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rhetoricalrogue · 3 years

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Fiction Type: Fanfiction Fandom: Dragon Age Prompt: "You have no proof"

Continuing @fictober-event with the AU of the AU of the AU @alittlestarling and I are up to our eyebrows in, this time focusing on my son Vincent.

Running and fighting. Fighting and running. Catch a few fitful hours of unrestful sleep, then repeat. It seemed that was all Vincent had been doing these past few months. First, there was the running and fighting that had been expected of him when he had been conscripted into Empress Celene’s army, then the running when a templar on their side had turned on their unit – Vincent was still healing from the many arrow wounds he’d received when the smite had hit him from behind, the barrier he had put up to protect the solders on their side crashing down at the worst possible moment – and then running from where he had dragged himself, almost near death, to heal and recover back to his side of the army out of fear that they would think he had abandoned his post and hunt him down to drag him back or worse, give him the Brand and use him as an example of battlemages who thought they could take advantage of chaos on the battlefield to make a run from the Circle.

There had been a brief respite from the fighting as he traveled back east, the days of interrogation he’d undergone to prove that he spoke the truth about what had happened that day finally paying off. Vincent knew that his noble birth was one of the main reasons he had been allowed to return to Ostwick, injured in the line of duty – if conscription into a war not of his making nor even in his homeland could ever be called duty – and he wasn’t going to argue with his commanding officers once they signed the paperwork for his release back to the Circle. He’d set a hard pace from the Exalted Plains to Jader, worry that word of his untimely death – once they couldn’t find a body, the army had been quick to declare him killed in action – had already reached those he cared for.

Maker, if Roz ever thought he was dead, it would gut him to think of putting her through unnecessary grief and agony, no matter how brief.

Travel back home was on a decent pace, then he heard word of a contingent of mages traveling to Haven, which was decidedly closer than boarding a ship to sail from Jader back home. Vincent’s mind was made up when he heard that there were mages from Ostwick in the company and joining up with them was far more preferable than sailing across the Waking Sea.

Vincent and boats went together just as well as oil and water.

And then the unthinkable happened. He hadn’t even been anywhere close to Haven when word got out of the explosion, rumors quick to jump to the conclusion that mages had been at the root of the calamity and had taken a page out of the apostate from Kirkwall a year or so ago and blown up the Divine to enact change. Vincent was fortunate that his physical build wasn’t what one stereotypically thought of when they pictured a mage, and he used that to his advantage to flee. Templars were suddenly everywhere, killing on sight. Whatever brief rest he had from running and fighting was well over, and Vincent found himself hiding among pockets of mages similarly running for their lives in the wilds of Ferelden. He lost count of the days, catching sleep when he could and helping as many mages as possible while looking out for himself. It was selfish and he would feel guilty later but running, even if running meant leaving people behind, was the only way that he would possibly ever make it back home again.

Back home, and back to Rosalind. The image of her was seared into his mind and it was one bright thing he had to cling to. He would be damned if he had survived everything that had been thrown at him so far only to succumb to a templar’s blade before he could see her in person again.

Who knew how many days later, Vincent found himself close to Redcliffe. There were rumors that the village was a safe haven for mages everywhere and it was the closest thing to hope that he’d felt since leaving Orlais. He didn’t know how much further it was, but there were abandoned crofter’s cottages dotting the landscape that he dared to take shelter in. He couldn’t risk lighting fires in the hearth, but fitfully sleeping with a roof over his head instead of out in the open was a welcome relief.

And then the demons came. The most direct route to Redcliffe was cut off and Vincent found himself running from shrieking monsters that he had only encountered during his Harrowing. The only positive was that the demons didn’t discriminate between mage, templar, or regular civilian, so if he were really looking to put a positive spin on an otherwise absolute shitshow, he told himself that there were fewer templars trying to kill him in the area.

He came across a group of mages one evening and they readily welcomed him into the shelter of the woods they had named the Witchwood. He listened halfheartedly at their more radical ideas, silently resolving to abandon them for the preferred safety of the nearby crossroads once daylight broke, when he heard someone call him by name.

“Enchanter Trevelyan?”

The light was dim in the cavern, but he didn’t need it to recognize one of his favorite pupils. “Noemi?” He made to get up from where he had sat on the floor but didn’t even make it to his knees before the fourteen-year-old girl flung herself in his direction. He muffled a pained grunt as her arms wrapped just a little too tightly around his shoulder, the last of his injuries having to heal on their own as he used whatever magic reserves he had to fight off daily attacks instead of tending to himself. “How are you here?”

“How are you here? They told us you were dead!” Vincent froze. Oh no.

“Noemi, who else is here with you? Did you come with the people going to the Conclave?”

She wiped at her face, her tears making clean tracks on dirty cheeks. “No. I ran when the Circle fell.”

His eyes widened. “What?” Reaching out, he gripped her shoulders in his hands and focused on her. “Tell me everything. Where’s Roz? Is she here?” Maker, please, he begged, his pulse roaring in his ears. I’ve never been a devout man, but please, let her be safe.

“We were heading to dinner after lessons when she took me and a few of the little ones aside and told us to head to the greenhouses for a special project. She said that she would be there as soon as she could, but there was something that she had to do first. Then all at once, there was a lot of yelling and fire and…” she swallowed. “The last I saw of her was when she was running to the greenhouses. She told me to take the little ones and run.”

He couldn’t breathe. “What do you mean, the last you saw of her?”

“Ser Barnabas grabbed her by the hair and hit her with a smite.” Noemi’s lips trembled. “She screamed for me to run, so I ran. I ran and I ran and I haven’t stopped running.”

No. No, he refused to believe she was dead. “Did you see her fall?”

“No, but…” She scrubbed at her face. “We were all scared of Ser Barnabas, you know that. You know how much he liked to threaten hitting us. I didn’t see it, but Vincent, I think she’s dead.”

Vincent shook his head and sat back against the cavern wall. There was something building in his chest, a wail that wanted to break free and rip past his throat. “You have no proof though,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm as to not scare her. “You thought I was dead, but here I am. Roz is strong, and she’s clever. She had to have made it out of there alive. We have to hold onto the hope that she made it and she’s somewhere out in the world, just like we are.”

He took one look at Noemi and knew that she didn’t believe him, yet she nodded. “Okay.”

“We’re leaving here tomorrow morning. There’s a town, Redcliffe. Have you heard of it?”

Noemi shrank back from him. “No, you can’t make me go back there!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I was there. I took as many of the little ones as I could find after we scattered and we got on a boat. The older instructors said that Redcliffe was safe, but something in that town feels wrong. I made sure that the little ones were looked after, but then I snuck out in the middle of the night to find somewhere safer. I thought that I could go back, take the children with me to wherever I found, but…” she spread her hands as if to silently express the chaos around them. “They’re safer where they’re at for now, but I don’t want to go back. Please, don’t make me go back.”

Vincent winced as she huddled at his side, her entire body shaking. “Okay. Okay, we won’t go there, I promise.” He wrapped his arms around her, his mind whirring, desperately trying to focus on Noemi instead of the great yawning grief that threatened to swallow him whole. “Have you heard of the Crossroads? I don’t think it’s very far from here, we can make our way to that in the morning, okay?”

She nodded. “And look for Roz?”

Vincent squeezed his eyes tightly. There was no way that she was dead; she was such a fixture in his life, a lifeline even in the most peaceful of times. He loved her so completely that he was certain that he would have felt something, some sort of connection that tied his heart to hers sever, should she be truly gone.

He ran his hand soothingly over his former pupil’s back while trying to speak over the lump of unshed tears that had built in his throat. “Yes. And just you wait. We’ll find her.”

Maker, how he almost believed that.

#fictober21 #my writing #vincent trevelyan #rosalind marlowe #sweetheart au #do I even know HOW an Orlesian army could conscript mages from the Free Marches to fight for the empress?#no but it's my story damn it. if the devs forgot an entire moon i can make up some sort of handwavey excuse #that's my story and I'm sticking to it dangit

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blossomingimagines · 4 years

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Do You Trust Me?

Zuko x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,517

Summary:

Notes: Angsty(ish)

The cries of the gulls echoed out across the land. The whistling of the wind acting like a chorus. The harbor coming alive with not only the sound of man but the sound of nature as well. You watch, silently, as the soldiers rush back and forth across the docks. Your gaze moving in a lazy arch to observe them all, but you didn’t hold any true interest in them.

No the only man that you cared for down there was nowhere in sight. A fact that caused pain to lance through your heart, but you knew that you had to stay strong. That this was for the best even though everything within you was telling you it wasn’t.

Your mind replaying the events of the previous night through your head. As if it was pleading with you to stop this all, but you know that you couldn’t. The dominos had already fallen and no amount of manipulation would make them rise again.

Even though knowing this doesn’t make it any easier.

After a few moments you allow your eyes to slip shut. To be surrounded by the sounds of life, even if they were only echos. By doing this, however, your mind taunts you with memories. Images of past events that you wanted nothing more than to go back to.

The most recent causing the biggest sting of them all. For it was the moment that changed everything.

———

Your feet slammed against the cobbled stone of the street. Your breathing comes in harsh pants from the exertion, but you didn’t dare stop. Your momentum carries you through the various streets and side passages of Capital City.

Barely registering the sounds of anything but the wind whistling past your ears. You had heard what happened from your older brother, and you couldn’t believe a word. You couldn’t believe that Ozai would do such a thing to Zuko.

You couldn’t believe that a grown fire bender would challenge a child to Agni Kai. Let alone having that adult be the child’s father.

You had to see Zuko and make sure that he was alright.

Rushing up the steps of the palace you move to the only place you knew Zuko would be. Knowing that he would never dare step foot in the palace after what happened. Rounding the corner you enter the garden.

Your eyes automatically start to scan your surroundings, and a sigh of relief escapes your lips when you see the hunched figure near the koi pond. Cautiously you approach the figure of your best friend, and kneel next to him.

Well aware of the bandage on the left side of his face. Another detail that your brother hadn’t forgotten to tell you.

With slight hesitancy, not wanting to spook him, you rest your hand against his bicep. No reaction. “Zuko?” There was still nothing.

Sighing, you dip your head and try to come up with anything that could help your friend. Anything that could ease his pain.

Raising your head you try to speak once more. “Zuko it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.” Lowering your gaze to the water you watch as it ripples with the movement of the fish beneath. “‘No one could have.”

You wait but he still doesn’t respond. Knowing that he probably wanted to be by himself you begin to rise. Your hand squeezing his bicep one last time before it begins to let go. Your body is already moving away from his when he reacts.

Faster than lightning his iron like grip holds onto your wrist like a shackle. Startled, you raise your eyes to meet conflicted gold. You watch as Zuko tried to form words but only a pained gasp escaped his lips.

Kneeling down you wrap your arms around him and hold him close. Your right hand comes to gently massage his head. Something that helped you both calm down since you were children. Your left rubs soothing circles on his back as he silently sobs into your neck. The pain and grief like static around you, and you wanted nothing more than to rip it away. Tear it away from your best friend and protect him from it, but you couldn’t. You knew that you couldn’t and that made it all the more painful.

“Why?” The broken voice in the crook of your neck whispers. You simply tighten your hold around him because you didn’t know why. You didn’t understand why your father had allowed this to happen. You didn’t understand how Ozai could have let this happen.

You didn’t understand any of it, and you don’t think you ever truly would. Though you know that your best friend needed an answer. That he needed something to cling on to, and you were going to make sure to give him that.

“I don’t know,” you whisper back, your voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know why our fathers did this to you. I don’t know why any of this happened.” You pause to inhale sharply. “What I do know is that it wasn’t your fault. None of what happened was your fault. You were doing what you thought was right, and no one should ever fault you for that.”

Zuko pulls back and stares into your eyes with his one good one. The tears collecting within it causes it to shine like stars. “He called me dishonorable.” A grimace flashes across his face. “He said that I have to find the Avatar to gain my honor back, and I will do that. I will prove to everyone that I’m not a traitor to the Fire Nation.”

“Zuko the Avatar hasn’t been seen in over a hundred years. It could take you years to find them, and I can’t lose you,” you say, a begging lilt laced within your tone.

A gentle smile curls his lips, and you’re reminded of the boy you grew up with, not the angry one you’re seeing starting to fester. “And I can’t lose you either. I need my honor not only for myself but you as well.”

“Why Zuko? I know that your family name is important to you, but you must know that you’ll never lose me if you don’t bear it.”

A small sigh escapes his lips at your words. A fond look chasing his gold eyes to soften even more. “That may be true, but you’re the General of the Fire Nation’s eldest daughter. Things are expected of you just like they’re expected of me and I refuse to lose you because of my dishonor. I will gain it back not only for myself and my future, but ours.”

Tears prick your eyes at his words, but you simply nod in response. Not being able to find the words to express your sorrow. You were not only losing your best friend but the possibility of so much more, and you didn’t know if your heart could ever heal from this.

Feeling Zuko’s hand on your cheek causes you to raise your gaze to meet his own. Your sorrow clearly being matched within it.

At your attention a smile makes its way onto his lips, but it was clearly forced. His next words coming out in a pained murmur. “Do you trust me?”

———

“Do you trust me?”

Zuko’s words echo in your head as you watch his ship set sail. The horns blaring out across the harbor and the ocean itself. Though there was no fanfare to see it off. Only you and a select few others were present for the former prince's departure, and even then you weren’t at the harbor itself.

You were standing a distance away. Watching as the smoke rose from the vessel. The sounds of the crew echoing back at you. Closing your eyes you wish that you aboard that ship yourself. Wish that the wind whipping across your face was closer to the source.

You wish that you were next to the figure standing at the stern of the ship. His figure straight with his hands behind him. The only other being standing near him being that of Iroh. The one man you could ever hope for Zuko to have with him. The one being that loved Zuko as much as you did. You were glad that he could have at least one of you.

You watch as the ship starts to become fainter and fainter on the horizon. Soon turning from a great war machine to a black dot to nothing at all, and Zuko’s words come back. Whispering across your mind like the wind was doing against your body.

“Do you trust me?”

“I have to, because I don’t know what I’ll do if you’re wrong,” you whisper back to the wind. Wishing that you had been able to say this to Zuko instead of clinging onto him like a lifeline. “You may have left to gain your honor back in title, but you’ll always be the most honorable man I’ve ever met. I just hope that you’ll be able to realize that soon.”

For both our sakes.

#zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko #avatar zuko #atla zuko #avatar the last airbender imagine #avatar the last airbender #do you trust me?#avatar: tla #zuko #imagines #imagine

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fabulouspotatosister · 5 years

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the brightness of the stars

a/n: This one's a direct sequel to "kadiliman", as I've always wanted to write some recovery stuff for that fic, and guess what - it's a series now guys! There might be more fics after this that'll be set before this incident, which is why I've made it a series now. Enjoy the fic! (sorry for not posting fics for five months thats on me)

“Oh my God, what happened?”

“Is she – “

“– need to get to the med bay – “

“Doctor, are you alright?”

“Stay with us. Come on, stay with us.”

The first thing you feel is softness.

There’s something soft on your back, under your arms and under your head, and you feel like you’re in a warm embrace of cotton, and it feels wrong.

You’re in a bed. Bed? Not your bed. A cot? You shift – a mistake, because pain lances through your leg, wrenching a small cry from the back of your throat. That pain spreads like wildfire through the rest of your body, starting with your legs, to your chest, to your arms and then to your eyes –

Your eyes.

Your hands fly up to your face, your fingers feeling at the bumps and scars until they come to your eyes, you were blind before this and you’re still blind now – your fingers find cloth where your eyes should be, and another cry escapes you. What did they do to me? I was gone, and then I…

You try to grab at the faint memory, but the pain pulsing through your body is too much. It floats away. Your fingers – searching, still searching for something that’ll make all of this make sense – pick at the cloth, trying to take it off so you can finally see, but then there’s a warmth on your hand. It tugs at your wrist, pulling your hands away from your face.

“Don’t do that, you’re still healing,” says a voice. It’s soft, and familiar, and there’s something in the voice that you can’t make out. “You’re not allowed to touch it.”

Words don’t form, but a strangled noise comes out instead. The warmth returns, taking your hand ever so gently, stroking the skin of your palm, minding the cuts and wounds. “It’s okay, it’s me, it’s Yaz.”

“…Yaz?” Your voice is barely a whisper. You can barely hear yourself, drowned out by the sound of your own raging thoughts. Something is keeping you still though, keeping you from lashing out and moving, and so you try to keep it that way. Moving hurts, and maybe you’ve had quite enough of hurting.

“Yes,” Yaz sounds like she’s going to cry, and your heart twists at the thought. “Welcome back.”

I’m looking for someone. I’m looking for a… A thought prickles, flickering at the back of your mind, and you try to grab it before it fizzles away.

“The Doctor, where…” You take a deep breath in – that hurts too, a sharp and sudden pain right at your ribs, and your next words hitch a little bit. “Wh – where is she?”

The Doctor – your head pulses, and vaguely you remember being cradled, listening to a double heartbeat before you drifted off. She’d saved your life – she’d come back for you, you needed to see her, where did she go? Were you back on Earth now? Had she dropped you off with Yaz, and – don’t think like that – abandoned you?

Something brushes against your cheeks. You hiccup. You’re crying.

I thought I’d run out of tears back there.

Your hands lay uselessly at your sides, but your fingers are moving, and you want nothing more than you get up and run away. Your breath hitches in your throat –

“Doctor,” you sob. Your ears are full of cotton and your mouth is full of it too, and talking is so hard but you can’t just seem to shut up – “Doctor, wh – where are you? I – I can’t see, I can’t see – “

“Calm down,” you hear Yaz say, but she’s so far away now. She sounds like she’s underwater. Or are you the one that’s underwater? “Come on, help me.”

You feel hands grab your arms and panic bursts into your head, alarm bells ringing loudly and painfully and you need to get away, need to find the Doctor – a faint memory taps at the bell, you remember being held down and the pain always came after that – so your arms jerk wildly, straining under an unknown grip. You can’t take it again, not when you thought you were safe.

“No, n – no, let go! Let go!” You try to scream – your voice raw and cracking. The hands don’t let go. You squirm, your skin burning. This was it; they were going to hurt you now. “I can’t go back there, I can’t – don’t make me go back there – I - I didn’t tell them any - anything, just p-please let me go!”

Suddenly, you feel cold, and you stop moving – you’re dimly aware of a new warmth, stroking your hair this time, but it feels a lot more different than Yaz’s touch, and a spark of hope lights up within you.

“Just sleep. You’re not going anywhere.”

Nodding slowly, you let yourself go.

"I'm going back.”

"You can't," Yaz protests. Her hand clings to a lever on the TARDIS console like a vice. Her knuckles are pale, and you think the lever might break. But her voice wavers only slightly. You barely even notice it. "You can't do that. You're gonna get yourself killed!"

Ryan's the next to speak up, his eyes wide as he steps forward. "Yaz is right. We should stay here, until the Doctor gets back."

"She hasn't been back in hours, guys. Something's wrong." You're in a battle stance right now - ready to bolt, ready to run out of the door at a moment’s notice. It's like there are coils in your legs waiting, just waiting to be released, and every waiting second, they twist tighter and tighter until they might break. Until you don't need their permission to run anymore.

"Things take time," Graham says solemnly, "even when Doc's in charge -"

There's a burst, and the console room wobbles. Then, a loud voice that sounds like it's coming from everywhere rings through the space.

"We have your ship under our control," the voice booms. Chills run down your spine, and judging from everyone else's faces, you're not alone. "And your captain."

Yaz grits her teeth, pulling Ryan’s arm (who protests with a groan) and rushes to the doors. She slams against the door, grabbing at the handle, but the door doesn’t budge. Ryan tries the handles too – nothing. But the Doctor left the doors unlocked… Yaz and Ryan look back at you, eyes wide.

"No," you mutter, breathing heavily. She can't be with them - is she captured? Is she in danger? Is she safe? What are they doing with her? Worse, is she - is she -

First fear, then apprehension, then white hot anger. Only anger.

You move faster than you've ever moved. Mimicking the Doctor, you snatch a microphone from the TARDIS console and bring it to your lips, heart hammering away in your chest. "Where is she?"

The ice in your voice surprises you.

"I assure you; she is safe." You hear a deep, rumbling noise. "She is not in our possession right now, but she will be soon."

In our possession. What an ugly phrase. Your fingers grip the microphone. "What do you want?"

"We only want answers," the voice croons. "Your captain is a fine specimen. So is her ship. We would resort to - drastic measures to get such things. With a multitude of information. And secrets."

The voice drags out the word "secrets".

You don't want to think about it. You refuse to think about it. About the Doctor, locked away somewhere, alone, all her secrets ripped out of her and then discarded like some kind of useless thing. About how these aliens would react if they found out about her true biology - what would they do? What could they do?

And what would you do if you lost her?

"I know her secrets," you say, "better than anyone. We're equals. Take me instead."

You hear Yaz gasp "No! You can't!", in the background. It makes your heart clench, in the worst way. You know you're being stupid. You know this could probably get you killed. Not probably. It would most likely get you killed.

But they'd be alive. You think about the rest of the team, all bright futures ahead of them, and her - the Doctor - who was needed. Earth needed her. The universe needed her. The rest of the team needed her. You, on the other hand -

"Me for her." You keep going. No backing down now. "If I come to you, you let her back onto our ship safely."

A thoughtful pause. "And how do we know we can trust this bargain?"

Before you can open your mouth, another voice rings through the TARDIS. One painfully familiar, and painful in so many other ways.

"The Doctor to Team TARDIS," the Doctor says, voice clear as day. It makes your chest hurt. "I've set up a makeshift communications array from a part of the ship, using my sonic. Love my sonic. I'm making my way back to the TARDIS. Looks like the ship's empty."

Stupid! Stupid, stupid, one braincell decision. Your hands are slippery now, the microphone threatening to slip out of your clammy hands and clatter to the floor. But it's your lifeline right now. So, you hang on.

"Doctor, I'm sorry," you breathe. You can hear her stop.

"Sorry for what?" Her voice grows tighter. I know, I know. "What's going on?"

"Just - get back to the TARDIS, please." Your heart hammers faster. You feel faint. "The ship's - the ship's not empty. Someone on here wants you."

She goes quiet. Then she says your name - "...What have you done?"

"I'm - I'm more - I know her." Ignoring her, you croak out an answer. "She trusts me. I can tell you everything. Everything you need to know. As long as you let everyone go."

"Everything?"

You turn back towards the crew, dropping your hands. They're all frantic now, pleading with you to do something else.

They have so much left for them.

"Don't do this," the Doctor warns.

Still looking at them, you bring the microphone back to your lips one more time. "...Everything."

And then you know nothing.

Nothing except pain, searing pain, roaring through your veins and through every part of your body until you're numb. Sounds. Vague noises, shapes, feelings under your fingertips. Smooth cloth that smells like vanilla. Your memories feel like seaweed on a raging beach, pulled out and then back in again.

“Why do you never – “

“– listen to me?”

The Doctor watches as your body falls, pliant against the soft sheets of the bed. She watches as you shudder against the sheets before stilling, taking in deep, shaky breaths. She watches, and the only thing she can do is watch, and she has never felt more useless.

Yaz lets out a long breath. When she turns to look at the Doctor, her eyes are full of desperation – and the Doctor chides herself for being selfish. Everyone else is scared, and it isn’t just her. Yaz stands up from her spot near your bed, and moves to stand next to the Doctor.

“I don’t know what happened,” Yaz starts, slowly, her voice thick with emotion, “she was gone for just a while and she comes back – she comes back like this.”

Yaz lets her gaze drift back to your form on the bed. The Doctor knows she’s looking at the expanse of bruises that litter your skin, and the web of scars and cuts that cover your arms. Among the thin, white scars, there are new wounds, still raw and still red. The Doctor knows she’s looking at your tear-blotched face, looking at the tears that still slip out from under your bandaged eyes.

“How’d this happen, Doctor?” Yaz swallows.

For once, the Doctor doesn’t know.

“I’ll take care of her,” she says, surprised at how her voice comes out strained. “You - get some rest. Tell Ryan and Graham –“

Yaz doesn’t let her finish. “I will.”

The Doctor nods shortly, letting herself look at Yaz walking out of the med bay before she – quite painfully – turns her gaze back to you. You’re still sleeping – which is good, you need to sleep, you need to heal. She sits down, slowly, at the edge of your bed, and peels off the edge of the blanket that’s covering your stomach. You stir, and mumble something incoherently.

So, you weren’t fully asleep. Of course, The Doctor thinks. She didn’t give you too big of a dose of sedative, just enough to calm you down and keep you from crying out her name like that. You shifted again, said something under your breath, but it was louder this time.

“Stop…” You take another breath in. “…stop being so sad.”

The Doctor swallows, feeling her hearts stutter.

“I’m fine.” She tries to sound calm, and tries to keep her voice from trembling. “I’m always alright.”

You furrow your brows, lips twitching into something that look like a frown, before parting slightly. “You… get quiet when you’re sad.”

The Doctor continues to keep her hands busy, lifting the fabric of your shirt and letting herself work. She lifts her sonic to the area, the whirring noise making you furrow your eyebrows even more. Tearing her eyes away from you, she skims through the readings – some of your wounds are months old, and some of them are just hours old, particularly the one on your leg.

“How long were you there?” The Doctor asks, more of a question to herself, but you groan. She looks up from her sonic. You’d started to shake, but not as bad as before, and certainly not as bad as when she’d found you.

“S-stopped,” your voice slurs. Perhaps the sedative was fully kicking in now. “Stopped counting after – after three – no, after four weeks…”

The Doctor’s hearts stop. Her hands stop moving, right in the middle of putting a plaster-like bandage on top of your stomach. Your breath came in little hiccups, and you were crying again. The Doctor hated seeing you cry. Maybe she was glad your eyes were covered.

You keep talking. “Didn’t think – I was gonna see you again. They – they kept saying they were gonna – gonna come for you, a – and for the fam, so I – I didn’t say anything because if I said something they would find out where you guys where – and – ah!”

You jolt, a quick inhale stopped by a sharp pain, and your hands come up to clutch at your chest. The Doctor takes one of your hands and folds it within her own, hoping it’s enough. “A – and they kept asking where you were, and I couldn’t say that, and I – I promise I didn’t say anything, and then I just got up and ran a – away –“

“You’re so brave,” The Doctor says, softly, as gently as she can without letting the anger in her hearts slip through. How could they have done this to you? She brought your hand, clasped in her own, to her chest. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You seem to calm at that, shaky breaths slowing down until they’re slow puffs of air. “Don’t – don’t be sorry. Was m’fault, anyway. Told me to stay put – I didn’t listen.”

The Doctor swallows. You sound so small, and so tired, and so broken. And just hours ago, you had been standing in the console room with her, your eyes wide and sparkling with excitement for another adventure. You’d grabbed the lever with her and held her hand tight as the TARDIS rocked. You’d told her, voice lilting and clear, that you wouldn’t trade travelling with her for anything in the world – no, the universe.

“It’s not your fault,” she says, and she should be mad. She should be angry at you for being so foolish, yes, you should have followed my instructions. She should be angry, and she should be lecturing you on how humans are fragile, but how can she when your hand is trembling in hers? How can she be mad when you’re blaming yourself for being hurt? “No one ever listens when I say that, anyway.”

You hum, take in another deep breath, and push your head back into the pillows. And then – slowly, surely, you take the Doctor’s hand, still clasping yours, and bring it to your cheek. The warmth of your skin is strange, against her hand.

She murmurs your name, and you purse your lips.

“You’ll be okay.” Your head lolls to one side. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“Where is the TARDIS?”

“Like hell I’m gonna tell you that.”

That earns you another blow to the stomach, and you wheeze. The alien in front of you leans down to meet your eyes – you feel restraints around your arms, and a metal pole between your elbows, and your knees are cold and strained against the wire floor. They’d threatened to take your vision, for your “insolence”.

“I will not ask again,” it says, twirling something between its fingers. A knife? Another mini-torch? The wounds on your arms ache at the sigh of glinting metal, but you’re better. You have to be. “For every question you avoid, we are getting closer to tracking your friends and the Doctor.”

You cough – a rattling, wet sound – and you wince at the noise. The alien draws closer, and you shiver despite yourself. “W - we haven’t even been here a day.”

There’s a strange, hacking noise, almost rhythmic in the way in increases in volume, and it’s not before you see the alien lower its weapon and bring its hand to its chest that you realize what it’s doing.

It’s laughing .

“You don’t know that, little human.” It sneers, almost crooning, and it lifts the metal to meet your arm. The metal is cold against your skin, and then suddenly – it breaks through, your arm suddenly damp, the pain sharp and vivid – your sight blurs at the edges, and your throat strains, then you realize you’re screaming.

You manage to turn your head to the side. Your stomach turns at how the metal is embedded into your arm, as its been done many times before.

“Your kind is so weak. So easy to… expose. All soft flesh.”

How long have you been here, actually?

“I can keep it there, if you wish. It’ll hurt more if I remove it.” The alien steps back. It places a hand under your chin and you meet its eyes – they’re like ice, in their coldness, and you try to counter it with your own fire. It flickers, threatening to become a blaze, but the alien reaches out and twists the metal in your arm.

The fire is extinguished as fast as it is lit. You cry out – your body is begging you, no more, please, but you have to be better.

For them, because of them –

“Hmm? What was that?” The alien grips your chin even harder, tough skin too rough against bruised skin. “You’ll give them up?”

“Never.” It’s growled, both in pain and in anger.

“Shame.” It’s twisted, again, and another scream spills past your lips. Tears, hot and sticky, roll off your skin and onto the floor. You just try to keep breathing – deep, shuddering breaths, even if it hurts to even breathe and by extension, hurts to keep staying alive. “I really thought we’d be able to break you.”

“Not – not on my watch,” you splutter, feeling iron on your tongue, spilling past your lips.

“And just before this, you were so willing to give up information,” the alien croons, mouth curling in a way you can’t describe. “Last of her kind. So old, so powerful. Do you even know what she is? How dangerous she is?”

The metal rubs against something, and you suck in a breath. Its pulling it out. “Do you know what she’s done, how many planets she’s razed? What she did to her own kind?”

She’s coming for you; they’re going to find you – be better. “She – she is – so m – much more than that.” And you mean it – she is so much more than her history, and her anger.

The alien lets out a low hum – and with a terrible noise, the metal comes out, clanking to the floor. You feel your arm getting damper, rivulets running down your skin and onto your side, but it’s getting numb too.

“Will you open your mouth, pretty human?”

You bite the inside of your cheek – and if you draw blood, you never taste it. “Never.”

“I understand how humans like to see.” There’s a sound of metal scraping against metal. The alien is picking up the shiny piece again. Between its fingers, it almost looks like a jewel, glowing silver and red in the dim light. “You will never see your friends again.”

“You think I’m afraid of that?” you spit, in a moment of lucidity. “I’d do – absolutely anything for them.”

“Would you die?”

You don’t reply to that – instead, you bare your teeth, your lips, cracked and bleeding, pulling over your gums to reveal teeth stained red. Maybe you would, you think hazily, if it meant they got to keep going. Maybe you would, if it meant that she would keep going.

A loud grunt, and then sudden, sharp pain in your thigh – the metal slices through skin and through muscle and your throat is hoarse – the pain burns, but nothing burns more than the thought of not being able to see your fam again.

Be better, you think numbly, as your head starts to loll to one side. Be better. For her.

The Doctor says she’s a doctor of hope, standing in a white corridor with people around her. She is hope, with her blonde hair and her hazel eyes, a riot of color in an empty room, a whirlwind of chaos amongst order. She is hope in the way that she lifts people up, makes them feel – more. She is hope in the way that you have hopelessly –

“Maybe you will.”

Hope is all you have right now, and now you’re falling, and falling, into the darkness…

You jolt.

Danger. Danger!

The alarm bells haven’t stopped ringing yet, and it’s still dark – your hands scramble to grasp at the cloth covering your eyes. Your fingers find fabric, slightly damp, and they curl around it. You squeeze your eyes shut and tear it away –

It’s too bright, too much. You whine, a strangled noise, because everything still hurts and it’s too much and is it too much to want everything to stop? There are soft sheets under you and under your skin and while it doesn’t feel bad, it still feels – wrong. You scramble, and then there isn’t a bed beneath you. Your fall, hard, onto the floor. The floor collides with your elbow and your vision flashes a horrid red as you let out a keening wail.

Danger. You need to get away. You need to escape!

Yes, escape – this is your chance! You struggle to your feet, swaying, still in a haze, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins propels you forward and out into a dimly-lit hallway.

You feel against the wall, feeling rounded edges and bumps. It’s not like – like before. The air is warm instead of cold and biting, and the floor is smooth. It doesn’t dig into your skin.

Are you somewhere else?

No, you think, I can’t be somewhere else – they have to be tricking me, making me think I’ve been rescued – I can’t fall for that, I’m better. I have to be. There is an ocean pounding in your ears and its waves sharpen the already smooth rocks on the beach, making jagged edges that tear at old wounds and do nothing but be cruel reminders of pain.

“Where did she go? You lot, if she’s gone off somewhere -”

You reach out again. It’s still an empty space, and you try to grab small flickers of memory that pass over your darkened vision – you need to remember where you are, and why you’re here – so you reach out, and you grab, and you pull - !

“Hey! What are you – “

You’ve grabbed cloth, not a memory, and a bubble of sadness that’s been building just bursts. You burst with it – you burst into tears.

A plethora of apologies spill out of your mouth as you blubber, the more awake part of you now shaking its head in disappointment. You clutch at the cloth you’ve grabbed – then you’re pulled forward, into a sturdy chest, with a familiar smell, beating a familiar rhythm.

“Doctor,” you mumble. It comes out more like a question.

The Doctor hums, and you blink – once, twice – then a whirring noise, and when you blink again, she is right in front of you, her face marred with worry, the telltale crease in between her eyebrows deepening with every slow blink you take. Her hair, curling slightly, falls over her face, covering her eyes. Her mouth is pulled into a deep frown, one she only wears when she’s absolutely upset – but your heart does flips.

She is hope, and hope is beautiful.

“Hey, stay awake for me, love,” she murmurs. Reaches out to smooth your hair away from your face. Love. “Don’t want you passing out on us again.”

Now it’s your turn to hum. You’re just – taking it all in now. The crashing waves have met their shore once again, and the ocean is calm.

“Are you alright?”

Better now that you’re here, but that goes unsaid. Suddenly, you’re weightless, and you realize that the Doctor has lifted you, carrying you firmly in her arms, and then you remember that she isn’t human and is totally allowed to do those things. She takes long purposeful strides, still holding your form in her arms. You drift off despite yourself.

You wake to someone stroking your hair, pushing it away from your eyes. You sigh contentedly, and the touch disappears. No! You make a plaintive noise, which grants you an amused hum.

“Alright,” you hear the Doctor say. You blink your eyes, blearily taking in the room you’re in – it’s your room, full of all the knickknacks that you’ve collected over your adventures, and a warm light drifting from the “windows” – windows that the Doctor put in after she learned about human sleep cycles. You hear a soft, but amused, huff. “I’m not leaving.”

You feel the side of your bed dip. The Doctor leans over, peering everywhere but your eyes – looking at the different wounds that litter your arms and legs. You watch her as she purses her lips in thought, then turns away and bends over to pick something off of the ground. She emerges with a roll of gauze between her fingers.

Her mouth’s pulled into a thin line as she works, deftly applying the gauze to your arms. You watch as the gauze hardens into a plaster-like material. She doesn’t look at you. She’s completely silent, hands working almost automatically without any input from her mind.

When her fingers graze a more sensitive cut, you whine – you watch as her face falls and darkens.

The more lucid part of your brain – the one that’s actually awake – recalls the Doctor’s face when you visited Rosa, when she met Krasko, and how she grasped her neck and her face turned into something that wasn’t entirely human. You remember a past life of hers, bold and furious. The Oncoming Storm, he’d called himself, defiant against time itself. And when you look closely, there is a storm brewing in the Doctor’s hazel eyes.

“Doctor,” you try, your voice scraping against your throat in all the worst ways. The Doctor doesn’t seem to hear you, but she stops to rest her hand on your thigh. The one that was stabbed. “Doctor, hey.”

The Doctor lifts her head. She was staring at your leg, your abdomen the only thing covered with a blanket.

“Hey.” Your voice comes out as a whisper. You let a cough rattle your chest. “You get quiet when you’re sad, you know that.”

The Doctor’s eyes widen a fraction – in recognition, you realize. Had you said that before? You try again, “Or when you’re mad. Are you mad?” Anxiety bubbles up in your chest – for some reason, it’s muted, like it’s been soothed before.

She’s silent for a while. She looks so old, you muse, and so lonely. She’s grasping at the gauze that’s still in her hand, refusing to meet your eyes.

“Doctor, I’m gonna be okay.” You don’t believe it yourself, but anything, anything to stop making her look so haunted. ”I’m here now, I – I’ve got you –“

The Doctor finally looks up. She raises her head quickly, raising her eyes, stormy and dark, to meet yours – her mouth still drawn in a tight line, she presses her hands to herself. You’ve never seen her this angry before, if she even is angry. With the Doctor, it was always hard to tell how she was feeling –

“If I hadn’t been there,” she starts, slowly, “you would have died.”

Your heart twists. True, though. You can’t argue with that. If the Doctor hadn’t found you that day, if she had been a second too late, if someone else had heard your screams, then you would be dead, and they’d be none the wiser. “…right.”

The Doctor frowned, her lips pulling more downward than usual. “You were in a –“

“Pocket dimension,” you finish. The Doctor’s frown grows deeper. “Yeah, they told me. My own personal confession dial.” (The Doctor winces.) “They were trying to get me to say where the TARDIS was.”

“We never left the ship,” the Doctor mutters. If it was possible for her eyes to get any darker, it apparently was. “We were on that ship that whole time.”

“For the hour I was gone. By their scans, you’d already – “ No. No crying, not in front of her. You swallow, wrenching your eyes away from the Doctor. “You - You’d already left.”

“…Oh.”

There’s a world of sadness in that little word, a universe of it in fact, so much that the tears you’d been trying to hold back finally slip out and pour, uninterrupted, in hot trails across your face. You lift your hands to your face to wipe them, to hide because that was what kept you safe – but the Doctor catches your hands in hers.

“None of that,” she says. She puts your hands back down on the bed and places her own hands on your cheeks. Her thumbs brush away the tears still rolling down your cheeks. When you shakily look up to meet her eyes, they aren’t completely clear, the storm still brewing in the distance, but she offers you a small smile. “You brave, brave human.”

The compliment warms you. “Y- You aren’t mad?”

“I should be.” The Doctor sighs. “Couldn’t be mad, though, not when I found you like – like that.” She swallows again, and grips at the blanket covering your middle. She pulls it down, slowly, until you can’t see your legs. Until she can’t see the large cut on your thigh that’s definitely going to scar in the future.

“I – we almost lost you today,” she whispers, finally holding your gaze. She’s picking her words, you realize. “You know, the fam would miss you a lot if you were gone.”

“You wouldn’t?”

The Doctor doesn’t answer that. She leans forward instead, pushing her body weight until there’s barely any space between the two of you. She’s never been this close to you, her breath fanning over your face and her eyes so close they’re burning pinpricks into the back of your head.

If the world didn’t exist right now, you’d believe it, because right now it’s just you and her in an endless expanse and nothing else. She isn’t speaking and you aren’t breathing.

You move forward, and lean your forehead against hers – her breathing hitches, and you feel love, you feel loved. The feeling is gone as soon as it passes, but the Doctor keeps her forehead resting against yours.

“You wouldn’t miss me?” you echo, whispering in the small space between you, and the Doctor lets out a breath and smiles.

“Maybe,” she whispers back, and when she closes the gap between the two of you, you swear you see stars.

The feeling of her lips on your is magical, even if you swear magic doesn’t exist – the touch of her lips is gentle, aware of your injuries and your probably swollen face, and you feel flattered enough that she’s kissing you when you probably look like hell. You’re drowning in her universe, in all of the stars that she keeps in her eyes, and you think that you wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

“Ow.”

“Told you that’d hurt.”

“You didn’t tell me anything.”

#jess writes #doctor who #doctor who imagine #doctor who x reader #the doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor imagine #thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor x reader #13th doctor imagine #huehuehueheuehueheueheehueheueheuehueheueheu

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scenecipriano · 5 years

Text

Hush Little Baby

Chapter One: A New Name

Insight: He just wanted to have a happy life with his husband and twin sons, but no, Patton couldn't have that, his husband called him crazy and left him all alone, but that's okay! Patton will just make his own family, one that would never dream of leaving.

Warnings: Unsympathetic!Patton, Kidnapping, Emotional Manipulation, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Angst with a happy ending.

Ships: Remile and Implied Logicality

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

Eden had no idea where he was, all the seven-year-old knew was that he was someplace dark and cold, with a heavy shackle attached to his left ankle. Eden couldn't really remember how exactly he ended up here, all he remembers is a man with a blue polo shirt and a grey cat hoodie over his shoulders, he remembered that the man had offered to give him some candy, all Eden had to do was follow him to his car. Eden felt stupid for listening to the man, no matter how nice strangers were he knew better than to follow the older male in hopes of getting a sweet treat. Eden wraps his arms around himself as he shivers, he was pretty sure that he was locked in a basement, a really cold and damp basement that could use a little remodeling. "Papa is going to be so mad at me..."

Eden's head snaps up when he hears the sound of the basement door unlocking, he squints his heterochromia eyes as light floods down the basement steps. "Oh! Good, you're awake, I was scared that I accidentally used too much chloroform on you, kiddo! Did you have a nice nap?" Eden felt his mouth go dry when the familiar optimistic tone of the man in the polo shirt spoke as he made his way down the wooden steps.

"I-I... I-I did, thank you, mister... W-Where am I?" Eden stammers.

"Well, you're home of course! Silly me, my name is Patton Hart and I'm gonna be your new dad!"

Eden blinks his eyes hard and stares up at the man, waiting for him to laugh and say, 'gotcha!' but it never came. The man was simply stuck smiling down at him as if what he had said was the cold hard truth.

"But... Mr. Hart, I already have a papa... I've got two! I-I really need to get home before they get upset with me being gone, sir."

Eden yelps when Patton lashes out at him, striking the seven-year-old across the face with his hand, leaving behind an angry red handprint on his right cheek. Eden held his cheek as he looks up at Patton with tears blurring his vision. The older man's blue eyes were alight with anger, the cold gaze forced a whimper to leave Eden's trembling lips as he curls in on himself, hoping to make himself seem smaller than he was.

"They're not your parents anymore! I am and I expect to be treated with respect, Damian!" Patton yells, Eden flinches and covers himself with his arms ready to block Patton if the older man decided to hit him again.

"B-But they are my parents, Mr. Hart! A-And my name is E-Eden, not Damian!"

Eden let out a strangled cry when Patton lands a swift kick into his side, causing the seven-year-old to slide across the concrete floor. Eden coughs and sputters as he tries to regain his breath, he winces when it sounds as if something cracks when he takes a deep breath.

"I was hoping I wouldn't need to do this to you, Damian, but it seems I have no choice. Until you learn that I am your papa now and that your name is Damian Hart, you'll be staying down here, honestly kiddo this is hurting me more than it is you." Patton sighs as he retreats back up the basement steps, Eden opens his mouth to protest, but he still struggled to breathe after the kick that was dealt with him, he was once again left in darkness as Patton closed the basement door, the telltale sound of the door locking left Eden feeling hopeless.

"I-I want t-to go home..."

-----------

Emile Picani didn't want to believe his husband when he told the therapist that their son had gone missing, he didn't want to believe that his sweet Eden had been taken right from their front yard, but it was all true. He had to believe it when he saw a police car outside of his house, he had to believe it when he saw his husband's shaking hands, scared grey eyes not being blocked by his sunglasses for once. Emile didn't waste time getting out of his car once it was parked, rushing over to Remy and pulling him into a tight hug, "W-What happened? W-Weren't you watching him?"

"B-Babes I swear, I just looked away for a minute and he was gone! I-I searched for him everywhere, I-I swear I didn't mean to let this happen..." Remy stammers, barely choking back tears as he clings to his pink-haired husband.

"I-I'm not blaming you... I-It's okay we'll find him, d-did you give the officer a recent picture of him?" Remy nods mutely burying his face into his husband's brown cardigan clinging to the younger man like he was a lifeline.

"Mr. Picani, is it possible that you or your husband have upset anyone recently? Giving someone cause to take your son?" The officer asks, startling Emile, he had completely forgotten about him.

Emile licks his lips and takes a deep breath, "No, sir. As far as I know, neither of us have upset anyone, we get along with just about everyone here in the neighborhood!" The officer nods and writes something down in a notepad, Emile noticed that a wallet-sized photo of his son was poking out of the officer's breast pocket. His heart ached when familiar brown and light green eyes stared back him, showing nothing but happiness.

"Did you hear me, Mr. Picani?"

"O-Oh, no what did you say sir?"

The officer offers Emile a gentle smile as he places his hand on the trembling therapist's shoulder, causing Emile to tighten his hold on Remy. "I said we'll do all we can to bring your son home safe, I promise."

"T-Thank you, officer..."

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

Two weeks have passed, two whole weeks and Patton's new son was still being stubborn. Not wanting to address him as papa or even answer to his real name, it was beginning to get on Patton's nerves. Damian was being selfish, couldn't he see that Patton did him a favor? That his new papa was only trying to keep him safe from the so-called parents that he had already? That glasses wear hack, couldn't even keep an eye on Damian! Patton would always keep a close watch on his kiddo because he loved Damian, unlike those unfit parents that had him before. Patton sighs as he puts on a cheery smile, a tray with a bowl of tomato soup, a grilled cheese sandwich, and a glass of orange juice was held in his hands. It had been a good three days since Damian had last eaten.

Patton balances the tray in his left hand as he unlocks the basement door, he stood at the top for a moment waiting for the telltale whimpering and sniffles that usually came from his son, but he was relieved when there wasn't any. "I've got lunch for you, kiddo! It's tomato soup, your favorite!" Patton exclaims as he slowly makes his way down the basement steps. Damian was a pathetic sight sitting in the middle of the cool basement, his clothes torn, bloodied, and covered in dirt. The boy looks up at Patton and the older man couldn't help be feel an over sense of joy when he saw how empty the child's eyes looked.

"T-Thank y-you... P-Papa... I'm s-sorry for being mean yesterday..." Damian mumbles, wincing as he accidentally causes his bottom lip to split open once more. Patton offers the child a gentle smile as he sits down on the floor across from him.

"It's alright, kiddo, you know papa could never stay mad at you, now let's get you fed, hm?"

Eden-No-Damian nods and forces his aching body to scoot closer, his right ankle still throbbed from where Patton had repeatedly stomped on it, the seven-year-old was pretty sure it was broken, but he didn't want to be a hassle for his papa.

Patton was happy that his little Damian was finally behaving, a few more days in the basement is all the child will need before Patton could bring him up into the house for a nice warm bath and a warm bed with all the toys that his little heart could ever want. Until that happened, Patton was going to sit here and feed his son like the loving parent that he was.

"I love you, Dami~."

"I-I love you too... Papa..."

#sanders sides #deceit sanders #he's Eden #sympathetic deceit #unsympathetic patton #abusive patton #child abuse #emotional manipulation #emotional/psychological abuse #kidnapping #angst with a happy ending #pretty sure that's it

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evan-hand-soap · 5 years

Text

Basically my favorite characters to write for as your best friend headcannons UwU

Characters: Connor Murphy(DEH), Evan Hansen(DEH), Jared Kleinman(DEH), Freddy Freeman(Shazam), Shouto Todoroki(bnha), Hitoshi Shinso, Kyoka Jiro(bnha), and Peter Parker(mcu) *in that order*

A/n & TW: yeah it’s a lot, I know. Everything’s platonic and yes there’s some cursing and a small refrence of drugs in Connors if you squint.

My requests and matchups are open! Just please read my rules first!<3

Connor Murphy

He is oh so very protective of you

He doesn’t have many friends so he wants to keep you at his side as much as possible

Since his brains all fucked and tells him things that aren’t true, if you’re not around him he gets sad and starts to tell himself you’re out with other friends and he’s not good enough

Even if in reality you went to the bathroom

He overthinks so much

Hes a pretty goofy person though so he tries his best to lighten the mood or make you laugh when you’re sad

And it usually works

When you guys hang out you usually go somewhere like a park or your house rather than to his house because he hates his family and doesn’t want you around them

He’s too anxious to say things like “I love you” but he means well and you know he does

He starts saving money and not buying as much weed and such so he can have money to spend on both of you when you go out and hang out

His hugs are by far the best

He’s just so comfortable and warm and smells so good

Expect lots of calls at like 2 in the morning

Mainly just because his mind gets stuck in a rut and makes him upset and uses you as his lifeline which you have no problem with

He obviously gets very angry very easily but around you he goes soft

It’s impossible for him to get mad at you

His brain won’t allow it to happen

He secretly loves if you lock your arm with his because it lets him flex that he’s got such a great best friend without having to say anything

Any problem you have is his problem

Someone breaks a project you worked on for a while? Their ass is dust. Something happens at home? You live with him for the next week even if he doesn’t want you around his family. Hotel? Tivago

Having him as your best friend also makes everyone scared to do anything but be nice to you because they know he won’t hesitate to annihilate them

Just in general having him around and you being around him makes him a lot happier

He’s only vulnerable in front of you and Miguel

But he’s a lot softer and nicer with you

Evan Hansen

He’s an anxious baby

If he’s your best friend, he’ll be so at ease because he knows you won’t judge him or hate him or anything

He still stutters around you and can get pretty nervous but that’s just how he is

Hang out usually are at his house or at a park

He tries to keep you away from Jared because Jared’s a cocky bitch but Jared just means well

Most of the time..

But if you are around Jared, he panics because he’s scared Jared might say something about him and make you not like him and want to be Jared’s friend rather than Evans

That never happens though and to help Evan not panic about that, if you’re ever around Jared you make sure Evans there too

Evan loves hugs so much

He never has to say anything but just in general gives off a vibe of ‘I want hug’

He secretly really likes just hanging out in his room and laying down with his head in your lap and talking and ranting while you mess with his hair

It’s just so comforting to him to know you’re always there to listen

He’s very quiet so it’s best to always have an ear open around him so you can hear him mumble something like if he’s uncomfortable

He just really needs a person who can show him he’s cared for and loved

Like Connor, he’s too anxious to say “I love you” but for Evan, it’s mainly because he doesn’t want it to come off weird or something

But you know he loves you

Heidi once thought you were dating and it made him and flustered, anxious trainwreck as he tried to explain you two weren’t. It would’ve been a lot worse if you were there

(If he were to get into a relationship it would most likely be with his best friend because that’s who he knows he can rely on the most)

Jared Kleinman

He’s a cocky bastard

Like I’ve said, he mostly means well

But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a snarky asshole

He’s got a few nicknames for you but if you want him to stop he’ll try his best to

He’s a show off

He loves you a lot so if you’re his best friend he’s gonna flex about you so hard

Everyone’s gonna know you’re best friends

Literally no one cares

But they know

Like Connor, your problems are his problems

He will attack(verbally) anyone who does anything even as small as taking a pencil from you and not giving it back

Hang out are usually at his house or the mall

He secretly really really loves cuddling

He’ll be really cocky about it if you want to but he won’t say no

He teases you a lot but that’s just his way of showing he loves you

He, just like the other two, doesn’t actually say he loves you but his reasoning is he’s never had to say it to anyone so he just feels weird about it

If he says something actually insulting he’ll apologize

Something you’ve got to keep in mind though, is that regardless of what he says, he means well

He really does. He wants you happy but he doesn’t want to be different around you than how he actually is

He’s actually very insecure so if you’re good at making people feel better about themselves, you’ll be his ray of sunshine

He doesn’t actually have all those friends he met camp and a hot model girlfriend like he tells people so he doesn’t actually have anyone to keep his moral up

*DEH is such a sad musical wth-*

You can see right through his lies

When he feels like balling up and sobbing he smiles and cracks jokes instead of cocky comments

There’s been multiple occasions where he’s needed to sob and just huddled up in a ball and hugged his knees and cried while you just held him

That’s all he needs is a friend who can have a sense of humor to make him laugh instead of make himself laugh and have someone to lean on and not get judged for crying

His hugs are also amazing

Not as good as Connors but they’re still amazing

No matter how close you are, he’s still gonna be a cocky bitch but he’s nicer around you

Freddy Freeman

This boy is the best best friend anyone could ask for

Because of his disability he can’t do much but he really tries to make you happy

You do what you can to make him happy too because he’s a little depressed and a has mild anxiety and gets shoved around and made fun of a lot

If you love superheroes, he’ll be super stoked because... he is literally the biggest superhero nerd

Hang outs are always at his house because 1, his family adores you, 2, you don’t want him going places when its not necessary because of his disability, and 3 being that his home is just so cozy and fun

Billy is also really close with you because you’re around him a lot since you’re always in his room since they share a room

*His whole family secretly ships you two and it really pisses Freddy off since you two are, at this point, strictly plantonic*

He doesn’t say “I love you” or hug you around his family because it would just be endless teasing

If Billy’s not home and everyone else is downstairs he’s totally different

He does those one armed hugs because his other hand is always occupied with his crutch

If he does tell you he loves you, he kind of mumbles it since he’s pretty awkward and also in fear his family is around

He’s always on his toes when you’re at his house because he doesn’t want to let something slip and get teased about it because it’s already happened once when you were getting picked up from his house and when he walked you to the front door he just bluntly said “See you at school, love you.”

The second he turned around everyone was just smirking at him and started teasing him

He’s an incredible person to comfort you if you’re sad

He just always knows what to say

If you are sad he knows all you need is to be comforted which usually comes with physical comfort as well

If you’re in his room and just sobbing Billy promises not to say anything because he’s just trying being a good friend

The only times his family won’t tease him about it is if you’re sad and clinging to him

He’s very supportive and just all around great to have around

His best friend would probably be someone soft spoken and sweet rather than obnoxious and witty just because he needs someone sweet and kind in his life besides his sisters

He’s a big softie and anyone can fight me on this

Shouto Todoroki

Todoroki will be the best friend that gets very jealous if you’re around someone else

He just thinks he’s not good enough so if you’re around someone else for a little, he gets anxious and starts worrying and gets all down in the dumps

Kinda like Connor does

His hugs? The best on this whole list

His hugs are always so warm and tight but not too tight

Also,,, a literal living ac and heater

He’s just the best

Being his best friend, expect lots and lots of hugs when you’re alone in his dorm

Sometimes he’ll have nightmares and text you and ask if he can come to your dorm for comfort

And he just walks over to your room and hugs you and tries to calm himself down

He secretly really really really loves nicknames from you

Whether it be strawberry or candy cane or something else

He loves it

He’ll definitely need a best friend who can stop him from getting into fights because (I headcanon) he doesn’t like wasting his time in stupid situations like fights for no reason

remember when he almost threw hands with the chief of the police in the hospital? or when he shit on his licensing exam results because he was too busy fighting Inasa?

He’ll definitely need someone to be his common sense when he gets sucked into something and his won’t function

Hang outs are usually in his dorm, half of the time are just studying

Hang outs also don’t include much conversation because... he isn’t one to talk since he’s like on of the quietest in 1A

If you’re struggling with grades or training or something else, he will 100% help you but he’ll back off if you tell him to

Just like Connor and Jared, your problems are his problems

If he even hears your name mentioned in a negative way he’s all over it and won’t even mention what happened to you so you don’t have to worry or think about it

Kind of like Connor and how he saves up money to spend on the both of you, Shouto just steals his dads money and spends it on you both instead

You’re sick and need medicine? He skiddadles to the store and buys you some medicine and then a bunch of your favorite snacks or ice cream or whatever you like. You have a bad day? He takes you out shopping and spends Enji’s money like there’s no tomorrow

He’s that best friend that literally spoils you whenever they can

He will never ever judge you for things you like or do or anything about you

He’ll be a little awkward during the first few months of your friend ship and even when you’re close enough to be considered best friends

That’s just how he is

He’ll be very open with you so expect him to sometimes show up at your door and once you let him in just fall on your bed face first and ask for permission to rant

He’ll just mumble something like “Do you mind if I rant?”

Yes, he asks for permission. He’s very polite

He needs hugs. He’ll need someone who can initiate hugs because he needs wants them

He’s going to be the hugest softie around you, but other than letting down some of his aloof persona, nothing’s that different besides he’s a bit more open and goofy

Hitoshi Shinso

He’s honestly honored to be your best friend

At first, he was a little confused when you started becoming friends. No one ever tried to befriend him so he was confused. Did you want something?

When he realized you just wanted to be his friend, to say he was happy would be an understatement

He’ll definitely need support because growing up he was always told “sounds criminal, Shinso.” “You’re cool as long as you don’t manipulate us into being your slaves.” “Imagine how much stuff you could get away with!” And etc. so he’ll need support for when he gets depressed and insecure and lets his thoughts get to him

Once your best friends, he’s like your body guard

He’s supppeerrrrrrr protective

He doesn’t mean to be, he just loves you a lot and wants to make sure you’re okay

If he hears you got hurt during training, he’ll personally make sure you’re alright and then take you out to get ice cream

He kind of babies you but he knows you can protect yourself

He just doesn’t want you to feel like you’re alone

He refuses to use his quirk on you

It just seems wrong to manipulate you, which it is

He let’s you and only you touch his hair

Be honored

Like Todoroki, it takes him a bit to open up but once he’s open to you, you know basically everything down to his shoe size (?)

He’s not much of a ranter because he feels like he’s annoying you if he talks about his problems

You have to reassure him that you could never find him annoying and even after that, he’ll maybe rant once every month or two

Unlike the other few on this list and the whole ‘your problems are his problems’ for Shinso it’s a ‘you don’t have problems. I kill them before they become one.’ Kind of thing

Stressing over grades? Not a problem he stays up all night with you and does whatever he can to make sure they go up. Over worked yourself during training and made you sore and exhausted and go unconscious? He’s already convinced his teacher to excuse him from class and carrying you bridal style to the your dorm from the nurse

He’s on it, regardless of what it is

I headcannon he has a black cat in his dorm and it’s named is shadow, fight me

His cat loves you a lot

Being best friends with Shinso probably comes with Aizawa just generally appreciating your human more than others because Shinso talks to Aizawa about you and how you’ve made him happier

So of course, Shinso’s Dad™ is stoked

For the sake of this, I’m saying you’re in 1A

Since Aizawa likes you and the impact you’ve put on your best friend, you’re the only student in 1A that gets to leave to Shinso’s dorm whenever you wish because you’re not friends with anyone out of your class besides him

Shinso is a gifts guy

He’s that friend that is always thinking of his best friend when he’s out somewhere so if he sees something you might like, he buys it for you

He doesn’t shower you with gifts like Todoroki because he’s not rich, not that he’s poor, he just can’t afford spending money like it’s nothing, let alone if it’s not even his

Expect lots of calls or random texts at like 3am because his insomnia is always keeping him up

He’s definitely too shy to really show that he cares about you

If he does it’s in a way where he doesn’t need to look you in the eye or look at you at all because he gets flustered easily

He really likes Disney so one of his favorite things to do is just watch Disney movies

He’s the bestest best friend anyone could have ^‿^

Kyoka Jiro

This girl loves her music

She knows what it’s like to have someone insult your music taste so she will fight anyone if they discriminate you or your taste

She’ll definitely tease you about small things but nothing you’re insecure about

She’ll teach you how play the drums or guitar or whatever you want that she has because if you play songs with her, she will be super happy

She might not want a friend too dramatic or a drama starter but if you are like that, she’ll try an ignore it

Hanging out will probably be either in her dorm, an arcade, or doing something like kareoke

She loves kareoke so if you’re willing to play music with her and sing, you’re the best

Lots of inside jokes

Once shes open with you, you’ll know almost all of her secrets and opinions on things

But it might take a while since she has trust issues

Third most protective on this list (right under Peter and Connor)

She will not take anyone’s bs, especially if it’s even remotely at you

Every time Mineta mentions your name, he’s dead

She doesn’t care if you can defend yourself, there shouldn’t even be the case of needing to defend yourself unless it’s in training or hero stuff

You’re her favorite person to train with

Just cause she’s too scared she’ll get judged for something with someone else unless it’s Kami or Yoamomo

She’s not very affectionate so at first she’ll freeze up if you hug her or something

She’s just not used to it but once she is, she’ll hug you back or something

She’s pretty casual about it because it’s not like it’s anything further than plantonic

She’s not the best person to go to for academic help so if you ask for it, she’ll just refer you to Yoamomo or Todoroki

If it’s physical help you need, such as quirk or training stuff, she’s totally up for it

You’re the only person who she feels safe to rant around so it’s best that you’re a good listener around her

Her parents adore you

You guys rarely argue which she’s really happy about because she hates arguments

If you’re into the same music as her, she’s ecstatic

You two are jam buddies ヾ(＾▽＾)ﾉ

She never fails to make you laugh, whether she means to or not

It’s just her commentary thats funny

(You guys have custom ear pieces for your suits so during practice missions and training you guys can secretly talk with each other and hear everything that’s going on on each other’s ends and she’s always mumbles things to herself that you find funny)

Peter Parker(!FFH spoilers and gets a lil depresso!)

You know about him being Spidey

The poor baby has PTSD so you should do you’re best to not mention Tony around him

Sometimes he’ll just swing over to your apartment and give up on patrol and sneak through your window and sob and hug you

He just needs someone to hug and cry on

Your parents think your dating Spider-Man because they walked in on Spider-Man clinging to you and sobbing

You had to beg them not to tell anyone you know Spider-Man

Thankfully, he had his mask on, even if it was tear stained and sopping wet with tears seeping through it

Being his best friend, you should try your best not to worry about him out with bad guys, even if it’s super hard because he’s always face to face with death even if he’s just swinging around the city

What if he missed where he shot a web and slammed to the ground and got hurt?

Will definitely binge Star Wars with you

If you’re not into Star Wars, he’ll get into whatever you’re into so it’s not awkward when you hang out and just watch SW with Ned

He lets you try on his suit but only after he gets it cleaned because it always smells like sweat and tears and blood

Once it’s clean it smells like flowers and laundry detergent

He’s given you part control over EDITH so if something happens to him and you only have his glasses, you can protect yourself

When he needs to ditch class for something he either has you or Ned convince the teachers something, depending on which one of you is in a class with him at the time because every class he has is with one of you

He made you a braclet made of nanotech that can also go into the form of glasses, with an AI named Mila, but hasn’t given them to you and only plans to if he absolutely has to

He had Pepper make them since he knows nothing about Nanotech. He had it customized with ways to keep you calm in chaotic situations and can find the easiest and safest escape routes for you in a few seconds

I forgot to mention he’s very protective because he refuses to lose someone close to him again

He’s an awkward mess so please don’t make fun of him or tease him about something because he’s really insecure

Once his identity got out, you stayed at his side so if he were bombarded with with questions or the press or anything else you could help him answer because he gets super nervous and stiff around the press and such

He really appreciates you

He tries to save up some money to buy you gifts for your birthday and such but you always insist he doesn’t have to

The boys a bit stubborn though so he’ll still most likely do so

If something happens at home you’re more than welcome to stay at his apartment

May loves you so you’re always welcome there

He’s not to physical but he’ll hug you every once in a while and such but not much more

If you’re ever sad he’s one of the best people to be comforted by

Mainly because he’s dealt with a lot and never had many people or anyone to comfort him when he needed it so he always gets into the mindset of ‘when I’m sad, what do I need from someone else’ and knows what you need and what he needs to do

He’s just generally a really really great best friend UwU

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the-quiet-winds · 5 years

Text

Between Angels and Demons (part three)

[Continuing on with this AU by me and @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts. TW for mentions / discussions of abuse]

[part one] - [part two]

[Part 3: Far Away from the Wreck We’ve Made]

The next morning, Katherine is much later than usual.

She stumbles into class, nearly in a daze, with only a few minutes before the bell to end the period. She slips her late pass on Jane’s desk and all but falls into her seat, exhausted. She had foregone her normal short sleeve shirt and jeans for a hoodie, even though it was still extremely hot out. She keeps her eyes down, not even taking her book out of her bag.

Jane doesn’t say anything about Katherine’s late arrival until the bell rings only a couple of minutes later. As everyone stands to leave, Jane calls to her.

“Miss Howard, could I speak to you for a moment?”

The other students file out, but Katherine doesn’t even move to stand from her desk. Jane approaches her, voice gentle.

“I read what you wrote, Katherine.”

Katherine braces herself, waiting for Jane to say that she was lying, or overreacting or something like that. but she doesn’t.

“I'm going to help you,” Jane says, and there’s a determination behind her words that rings out clearly.

Katherine can barely react. She’s so numb, mentally preparing for a berating that she barely hears what Jane actually says.

She’s going to help.

Katherine has a chance.

But then her arm starts to hurt and she remembers exactly why nothing will ever change.

“Please don’t try to help me anymore,” she whispers.

Jane is shocked. “Why wouldn’t I, Katherine?” She asks gently. “You deserve to be safe.”

Katherine doesn’t speak as she rolls up the sleeve of her hoodie, revealing a masterpiece of dark bruises littering her forearm. “He found out I missed gym,” is all she can say as an explanation.

Jane stares, horrified at the bruises. “Katherine,” she says suddenly, urgently. “I have to report this.”

“No!” Katherine’s eyes are wide with alarm. “Please, no-”

“Katherine, I have to,” Jane says, tone halfway between firm and apologetic. It was true; as a teacher, Jane had a legal obligation to report any signs of abuse. Beyond that, though, Jane couldn’t allow Katherine to carry on like this, couldn’t allow her to go back home to her father when this is how he was treating her.

Katherine jumps to her feet. “Please,” she begs. She feels so hopelessly small and scared, even as she stands taller than her teacher. “It’ll just make it worse,” she says. It’s ironic in a way - she’d hoped for so long someone would save her, but now that she had the chance, she hoped she’d never opened her mouth.

“Katherine, I'm required by law.” Jane then softens her voice. “Plus, I won’t let you go through this.”

“I-I deserve it,” Katherine mumbles. “My mum was coming to pick me up when she got in the accident.”She drops her voice until it’s barely audible. “It’s my fault she’s dead. I deserve it all.”

Jane’s heart breaks at Katherine’s words and she reaches out, placing a hand on Katherine’s desk between them.

“That doesn’t sound like it was your fault at all, Katherine. I'm so sorry that happened, but you couldn’t have done anything. it wasn’t your fault.”

“If it wasn’t my fault then why would this be happening to me?” Katherine asks, voice painfully quiet.

Jane wishes she had answers. She wishes could tell Katherine that fate was cruel and found vulnerable little girls, but she doesn’t find the words.

Jane creeps her hand forward and lightly takes Katherine’s. She speaks out loud the promise she made yesterday, “I won’t let you be hurt again,” she whispers.

Katherine trembles and holds to Jane’s hand like a lifeline. She tries to speak but can’t, too many emotions clouding her eyes.

“What if,” Jane suddenly says, hoping she’s not about to overstep all sorts of red flags she sees in front of her eyes, but she can’t help herself, “you came home with me tonight, Katherine? You’ll be safe, he won’t find you there.”

Jane knows she’s probably breaking all kinds of rules, but she knows she can’t let Katherine go home to her father. When Katherine doesn’t answer, Jane continues hesitantly.

“Then we can report everything tomorrow morning. I'm not going to let him hurt you any more, Katherine.”

Katherine still doesn’t speak, staring at one spot on her desk and sitting stock-still. Her face screws up in frustration, desperately trying not to cry. It’s all pity, it’s all a trick, she knows it.

But there’s another part of her hoping, clinging to the believe that she might just be different, like the last tether before the ship sinks.

Words ever-so-eloquently tumble out as she looks at Jane with tear-stricken eyes. “Why do you care?!”

“Because you don’t deserve any of this pain,” Jane answers, without even thinking about the words before they leave her mouth. “You deserve to be safe, and happy, and cared for.” She manages to stop herself before she mentions the maternal need to protect Katherine, a feeling she didn’t realise she even had. Katherine didn’t need to hear that, not when she’d just told Jane about her own mother’s passing. You’re her teacher, not her mum, she reminds herself with a twinge of guilt.

Before Jane can open her mouth to say more, or Katherine anything at all, the door opens and an elderly man ambles in, a school ID tag around his neck and a thick folder of papers in his hand.

“Excuse me,” Jane says, subtly hiding Katherine from view as she tugs her sleeve down again. “Can I help you?”

The substitute teacher shrugs. “You have a visitor in the office, Miss Seymour,” he says. “They’re looking for you and a Katherine Howard.”

Katherine was immediately concerned. Why would they possibly be looking for both-

“There’s a Mister... oh what’s his name…,” the sub frantically searches for the name and bursts out with, “Edmund Howard! Edmund Howard here to see you.”

“Thank you,” Jane says shortly. She watches as the man places the papers on the desk, then ambles out again. The second the door closes behind him Jane turns to Katherine.

“Katherine, I'm going to take you to the nurse’s office,” she says seriously. “I want you to wait there until I've finished talking to your father.”

Katherine opens her mouth to speak, but all she can let out is a terrified whimper like a kicked puppy. The sight makes up Jane’s mind for her; not only was she not going to let Edmund Howard anywhere near Katherine, she was also intent on reporting him today.

Katherine can only feebly nod. Jane holds out an arm, and Katherine darts into the space, as if Jane’s arm over her shoulders could fight away all the evil.

She would, however, admit that it made her feel the tiniest bit safer as Jane led her through the now-empty halls and to the nurse’s office, then pulls to a stop.

“it’s going to be okay, Katherine,” Jane says, pulling as much honey-sweetness into her voice as possible. “I won’t let him do anything.”

Katherine gives another shaky nod and it’s only then that Jane walks away. She forms a battle plan in her head as she makes her way to the main office, which is only solidified by Edmund Howard immediately beginning to rage at seeing Jane.

“You’re the teacher that let Katherine skip a class yesterday!” He says quickly and harshly. Then he looks around. “Where is that girl?! She should be here too! She needs to answer for this!”

The school secretary looks to one of the student assistants. “Miss Howard was just checked in by nurse hawthorne. Would you please go fetch her?”

Before Jane can say anything, the well-meaning student walks away.

It’s nearly ten minutes later, and after she and Edmund had been shuffled into a conference room, when Katherine appears in the doorway, red-faced and uncomfortably shifting.

The secretary goes to leave now Katherine has arrived, but Jane stops her.

“Please stay. I'd like a witness for this.”

“A witness?” Edmund Howard asks, an outraged frown on his face. “What is this, a courtroom? I just came to give you a piece of my mind.” He looks towards Katherine who shrinks back, and Jane steps between the two of them.

“Mister Howard,” she says firmly, “as a teacher, it is well within my duties to do what is best for my student, and what was best for her yesterday was not to attend her gym class.”

Edmund looks half amused and half murderous. “You can’t be serious. You know her for a week and suddenly you know what’s best for her?” He lets out a sharp bark of a laugh, and Jane feels a chill run down her spine. “I've taken care of her for sixteen years, Miss Seymour,” he says darkly, and Jane can’t help but notice how, in both instances of talking about Katherine, he pointedly avoided using the words ‘father’ and ‘daughter.’ “I think I know what’s best for my offspring, you nosy little worm.”

Jane opens her mouth to speak but Edmund doesn’t let her. “I'm putting in a request to change your teacher, Katherine,” he says, speaking as if Jane doesn’t even exist, “but now I'm taking you home,” he barks the order like a drill sergeant. “Let’s go.”

“She doesn’t have to leave if she doesn’t want to,” Jane interrupts, staring him down. “She’s your daughter, not your prisoner.”

“I don’t recall asking you for your opinion,” Edmund glares. He clicks his fingers imperiously. “Katherine. we’re leaving, now.”

Katherine doesn’t move, now having backed away so far she’s pressed herself against the wall. Edmund lets out an annoyed grunt.

“Katherine, I'm not going to ask again. I thought you knew better than to disobey me.”

God, does it break Jane’s heart - the sight of intelligent, sweet Katherine pressed against the wall like she might otherwise shatter to pieces, and that tiny scared noise she makes when Edmund continues to talk.

In a brief moment of reflection, Jane ponders to herself... why does she care so much for Katherine compared to her other students.

The thought is cut short, however, as Edmund makes a death march towards Katherine and Jane jumps between them.

“Mister Howard,” she says, trying to keep her voice even despite the fire in her stomach, “I'd recommend you leave before I call the police and have you arrested for child abuse.”

Edmund turns purple with rage.

“How dare you!” he shouts, and the secretary finally intervenes.

“Miss Seymour,” she stutters, “you can’t say something like that without evidence.”

“I do have evidence,” Jane says firmly. “And I will be filing an official report.”

“You don’t have a leg to stand on,” Edmund sneers. “I've never done anything to Katherine.”

He turns away from Jane to look at the girl, but he freezes as he lays eyes on her.

Katherine has the sleeve of her hoodie pulled up, revealing her arm covered in bruises. She isn’t looking at her father, instead staring down at the floor. the secretary gasps.

“Is that your evidence?” Edmund bluffs. “She’s a clumsy girl, always getting in into silly scrapes and falling over things.”

After patting both of the pockets on her slacks, Jane reaches into her cardigan pocket and pulls out those sheets of notebook paper, crumpled yet neatly folded. “I also have this,” she says, voice steely, “a full narrative Katherine wrote herself, outlining several horrid things you have done to her, Mister Howard.”

He laughs. Actually laughs. “You can’t believe a single word she says,” he says boldly. “She has a bit of a liar’s impulse. Really quite a shame.”

The secretary interjects again. “I'm sorry, Mister Howard, but we need to take all accusations of abuse very seriously. I'm going to have to contact social services about this issue.”

“What you should be taking seriously is these two telling lies about me!” Edmund shouts, slamming his fist against the wall. Katherine jumps, wide-eyed, and Jane places herself between Edmund and Katherine.

“Please control yourself, mister Howard.”

“You’re the one making baseless accusations against me!” He snarls.

“They are far from baseless-”

To the horror of the already terrified Katherine Howard, Jane, unfortunately, doesn’t get to finish that sentence.

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tag list: @percabeth15 @kats-seymour @qualquercoisa945 @jane-fucking-seymour @a-slightly-cracked-egg @justqueentingz @annabanana2401 @wolfies-chew-toy @broad-way-13 @tvandmusicals @lailaliquorice @aimieallenatkinson @sweet-child-why03 @gaylinda-of-the-upper-uplands @funky-lesbians @thinkaboutitmaybe @hansholbeingoesaroundzeworld @messanaa @beeskneeshuh @prick-up-ur-ears @theartoflazy @justqueentwo @brother-orion @paleshadowofadragon @lafemmestars @beautifulashes17 @jarneiarichardnxel @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff @ladiez-in-waiting @mixer1323 @boleynssixthfinger @aimieallen @elphiesdance @boleynthebunny @krystalhuntress @lupin-loves-chocolate @bellacardoza16 @bluify @katherines-choker

#six the musical #six musical #jane seymour #katherine howard #julie and jess write #between angels and demons #the world was on fire and no one could save me but you

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stuffandnosense · 6 years

Text

Never Ending: Message in a Bottle (Part 4)

So everyone over @altean-plance-au is still doing their thing, and the recent updates have been fantastic (a couple of which I still need to catch up on), and thanks to them and also my friends at the Pidgance Positivity Discord I finally managed to get back to this, and I’m really excited about my plans for it going forward. ;) I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Never Ending Oneshot | MiaB Part 1 | MiaB Part 2 | MiaB Part 3

***

“Almost every single one of these video files has a name - like a real name, not just a number or something. AND they’re color-coded into topics,” Lance observes, as they flip through the file folder on the screen in his room. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“Because you know me,” Pidge smirks. “Just because the log was your idea doesn’t mean I’d have let you get away with doing it without some basic organization. What are we, animals?”

She’s expecting a laugh at that, but when she glances at him his face has fallen, and she realizes she made a mistake in her attempt to make a joke.

Too soon, she thinks. Too soon to be identifying with the people in these videos completely, even for a joke. Lance has come around enough since earlier to agree to watch these videos with her, but he is still confused. Still scared, even, maybe.

“S-Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean…”

Lance blinks and shakes his head. “No, I know; you were just being funny. It’s fine. Ignore me.”

Pidge lets her hand fall away from the screen “We don’t have to do this right now, you know. We could wait a little longer.”

He smiles. “It’s okay, Pidge, really.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable; are you sure—?”

“Pidge!” He grabs her hand and tugs her back to sit facing the huge screen they’d set up in here phoebs ago for the game console they bought at the space mall. “I mean it, come on,” he chuckles. He points the Altean remote-like thing at the display. “I guess we should just start at the beginning? What ARE these categories anyway?”

“One looks like messages to specific people; those we’ll skip. Otherwise, looks like…” Pidge squints at the screen. “General Logs, Altean History & Culture, Nonsense Logs - of course - and oh, neat, what’s Project Window? There’s also a Miscellaneous tag, because you have to have one of those.”

“You’re enjoying this too much already and we haven’t even started.”

She smirks at him, and then he comes to the end of the long list. The last several files aren’t named, or color-coded, and she frowns.

“What is it?” Lance asks.

“Nothing…” She tells herself it doesn’t have to mean anything, and steals the remote from Lance. “Come on, let’s pick up where we left off in the first general log I guess.”

“Hey give it back!”

***

Nonsense Log 2: Or, I knew this would probably devolve into Feed Funniest, and I was right.

“What are you doing?” Pidge turns on the recorder as Lance floats past her upside down - not that direction really matters in here. He’s trying to use bits of unfrozen water to propel himself across the space, but the stream keeps coagulating into clumps.

“Practicing. I’ve never used my powers in zero gravity before; it’s harder to keep it liquid when it otherwise wants to freeze, and it keeps, you know, acting like things in zero gravity do…”

He freezes a large ball of the water to grab onto to stop himself spinning, but with no anchor he just goes spinning away with the ice ball in his grasp.

Pidge giggles at his shriek. “You need to stay tied to the side!”

“That’s not going to help me figure out how to operate somewhere with zero-g that doesn’t have walls…!” Lance and his ball of ice bounce off the inside of the sphere; he unfreezes the water and pushes off from the wall with it to send himself back to her.

Pidge catches his arms as he gets closer; he’s still somewhat out of control, but at least he ended up relatively where he seems to have wanted to go.

“Well that was better,” she gives him, pulling him into the nest with her.

“Of course it was.” He winks and kisses her cheek.

“Since when did you like training?”

Lance feigns offense. “Excuse me; I’ve matured enough to recognize its’ merits, thank you very much. I wouldn’t be the skilled bodyguard or the master of my abilities I am without it.”

Pidge grins wickedly at that, and extends a pair of vines to shove him back out of the nest. “Oh? Show me what you’ve got, then.”

A glob of water hits her in the face as she emerges from the nest; Lance’s laugh echoes off the frozen walls of their life boat.

“You’re on.”

***

On venturing out for food they ask Allura what Feed Funniest would have meant, after seeing it in one of the log titles.

“Oh, the Feed was merely a...network of messaging and content channels, really. Those used by everyone. There were many, but that was the collective name for it. Feed Funniest was a channel used to compile humorous entries.”

Lance blinks at her. “It was social media.”

Pidge shrugs as she pulls a spoon from a drawer. “I mean, people are people everywhere, and Altea was a technologically advanced society. That makes sense; why wouldn’t they have had a way for people to collectively communicate?”

“Altea had social media!”

Allura seems confused. “Social media?”

Pidge smirks as she nudges a shell-shocked Lance out the kitchen door. “Don’t worry about it; he’ll adjust.”

“Pidge, Altea had social media!”

“I heard her, Lance.”

***

Project Window Entry 1: Or, I really hope this doesn’t get us killed.

“So we’ve decided that we can’t just sit here,” Pidge says. Her fingers fly over the projected keypad from the computer as it records them. A vine curls out from the wall of the sphere, wrapped around her waist to hold her in place as she runs her calculations.

“This one computer we have does have limited comm and scanning abilities, but the scanners won’t reach outside the sphere, and the comms barely will. We might be able to detect signals from ships close enough, but we definitely wouldn’t be able to tell what kinds of ships they were. If we want to have a chance of detecting and reaching out to a friendly ship and being rescued rather than captured or killed...we need a way to know for sure.”

Lance is floating over her shoulder, examining a section of the wall.

“Lance?”

“What?” He glances down at her and the computer. “Oh, right. What should I…?”

“Just tell the log what you told me.” Pidge grins, teasing but anxious. “You’re the one who wanted to record things.”

“Right…” He sighs. “We need to open a section of this wall so we can see out, but seeing as we’re floating in space we can’t just...do that. But there are several layers of plants, and I think if we replace them one by one with ice in this one spot, we can get all the way through. And even though it’ll be several layers, and they’ll need to be thick, I think with my powers I can make them clear enough for us to still be able to see enough for it to make a difference.”

Pidge is nodding. “It’ll end up acting like a magnifying glass, but at least we’ll be able to tell the difference between a Galra ship and one that might actually want to rescue us. And the magnification might actually help in some cases, too.”

“We have to be sure everything stays sealed while we do this, though. Quiznak, why did I even have this thought…?”

“It was a good thought! We can do it. I can make sure we don’t decompress; the plants will warn me if we’re in danger. We just have to treat it like an airlock.” The computer pulls away from her as she asks a vine to reach out and take it while they work.

Pidge offers Lance a reassuring smile. “Detail work is what you do.”

“Usually the life or death involved isn’t quite so direct…”

She tugs him to her and kisses him. “How’s that for motivation?”

Lance smiles back softly as he holds her against him for a moment. “I guess I did tell you we weren’t done, didn’t I?”

“We’re not,” she whispers into his cheek. Around them the glowing plants that light their lifeboat shine off the ice that seals it; the beauty still surprises her every morning she wakes. “If we made this place, we can do anything. We’re not dying in here.”

Log 5: I was going to delete, but Lance said not to; people need to understand what Zarkon did.

Pidge affixes the wrist computer to some vines beside the fruit basket woven into the sphere’s side, making it easier to begin recording as she pokes Lance’s resting form under the moss blankets in their nest bed.

“Lance? You awake?” Nothing, at first, but his breathing isn’t even in sleep. “Lance?”

“...I’m awake.”

“We need to work on this window; if we take too long, our allies could give up looking for survivors. If they’re even doing that, but anyway.”

His shoulders tense, and he still doesn’t turn over to face her. “Not right now, Pidge...”

“Are you okay? I’m still a little tired, too. Maybe you’re right; we could just record today. Maybe go over whatever we can remember from our history classes or something...whatever we can do, you know? You weren’t wrong; I guess it is a good idea to get down as much as we can about Altea somehow…”

Lance shifts under his blankets and pulls them up around his ears. “Not right now,” he repeats hollowly. Drops of liquid float over his shoulder, glinting in the glow of the bioluminescent plants, and Pidge’s chest clenches.

“Lance…” She gets a quiet sob in answer, and her own throat clogs. “I’m...I’m sorry.”

Having only just woken up herself, she doesn’t know how long he’s been awake. She does know there have been moments she’s woken up in the night, too, paralyzed. Moments when all she could do was miss her family. And Lance was there.

She leans over him and wraps her arms around him, slipping back under the moss to pull him close and let his tears soak her shoulder rather than floating away. Lance clings to her like a lifeline. They are each others’ lifelines. They are all they have left.

“It’s okay...we don’t have to do anything today,” she whispers. With a flick of her wrist, she turns the computer off with the tip of a vine.

***

Lance pauses the computer’s playback before the next log can start. His arms are wrapped tightly around his chest in the dim castle bedroom.

“Lance…?”

He swallows. “I...I still don’t know if there’s a whole other family I should be mourning, or…”

Pidge loops an arm around his shoulders and rests her head against his arm, because she isn’t sure what else she can do. He lets her, for a moment or two, but in the end he extracts himself gently from her grip and gets shakily to his feet.

“You want to take a break?” she asks.

“Yeah…”

The break lasts longer than either of them planned; Voltron is dispatched on a rescue mission almost immediately after returning to Galra headquarters.

***

“Lance…? Lance, are you okay?”

The cool castle wall presses into his forehead where he’s leaned into it. They must have returned from the shield station half a varga ago or more, but he hasn’t even made it out of Red’s hangar.

Hunk is hovering over him and Pidge is kneeling beside him, clutching at his arms and looking up at him with so much concern and…

When did he end up on his knees?

“I...I don’t...know…”

Lance…! LANCE! Pidge is screaming in his memory, but it isn’t HIS memory.

Hunk gets down on his knees with them, a hand rubbing at Lance’s back. He can’t feel it much through his armor, but the weight is welcome.

“What...what happened out there?” he asks. “I know I didn’t have time to ask before; everything was kind of going nuts. I’m sorry, man…”

“I-it’s okay, I know, I…” He shakes his head, trying to clear the buzzing from it. He was fine, he was fine, but then it hit him all over again.

“I know you saved Allura,” Hunk says, somewhat in awe. “That was...that was…”

“Stupid,” Pidge swallows.

“I was gonna say BRAVE…”

Lance snorts quietly. “Pidge is probably more right, but i-if I hadn’t…”

Allura would be dead. With no one to bring her back.

Like he’d been dead.

He’d been dead.

He died.

There are arms around him now. Hunk and Pidge pressing into him from both sides, wrapped around him. He’s shaking and he doesn’t know when that started.

“Lance? Buddy!”

“Lance!”

“I died,” he gasps. “I...just for a minute. Allura brought m-me back. Re...st-started my heart and healed me, I guess, I...I mean I guess it’s not really that different than like a defibrillator or something bringing me back, it wasn’t that long b-b-but I still…”

Pidge’s breath puffs against his neck. “What!”

“Oh man…” Hunk trails.

Their arms tighten around him but Lance doesn’t mind. He needs the touch. He needs to feel like he’s still here when his mind won’t stop racing.

“It’s okay,” Pidge is saying. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” It sounds like she’s saying it as much for herself as for him.

“I know,” he breathes. “I know.”

Over and over he feels the charge hit him. It HURT...so much. And maybe it was while he was screaming and maybe it was...after...but…

She was reaching for him. The vision. The...memory. It was a memory. Pidge screaming his name. Reaching. Or clinging to him? So much like she is now but...not this Pidge. And she was...

“Older,” he says aloud.

“What?” Hunk asks.

Lance sits up straighter. “She was older.”

“Who was?” Pidge asks.

He gets to his feet, maybe too quickly, reaching out for the wall for balance as his head spins. “You. I think. When what happened out there happened, I...saw something. Like we did in your hanger. Sort of. When we touched that energy.”

Where is Allura?

“I think she and Coran are still with Shiro; they wanted to make sure he was okay after whatever happened to him out there,” Pidge says.

“I asked that out loud?”

“Yeah...” Hunk says warily.

“Sorry, I’m just...ugh.” Lance winces as he finds Pidge’s hand and squeezes it. “I need to see something. Come on. Hunk, can you uh...can you find Allura and Coran? Get them to meet us in my room? If they’re done checking up on Shiro I mean.”

“Sure?”

“Thanks, man.”

Pidge follows him as he tugs her from the hangar, but her fingers are rubbing his worryingly as she clutches his hand in return. “Lance, what’s going on?”

He still feels...unsteady. And not because Allura didn’t heal him well enough. Physically he’s fine; it’s only the mental and emotional toll of what happened that’s making him shaky, he’s almost sure. But even through the fading tremors he has a purpose as he pulls her through the corridors.

“You’ll see.” He turns on the large screen when they reach his room, and starts scrolling through the log files to get to the end.

Pidge reaches out to still his hands. “What are you doing? I thought we weren’t skipping.”

She says it as the door opens again, Allura, Coran, and Shiro on Hunk’s heels.

“What? What’s going on?” the princess asks, echoing Pidge from moments ago. “Lance? Are you all right?”

He looks back at her and smiles. “I think so. Now. I...look, Allura, I know you and Coran have been watching these logs too, and...I know you haven’t wanted to get to the end, and I know why. But...I don’t think we have to be afraid of it anymore.”

Allura swallows. “How do you know?”

Lance winces. “What happened out there...I saw something. It was a memory; I know it was. And...I mean it wasn’t exactly the greatest kind. I don’t know what happened to them later. But what I saw, Pidge was older. Maybe ten or twenty years older, Allura. I don’t think they died in that sphere.”

“How can you be sure?”

“The last couple of files are so aren’t named,” Pidge says, her voice cracking.

He knows they don’t want to question him just to question him. Allura and Pidge are both looking at him, and they’re just afraid, and he understands. What if something went wrong finishing the window? What if they finished it, but no one came? He’d been thinking the same things. But...

“I know what I saw. I know it was a memory.” He looks from Allura to Pidge. “Can you trust me?”

***

Log 6: Or, We may be crazy but that’s okay

Lance is already recording when Pidge wakes up. She squints up at the light from the wrist computer’s projected screen.

“Why are you recording me sleeping?” She seems to be trying to sound disgruntled, but she can’t hide her smile.

“Because you’re beautiful in the light in here.”

“It’s still weird,” she smirks.

Lance leans down to nuzzle her cheek. “Hush. I only just turned it on.”

She yawns, stretching, and settles her arms around his neck as he floats just above her in the lack of gravity. “All right...what are you up to?”

He flips through the files. “You didn’t tell me you had music on this thing.”

“Not much...just some instrumental stuff I use when I’m working sometimes.”

Lance pushes himself back, hanging the computer on a vine and pressing play on a file before he floats away from the nest. A soft ballad drifts through the chill air.

“Come on,” he says. He holds out a hand, smiling. “Dance with me.”

Pidge laughs. “In zero gravity?”

“Hey, I can’t trip on your feet.”

She huffs in amusement as she pushes back the moss blankets and drifts to the edge of the nest. Lance wiggles his fingers at her to beckon, and her expression softens as she reaches out to take his hand.

Lance pulls her close, sending them into a gentle spin in the center of the sphere as the music plays from the computer.

“Sorry I kind of put the kibosh on yesterday,” he says quietly.

Pidge shakes her head. “It won’t be the last time one of us needs to do that.” She rests her head against his chest. “We lost...our planet. Everyone…” Her voice catches.

Lance strokes her hair, his face settling into a determined stare at nothing in particular. “We are going to get out of here. We’re going to finish that window, and someone is going to find us.”

“You can’t know that,” she whispers. “But thank you for saying it anyway.”

“We will,” he says again. He nudges her chin until she looks at him. “Because I want to have a life with you. I know it can’t be the same as it would have been on Altea...but I want it.”

“Zarkon will be looking for us. For any Alteans left. Anyone who was off-planet.”

“So we find them before he does.”

“More than that,” she says suddenly. “If we get out of this, we have to fight back.”

Lance is quiet for a moment, but at the certainty in her eyes, he nods. All he wants is for her to live, for anyone left to be safe, but…

“If that’s what you want, I’ll be by your side.”

***

Lance pulls up the last log file, from what must have been weeks after the last one they watched, and Pidge’s face fills the screen. The Altean version of her face.

It’s still so strange to see it, even though they’ve been watching these logs for a couple of days now. It still sends a strange shock through her stomach, sometimes. But Lance slips an arm around her shoulders, and it grounds her.

This time only the soft glow from the screen illuminates Pidge’s doppelganger; behind her the sphere is nearly dark. The plants are dying.

She looks so tired, her breath visible in the air, but her eyes are alight.

“Trigel’s people have found us! Not a moment too soon...another few quintants and…” She shakes her head. “They’re going to fire an escape capsule into the side of the sphere to get us out safely. We’ve weakened the wall just enough; they should be able to lodge the hatch end inside without decompressing our atmosphere.”

Her excitement fades. “They’ve told us the Paladins are gone...all of them. Even without the lions they fought to save Altea, but...and-and no one knows where the castle is, or who was still on it when it left.”

The Pidge on the screen swallows. Over her shoulder Lance floats into view, and he looks just as weak and exhausted, but he’s smiling tiredly as he holds onto her.

“Allura, if you’re out there…” The Pidge on the screen smiles, too. “I hope we find each other, but if we don’t, if you find this at least…”

“We lived, Allura. And we did everything we could.”

#plance #altean plance au #altean lance #altean pidge #altean plance #voltron legendary defender

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montpahrnah · 7 years

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dragon age fic recs (femslash)

FEMSLASH

MORRIGAN/FEMALE WARDEN

for it to break, by mywordsflyup

So here she is, just a little light-headed from her second cup of wine and maybe also from the blow to the head she received by a particularly ugly genlock. That has to be it. She probably has a concussion. What other possible reason could there be for the fact that she cannot keep her eyes off her?

red, by irabelas

She’s sauntering over with questions on her lips and a look in her eyes that makes Morrigan shiver with excitement, like a spell crackling by the fingertips.

in the morning, pale and blue, by mywordsflyup

It’s nice, Morrgian decides. It always is when she’s with Tabris. But moments like this one, just them alone together with no one but the forest to witness it - this is what she cherishes the most.

LELIANA/MORRIGAN

caught along the way, by mywordsflyup

Old habits die hard.

Her Own Shall Bless Her, by sunspeared

Leliana tutors Kieran in the art of larceny. Morrigan tutors Leliana in the art of simple kindness.

An Unlikely Hero, by Arbryna

Deep down, Morrigan has always known that she is little more than a pawn in her mother's schemes. Twisted and pulled every which way, she hardly knows which way is forward--until she finds herself on a path she never could have imagined, with the unlikeliest of companions.

A series of drabbles reimagining Dragon Age: Origins, with Morrigan in the role of the Hero of Ferelden.

A Dream of Red, by ChocoChipBiscuit

Morrigan: dreams, hungers, and Leliana.

The Last Thing on My Mind, by runicmagitek

Of all the events which unfolded at the Winter Palace, none of them compared to seeing a familiar face again for Leliana.

Smother, by hongmunmu

Morrigan always found Leliana too soft.

LELIANA/MARJOLAINE

five times leliana wanted to sing and the one time she couldn’t stop, by popPulchritude

She sang until the Maker came to her in a dream again and told her this was no way to live.

do cats kill songbirds? by alynshir

Someone is curious, and they must have the last word.

ANORA MAC TIR/SER CAUTHRIEN

Draw Your Swords, by faithtastic

After the defeat of the Archdemon, Ser Cauthrien follows through on a promise she made to Loghain.

all my possessions for a moment of time, by bendingwind

the end crowneth the work

Bits and pieces of a life well-lived.

FEMALE HAWKE/ISABELA

A Slash of Blue, by todisturbtheuniverse

Hawke has a small case of hero worship for Isabela: a series of ficlets spanning all three acts.

(It might be a crush. Or a powerful dollop of lust. Nothing more than that, surely.)

A Slash of Red, by todisturbtheuniverse

When Isabela washes ashore in Kirkwall, she expects to stay just long enough to grab the relic and go. There are two things she didn't count on: 1) the damned thing is hard to find, and 2) Hawke.

If I Could Only Get Your Oceanside, by acertainheight

Kinkmeme prompt: "Isabela finally gets her ship, and wants to take off to sea at once, bringing Hawke along with her. But Hawke is firmly against the idea, and after a bit of prodding, Isabela learns that Hawke is terrified of being out on the open ocean. Clearly the solution for this is crazy sex in the captain's quarters out in the harbor. Clearly." ...And so captain's-quarters-sex ensues.

Cartography of a Fist, by mautadite

“I thought I said all hands on deck.”

“Deck? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

(Hawke and Isabela on the Eastern Seas, post game.)

If the Seas Catch Fire, by QueenofEden

In all aspects of her life, Isabela has always detested uncertainty. She prides herself on her ability to be in control, to be one step ahead, to know herself even when nobody else can be assed to. Which is possibly why this whole business with Hawke has her feeling so out of sorts.

Balance Beam, by todisturbtheuniverse

Hawke's responsibilities in Kirkwall leave her too stressed for her own good. Isabela knows exactly how to help.

Close Enough to Start a War, by Arbryna

Hawke and Isabela deal with the fallout of the events at the end of Act II.

Lie Before the Wicked, by synonymouse

If Hawke had gotten to choose which of her companions would find her naked and shackled to a bed, she probably wouldn't have chosen Isabela. Of course, from Isabela's perspective, things could not have worked out better if she had planned them herself.

you are a crowded stranger, by acertainheight

Five stages of grief, and the one moment when all the rest stops mattering. (Or: the one where Isabela runs away for three years and Hawke slowly tries to put herself back together again.)

Practically Married, by appleschnapple

Isabela went missing for three years. Hawke is somewhat less than impressed.

Between Now and Then, by codenamecynic

The things she tells herself aren’t always true. She doesn’t always win. Sometimes it still hurts.

Unfurl, by starstrung

Isabela hasn’t been able to say no to Hawke yet. She should probably be worried about that. But right now, at this moment, she can’t be bothered to give a damn.

ozymandias, by acertainheight

Isabela takes the relic and never looks back; Hawke pours herself into the art of forgetting. Years later, miles from Kirkwall, they walk into the same tavern and both stop running.

A Shadow, Passing Through by todisturbtheuniverse

Hawke and Isabela enjoy a spot of people-watching in the middle of the night. Leandra makes a few assumptions.

Fools Rush In, by beyondthesea

A lot of things change after the Nightmare. After all, the number of people who have physically entered the Fade and lived to tell about it can be counted on one hand, and Hawke can't help but wonder how many times she can expect to cheat almost certain death.

Or, five times Hawke doesn't say "I love you" and one time she does.

Slowing, by cosmotronic

Wisdom doesn't always come with age, but even Isabela knows she has to stop running eventually.

there descends a bridge of light, by acertainheight

Isabela doesn't believe in ghosts, but she's never stopped believing in Hawke.

i would drink a case of you, darling by QueenWithABeeThrone

Hawke, Isabela, and four universes where they kissed.

Careening, by Zither

In her time away from Kirkwall, Isabela wrote Hawke several unsent letters.

(They’re not love letters. Not even a little bit.)

all of her history etched out at her feet, by LucyDiceKirby

Hawke's life is a mess, and Isabela is always running away, but at least she comes back when it matters.

like ripples on a blank shore, by rivaini

Later, when Isabela leaves with the relic, the memory is what pulls her back.

Blue as the Eastern Sea, by codenamecynic

She never meant to fall in love with Hawke, but some ships when launched can never seek the shore.

Playacting, by disparity

Isabela’s got three secrets that can kill you, and only the first two are daggers.

ISABELA/BETHANY

heart skipped a beat and when I caught it you were out of reach, by faithtastic

Bethany crushes on Isabela, disapproval abounds.

While It Lasts, by Stonestrewn

“Why, if it isn’t the littlest Hawke!”

The words beat down hard on you - younger sibling was always meant to be a shared position – but you shake them off along with the rainwater clinging to your hood.

“Isabela,” you say, and she raises her pint in a one-sided toast.

be the ocean where i unravel, by acertainheight

It started small enough. A laugh, a flash of a smile, a joke: Get her a night at the Blooming Rose—on me. But it didn't take very long until Bethany was in over her head. (Or: the one where Isabela takes Bethany to the Blooming Rose, and Bethany blurts out that she'd rather be with Isabela instead.)

Before the Sunrise, by Annwyd

Before leaving for the Deep Roads, Bethany seeks Isabela out. She wants to have a first time even if it's also an only time.

The Passage of Time, by Settiai

Bethany and Isabela, over the years.

Never Let Me Go, by superfluouskeys

Isabela smuggles gifts into the Circle for Bethany to find. These odds and ends quickly become her lifeline.

ISABELA/AVELINE

Another Night, by Stonestrewn

“Cap’n,” Isabela slurs, cheap liquor on her breath and laughter in her voice, “what a tall, brutish surprise. Come here often?”

“Not unless I get reports of a pantsless pirate going on wild rampages in my city.”

The Sea Takes All Who Drown, by rabbitprint

A lifetime of being self-conscious isn't easy to overcome, particularly when Aveline expects nothing but mockery.

That May Not Be Denied, by hawkwing_lb

Aveline looks the other way for Isabela, and tells herself it's the lesser of two evils.

Open Doors, by ChocoChipBiscuit

Five times Isabela bothers Aveline at the arse-end of midnight and one time Aveline returns the favor.

Make This Easy, by ziskandra

Aveline and Isabela reunite after the events of Inquisition and find themselves with some unfinished business.

ISABELA/MERRILL

The deserving kind, by Stonestrewn

“Something… Something feels wrong.” Merrill says. Her eyes dart from one end of the room to the other

“We’ve been trapped in a cave full of demons. If anything about it felt right, I’d be worried.”

(Merrill's hand in hers - it's a gamble, but Isabela's willing to take the chance.)

Anchor, by sunspeared

"I'm a nice blood mage, you see," she said. "Never a templar at my doorstep. I've only killed twenty people all this week, but they were slavers, and I was with Hawke, which everyone knows means it doesn't count--"

Merrill meets Sebastian. Sebastian meets Merrill. Isabela keeps the peace, and reaps the rewards.

Blood and salt, by Kit

Hawke makes choices all the time. Surrendering Isabela to the Arishok was a choice. Handing Fenris to Denarius was a choice.

Merrill makes a choice to get them back.

dance the warrior, by la_dissonance

Isabela has the strangest sensation, as if several layers of her skin have been stripped off. "We should go to my room," she says.

Merrill grins like the sun coming out on a cloudy day.

"To talk," Isabela clarifies.

this love came back to me, by psikeval

A reunion, in the midst of all the war.

FEMALE HAWKE/MERRILL

Pawn Becomes King, by rabbitprint

Making a pact with one demon does not provide immunity to others. In Merrill's case, the offers have only increased.

Never Again Walk Among the People, by Vongchild

There are some benefits to be found in exile, if you know where to look.

JOSEPHINE/CASSANDRA

the voice of your eyes, by madamebadger

Josephine smiles, and Cassandra smiles back with a reflexive happiness that sends warmth spiraling up from Josephine's belly to her heart. The thing it has taken her a long time to learn about Cassandra is that quite often her impatience and sarcasm are a thin layer, fragile as the skin of ice over a lake--and the emotions they conceal are as drowningly deep as that lake.

The Scent of Honeysuckle, by sqbr

Josephine thinks she's going to marry a Pentaghast. Things don't quite go according to plan.

Composition of Maps, by sunspeared

This is Ambassador Josephine Montilyet. She is the very last person in Thedas who needs someone to talk to. That is the entire point of her, so far as Cassandra can tell: to talk.

Writing love all over, by Stonestrewn

Cassandra takes the book as it is returned to her. She will not ask Josephine what she thought. She will tell her she is welcome, she will put this thing away, they will take their goodbyes and she will not instigate more of this nonsense.

“What did you think?”

Maker preserve Cassandra Pentaghast from herself.

(Sometimes she looks at Josephine and everything else in the world falls away around her.)

while spring is in the world, by madamebadger

The realization comes over Josephine with the slow warmth of the sun slipping across the room on a golden afternoon: she would like to kiss Cassandra.

In the Ink of Her Eyes, by paperiuni

Cassandra does not make herself clear, but Josephine has an excellent eye for details.

Sta(i)rs, by skybone

Time, and changes.

Faded from the Winter, by paperiuni

When Josephine arranges a Wintersend celebration, Cassandra grudgingly agrees to represent the Inquisition. All does not go smoothly.

catulllus two, by Hinterlands

"This is not without precedent," Cassandra says, woodenly, and leans in to kiss her firmly, and fully, upon the mouth.

(In which Cassandra pines, Skyhold revels, and Josephine is caught off guard.)

CASSANDRA/VIVIENNE

Heart of the Matter, by hibernate

There is a scar on Vivienne's leg. Cassandra develops a curiosity.

brave vessel, by klickitats

After the destruction of Haven, the Inquisition weathers a blizzard only to come apart at the seams. The Herald is missing, Josephine starts having visions, and Cassandra and Vivienne, separated from the others by the avalanche, must survive a journey through the Frostbacks alone.

LELIANA/CASSANDRA

near/north, by riverbanks

They’ve been dancing around each other for so long that Cassandra doesn’t know if they’d even know how to properly face one another now.

the tune without words, by madamebadger

They are a matched pair, meant to be apart, fated to be together. Where there is hope, there might be comfort.

JOSEPHINE/VIVIENNE

to be seen, feeling, by Stonestrewn

Two sensible women. A single insensible moment.

Favor, by hibernate

After the events of Trespasser, Vivienne and Josephine have an enlightening conversation.

LELIANA/JOSEPHINE

the first thread of red, by Stonestrewn

At midnight Leliana puts her lips to Josephine’s ear and whispers: “Let’s get out of here.”

Courante, by psikeval

Partners briefly advance, then retreat, and repeat these steps throughout.

Impasse, by Stonestrewn

If Josephine closes her eyes it’s as though she was back there. The walls aren’t the stern Skyhold granite but the white and gold of the Antivan ambassadorial villa. The world isn’t ending. She doesn’t know the stench of burning flesh. Leliana laughs often.

counting, by klickitats

Leliana and Josephine meet for the first time, despite Leliana's best efforts to the contrary.

Charmed, by CandidCantrix

For the kink meme prompt: "Josephine who is secretly a mage, and is just really really good at hiding it."

shine through and make it bright, by Stonestrewn

“Yvette told me nothing... Except that there were things she wasn’t allowed to tell. On the strictest orders.”

“Oh, goodness.”

“She let slip something about the two of you climbing?”

Josephine sighs. “I assume we’re here now because you want me to-”

“Tell me.”

MISC

One Step Closer, by mechanicalclock (Female Warden/Anora Mac Tir)

There was once a brave girl who had lost her parents to the war and betrayal, but then she became a hero, assembled a team of misfits, killed the monster, saved the land, and fell in love with the queen.

There was once a queen who fell in love with a hero and was afraid this love would undermine everything she'd ever worked for.

In which Anora Mac Tir learns how to love and how to be loved.

Of Dwarves and Deepstalkers, by alliterate (Lace Harding/Dalish)

Four strange things Scout Harding has seen in her travels, and one she saw right in the Inquisition's own backyard.

Memory of Distant Shores, by lea_hazel (Morrigan/Merrill)

One of the things that distinguished Darktown is that it made it very easy to spot outsiders. [...] The woman beside her was unmistakably a stranger.

Future Flowers, by Stonestrewn (Dalish/Skinner)

“Winter Palace,” Skinner says with lips curled like someone just took a shit in her mouth. “Fuck this place.”

“Yes,” Dalish replies. “Yes, let’s.”

Bloodied Knuckles, by Settiai (Female Hawke/Aveline)

If it had been any other day, nothing would have come out of it.

Lessons in Dancing, and Other Dangerous Maneuvers, by bendingwind (Lace Harding/Josephine)

It starts, as many things do, because Leliana is bored and really quite meddlesome.

Knots, by todisturbtheuniverse (Female Hawke/Isabela/Merrill)

After leaving Kirkwall, Hawke and Isabela discover that there's more than enough room for one more.

An Introduction to the Flora of the Surface, by vulpineRaconteur (Sigrun/Velanna)

When Velanna discovers a gap in Sigrun's education, she makes pains to fill it.

#dragon age #femslash #fic recs

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summerdutkowsky · 7 years

Text

the only love i’ve ever known, the only soul i ever saved, come back to me darling

Fandom: The Good Place Ship: Eleanor/Tahani Words: 6281 Genre: Angsty angst (seriously the most painful of angst) Rating: T (there are implied sexy times though)

Part One (or Ao3 link) // Part Two (or Ao3 link)

Tahani pov of ‘there’s nothing i hear louder than the words i never said’ except way more painful.

Tahani and Eleanor were soulmates when they were alive but now in “The Good Place” they discover they’re not. They try to move on and accept that fact, thinking it’s better this way. It’s painful to watch the person you love most drift away from you

Title from ‘Chasing Twisters’ by Delta Rae (yes it’s a theme)

As always shoutout to my best friend @bannedfromzoos who cleaned up my mess and without their support I honestly couldn’t do this. Thanks for the confidence my friend

There will be a happy ending part three because I cannot leave them this broken. It’s too mean. Also formal request for you guys to drop in and leave me fluffy prompts and/or cute moments from this timeline that you would want me to expand on because throughout November I’ll be writing little ficlets that fit in this au

Tahani opened her eyes with a start and took in her surroundings, there was so much grey. Too much. She didn’t know if she should be more offended by the horrible drab décor or the fact that she seemed to have been kidnapped, or something of the sort. She had no recollection of how she got here. In fact, the last thing she remembered was riding in the passenger’s seat of Eleanor’s obnoxious, environment killing vehicle. Feeling the rush of anger every time she saw her sister’s name mentioned in the particular editorial she was reading. Then Eleanor patted her knee in sympathy to which she replied that Eleanor should be paying more attention to the road which was met with a trademark Eleanor smile and then… nothing.

Well not nothing, Eleanor’s smile to a grey, sad room.

It was a significant step down.

“Tahani?” An older gentleman stuck his head out of a door to her left and she took a step back, still trying to wrap her head around the situation. “Please, follow me, everything will be fine.”

She took a tentative step toward the man and the Mystery Room, she had no other choice, she supposed. Upon entering the room, she saw it was a small, even sadder, office with filing cabinets lining the wall behind the desk and a lot of plants. “Where am I?”

“You’re in The Good Place.” He must have read the confusion on her face because he elaborated. “When a person dies on Earth they’re taken one of two places. It was decided you belong here, in The Good Place, because of all the generosity you showed on Earth.”

Tahani preened at that. She smoothed her hair and gave her best modest smile, of course she was in The Good Place. Where else would she be? She stopped short. “So… I’m… dead?” Michael nodded. “Can I ask how? The last thing I remember was riding in a vehicle.”

“Yes, well, while you were in the passenger’s seat your driver wasn’t paying attention to the road or the bus coming from the left intersection.” He fiddled with some papers on his desk as Tahani mulled over the words.

Her driver. Eleanor. If she were here then Eleanor must be also, but she was afraid to ask, she knew Eleanor and loved her with every beat of her heart but deep down she knew Eleanor wasn’t a great person. In fact, Eleanor did a lot of bad in her life before they met but it didn’t make Tahani love her any less. She loved her more for learning and growing and trying to become a better person.

But surely Eleanor had changed enough that she had to be here too.

“Is… is Eleanor here? My driver? Eleanor Shellstrop?” She clenched her fists tight at her sides trying to hide all the anxiety she was feeling.

“Janet!” Tahani started when a person suddenly popped into the room next to Michael. “Is there an Eleanor Shellstrop in this neighborhood?”

There was a slight pause, a pause that, to Tahani, felt like a millennium. “There is no record of an Eleanor Shellstrop in The Good Place.”

“Oh.” Tahani didn’t know that feeling one’s heart break was actually possible until that moment.

“Thank you, Janet.” With a pop the person disappeared. “Now that’s not to say that she won’t be at some point though, she could have a complicated case and numbers are still being crunched. She could show up at some point.”

Tahani held onto those words like a lifeline. She didn’t know if she could spend an eternity without Eleanor. She didn’t want to spend a day without her on Earth, the possibility of the rest of time without her seemed unbearable. Torturous.

“In the meantime, let’s show you around the neighborhood, shall we?” Tahani was ushered out of the room and into the bright, beautiful, picture perfect neighborhood that was her new home. She appreciated the quaintness of it and how everyone seemed friendly and eager to know her. Of course, there were things that caught her eye that made her frown, like how there were an extraordinary amount of cookie shops (at least they had one that exclusively sold Eleanor’s favorite, she made note to pick some up before she arrived) and the cheesy milk fountain in the center of the town square. It wasn’t exactly Tahani’s paradise, but it was adequate.

“And this is your soulmate, Jianyu.” For the first time in her life Tahani was struck dumb. Soulmate? Surely there was a mistake, Eleanor was her soulmate. Not this… monk? He looked like a monk at least. As nice as he seemed (and he did seem nice, he bowed to her and had a kind, almost simple smile) he wasn’t Eleanor and that was not acceptable. Before she could protest Michael disappeared leaving her alone with a stranger.

***

The days that followed were strained at best and outright nightmarish at worst. Tahani loved her house but she kept getting lost only to be found in a bathroom (always a bathroom, there were so many bathrooms) hours later by Jianyu. He would offer her his hand which she would brush away testily, smooth the front of her dress, and storm out after him. She should feel bad for being so cold, he had as much of a choice about his soulmate as she did, but she couldn’t help it. A piece of her was missing and she didn’t know if she would ever get it back.

Tahani often reflected in those days in the silence of her big house, on the moment of her death. It was the last happy moment she had to cling to and she was going to cling to it for all she was worth.

Especially if it was the last moment she had with Eleanor.

She felt so comfortable then, how right the moment was. She remembered, just before the blackness, she was never more at peace with herself and her life than in that moment. They had just run to the liquor store for Eleanor’s weekly haul (though it wasn’t nearly as much as that first day, she had cut back quite a lot since they had been together). Tahani always found that weirdly sweet Eleanor would go out of her way to go to the same store. The store where they had met. Now that they had moved in together the store was almost inconvenient to go to but Eleanor always made the trip.

Tahani’s legs were tucked under her in the passenger’s seat, leaning on the center console of the monstrous vehicle with the magazine propped up on her lap. Eleanor’s hand was warming her thigh (she had pushed up Tahani’s dress a couple of inches above her knee just so she could have skin to skin contact and that never failed to make Tahani’s heart race, even after all this time) her thumb traced soothing circles on the inside of her thigh every time Tahani tensed and huffed about seeing Kamilah’s name.

Tahani was struck then, in the low evening light behind Eleanor’s head. She had never let her guard down like this. Had someone hang on her every word like Eleanor was. Had someone she loved and loved her back. They hadn’t said it yet but she felt it. It was on the tip of her tongue but instead she said, “Do pay more attention to the road, darling, this is just nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense if it’s bothering you babe.” That blinding smile. That smile that made all of Tahani’s anxieties and insecurities vanish. The one that she knew was genuine and real and meant only for her. The one that made her feel like everything was okay and she could just be herself, not the Tahani everyone expected. “Now let’s get home and I’ll make you forget all about that stupid magazine. Watch me beat this yellow light.”

She never got to tell Eleanor how much that moment meant to her. She never got to tell Eleanor she loved her and it was a heavy burden she would carry with her for the rest of eternity.

If only she could see Eleanor one more time.

***

It felt like weeks before she felt okay enough to talk to Jianyu. At first it was a passing hello, to which he would only respond with a slight bow of his head. She was truly grateful for him and the space he allowed her. He never pushed his presence on her and it was only after the first few times they spoke that she realized he never spoke a word since she had known him. At first, she thought it was because he was mad at her for being so cold at first, but she soon caught on to the fact he never spoke. To anyone. Not even a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ response, but Janet informed her that Jianyu was in fact a Taiwanese monk who took a vow of silence he was even carrying over to the afterlife.

Surely there must have been a mistake. If there was a whole scientific method to this soulmate business then how did she get paired with the only person in The Good Place who didn’t speak. Another notch in the curious column.

Already under that column? Why her soulmate was a man. Being with Eleanor on Earth really helped her accept that side of herself, she never broadcasted it, it wasn’t like after her first time with Eleanor she screamed from the top of the building she was a lesbian but she sure as hell wanted to. No, it was a subtle acceptance, Eleanor helped her see that what she felt with men was nothing more than an affection at their attention. She just figured since this whole soulmate thing was real, if she wasn’t with Eleanor then surely it would have been another woman (it wouldn’t have been much better, but it would have made more sense).

She kept quiet though, just filed away these curiosities silently and went about her afterlife.

***

It took another few weeks for her to finally get out of her house and explore her neighborhood. Which actually meant networking, building relationships with these people she would be spending eternity with. She couldn’t care less about the seemingly endless cookie shops (with names, she noted, that would make Eleanor want to throw something), she was more interested in the people and what kind of information they had on this curious place and situation they were all in.

The frustrating thing was that no one had any answers. Or were particularly adept at dodging the questions. She talked to all of her neighbors and shop owners and started a little system of important people like she had on Earth but still no answers about why some things were the way they were, or if they heard of a woman named Eleanor. So, to take her mind off her spinning thoughts she decided to do the one thing she did best, throw a party.

A “Welcome to the Neighborhood Tahani and Jianyu” party, since no one else seemed to have one of those planned. And anyway, it would have paled in comparison to hers.

She threw herself into making sure this party was up to Tahani levels of greatness. It was a nice distraction from thinking about all the strange things she noticed going on, and the lack of Eleanor of course.

Until it wasn’t.

Until she was very certain she spotted a familiar blonde head walking quickly in the other direction, away from the milk fountain, and she was bustled along by the throngs of helpers she enlisted. Hope bloomed in her chest. Eleanor. It had to be, she would know that stature, those clothes, that walk anywhere. Eleanor was here and it was only a matter of time before they were together again.

Until they weren’t.

Days passed and she heard nothing from Michael or Janet or Eleanor herself. She was so certain it had been her. She would have bet her house on it, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. She told Jianyu as much and was met with a caring pat on the back and an understanding nod. She appreciated him even more lately, despite not speaking she felt his care and support and he never pushed their relationship past friendship. It was all she could ask.

The more she went out the more she thought she saw Eleanor, in a cookie shop, in the alley between buildings, in the gym (that one surely couldn’t be her). But she was always so close but so far and moving further away. It got to the point where Tahani felt like she was playing Where’s Waldo but with more heartbreaking results.

On the day of the party she refused to leave the house. She had too much to do and while she longed to just glimpse Maybe-Eleanor it was too close to leave it in the hands of people she really didn’t trust fully. She put the finishing touches on the balloons and petting zoos and all of the tennis courts. She asked Janet for a shrimp cocktail bar because if anything would bring Eleanor around it would be that and soon she stood by the door. Jianyu on her arm, greeting people with the fakest smile she could muster.

Until she thought she caught a glimpse of Maybe-Eleanor by the front door, on her way out.

She chased the shadow to the front lawn only to find it was one of her neighbors from a few blocks over. The hope she felt building in her chest deflated when she fell onto the bench next to her front patio. That was the thing, she was hoping (always hoping) against all odds that Eleanor would somehow make it here with her and this whole soulmate fiasco would be sorted out properly. That somehow Eleanor turned her life around enough to end up in The Good Place with her. Tahani didn’t think that at the end she was Bad Place material, maybe Middle Place (if that were a thing) for sure that, but surely, they had saved each other, turned each other’s lives around so they both ended up here. Eleanor made her a better, calmer person just as she thought she made Eleanor a little more giving, and gave her a sense of decorum. Maybe that wasn’t enough though, maybe she wasn’t enough to save Eleanor, maybe she just was cursed to never be enough.

She never gave up hope these little sightings she had were more than just wishful thinking though.

The party went on around her, without a single hitch.

***

The only other thing Tahani took pride in and cared about, aside from her fabulous parties, were her gardens. If she had the most lavish house in The Good Place the gardens had to match. Not only that, the flowers reminded her of Eleanor, of their apartment on Earth. Eleanor had put up such a fuss when the first few plants were brought in but soon Tahani noticed Eleanor tending to them, watering them, making sure they had proper sun. Eventually Eleanor was the one bringing Tahani plants for her little office she set up in the corner of their apartment to make things brighter, and it may have taken a while but she admitted, out loud, they made the place smell better. Which is why Tahani took one day a week to maintain the flowers in the front lawn, near the drive. She stepped out that morning in her favorite gardening hat and blue dress, ready for inspection and trimming where necessary. It was The Good Place, however, so of course little had to be done.

Jianyu stepped out soon after her, as he usually did, to at least keep her company. She loved throwing anecdotes about her life his way and although he would never return words to her, she was grateful for the companionship. He plucked one of her freshest roses and handed it to her, she appreciated the gesture, but her brain was screaming in horror at her now imperfect plant. “Thank you, Jianyu, that’s very kind.” She leaned down and kissed him quickly on the cheek, tucking the flower away in the basket of garden tools at her feet.

That’s when she heard it. A choked sob? No. A gasp? Something in-between definitely and she spun on her heel to face her gate where the sound originated. The air was knocked from her lungs so quickly she thought she may just pass out. There at the end of her drive looking as beautiful as ever was Eleanor. Her Eleanor. It felt like the world, stopped just for them.

“Eleanor?”

But then everything crashed down around her because Eleanor was walking away, practically running away and Tahani couldn’t, wouldn’t, let that happen. Not when she was so close to her own personal Good Place. She took off down her driveway and was thankful for her long legs because in no time she caught up and stopped Eleanor in the middle of her street like one of those terribly romantic movies she made them watch on Earth. “It is you. My god you are real.” Tahani had to touch. She couldn’t stop her hands from moving to every exposed piece of skin she could reach, through the soft golden hair she remembered nightly. It was as if nothing had changed, she cupped Eleanor’s face, and took in those too blue eyes. This right here, with Eleanor in her arms like this, this was her Good Place. “I… I thought I saw you, in the square by that cheap little milk fountain but I thought I was just seeing things. How?” She didn’t know what she was questioning, she didn’t know a lot of things at that moment, she barely remembered how to breathe.

“Apparently, when you said I should pay more attention to the road I actually should have listened.”

“No, I know that how. Michael told me that how. I mean,” She didn’t know what she meant, her mind was going too quickly to make sense of everything.

“Tahani al Jamil at a loss for words. I never thought I’d live to see the day.” A pause. “Well, I guess technically I never did get to live to see the day, but you know.” Tahani laughed. It was so wonderfully Eleanor to break the moment with a joke, but there was also something heavy behind it. “So, um, nice place you got here. Very you.” Tahani shrugged, she supposed it was her but a part of her really missed their quaint little apartment back on Earth. Then the bomb dropped at her feet. “Nice soulmate too. He looks like a nice dude.”

Guilt sunk deep in Tahani’s stomach. Guilt for what she had no idea but seeing the pain so clear on Eleanor’s face was too much. “Jianyu. Yes, he’s, he’s a Taiwanese monk. Um, apparently he’s taken a vow of silence because he hasn’t said one word to me since we got here but he’s very kind and doting.” She felt her throat get thick with emotion. This forking soulmate business was complete and utter nonsense. How can he be her soulmate when her real one was standing right in front of her? Her soulmate that was in obvious pain. Pain she wanted so badly to make go away.

But then Eleanor took a step back away from her. “I’m glad, you deserve good things Tahani. Even if I can’t be the one to give them to you. I’m glad you’re not alone.”

“Eleanor, why…” Why was she just walking away? Why didn’t she come here sooner? Why was she looking like she wanted to run? There were so many whys.

Instead of answering any of them, Eleanor just took another step back and Tahani folded in on herself like she had just been punched. Or a piece of her had been ripped out. Which she supposed in a way it had. “Just, be happy Tahani.”

I’m glad you’re not alone. Those words echoed in her head because she felt more alone now than ever. Tahani hated being alone more than anything. Sure, she hated other things, a lot of things actually (for example: her sister; when her celebrity friends were in a feud and she had to choose sides;her sister;when her parties didn’t get the rave reviews they deserved; her bloody sister) but being alone? That was number one.

And ever since she watched Eleanor walk away from her she felt so achingly alone.

She had her house, she had friends, a neighborhood that adored her, and she had her… well whatever Jianyu was. She still didn’t feel right calling him soulmate, that title was reserved for the woman that left her standing in the street. Tahani supposed it always would be Eleanor, even after everything Michael told her about the algorithm nonsense. But despite having everything she could ever want, she didn’t have Eleanor, and nothing filled that hollow in her chest.

Tahani stood rooted to the spot until she couldn’t see Eleanor anymore and the sun was setting low behind her. Her cheeks were streaked with tears that wouldn’t stop no matter how hard she wished they would. She just wanted Eleanor to turn around, just for a second, to give her some hope to hold on to. Some hope that they weren’t done. That they would hold each other again.

She jumped when she felt a gentle touch on her lower back and shrank away when she saw it was Jianyu. She felt bad about it, really, she did, he treated her kindly and didn’t deserve her hesitations. He didn’t deserve to be pushed away but right now her world was in a tailspin that she couldn’t figure how to right and his presence wasn’t helping.

Tahani gently dabbed her cheeks with her handkerchief and let Jianyu lead her back in the house. “That was Eleanor.” She watched his eyebrows rise in acknowledgement, he knew all about her, he knew all about them on Earth. Tahani talked about Eleanor and their relationship every day since she accepted the situation in which she was placed.

“Did I ever tell you how we met?” She asked him as he led her to the more private sitting room (which was to say the fourth door on the left when you turned the first right corner, she really did love this house but it was such a maze sometimes). It was a silly question to ask because of course she did, she told every story there ever was to tell about the two of them. But holding Eleanor, even for a fleeting moment just mere moments ago, she needed to do something. Cling to anything she could, the smell of lavender in Eleanor’s hair, the feel of her in her arms, anything. Any memories she could.

“It was a Thursday afternoon in a shabby little liquor store.” She let Jianyu get comfortable on his pillow across from her before she poured them each a cup of tea. She knew neither of them were going to drink it, it was more of a distraction for her hands than anything. “I happened upon this little hole in the wall store and was hoping they would be kind enough to cut the price of some spirits if I bought them in bulk for a fundraiser I was throwing for an environmental cause when I heard this irritated noise from behind me.” She remembered hearing an annoyed scoff at her haggling, a distinct ‘move it or lose it giraffe’ was uttered and Tahani spun on her heel. “Just as I was about to give this person a piece of my mind I was knocked dumb.” She laughed, a sad breathy thing. “I know! Me. Speechless!”

She rolled her eyes at Jianyu’s sarcastic eyebrow raise, he may not speak but her could tell a story with his facial expressions. “I was though because I was face to face with this tiny, beautiful ball of fury.” My god was she beautiful. Tahani thought back to that day and felt her heart flutter just as fast now as it did that day. “Just the way her passion flared and her stunning eyes. Oh, it was poetry, Jianyu, I was struck.” She laughed to herself because Eleanor was the only person in the world that could be gorgeous when fighting about her booze.

She took the warm cup in her hands and closed her eyes, picturing the day clearly in her mind. “I wasn’t fool enough to think I would ever see her again. I thought I was forever bound to that dreadful ‘if only’ feeling.” She couldn’t help the smiled that tugged at her lips at the next thought. “It shouldn’t have surprised me when she showed up to the gala. It wasn’t a pleasant surprise at first because she pulled up to an environment gala in the most horrendous air choking vehicle ever created but as soon as I saw her throw her keys at the valet I couldn’t help but laugh. It just felt like it was meant to be.” Tahani still found it funny how destiny worked, that this tiny little ball of fire, this person who was so opposite of me, that stood for just about everything I wanted to change in the world. “She was going to be it for me. I knew it deep down.” She put a hand over her heart and opened her eyes to see Jianyu smiling at her. “I was so taken with her bravado I asked her to take me to dinner the following weekend. It remains the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

Jianyu smiled gently at her, in his sweet simple way and she continued. “You know, before Eleanor I had never been in a relationship with a woman.” She paused. “I mean, there had maybe been only one serious relationship before her anyway, he was a Prince of a small island, but that doesn’t matter.” She let the heat from the tea soak into her hands. “I couldn’t understand why it didn’t work, but then I met Eleanor and it all clicked.” She squeezed the cup in her hand, this precious fragile thing, just like she was feeling. “After the first date we continued to see each other, more and more frequently.”

Tahani smiled at the thought. “It was obvious that relationships weren’t a thing Eleanor was familiar with because before she left the morning after our first real date she turned to me and said, ‘hey hot stuff, wanna do this again?’” Tahani’s voice mocked a poor American accent but it made Jianyu choke out a laugh, so it was worth it. “I kissed her on the cheek and sent her on her way.” That may have been a tiny white lie. She may or may not have pulled Eleanor back into her apartment and made out with her like a teenager pressed up against her front door, but what Jianyu didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

“The first time I introduced her as my girlfriend I thought that was it.” Tahani set the cup of tea back on the tray, undrunk. “I thought she would bolt first chance she got, but she stayed. And not only did she stay, she stood up to my parents.” An incredulous laugh bubbled from her lips remembering the moment. “It was a fundraiser for saving the whales and it was stunning, of course, and every party I threw I would send an invitation my parents’ way just in case.”

A little half shrug, as if she didn’t care, but she knew her face betrayed her longing for acceptance. “Well they happened to be in town that day, so they showed up and I was just so proud. Just bursting, Jianyu! I had this wonderful fundraiser that was on par to be my biggest money-raiser to date, I looked stunning, and I had the most beautiful woman in the room as my date. I had been told as such by several famous actors that night. Everything was wonderful, and my parents showed up without my beloved sister.” Her voice choked on the word. “I had to pull Eleanor away from the shrimp, but it was worth it because my parents were there!I was on cloud nine and then I said ‘Mum, Dad, this is my girlfriend Eleanor.’ I felt her tense next to me and I held my breath just waiting for the best thing in my life to leave me like always.” Tahani swallowed hard and thought back to ten minutes ago when she watched Eleanor walk away. The best thing in her life, and afterlife, leaving her, like she was always afraid of.

“But then my dad said some awful thing, truly horrible. It never bothered them when Kamilah had a girlfriend, but god forbid I was happy. So he finished his nonsense and I waited. I waited for either of them to leave or for Eleanor to run but instead she took my hand, like she had done so many times before, pulled me tight against her and kissed me. Can you imagine? Right there in front of my parents she kissed me for all she was worth. She had insisted I wear flats that night and she wear heels so we were a little more close in height.” Tahani laughed, a sad breathy thing. “And then she pulled me onto the dance floor. That was the last I had ever heard from my parents, and after that I truly didn’t care. I had everything I needed in Eleanor.”

Tahani sighed again, she still hoped that Eleanor had changed her mind and she would be there. “I think that’s enough reminiscing for the night. It’s time to start my night routine.” She rose from the sofa and bid Jianyu a good night. She was thankful her tears held off long enough until she found herself alone in her bedroom. Jianyu was a caring man, and she cried in front of him often, but that didn’t mean she liked doing it. Given the choice she would much rather wallow in her misery by herself.

She crawled into her king-sized bed alone, as she had done every night since arriving here, and let her thoughts wander to Eleanor. She picked up where she left off in the story with Jianyu, this next part wasn’t for him, that night, that memory was for her and Eleanor alone. She reached over to the cold side of her bed, remembering that night after their first date she could almost imagine Eleanor’s warmth in those luxurious sheets with her.

Tahani closed her eyes and remembered the feeling of Eleanor’s body on hers, of every sense just overwhelmed with everything Eleanor, to the point Tahani thought she would drown. Happily, so. She had never felt so much pleasure all at once, no one had ever made her feel so good. She laced her fingers tight in Eleanor’s soft, golden hair afraid that if she let go it would all go away, the feeling of Eleanor’s tongue on her and the hair in her hands being the only thing to anchor her to the moment. She remembered the shiver and the look in those blue eyes when she came with Eleanor’s name on her lips, like a prayer. A look in those eyes that said she felt something too.

She was too spent to keep her eyes open, but she felt the soft kisses Eleanor placed on her scattered freckles and birthmarks, so reverent, so gentle and caring. So, unlike the firecracker she had encountered at the gala and even on their date. Feelings weren’t a part of this going into the night, Tahani was sure of that, but something shifted, but she really hoped Eleanor couldn’t feel her heart race with every kiss. She didn’t want to be the one to break first.

She opened her eyes to the dim light in her room and the (always) cold side of her bed and felt her eyes burn.

She cried herself to sleep that night as she had every night since she arrived, except now she knew Eleanor was here and her bed was still empty.

And that was worse.

***

Tahani woke from another restless sleep, chest and eyes still aching from the night before. Except now in addition to the pain she had anger. A deep anger building. How long had Eleanor been here and she never came to look? How could she just walk away from what they had when they were alive? How dare she just assume that Tahani was happy without her? Okay so the last one wasn’t really anger, more disbelief but still.

Was what they had on Earth even real?

She felt her stomach roll at the thought. Her love, her heart, her everything on Earth, everything she held dear and true. It couldn’t be a lie, she wouldn’t accept that.

Tahani regretfully pulled herself out of her bed, every cell in her body screamed at her to just stay put, that one day wallowing in her bed wouldn’t hurt. But she had seen Eleanor, she didn’t want to stay away, she had gotten a taste and she wanted more. Needed more. So she pulled herself out of bed and trudged her way through her morning routine; shower, makeup, and outfit decision one (and two and three, she wanted to look her absolute best). She would call Janet for breakfast but her stomach was too out of sorts that morning to even think about food. Eleanor was the only thing on her mind.

She didn’t even say good morning to Jianyu before she was out the door and heading quickly towards the town center. She had no real idea where Eleanor lived or she would go there but she figured waiting, conveniently, near her favorite cookie place would be a safe bet. So that’s what she did, she found a table outside a shop across the square and sat and waited. And waited. And waited. And at some point during her wait Jianyu showed up with a latte for her and an oversized cookie for himself. And just when she thought it was hopeless she caught a wisp of blonde hair and plaid button down and Tahani was up and at the door behind Eleanor.

There was so much she wanted to ask, to say, anything to hold onto what little connection she had but Eleanor, as stubborn as ever, ignored her very presence. Not even a glance her way. So Tahani put on her bravest smile, tucked her arm around Jianyu’s, and let him lead the way through the bustling town square.

The next few days were more of the same, Tahani conveniently bumping into Eleanor at cookie shops or the fountain or the place that doubled as a library (which they both knew neither would step foot in otherwise), only to get painfully brushed aside. Tahani wanted to grab her and shake her and ask why she was doing this. Why she wasn’t even trying. But truth be told she was afraid of the answer.

Soon she stopped going to the square every day and instead went once a week for a month. She was numb from head to toe every time she saw Eleanor pointedly not looking her way.

A week after that she stopped going altogether.

***

“Tahani?” A soft voice from behind her made Tahani jump. She thought she was alone in the house, or Jianyu was there but… “there’s something I should tell you.”

Tahani spun on the chaise to face Jianyu, who actually spoke words to her for the first time since they had been together. “Jianyu?”

“That’s something you should know. My name, isn’t Jianyu, it’s Jason. I’m not a monk, I’m a pre-successful DJ from Jacksonville.” He paused and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Go Jags!” Tahani looked on in horror. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be here, I think this may be some kind of prank show or something. I’m not sure but I just couldn’t lie anymore, not talking is exhausting.”

“Jia- Jason.” Tahani sat up straighter in her seat, suddenly frightened but curious. “We’re dead and this is The Good Pla-” Wait, she thought, if Jianyu wasn’t Jianyu, if… she struggled with her thoughts for a second. Bad Place. “Jia- Jason. If you’re who you say you are, and Eleanor is...” If Eleanor was here (she loved Eleanor with everything she was but she had to admit The Good Place was probably not the first choice for her), and Jason was Jason and the exact opposite of who they assumed he was. This most assuredly wasn’t The Good Place. She didn’t know what that meant for her and her soul and she really didn’t care. She just felt relief. That meant the soulmate nonsense was just that. Nonsense. She and Jason weren’t meant to be together, obviously, that meant that she and Eleanor were being tortured by being separated. Told they couldn’t be together, that everything they had was a lie. Everything suddenly made sense. “This is The Bad Place.” She whispered more to herself.

She’d rather spend an eternity in The Bad Place with Eleanor than one more second without her in supposed paradise.

She stood suddenly, knocking a few throw pillows to the ground. “I have to find Eleano-”

SNAP!

#elhani #eleanor x tahani #the good place #elhani fic #the good place fic #okay i formatted it for tumblr instead of just an ao3 link because it needed to be consistent with part one #my fic

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niskrp · 6 years

Photo

:// SEARCHING OPERATIVE …

… searching for AGENT 026 / THE HERMIT. classified files indicate that they go by KANG HAN, and are also known as KISA. born in DAEGU, SK, in 1990/09/03, further investigation makes it clear that they joined the agency FIVE YEARS ago. they are an INTELLIGENCE AGENT who specialize in ANALYTIC METHODOLOGY. higher clearance is needed to access further information…

… ENTER PASSWORD TO ACCESS THE COMPLETE FILE.

:// ACCESSING BACKGROUND FILES …

tw. death of a parent, death of a partner, smoking, rejection from family, vomit.

he loses his father when he’s six.

he finds him again, when he’s seven. seated in front of his father’s favorite wooden board, his grandfather’s smile brittle at the edges as he presses that first stone into han’s hands. he loved baduk, you know. had a real knack for it. tiny fingers curl around an even tinier stone.

grandpa, i wanna love it, too!

his grandfather’s gaze is heavy on him as he pushes the white stones forward. the container is scuffed copper, round and worn with age. still, han grips onto the bowl like a lifeline. a single tether between six and seven; the last tie between loss and his father’s smile, hidden in a mass of stones. a ship to finally, finally take him home.

then i’ll teach you.

ii.

baduk is a game of strategy, his grandfather teaches him.

“to win?”

“to protect.”

he spreads the stones out over the board. teaches him of horses and attacks. guides him through ladders and traps and wars. teaches him to build walls only to break them down. shows him how to see through a bluff with one hand and how to deceive with the other.

han eats it all up, like a man starved.

it’s been months since their baduk lessons have begun but, still, han can’t get enough.

still, he wants more.

“it looks more like long-winded war to me,” his grandmother tuts from behind them. it’s well past han’s bedtime but they’re too far long into their match to stop now. “let the boy sleep, honey.”

“we’re almost done,” his grandfather doesn’t even bother looking up from the board. sets down another black stone, hand steady.

han bites back a grin.

he moves too fast on his next move. nearly jostles one of his other pieces in his effort to place his own.

“yeah, grandma! i’m gonna beat him in my next two moves!”

“really?” his mother appears. her fingers card through han’s hair gently as she studies the board between them. his grandfather laughs before han can answer. his grandmother joins the fray, too.

another black stone goes down. and then one more.

and then the game is over.

and han has lost.

“but – what? how? i thought i–”

“arrogance,” his grandfather muses. “will be your downfall, kang han.”

his mother’s hand stills in his hair. a flush has reached han’s cheeks as he studies the board again, his mouth twisted in discontent. he had had it. the game had been his.

“what d'you mean?”

“your desire to win was too strong. i told you,” his grandfather’s gaze is owlish behind his glasses. they glint in the kitchen light hanging above them. “baduk is a game to protect.”

with slow, steady hands, his grandfather guides him through the board.

you start with your home. you build. earnestly, carefully. no matter what attacks come, no matter what traps your opponent sets, you must always return to your home. you must always build and rebuild. its protection and safety must always come first. when your desire to win overcomes your desire to protect, then your home will be lost. then the match will be over.

a weight settles into the pit of han’s stomach. heavy, like he’s swallowed the entire board of white and black. he can feel his mother’s hand on his shoulder but he does not look at her. his gaze drifts to the picture hanging above their mantleplace instead. his father smiles down at them, from there. kind and gentle. the medals and pendants across his chest seem to shine, even through the frame.

he wonders if his father had tasted loss like this before, too.

he wonders…

“your home,” his grandmother echoes, softly. distantly. “must always come first.”

don’t forget that, kang han.

never forget.

iii.

“did you hear? he ranked first at the japan championship last week and flew back for midterms.”

“i wonder why he even came back! i heard he’s quitting school to go pro.”

“isn’t he the youngest to ever rank professionally?”

“man, kang han is –”

kang han is: gifted.

he learns this at the age of nine. when his grandfather discovers that, while his late father had had a knack for the game, han possesses something else entirely. some called it luck, others called it genius. and, well, most called it for what it was. a gift. pure and simple, passed down from his grandfather’s leathery hands to his own. a piece of his father that would stay with him. a piece of his father that would be his to keep.

“welcome home, han,” his grandfather’s voice cuts through the noise of the airport. there are too many lights and a migraine is lingering behind han’s eyes. he reaches for his grandfather anyway. grabs onto the front of his shirt and buries his face into his chest.

he can hear his manager clearing his throat behind them. you’re thirteen, now, han. the media is watching. you need to be – more composed. more put-together. you need to be more, more, more.

han is gifted, after all. a reigning champion returning with too many trophies for one person to hold.

his grandfather doesn’t seem to care.

“you’ve had a long flight,” he hums, his fingers calloused at his neck. he hooks a finger into the uncomfortable collar of han’s dress shirt and loosens it easily. “you won a great fight.”

“’m tired,” is all that han mumbles out. his grandfather laughs. han can feel it more than he can see it. a deep, rumbling sound that seeps into han’s bones. warms him from the inside out. for a moment, han forgets about the lights and cameras and crowds. for a moment, han wraps himself up into his grandfather’s laughter and pretends that he can hear his father’s, too.

“i know, my boy,” he soothes. “i know. let’s go home.”

iv.

from the age of nine to eighteen, han accomplishes more than most adults can in an entire lifetime.

universities fight for his attention post-graduation and the media labels him as a child prodigy. kaist wins the luck of the draw and he soon learns that his genius stretches beyond the baduk board.

kang han is gifted!

his father’s gaze does not waver from his frame and han stares back at him, just as steadily.

“i don’t want to be gifted,” he whispers. eighteen, on the precipice of graduation. stealing from his grandfather’s liquor closet with the taste of old whiskey clinging to the backs of his teeth. “i just wanted to be yours.”

his father does not reply.

but han isn’t foolish enough to expect an answer.

after all, a dead man can’t speak.

who the fuck was he kidding anyway?

it’s his mother who finds the letter first.

it sits, now, clutched between her fists. her hands are steady, though. they do not shake, they do not tremble. instead, they rest firmly in her lap, her knuckles white.

she is not afraid.

she is angry.

“what,” she grits out. “is this?”

han steps inside fully. toes off his sneakers and shuffles in one step, then another. his grandmother sits to his mother’s left, her hands gentle at her elbow. let him sit, let him talk. his grandfather sits in his usual chair, back straight, both fists loose over his knees. his father, in the frame above him, sits in the exact same position.

they all stare, they all wait.

han lowers his head.

“i’m enlisting.”

“kang han!”

“grandpa was in the military,” he continues, unstoppable. “dad was a general, too.”

han bites the inside of his cheek. his own hands curl into fists at his side. something is burning in his belly, hot and angry and ashamed. it threatens to choke him from the inside out.

“i’m not even enlisting in the military anyway,” he spits out. “it’s a government position. they scouted me. they think i can do well. they knew… ”

your father was a great man, kang han.

did you know him?

“they knew… dad.”

it comes out more broken than he wants it to. voice cracking at the edges. his mother’s face goes as white as her knuckles. his father continues to smile, wise and kind from above in his frame. the medals decorating his chest seem even more prominent today than they ever were before.

“han…” his grandmother begins, voice gentle. “think of everything you’ll be giving up. you have an entire future ahead of you. you’re–”

“gifted,” han finishes for her. the heat in his stomach turns into vines. crawling up his chest and throat, reeling out of his mouth in anger. “gifted and useless. i can play a stupid old man’s game and sit at a computer and tap some keys but i’ll never do what dad did!”

he turns to his grandfather, desperate.

“grandpa. grandpa, listen,” he takes a step closer but his grandfather does not bat an eye. stares at him, evenly, from where he sits. “they said–”

i did. very well. he saved my life.

he… what?

he saved my life. it’s an honor to meet you today, kang han. your father would’ve been proud.

“you always told me to protect. you always told me that that comes first – and i – i can finally protect someone! i can finally do something useful. just like you, just like dad.”

he isn’t sure what’s louder. the sound of his own heart, beating wildly in his chest, or the lonely sound of his mother’s heart breaking on that living room floor.

“han… you're… you’ve always been useful. you don’t need to give up your life to be like your father.”

tears sting at the corners of his eyes. he can barely make out the emblem on the paper clutched in his mother’s hands anymore. a familiar dragon. a crest his father had kept in an old safe. hidden beneath han’s countless, shiny, fucking meaningless baduk trophies. still, han refuses to cry.

he saved my life.

“i want to do this. i can do this,” han stands up straighter. rounds his shoulders and clenches his jaw. “i’m going to be like dad. i’ve made my choice.”

for the first time since han has stepped into the room, his grandfather speaks:

for the first time since his mother had discovered that letter, hidden between the books on his desk; for the first time since she wept into her hands and fell into his grandmother’s arms; for the first time since his mother swallowed down her fear and terror and desperation at losing her husband and her son, his grandfather speaks:

“get out.”

vi.

kang han is gifted!

and so is everyone else in the godforsaken program.

for the first time, han learns what mediocrity is. it tastes stale on his tongue, as he finishes second, third, fourth. han had always grown up with loss, but he had never been taught to lose.

he sits up again, sweat at his temples as he faces the control board once more.

“again,” he grits out. the proctor beside him raises a brow. “i want to go again.”

“your turn has passed. fall back, cadet kang–”

“no.”

he slips the headphones over his ears and stares at the screen before him, his eyes bloodshot and his pulse pounding at his temples. his sweaty fists grip the controls as the program reboots.

“i want to go again.”

and this time, he burns ablaze. i’ll win.

vii.

two and a half years come and go and han becomes a bit of a legend.

not for baduk, not for his trophies.

but because he’s fucking great at what he does.

through the blood, sweat, and tears – he forges a name for himself. finishes his training at a breakneck pace and does not relent. does not stop, does not give up. wins and wins and wins some more. he does not cry when his family does not appear for his commencement ceremony. he does not cry after throwing up all night from fatigue and exhaustion after too many hours in the field and not enough time in bed. he does not cry.

he does not break.

because han is done with loss. han is finished with losing.

“take a left,” he barks into his headset, gaze steely as he guides himself through the screens before him. he can hear a gasp behind him. can hear the whispering. why is he leading them that way? is he out of his mind? oh god, he’s going to get someone killed. he resists the urge to roll his eyes. focuses instead on the controls in his hands. “do you fucking trust me or not?”

hesitation on the other end of the line is not taken lightly.

“take a fucking left, asshole,” he repeats venomously.

a beat, and then: the light sensor on his screen finally moves.

with only a second to spare.

by the time han has pushed back from the control board, sweat trickling down his back and a migraine building steadily behind his eyes, the smoke from the explosion has cleared. the heart rate detector continues to blink rhythmically on the screen. spiked and erratic, but there, still. alive, still.

“you saved my life,” the voice huffs in his headset, breathless.

he saved my life.

“i know,” han slams a hand over the control board to close out of the screen. “but i won’t next time, if you hesitate again.”

a breathy laughs filters through the headset.

“for a newbie, you’re a real asshole to have as a partner, i hope you know.”

han doesn’t bother with a reply.

he’s too brutal. he takes too many risks. did you see him back there? how the hell did he maneuver that anyway? man, kang han is –

gifted, he wants to finish for them lamely as he tosses his headset aside and shuffles out of the room, shoulders broad and his face grim. the crowd behind him quickly parts and, again, he is alone.

two and a half years come and go, and han becomes a bit of a legend.

(he thinks of baduk trophies and his grandfather’s laugh and the tear tracks staining his mother’s face and wonders if his father would be proud of him now.)

viii.

fast forward. han is still a legend, around here.

han is a winner, around here.

he rises in the ranks. his partner does the same. an expert strategist and a fearless field agent. a dangerous combination, an unlikely duo.

“you’re both too risky,” their supervisor tuts during one review.

han raises a brow. his partner does the same. they both shrug in unison.

“but we get the job done, don’t we?”

their supervisor regards them evenly, voice mild.

“but at what cost?”

han laughs it off. brusque and fragmented, something not quite right behind his gaze.

(his grandmother had called for the first time in a year the other night. one of his medals had arrived at their residence instead of his own. her voice had been gentle over the line.)

(i'm… we're… proud of you, han. we miss you, dear. we do.)

(han had thrown up all over his shoes a minute later.)

“what does that matter? we get the job done, no one dies, no one gets hurt.”

“you call… three operative agents in intensive care ‘not getting hurt’?” his supervisor appears less than amused but it’s clear that the evaluation is finished. three new medals hang from his partner’s chest and han’s leather jacket hangs loose around his shoulders. he can’t remember the last time he’s eaten. it doesn’t matter anyway.

(we miss you, dear.)

“hey, we still came out on top, didn’t we?”

his partner bursts out laughing at this but immediately sobers up at the sharp look it earns him. discreetly, under the table, he presses a silent high five to han’s hand. han rolls his eyes.

“so are we done here or what?”

arrogance, as his grandfather used to say. will be your downfall, kang han.

ix.

“so what is it with you and your 'rents?”

han shares a cigarette with his partner. the rooftop is empty but the city looks alive, all bright lights and noise below. he leans over the railing and exhales smoke through his nose.

“nothing.”

“uh huh,” his partner turns, tilting his face up to him. “that’s why you cry like a baby every time your grandma sends you a kakao emoji.”

han nearly shoves him right off the rooftop, right then and there.

an unlikely duo.

perhaps his first friend?

“they’re just… mad. that i wanted this. that i wanted to be here, you know?”

his partner regains his footing. steadies himself again. reaches for the cigarette between han’s fingers. ashes drift like falling stars and han wonders if his mom is looking at the same moon that he’s looking at, too.

“heard your dad was a huge deal back in the day,” he hums. han shrugs.

a secret he had learned upon completing his training.

a secret that his mother’s tears had fought to keep.

han thinks of the framed portrait that hangs in the hallway of the jongno building. not unlike the one that used to hang in his family’s childhood living room. the uniform he wore was different but his father’s smile had been the same.

“yeah,” is all that han can come up with.

his partner finishes the cigarette off and a cloud curls out of his mouth like a dragon’s smoke.

“he’s probably proud of you, you know,” he murmurs. han pretends not to hear. “is probably real fucking proud.”

han loses his partner when he’s twenty-seven.

he’s thrown back in time and feels like he’s six years old again. lost and broken and desperate for any kind of lifeline, any kind of reprieve. but his grandfather is no longer there to hold his hand. there is no baduk to be learned.

just han, twenty-seven, frozen in front of a screen filled with white static.

the control room is silent.

han’s hands are shaking.

he can feel tears streaming down his face but cannot register that they’re his own. they slip past his lips and he can taste salt and bile on his tongue.

you saved my life.

it’s an honor to meet you today, kang han.

get out.

your father would be proud.

so are we done here or what?

“no,” han stutters out, trembling hands grappling for the controls. he slams his fist against them again. then once more. the screen buzzes with static but, still, the room behind him is silent. “no, no, no!”

“for a newbie, you’re a real asshole to have as a partner, i hope you know.”

“fucking no! agent, report. AGENT, REPORT!”

a hand grips his shoulder from behind.

“agent kang.”

“AGENT, REPORT!”

“it’s over.”

kang han is gifted!

loss finds him at twenty-seven. catches him between its teeth and refuses to let his bloody body go.

the game is over.

and kang han has lost.

:// ACCESSING PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION …

don’t get in kang han’s way.

no one ever really specifies whether this applies professionally or otherwise – but it’s probably best to assume the worst.

after all, kang han is a storm of the worst kind.

despite nis’ best efforts to snuff out the thunderous rumors, han’s volatile reputation continues to precede him. he’s irritable. he’s short-tempered. he takes his coffee black but his bitterness runs far deeper than that. he’s an asshole, a tyrant, a dictator. so painfully moody. and, maybe most importantly, fucking overwhelmingly great. despite the countless terrifying rumors that circulate around the water cooler, it’s undeniable: what he lacks in tact and sensitivity, han makes up for in genius. ten-fold.

even after his sudden department change, from legendary newbie quartermaster to, now, a newly appointed analytic methodologist, han is gifted at what he does. and he knows it. his sharp tongue carves out the most pristine strategies and his calloused hands render pure gold. even the veteran cadets from his most recent st program would say the same: that boy has lightening crackling under his skin. and he knows it.

so don’t get in kang han’s way is probably the safest advice to take in this field. don’t get in his way and then maybe – just maybe? – he’ll save your life too.

… END OF FILE. CONTACT THE AGENT DIRECTLY FOR MORE.

#t #i #026

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