost instantly, the two of you silently freaking out over meeting the other
★ You end up sitting together, talking after the screening and through most of the night, laughing together as though you hadn’t just met
★ And when your managers finally drag you away from one another you still keep in touch
★ Messaging online and meeting at more events over time
★ Neither of you is shocked when you start to fall for the other
★ The admiration existed long before you met
★ Though something more had found its way through
★ Maybe it was always responding to one another, no matter how late, or the smiles across the room at events
★ Whatever it was it wasn’t a surprise
★ The real shock came from the admission
★ Realizing you’d both been running circles around one another to not ruin anything when in truth it was exactly what you’d both been needing
★ It isn’t long afterwards that everyone knows
★ You never say anything but you openly post each other and willingly mention one another in interviews
★ Not to mention you frequenting all of Huntrix’s performances and her sudden guest appearances in your shows
★ Though whether or not the fans know has never concerned you
★ In fact most of your concerns recently are of Huntrix’s latest song releases and the date you’re planning with Zoey to go see your new movie
Synopsis: Headcanons involving the Saja Boys falling for you and what kind of fame you possess
A/N: Shoutout to @byfyg for requesting this on my Huntrix x Famous!Reader post. I also enjoyed writing this, it got me out of a weird writers block I was in. I also feel like my bias is pretty obvious in this since he has more than everyone else but whatever I just got carried away.
Jinu with an Interviewer
★ It had started off simple, the Saja Boys were the new and quickly rising K-Pop Idols
★ You ran a popular talk show which showcased several celebrities, asking questions they were rarely asked whilst mixing in different challenges
★ They needed more coverage and you needed a new star for your show, so a deal was made
★ When Jinu appeared as a guest your numbers skyrocketed
★ Not only that but the conversation came easily
★ You were used to banter, laughs, sarcasm, but Jinu was different
★ He didn’t simply match your energy, he amplified it
★ He was a smooth talker, with the right amount of humor, and answers that made him and his group seem perfect
★ And honestly it bothered you, nobody was perfect, not even a boy band that had appeared out of the blue
★ Which is why he was the first guest to reappear on your show
★ The fans didn’t just love seeing him, they loved you both together
★ The back and forth, the rivalry during challenges, quick banter, and snide comments
★ The energy was different with you both
★ An energy that made the show run smoother, you had extra questions prepared this time and yet he had a perfect counter for each
★ At one point during the interview he’d said something, some charming line that usually made his fans swoon and you just gave a simple laugh
★ Your laugh, that was all it took for him to get hooked on you
★ The second time around you stayed more connected after the episodes aired via Jinu’s request
★ You messaged one another to laugh at fan reactions and discuss different things that came out online, and it felt easy? Nice?
★ Something about talking to him like this, casually, without thousands of eyes watching, made it feel different, made you feel differently towards him
★ The third time he comes on something has changed between you
★ Conversations are followed by soft smiles or hidden glances, banter is more playful, comments are more personal
★ There’s a new tension between you two, something you don’t need the fans to point out for you to notice
★ You catch him backstage, just as he’s about to go, and let it all fall apart
★ He doesn’t come on much after that
★ But the way you smile when he’s mentioned, or how he shrugs out a “Maybe.” Whenever he’s asked if he’s dating anyone
★ It says enough
Abby with a Designer
★ Abby has had disagreements with designers before, several times he’s been designed pieces for an occasion that simply don’t fit his character
★ He’s the visual, he’s supposed to be able to show off his figure
★ Most of them would give up, agree to the alterations, or pass him onto someone else
★ But this was different
★ You were some big name designer who had agreed to style some models, the Saja Boys, for a certain photo shoot
★ And you weren’t backing down
★ You’d heard stories about Abby, how he was difficult to work with, which is why you had prepared a look that perfectly suited his unusual needs
★ So when he argued you fought right back
★ You had bite, he liked that
★ He ended up wearing the costume as it was, a feat that impressed your colleagues
★ When talk started to spread it got back to Jinu, who upon hearing the gossip decided to ask you to design their next round of outfits
★ After all if you could tame Abby’s usual complaints you were more than perfect for the position
★ You saw him more often after that
★ He would regularly invite himself into your studio under the guise of needing new measurements
★ Saying his new workout routine has his muscles growing faster than usual, and he would smile as you huff grabbing your measuring tape, whispering something about his muscles taking away from his brain power
★ It was annoying really, how he’d weaseled his way into your life, his stupid remarks he made just to rile you up, and how he had a kind of charming that made its way under your skin
★ Your feelings for him snuck up on you between unscheduled studio visits
★ Getting to know him through off handed comments, him stopping by just to drop off lunch for you, his remarks becoming more endearing than upsetting
★ When the end of your contract rolled around you accepted that you’d have to give it up, the problem was Abby had not
★ And what started from an argument sprouted into something else
★ Something that made you give him an extra key to your studio in case you were busy, something that had you start going out with him for lunch, something that had you completely entrapped by him before you had even realized it
★ Not that you were complaining, not anymore
Romance with an Author
★ Romance didn’t meet you face to face, not at first
★ He was at a fan meet when he first learned about you, one of his fans had gifted him a novel of yours saying that he reminded them of one of the main characters
★ It was off handed, it shouldn’t have stuck with him, yet it did
★ After the event his mind kept wandering back to the book and absentmindedly he began to read it
★ The story is good, incredibly so, with a subplot of romantic tension Romance had become so well accustomed to
★ Eventually he comes to the last page, a brief autobiography of yourself with a headshot posted in the corner
★ You’re pretty, he notes, pretty like the story you’d created, pretty in a way that can’t help but get stuck in his head
★ He does some digging, finds you’ll be doing a signing soon at some local bookstore and decides it’s his best opportunity to see you
★ It isn’t long after he shows up that he’s spotted causing a wave of fans to surround him
★ Consequently your security has to escort him to the back of the store
★ When you finally meet him, finally come face to face, you aren’t sure what to expect
★ But it isn’t this
★ When Romance starts to talk with you it’s as though is Idol personality falls, he isn’t some big name, no, with you he almost feels like just another fan
★ It intrigues you, pulls you in enough to stupidly write your number beside the signature you’ve placed in his copy of your book
★ It snowballs from there
★ You start meeting in secret, finding a lesser known cafe to tuck yourselves in the corner of
★ You talk, and it feels like a breath of fresh air, and when you start to fall for him it feels like slow motion
★ Loving Romance is careful, freeing
★ It’s living scenes straight out of your books
★ He holds your hand subconsciously, pulls you closer to him just to feel your warmth
★ He says things, in person or through text, that leave you smiling harder than you have in a long while
★ It’s him memorizing your coffee order and proofreading your new chapters
★ And when parts of your stories start to remind people more and more of the famous pop star
★ You begin to realize that you’ve fallen in too deep
★ And yet, you think, you don’t mind one bit
Mystery with a Producer
★ You’d been working backstage on a popular awards show when the Saja Boys first approached you
★ They’d been looking into a producer for a new music video they had in mind
★ You were organized and supportive of everyone you were with, and watching you work they’d decided you were a perfect fit
★ You agreed mostly out of interest, after all it had been a while since you’d worked on something like a music video
★ Working with the boys was fun though most times it was more chaotic than anything
★ In the midst of it all you were left with a lot of work to be done after the hours you spent filming
★ You could be caught in your on set office long after everyone else had gone, several times crew members waited with you to get certain forms filled out
★ Though the actors, the Saja Boys, had never lingered, not until now
★ You sat once again in your office, night slowly creeping up outside as you read a contract for the next filming location
★ You’d hardly gotten any work done today
★ Between Romance flirting with the makeup artists and Abby ripping all his shirts nobody could keep focus
★ You sighed dropping your head into your hands, you weren’t paid enough for this
★ You hadn’t expected the knock on your door, it was featherlight, barely audible
★ You sat up straight, quickly throwing the things on your desk into a partial organization before calling out a welcome
★ When Mystery walked in you felt yourself relax into confusion, you greeted him, watched his head turn to your paper sprawled desk and then allowed him to pull up a chair next to you
★ Mystery had slowly become your favorite of the group, he was quiet, prepared, and never made you question why you took this job
★ “Still working?” He murmured beside you
★ You nodded, silently signing off on a request from the sound crew
★ He didn’t speak up again but you could feel his stare on you, concerned as you leaned back skimming over another report
★ The silence didn’t break as you nodded off, head dropping onto his shoulder, instead he picked you up moving you over to a nearby couch so you could sleep peacefully
★ Then he sat at your desk grabbing a file of work that you needed one of the Saja Boys to sign off on, he read each paper fully, signing each before placing them somewhere to be sent off
★ He turned back, watching your breathing steady as you fell into a deeper sleep and allowed the small grin that found its way to his face
★ After that day things changed between you
★ Suddenly the boys stayed on track, your work load lightened, and you found yourself spending more time with Mystery
★ When production for the music video inevitably came to an end whatever had formed between you and Mystery didn’t
★ You found yourself attending his shows, coming over for no reason besides seeing him
★ He found himself reviewing clips of your next productions, organizing your signed papers, and preparing a space in his room for you
★ At the end of a long day behind cameras and working with everyone on set Mystery is the quiet you need
★ He doesn’t rush, doesn’t question, he just exudes a certain calm that you cling to like a lifeline
★ And honestly? That’s more than fine by him
Baby with a Chef
★ You’d meet Baby through a game show you hosted to promote your restaurant
★ It consisted of you and a guest going head to head trying different dishes you’d made, usually focusing around a certain flavor
★ This time around the dishes were varied levels of spice, and since the fans voted on who you’d bring on as a challenger they immediately picked out Baby Saja, the Idol well known for his spice tolerance
★ He’d agreed to come on, attempting to gain fans for his group, while being warned to be charming by Jinu, no one would keep watching if he was his usual quiet and guarded self
★ You’d laid out the rules, if he won he was granted a free meal at your restaurant, simple enough
★ “What if you win?” He’d asked, his deeper voice pulling you in
★ No one had asked that before, you supposed simply nothing would happen, several times you’d won, and each time nothing had changed
★ You explained that circumstance and he hummed nodding as the first dish you’d created was served to you both
★ The show went well, views hit a new high as you spoke to one another, interviewing the other about random topics
★ It ended in a tie, a first for your program, neither of you tapped out and eventually you simply ran out of food
★ For the sake of honoring his somewhat win you invited Baby for a free meal anyway, and he agreed with a slight smirk painting his face
★ In the next few weeks the interaction was pushed to the back of your mind, you’d become overrun at the restaurant and still needed to plan a new episode
★ One day a waitress pulled you aside in the kitchen, a table had requested to speak to you personally
★ You sighed at first, assuming it was either fans or a complaint, but from the look on your employees face it was something else entirely
★ Sat in a private room was Baby Saja, leaned out across his chair, his lips quirking into a small smile as he saw you
★ The tension in your shoulders relaxed as you met his gaze, he was here to cash in your promise
★ You made his dish personally, a remake of something from the challenge, and expected that to be that
★ You hadn’t expected him to be waiting for you when you clocked out
★ You jumped when you saw him waiting patiently, silently, for you
★ “What are you doing?” You asked, a hand on your chest in a weak attempt to slow your racing heart
★ “We tied.” He shrugged, “I got my reward, now it’s my turn to treat you.”
★ You let out a confused sigh as he watched you expectantly
★ “Let me take you to dinner.” He continued, “It’s only fair.”
★ He was being charming, he thought, exactly like Jinu said, though part of him knew it wasn’t about appearances anymore
★ You gave him a soft laugh, looking away for a moment only to turn back to his stare
★ Eventually you gave in giving him a date and a time to pick you up
★ This time around your time together didn’t feel like marketing
★ He took you somewhere on the outskirts of town, somewhere you wouldn’t be overwhelmed by fans
★ You ate at what he claimed was one of his favorite spots, talking about anything that came to mind
★ At some point you even managed a laugh out of him
★ By the end of the night you couldn’t help the smile on your face
★ He walked you home, the chill of night pressing through your clothes and rising goosebumps on your skin, you bumped into one another occasionally, your voices were soft, flowing with the breeze that passed by you as conversations became more personal
★ It never felt performative, never forced, it was easy
★ Hushed conversations, quick smiles, and something clicking into place between you two
★ Something neither of you could quite name
★ He was seen frequenting your restaurants after that, smiling, real and genuine, whenever you came to serve him
★ A quick photo was caught of you in his sweater after hours as you stood waiting for him to pick you up
★ Neither of you said anything, but it was known, and maybe that’s how it was always supposed to be
Snotlout x Reader (Could be seen as LA or Animated)
Synopsis: Every year the Bleeding Sun rises over Berk. Every year you wake early to watch it, yet this year it’s accompanied by a new understanding of your feelings towards a certain Viking.
Word Count: 1.1K+
A/N: I’m so glad people are finally understanding my obsession over Snotlout. I’ve loved this man for so long but he’s always been put to the side. Anyway I hope you guys enjoy this.
The Bleeding Sun, a grotesque and clearly Viking named natural phenomenon. Its origins lost to the unwritten history pages but its beauty remains. In the week of season change from Summer to Fall, one day, for an hour or two the sun would be a brilliant red as it rose. And as its rays were half covered below the horizon you would be free to watch its beauty as the rest of the sky became nothing less than a stunning mix of pastels behind it.
Some tribes believed it was a blessing from the Gods for the coming season harvest, others simply called it a greeting from the sister Sól, goddess of the sun and responsible for its rising. Whatever it was, whatever its true meaning, it held its very own significance for you and seeing it was an event you never wished to miss.
Hence why you stood awake in the early hours just before dawn broke, preparing for an early morning flight on one of the landing pads around Berk. The sun had just barely peaked over the ripples of the sea’s horizon. Already a gleaming ruby red that painted the sea, you fed one final trout to your dragon and scratched them gently as you prepared to take off.
“Ready for another Bleeding Sun?” You asked, a gentle purr coming in response as you mounted your saddle. Easily balancing your weight on top of your dragon. You gave a quick cue for takeoff, a soft whisper and hand motion, leading you to begin to fly amongst the clouds.
They were by far your favorite part of the holiday, almost as if they were painted by the Gods themselves, the sun's deep, unusual coloring reflected strong oranges and pinks upon their surface that deepened into dark shadows. They were simply gorgeous, even more so when seen on the back of a dragon. A view you still hadn’t gotten used to, and in a way you wished you never would. As you observed them, taking mental notes over each of their hues to hold in your mind until next year's reddened sunrise, another figure rose up through their airy formation.
“Snotlout.” You greeted simply, a smile coming to your face at his sleep ruffled hair and his helmet haphazardly thrown on. Clearly he had woken himself up just for this, which, while he may complain about later, you knew all too well the event of the Bleeding Sun held just as much meaning to him as it did for you. He too would never wish to miss the holiday, especially when sharing it with you.
“Hey Babe,” he gave in return, a small, sleepy grin spreading to his face, “You really took off without me?” He continued a feigned hurt on his face and in his voice.
“I thought you had forgotten.” You responded, adding a teasing shrug as you turned to watch the sun's slow rise into the sky. Hearing him scoff at your remark in a false surprise, relaxing into a more playful version of his usual self.
“I could never! Watching the Bleeding Sun with you is my favorite part of the year after all.” He gave, making you turn to face him with your growing smile.
“You say that about every holiday.”
“And every time it’s true.” He argues, a bigger smile, matching your own, coming to his face as he observes you, your eyes slowly brightening the more your body adjusted to being awake and the way your hair was equally as ruffled as his own, only yours came from the soft morning winds instead of a prolonged night's rest.
No one truly knew what to call what was going on between you and Snotlout, not even the two of you. If you had dated it wouldn’t surprise anyone, you had been very close friends since you were young. Yourself being the only one that didn’t mind his regular outbursts or disruptive antics. It wasn’t as though he didn’t flirt with you, in fact the older you both grew the more focused his advances became on only you, though that may only be because you didn’t mind it as much as Astrid.
Either way, the situation had never been brought up, not that it bothered either of you.
“Here it comes.” Snotlout pointed out, breaking your attention from how brilliant the clouds looked, and how brilliant he looked against them.
Your attention snapped to the rising sun, as always it shone radiantly. Rays of stunning red reflecting off the water and dulling the sunrise behind it. Making the colors of the sky seem as though faded, worn away by time. Light blues, yellows, and pinks blending together in perfect harmony. A frame to the scarlet of the sun, now ever so slowly dulling from its bold coloring the higher it became.
You turned to Snotlout quietly, watching all of the beautiful colors dance in his eyes and the wind bite his pinking cheeks, ruffling his hair more as it passed you both. And suddenly, as though blown in with the breeze, it struck you, there may be no clear answer as to what this relationship is or what it may become, but for now you would call it fate.
And as you registered this realization, you paused as though struck, and finally you turned back to the sunrise, just as fate worked its ironic magic Snotlout turned to watch you. Completely missing the wonder struck look you had blessed upon him moments ago. Though the one that he held for you was perhaps tenfold of it.
He watched the way the red of the sun dulled to orange against your features, your silhouette shaped perfectly against the clouds you loved so much. And perhaps now he understood why.
You looked absolutely divine, the light framing your smile perfectly. As if you were from Valhalla yourself or as though you had been molded by the perfectionist eye of the Gods just to coexist in this moment, if you had told him so he wouldn’t for a second have doubted it.
And as he watches you smile he was at a loss for words, at a loss for logic even. He knew people were not considered bright, were not considered by any lengths something like this. But as you smiled you became the brightest sun he had ever seen.
It occurred to him that perhaps the Bleeding Sun was not the only beauty graced by the Gods, perhaps instead there was another wonder he was completely oblivious to until now. A wonder that had been graced upon him for years, but only now, in his maturity did he realize its true importance.
Perhaps still fate would make you both run these circles of realization until it had its fun. Until then, whenever you both may admit to these secret admirations, you would both perhaps have to enjoy these secret glances. Perhaps until that fateful day these glances would be enough.
