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rexcaliburechoes · 1 year ago

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i don’t think diamant and alfred’s a-support is particularly out of character // literally no one asked

pardon for the typos and occasional salty tone; i really don’t have the energy to sift through every single line diamant says at 330 am, but i needed to get this out of my head because people in general seem to misunderstand why diamant says what he does and what his genuine intent is/could be and i think it deserves some expansion upon. thoughts under the cut:

i actually wanna start in their b-support because i think that adds some important context.

diamant: It's funny... I never thought I'd end up crossing swords with a rival prince outside of a battlefield. [...] It's nice to think that the two of us will come out of this war as friends. alfred: Hate to break it to you, but I'm not so sure that's possible. Things won't always be like this. diamant: They won't? alfred: Afraid not. By the time the war's over...we'll be even better buddies! diamant: Haha! I like the way you think, Prince Alfred.

i think it’s very important to note alfred’s response here. i don’t think he’s a stupid as fans tend to think he is. sure, he can be an airhead, and is definitely a muscle-focused brute, but he’s just as much the crown prince as diamant is. i see a lot of people, in general, downplaying how he actually behaves in game for the “cute uwu sunshine flower boi“ trope (this is a post for another time). “i’m not so sure [we’ll still be friends post-war] is possible“ is such a grounded in reality line. alfred is thinking forward to the future- a future where brodia and firene don’t consider each other allies. it’s possible he was alluding to his illness, as well, saying that “i will die before we truly consider each other best friends“ (this is another post for another time).

of course, he can see diamant’s concern, and recovers rather quickly.

to that end: we know that diamant is much more fragile than he really lets on. it’s emphasised throughout the game. there are so many examples of this textually- explicitly, even!- that are very obvious in his character traits.

diamant, to leif in their a-rank bond: The truth is, I’m not as confident as I may seem. I’ve never told anyone that─not even Alcryst.

diamant, to ike in their a-rank bond: Improving my kingdom, surpassing my father as king… I’m not sure I can actually do all of that.

diamant and lucina’s a-rank bond conversation quite literally outlines the anxiety he has in regard to his kingdom’s welfare:

diamant: If Brodia’s remaining forces fall, the kingdom could be destroyed. I can’t bear that thought. lucina: I know how hard it is to leave soldiers behind. For their sake, we must claim a swift victory. Brodia will not fall into ruin, Diamant. Never will you suffer the same anguish that I did. diamant: Thank you, Lucina. That’s reassuring. You may never claim a throne…but you are a great leader.

and that’s not even every single instance in his bond conversations with the emblems, or in his supports.

and... wait... doesn’t that remind you of something?

alcryst, in his c-support with diamant: I can't offer an even match—my skills pale in comparison to yours—but I'll learn what I can. How am I supposed to win against the prince of Brodia? Yes, I am a Brodian prince, but I'm not THE Brodian prince. I'm not you, Diamant.

gee, it’s almost as though the anxiety runs in the family.

but what does this have to do with his a-support with alfred?

well, if there’s one thing that seems to set his anxiety off (aside from his perceived perfection, which is a topic i’ve already covered enough as it is already), it’s the potential of war between the different countries of elyos, and how that directly conflicts with his moral statement on how war is bad and only profits those in power. he can’t help but harp on about it every chance he gets:

framme: Prince Diamant… You said you wanted to bring peace to the world, but… Is that really true? Then why does Brodia keep attacking Elusia? I read the histories of both kingdoms. There are helpless citizens in Elusia that fear Brodia. When you talk about ending war, do you really mean conquering Elusia? Is that peace? diamant: Brodia…is a kingdom of warriors. It does have a regrettable history of seizing territory by force. And it is true that some people in Elusia have been hurt by─and have grown to hate─Brodia. That’s an undeniable part of my kingdom’s past, but I won’t let it be part of our future. It may not be easy, but I mean what I say. There will be change.

timerra: Hey, between you and me…do you think peace is really possible? diamant: Ah. That’s a big question…and one I often worry about myself. Ultimately, as leaders, I think it’s our duty to believe that peace is possible. If we won’t fight to secure that kind of future for our people, who will?

diamant: Brodia has a lot to answer for. Offering a token like that gem is the least I can do. ivy: It's true. Brodia has invaded our lands many times. I often wonder how my people would have fared without that suffering and bloodshed. diamant: My father was focused on our kingdom's affairs when he began expanding our territory by force. That singular focus is how things have always been done in Brodia...but that needs to change. My father is no longer here, but his influence remains. Change will take time. If there's an easier way, I haven't found it yet.

and so on.

okay, so why does he worry about breaking the non-aggression pact in the first place if he’s so adamant about keeping peace between the countries of elyos?? his support reads:

diamant: As you know, the kingdom of Brodia prioritizes military might above all else. Our kingdom is home to many ambitious people. That might explain those priorities. Our culture also teaches that it's honorable to gain things by force. Thanks to Queen Ève, our two kingdoms have signed a nonaggression pact. However... alfred: You're saying you can't promise it'll last. diamant: That’s right. alfred: What do you think will happen? diamant: I have my own hopes, but I won't just force them upon my kingdom. The will of my people must come first. I have to fight for whatever future serves them best.

so what’s the big deal? he practically says “hey, uh, yeah, about that non-aggression pact... sorry, but we can’t promise we won’t try to attack you in the future“

but i ask for you, dear reader, who’s gotten this far, to turn your attention to his and citrinne’s support chain.

citrinne: [the nobles are] eager for a response. I've been sent here to ask you directly about your stance on future military campaigns. These nobles are acquaintances of my family. As a noble myself, I can't ignore their demands. diamant: ... [diamant’s textbox pauses here before continuing to the following text] War is profitable. The nobility is expecting to line their pockets for years to come. I, on the other hand, do not intend to wage any wars during my reign as king. citrinne: I'm so glad to hear that. The nobles won't like it, but you can leave them to me.

this ends up getting diamant (and citrinne) into hot water in their b-support:

citrinne: The nobles did not care for your response. I must be cautious in my exchanges with you. Rumors are quickly spreading that my family has been colluding with Brodia’s future king.

naturally, this gets all nice and wrapped up in a cute little bow in their a-support:

diamant: Don’t panic. I didn’t mention you at all. I made it clear that I won’t wage any wars, but will prioritize a prosperous future for Brodia. That should put a stop to the rumors, right? No more whispers of collusion.

now, i know the focus here is on the accusation of collusion citrinne has levied at her, but i think it’s important to note that the nobles did not care for diamant’s response. furthermore, his end note explicitly discusses how the nobles dis not like diamant’s plan for brodia for the future:

As the new king of Brodia, Diamant ordered a halt to all invasions and worked to reform his people's attitudes on Elusia. Some nobles resisted Diamant at first, but his vision for the future earned their favor. By exporting ore, Brodia was able to shift to a booming, trade-based economy.

let me emphasise this: the nobility does NOT like diamant. at the very least, not at first. he even says how he regrets having to lean on the nobility for financial support... but unfortunately, he will have to burn that bridge when he gets there in terms of dealing with having this held over his own head as brodia’s crown prince.

diamant, to alfred in their c-support: I was drafting requests for funding to send to Brodia's nobles. Our military needs support. Any loans will be used as political leverage in the future. I'm worried...but out of options.

through this series of textual evidence, we are presented with two facts:

diamant is just as anxious as alcryst about his rule as king and how he envisions fostering peace as his father’s son (he’s just much more apt at hiding it than alcryst).

the nobility does not like him, in spite of his status as crown prince.

so, inevitably, when alfred steps wrong as says “yeah... we’re not gonna be best friends forever“, diamant is very prone to going into overdrive and overthinking this singular sentence... which snowballs into “i don’t think brodia will honour the non-aggression pact“.

diamant’s thoughts and worries about if he will actually be able to lead brodia into a peaceful future- profitable for his country, without relying upon being aggressive in war- quickly spiral out of control because, even if he knows logically it is not true, it doesn’t mean that he recognises it emotionally. alfred tries to reassure him, and it works, actually! it works by breaking him out of that spiral and reminds him that “not everyone wants war, and there will be plenty of opportunities to be loved by your people in peace times, too.“

alfred: I understand. I'm in the same tight spot. That said, everything'll be fine. You've got nothing to worry about. diamant: How can you be sure? alfred: Well, I mean... Everyone from Brodia seems so nice. I can't speak for the whole kingdom, but all the Brodians I've met were nice enough. I don't think they'd want a war over nothing. I think things are gonna work out. I trust the good folks of Brodia that way. diamant: You trust in the goodwill of others? Even the citizens of neighboring kingdoms? alfred: People are people, no matter where they're from. Is trusting in them so bad? diamant: Haha. No, it's not bad at all. In fact, trust might be the most important quality for a leader to have.

"people" can mean "the common people", but given how diamant struggles with the noble court... he likely means the nobles that want to use his need for funding as leverage against him, who want to pit him and citrinne against each others, who don't share his profitable future without war.

alfred can recognise that diamant is having a tough time worrying over his status as prince- about if he'll be liked, if he will rule well, if anything fleeting will ever last- because he understands him as a crown prince to another crown prince. they may not have the same exact struggle, but alfred intimately knows the impermanence of promises, legally binding or otherwise (this is a post for another time).

this is not out of character in the slightest, for either of them. this is a layered interaction exploring the exact minutiae of how both of them perceive the world: one through fleeting impermanence and acceptance, and the other through anxiety and sheer stubbornness,

#fire emblem #fire emblem engage #fe engage #fee #fe17 #diamant #diamant fire emblem #fire emblem diamant #fe diamant #diamant fe #alfred #alfred fire emblem #fire emblem alfred #fe alfred #alfred fe #dialfred #diafred #rex rambles #rex writes #? not really but it's meta writing so i'm counting it (inevitably will have to edit previous meta posts like this post)#i should have taken melatonin but i've been getting weird distressing dreams while on it so i'm going without for tonight #and i am very tired but unfortunately i keep seeing takes i don't like about their a support #so i will make you sit and analyse every singe word out of these characters' mouths to understand that no it's not ooc actually #it's quite ic (even if the sequence of the supports should have been altered)#(such that diamant + citrinne's a support should have come before alfred + diamant's)#(because it makes so much more sense when you realise that the nobility does NOT like diamant)#(and so he's saying it not because he wants to but because he viscerally fear that he will be pushed into that direction)#(when morally he deeply DEEPLY disagrees)#in writing this my formatting broke halfway through and i almost had a fucking mental breakdown #send help please. i hate writing posts on tumblr sometimes

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celeste-clearwater-06 · 4 years ago

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Hello! I was wondering if you could please write something about how the Fellowship (+ Thorin?) Would help a s/o who's Disabled and Chronically ill. Like she has a lot of symptoms like chronic pain, chronic fatigue, difficulty sleeping, difficulty breathing at times, difficulty walking at times, higher sensitivity to the cold, difficulty talking at times, and anxiety, depression and executive dysfunction?

I've been really struggling with my chronic illnesses lately, namely my Autism, Anxiety, Sleep Apnea, a really bad Overbite, Raynaud's Syndrome, Asthma, etc, so I'd really appreciate an Imagine like this. I have a really weird disorder where one of my legs is longer than the other, and it's been causing me a lot of pain and difficulty walking lately, and people have been bullying me for it a lot too, so I could really use a Comfort Imagine right now. Thanks so much hun!!

It's no problem! I'm glad I can provide some comfort!! For each character, I'll use a specific struggling area, to make it a bit easier!! I hope I got these accurate enough, and of there are any mistakes, feel free to point them out!! You are strong, beautiful and so, so amazing!! Keep being you!! ❤❤

Help (The Fellowship// Thorin x Fem!Reader)

Aragorn (Autism)

Aragorn has known you for a long time, so helping with your autism is not new for him

He's particularly experienced in reading your emotions and meeting your needs, whether it's helping you out of stressful situations or calming you down, he's there 🥺

If there are large and boisterous gatherings in Rivendell, its almost guaranteed that you can become over-stimulated quickly, and Aragorn immediately senses this (spidey senses õoõ)

He's fast to find your hand and give it a gentle squeeze of reassurance

If that doesn't seem to help, he'll instantly stop what he's doing and take you out of the room

If you're someone who prefers lots of space and little physical contact, he is 100% respectful of this and asks if you'll let him touch or hug you (very much gentleman 😌)

If ever you're confronted by someone of importance, Aragorn is right by your side to ease some of the tension

Sometimes there are things you find difficult to say or get out of your system

The king seems to know exactly what it is and will help you out by saying it or asking you simple questions that you can easily answer

And he always reminds you, no matter WHAT

YOU ARE NOT STUPID 😤😡

You may struggle with some parts of your life, but every day, he's constantly telling you that you're very intelligent and kind

His patience is unending and he'll never let you think down on yourself

Overall, Aragorn is always someone and reminding you that it's all going to be okay ❤❤

Legolas (Anxiety)

Most nights, Legolas keeps watch (since elves don't require much sleep) and notices that you jolt awake out of the random

Now, most of the Fellowship notices that you're usually awake and ready to go before anyone else

But Legolas is really the one to address you first

You were a bit nervous to explain, since you didn't want to worry him or the great of the fellowship, amount the other disadvantages you have

He gently encouraged you, and finally, you explained to him your sleep apnea

Yeah, he was very concerned

I mean, his blue eyes widened with terror when you told him that you could basically die in your sleep if you weren't attentive enough 🙃

Legolas, from now on, sleeps directly next to you, or keeps extra careful watch over you at night

Because he could NEVER see his precious mortal friend become injured... Or worse 🥺🥺❤

The other members had noticed a change in his behaviors towards you as well...

Gimli teased him whenever he caught Legolas giving you some extra lembas bread or offered to carry you 👉👈

You really tried to assure Legolas that it wasn't a big deal when you were awake, since you're aware of your breathing situation

But still 😤

Legolas will always bring you comfort and take great care of you, and that will NEVER CHANGE

Because he loves you very much ❤🦋

Frodo (Anxiety)

Frodo is familiar with the feeling of great anxiety, seeing he had a stress-free life while living in the Shire and suddenly was forced to carry a piece of jewelry all the way to giant ass volcano

It's easy for you two to comfort each other and seek refuge in thoughts and feelings ❤

He's not super comfortable with the thought of you having a panic attack though...

Only because he's never had one

It starts to give him a panic attack whenever you have one around him the first time 😳-

Any time you begin to breathe heavy or hyperventilate, halfling boy is hot at your heels, rubbing your back and reminding you to breathe gently

(So many hugs, if you're up for it)

After you calm down, he's constantly checking on you, asking if you need anything etc.

Really, he just wants to know if he can help 🥺

And even with the weight and stress of carrying the ring, Frodo manages to cheer you up somehow

Samwise (Asthma)

Sam has never had to deal with asthma once in his life

He's very nervous when the subject is brought, afraid it might trigger something inside of you 🥺👉👈

But you just chuckle, assure him that it's alright, and you have ways of keeping it under control

And now, he wants to know everything about it, just to have the awareness in case something happens

Sam just wants to protect you forever, and this was a great way for him to start

He constantly reminds Aragorn that you'll need breathing breaks and will convince Gandalf to let you ride on his horse

He'll scold Pip and Merry if they are trying to drag you around and be silly, because as he says

"You'll rouse him/her/them up! We can't have Y/N gettin injured!" 🤨😠

Sam is MOM

As always, he's very kind and always makes sure your needs are met ❤🥺

Pippin and Merry (Raynaud's Syndrome)

Very confused halfings 🤔

Also extremely concerned!

You were eating one of the lesser pleasurable nights

It was cold and rainy, and a fire couldn't be started, not to mention the quiet arguments of Aragorn and Gandalf in the nearby woods

And Pip's eyes widened when he saw the tips of your petite fingers begin to pale upon hearing Aragorn mention Orcs

"What's wrong with your hands?!" He squeaked, pointing towards your now white-colored fingertips

You hadn't even noticed, nor felt, considering they were numb anyways

Merry looked over his cousin's shoulder and his eyes also widened, not with fright, but wonder

They were both fascinated with your condition, convinced that you were casting some spell Gandalf showed you

Although you reassured them it was just an extremely frustrating inconvenience that you had, among other things

So from then on, the disastrobus duo did their best to keep you out of the cold (and stressful situations!!)

As a distraction, the pair will tell you great stories of the shire, doing little dances and skits that always cheer you up 🥴

Sometimes, they can be a little rambunctious though...

Merry will pick up on this fact quickly, and nudge Pippin to get him to calm down

Even though it may not feel the best

They find your syndrome absolutely fascinating!! 🤔🤔

All in all, these two are always up for keeping your beautiful smile on your face and your spirits high!! ❤🌺

Boromir (Depression)

Throughout the journey, Boromir has always found an easy way to make you smile

After all, he himself has a fascinating way of brightening anyone's spirits

Yours included ❤

Boromir may not have great stories from The Shire, like Pip and Merry, but he sure has a lot of positive things to say

He'll often suggest sparring with the two troublemaking halflings, just so you can see him goof up and get knocked over 🥺

If the nights become cold and weary, he'll give you a warm hug or a nudge on the shoulder

And a few words of helpful encouragement along the lines of;

"Don't fret Y/N. You have more strength than you'll ever know."

"Let our spirits never dampen! We've come this far!" 😊

He's also an incredible listener

Boromir wants to hear what you have to say if you ever need to rant or get something off of your chest

And don't think for a second that he would ever judge you 😤

Son of Gondor sees past all of your insecurities and knows you for your beautiful, amazing self ❤❤

Gimli (Walking disadvantages)

As you travel across great plains and mountains, your limp doesn't go unnoticed by Gimli

It may take him a while to open up about it, since he's afraid he might offend you in some way

And once he asks you, you inform him that it's a difficulty that unfortunately cannot be changed any time soon

And where you come from, lots of people tease and bully you about it

He did NOT handle it well 😳

"wHAT BLUBBERING DULL-MINDED PIGNUTS-" 🤬

Although this Dwarf is short and a bit slow at times

He's fascinatingly strong 😳

And so, he makes it his duty to be your designated carrier 🥺

At first, your a tad skeptical...

I mean, he's only around 4 feet tall...

BUT HAVE YOU SEEN HIM THROW THAT HUGE AX AROUND?!

Gimli will happily carry you great distances when you need a break, and even longer

(Sometimes it's just to show off around the others-)

"Gimli, are you sure you don't want a break?"

"Aye lass! The strength of Dwarves is unending!" 😌

*struggling to breathe*

11/10, fantastic dwarf, will never let you down!!

Thorin (Executive Dysfunction)

Another Dwarf??

Absolutely

Thorin himself has trouble keeping composure with his time management (and sense of direction 🙄)

This means that he'll have an undying amount of patience for you and you only

There's just something about you that he fond of, and it fills in that little sassy, brooding place in his heart

Can also relate to you whenever you grow frustrated at the setback of your journey or lack of sleep

Is 100% willing to help you find your lost belongings (and once again, ONLY YOU)

Thorin will literally make the whole traveling party stop so that you can put something in your bag and make sure that you put it somewhere you'll remember

Always happy to give you extra gentle reminders of keeping your pack closed

The company is utterly SHOCKED with how he treats you

I mean, this man has always been extremely stubborn and hard headed

But when you show up, it's another person he can easily relate and share frustrations with

Also a master at organization?!? 🤔

The one thing he could do successfully was organizing the damn journey and traveling company, so ofc he's gonna be good at that 😂

Yeah, Thorin definitely has a soft spot for you

King under the mountain will never run out of patience and kindness for you 😌💙

Sorry these took so long!! I hope you like them!! ❤❤

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chews-erotically · 4 years ago

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*Waxing Gibbous

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

* Warnings: None really, maybe more angst/ comfort

* Summary: You arrive on Central and begin your recoveries.

* Word Count: ~1500

*Part ONE* *Part TWO* *Part THREE* *Part FOUR* *Part FIVE* *Part SIX* *Part SEVEN*

PART EIGHT

If you had fled the Green moon even ten minutes later, Ezra would have died. That was the grim information relayed to you by the sling-back medic after he’d been rushed to a med cot, given high-flow oxygen and sedated. He was critically ill. You’d been told immediately upon arrival and quick assessment that once you reached the Pug you were going to be transferred directly to a teaching hospital on Central.You were faring a bit better, but not by much. Your shoulder had been cleaned and bandaged. As you were conscious, you were given supplemental oxygen through a nasal cannula.

The medic had attempted to press for some detail concerning how you’d both ended up in such states. Exhausted and struck numb, you’d simply shrugged and moved to rearrange the intravenous line of lactated ringer’s solution going into the catheter inserted into the top of your forearm. The machine had started beeping, and the sound was like a hammer to your skull.

Once you reached the Pug things moved quickly indeed. Transport was coordinated in the Pug med bay and a nurse approached you, stating that she would be taking you into an exam room to obtain an updated set of vitals and enter your information into their data system. You had refused.

“I’m not leaving him.”

Clearing his throat, the nurse tried to explain the protocol he had to follow. You held up your hand to still his speech.

“Save it. You won’t change my mind. I’m not leaving him.”

***

Once on the transport you’d been able to keep your eyes open for perhaps twenty minutes. You’d passed out sitting on the hard metal bench with your head slumped forward onto Ezra’s cot, your hand clasping his.

***

Central was cacophonic. After the eerie quiet of the Green the sounds, chatter, colors and thrumming life surrounding you was beating into your brain like a staccato mace. Your head throbbed. You flinched away from the shoulders brushing past you. You were close to panic, overwhelmed by the sensory overload. You took deep, measured breaths. You stayed as close to Ezra’s cot as possible. You had to resist the urge to climb into it with him and throw a blanket over your head.

They were going to have to take Ezra away from you. You knew this logically. He was fragile. Needed intubation, needed close surveillance. He was most likely septic at this point and it was uncertain if the damage he’d suffered to his lung tissue would be permanent. You knew he might still die. You knew this, and you wept openly, pitifully.

“WAIT!” you’d croaked out, shakily grasping the shoulder of the ICU nurse who had begun rushing him down the hallway for STAT bloodwork.

She’d turned to you with sympathy shading her features.

You gazed at her name badge through waterfalls.

“....Mollen. That’s your name?”

A pause. “Yes,” she’d replied softly. You knew you needed to trust her.

“His feet get cold at night. Only at night, otherwise he says they’re like furnaces. He can’t sleep well if his feet aren’t covered. Please cover his feet. Please,” you’d choked.

She had given you a small, sad smile. “Of course.”

“Thank you, Mollen.”

You had stood pathetically twisting your hands together with tears coursing unabashed until Ezra turned a corner and disappeared from you.

***

“Prognosis is precarious,” One of the physicians had pulled you into a private room to go over findings with you. You had since been seen and treated; miraculously you had not needed surgery, though you would most likely have permanent nerve damage to your thumb and two fingers on your left hand. You’d been told that you’d most likely be in the hospital for a week or two; you needed IV antibiotics and respiratory therapy in addition to wound care.

You’d requested a private room as close to the ICU as possible, passing a piece of aurelac to the Intake Administrator. He’d accepted with wide eyes, and you’d gotten your room.

The doctor was solemn as she looked over the rims of her glasses at you.

“Your partner has diffuse opacities in the lower lobes of his lungs. The left is partially collapsed. We’ve intubated him, as you know, to allow his lungs time to rest and strengthen. He is septic, and he’s being treated with an experimental cocktail of three different antibiotics, dexamethasone for inflammation, and vasopressors to maintain his blood pressure.

“Fortunately, his body is strong and his kidney function is improving. He has remained without a fever for the past eight hours, so that is reassuring. If he continues to show improvement I am fairly confident that we can begin planning for extubation within the next two to three days. If he can tolerate extubation and begin breathing on his own, we can start weaning his oxygen and begin to wake him up.”

Though you knew what you were walking into, you steeled yourself.

You entered his room and stood a moment to process the sheer enormity of the amount

of medical equipment keeping Ezra alive. You took in the tubes and wires, the bags of

fluid infusing through catheters, the softly beeping sensors. When you were not in your

room or engaged in your own treatments, you were here. You pulled up the chair that

Mollen had placed especially for you, and you began your silent vigil once again.

Ezra looked so small in that bed, so fragile. He was dwarfed by the machinations

surrounding him. He was pale, wan. As you always did, you grasped his hand and

squeezed, ran your thumb over his knuckles the way he’d once done with you.

you talked to him softly, describing the room, going over what had happened since you

had escaped the Green. You talked about your own treatments and progress. You

described Central, how busy and bustling everything was, how many people flooded the

streets each day. Theatres you’d seen across from your window, coffee shops and

bars you wanted to explore with him. Your favorite activity was reading to him. You had

spent a great deal discussing all manner of art, and Ezra loved to talk about books both

well-loved and those he longed to read but had been unable to find. As you found

yourself in the incomprehensible position of having more credits than you could ever

imagine possessing, you had books delivered to your room.

Ezra was extubated the day you received your last dose of antibiotics. You were due to

be discharged in three days. His organ function had improved at a rate that had exceeded

the expectations of his medical team. His encyclopedic list of medications had shortened reassuringly. He was strong enough to tolerate the extubation and was transitioned to a nasal cannula. You rejoiced in this, though your anxiety spiked as the physicians began the arduous task of bringing him out of sedation. It did not happen all at once as many thought, but gradually and in increments. It happened in sighs and twitches, thrashes and groans. You wondered if he dreamed. You hoped that he could hear you repeat your devotions.

You had secured a lease downtown, finding a loft a block from the hospital. It was spacious, covered in windows that stretched, floor to ceiling, and opened onto a balcony that afforded you a breathless view of Central. You had never had something so nice in your life.

You had been discharged for two days, you had started to plan how to turn your new space into a safe space for both you and Ezra, when you were alerted by the hospital that Ezra had awakened. He was asking for you.

You doubt if your feet touched the ground as you rushed to the hospital, stopping only to catch your breath.

You entered his room panting, vibrating.

Ezra was sitting upright, the first time you’d seen him not supine in weeks. He was pale, he sported dark and sunken circles under his eyes. His hair was wildly curling, his blond streak sticking straight out. He was sipping gingerly on a cup of water with a shaking hand.

Your Ezra. Beautiful Ezra.

“.....Ez?”

He looked upon you as if you were an apparition. He went to move shakily to his feet, and you were there before he could stand. Enveloping him in your arms, kissing his face, feeling him and inhaling whatever you could of him, of his vibrant life.

Alive.

You realized you were both weeping, you chuckled as you took turns wiping the wetness from one another’s face. When he spoke, his voice was rough, you knew it would take time for Ezra to regain his mellifluous cadence.

“Beautiful star, our souls cannot escape one another, universe try as it might to tear us asunder.”

“I missed you, Ezra. Sweet love, I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again. Ever.”

“I wish you luck trying to part from me at this point, Dove.”

You knew you’d done something right, standing against him.

You knew you were home.

#chews-erotically writes #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra #ezra fics

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years ago

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Void of Extinction by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 8/9

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche @jonesfandomfanatic

Chapter 8: Confrontation

“Just give it to me straight, Ruby, don’t go making up tales now.” The dark-haired woman chuckled defiantly from her spot on the bed in the corner of the room, the plastic walls separating her from the rest of the occupants in the room.

“It’s not good, Mum.” Ruby said softly. “It started spreading the moment it got in your blood stream. The doctors said it matches the data they have on file for J2.”

“So that’s it then.” The woman nodded resolutely before turning her attention to Emma. “Did the message make it to Merlin?”

Emma bit her lip, and her eyes met his for a moment before turning back to Mary Margaret. “Not all of it.”

“Enough?”

Emma shook her head. “I think so, I don’t know.”

“Where’s Will?”

Killian took Emma’s hand when he heard her loud exhale, knowing that the tears would be coming shortly after. “He’s next door. He uh…” She sniffled and the woman sat up in her bed.

“J2.” Ruby responded softly.

“Dammit.” The demure woman cursed. Killian sighed and pulled Emma against his chest. “So, what’s next?”

“Mum, you need to rest.” Ruby demanded.

“Oh, don’t give me that crap, Red. You know I don’t rest.”

“I contacted David.” Killian said suddenly, causing all the eyes in the room to turn toward him.

“What?” Emma asked horrified. “Why would you do that?”

Killian gestured toward the woman in the bed. “It’s his wife, he deserves to know.”

“Killian.” Mary Margaret spoke softly. “Did he…did he say anything?”

“He’s confused, doesn’t understand why you were there. I didn’t tell him much, just not to trust Regina, things aren’t what they seem, J2.” He added quietly at the end.

“He must be so angry.”

“He’s a good cop, if I know David, he’ll do some digging, figure things out.”

“You could have put him in danger.” Ruby exclaimed.

“Compared to what? We aren’t exactly on vacation here, love! We need help on the outside, Dave’s a good man.”

“He’s right. My husband followed the Mayor’s lead because he believed in what she was doing, but things have changed, she’s not who he thought she was, he’ll follow the leads, do what he thinks is right.”

In his pocket, his communicator beeped. Killian held up his hand and pulled it from his jacket. “We need to talk.” David’s voice boomed in his ear. “Now.”

“Speak of the devil, we were just talking about you.” He said light heartedly, hoping to set the man at ease.

“You aren’t listening to me. We need to meet. I want to see my wife; I have information you all need to see.”

“I can come to you…”

“No, no deals. I come to you.” He demanded and Killian sent a worrying glance in the woman’s direction as she stared at him in the bed.

Covering the device with his hand he talked softly. “He wants to come here; says he has information we need to hear.”

“No way, it’s a trap, he’s not just going to walk in here, no questions asked.”

“He’s worried about his wife.” Killian said honestly in response to Ruby.

“Go get him, follow our protocols.” Mary Margaret demanded of the dark-haired woman who opened her mouth to protest and then stormed out of the room.

“We’re sending one of ours to the wall. Meet her there and follow her rules or else you don’t come, Mate.”

“Fine.” He paused. “Can you tell my wife…” Killian glanced at the woman on the bed, her face pale. “Tell her that I love her.”

“Aye, Mate.” The line went dead. “He’ll meet her at the wall.”

“Thank you.” She said with a nod.

“He said to tell you that he loves you.” The woman smiled sadly as Killian took his leave from the room, Emma following him closely behind. The moment she stepped from the room; she entered the one directly beside it that held the critically ill, Will Scarlet. She nodded to him, and he watched as she closed the door behind her. He wasn’t sure how they were going to get through all of this, he only hoped that whatever David needed to speak to them about didn’t bring about more sorrow and despair.

~*~

“There’s my girl.” Will said weakly when she entered the room.

“Hey.” Emma breathed nervously. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got stabbed and injected with a plague there’s no cure for.”

Emma frowned in anger. “That’s not funny.”

He coughed. “I ‘spose not, but what else you gonna do?”

“I hate you.”

“You love me, don’t even try to deny it.”

“What are we going to do?” She cried.

“Don’t cry Emmie.”

“I can’t lose you.”

“Oi, I’m too cranky to die, I’m gonna be around long enough to embarrass Henry when he dates his first lass, or watch you marry that gent out there that can’t keep his bloody hands off ya.” Emma couldn’t stop her laughter no matter how much she just wanted to cry. “So, what’s the plan?” He asked, as she sat down in the chair across the room.

“Ruby left to bring David here, he says he has something we need to see; I don’t know. I can’t help but feel like it’s a trap, but Killian trusts him.”

“Not like we have any other brilliant plans, eh. I guess we work with what we got.” He coughed again, blood forming at the ends of his mouth as he wiped it away with his hand. “Hey, I’m fine. Really.” He tried to reassure her.

“You know I can tell when you’re lying.” She teased as the door beside her opened and Killian stepped into the room, announcing David’s arrival.

“Good, give ‘er someone else to harass.” Will joked as she stood from her seat.

“I’ll be back soon.” She promised, trying to smile as she left the room. When the door shut, Killian stopped her by placing a hand on her forearm.

“Are you alright love?”

“Of course, I’m not. My best friend is dying, I have no idea if the message I sent reached Merlin, if all of this has been for nothing, and I am honestly running out of reasons to have even a sliver of hope.” His finger brushed against her forehead, the tickle of her hair tingling against her skin.

“If the message didn’t go through, we’ll find another way,” He laced her fingers with hers, “together. But you don’t give up, not my Emma.”

A warm feeling filled her heart as his blue eyes stared back at her. She wanted to curl into his arms and believe that there was still a chance for them to win, but knowing Will was laying behind the door, dying a slow painful death, overtook any feelings of hope that tried to grow roots within her.

Killian wrapped her in his arms, and Emma melted against him, enjoying the moment of stillness and peace they had been afforded. On the other end of the hall, she heard a commotion and the sea of people parted as Ruby waked through the center. Emma withdrew from Killian and motioned to the end of the hall.

David strode toward them, a look of apprehension in his eyes as he settled them on Killian. “Where’s my wife?” He demanded as he reached them.

Killian and Emma exchanged a glance. “We need to talk, Mate.”

“I’ll talk after you take me to my wife.”

“Aye, this way.” He turned and opened the door, leading David into the room that housed Mary Margaret.

Emma stood at the back of the room as the man hesitantly approached his wife, a look of fear in his eyes. “Why would you do this?” His voice was shaking as he spoke.

“David…” She paused, as if she were rethinking her response. “I did what I thought was right.”

He hung his head. “Perhaps you were right.” He turned and looked at Killian. “I had questions.” Reaching into his jacket he pulled out a folder. “Things weren’t making sense. So, I did some digging.”

“Gold?”

“I followed the money. It all leads back to him, all the transactions into the Mayor’s office, research money for the Gold Collective, military operations. Money that shouldn’t be there, man.”

Killian glanced at Emma. “It’s all Hive.”

“That’s not all I found.” He almost whispered. “I saw the message to Merlin.” He turned and looked at Emma. “Of course, I had to do a search on Emma Swan. Grew up outside the walls of Storybrooke, came to town at age 14, lived on the streets for a few years until you found your payday in Neal Cassidy.”

Emma grunted. “Trust me, I didn’t want his money.”

“Did he know about your run in with J2?” Everyone turned and looked at her.

“No. His father was so interested in testing people, his search for answers seemed to have nothing to do with wanting to help people. I couldn’t trust anyone.”

“When did you know you were sick?” David asked.

“I got sick when I was 16, I had a place on the docks where others gathered at night to stay warm. A few of them got sick that winter, they didn’t last more than a few days before they were pulled from the streets, their bodies drained of life. When the fever came, I resigned myself to death. I got picked up in a sweep, they took me to a hospital for treatment. But after a few days I got better. The doctors started asking questions, I got nervous, so I ran.”

“Your blood work is in the system.” David said, opening the folder in his hands. “It was housed in one of Regina’s databases, looks like Gold flagged the information about 4 months ago.”

“That was right after I took off.”

“That’s not all they found. See I thought finding someone who had survived J2, a plague with zero cure, was a miracle, but imagine my surprise when I found you aren’t the only one.”

Emma shook her head. “There’s someone else who survived?”

David looked at Killian. “Did you know?”

“Know what, Mate?”

David handed him the folder and Killian stared at the pages in front of him. He flipped the page in his hand, his eyes wide. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“What is it?” Emma asked.

“Medical records.” David answered. “Killian’s medical records, to be more specific. His bloodwork shows he had J2.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, the only time I’ve ever even been sick was when I was young. That was years before the plague.”

David turned back toward his wife, “Don’t you get it. They both carry the gene that can fight off J2.”

“What good does that do?” Killian asked.

“I don’t know, but we need to find out. Maybe they can use your blood somehow to save my wife, to save everyone.” He turned back to her, a look of desperation on his face. “Maybe if we take your blood and Killian’s blood, maybe together, together it means something.”

She paused, staring at the man in front of her and then looking at Killian. “Henry.” She said suddenly.

“He’s sleeping, love.” Killian responded.

“No, Henry is the key.” She rushed to the door and then turned back to look at Killian. “I know I said we needed to talk, and this is really not the way I wanted to do this, but…” He narrowed his eyes. “Henry isn’t Neal’s. He’s yours.” She blurted out.

“What?”

“I…I didn’t know, not until he was born. I thought he was Neal’s. We had been apart for a month when I found out, but I was so stressed out, I wasn’t thinking. When he came early, I thought it was because of the stress, but then I held him, and he opened those beautiful blue eyes, and I knew, I knew he was yours.”

“Henry’s my son?” His voice cracked and tears sprung in her eyes, she stepped back toward him and pressed her hand to his cheek.

“Henry has your blood and mine. What if…” His eyes sparkled as he stared at her. “What if he has been the answer this whole time?”

Suddenly Killian’s entire face crumbled in anger, he reached forward and grabbed Emma, pulling her toward him as she tried to understand what was happening. Then she heard a voice that made her entire body tense.

“Hello, dearie.”

~*~

Killian didn’t have a moment to deconstruct the information he had learned from Emma before Gold and his son appeared in the open door. Killian had only seconds to react, pulling Emma toward him, protecting her from the man who had caused all of her fear.

“And where is that grandson of mine?”

“You stay the hell away from him.” Emma yelled and Neal stepped toward her.

“You took him away from me.” He reached out, touching her hair as she slapped his hand away from her face. Before he could react, Neal’s fist had drawn back and made contact with Emma’s cheek. Killian stepped forward, grabbing Neal by the collar, and yanking him toward him. The man cowered for a moment before Killian heard the click of a gun and Emma’s shrill. Killian could see Gold standing next to Emma, a gun to her head. He released Neal reluctantly, holding his hands in front of him.

“Just saying, a gentleman never strikes a lady, perhaps you should have raised him with better manners.” He said with a shrug, looking over at Neal with disdain.

“Children have always been such a disappointment.” The man growled and Neal stumbled backward to step away from the group. “So, let’s change that today. Where’s the boy?” Killian glared at the man, no one in the room saying a word. “Regina.” He called out and the woman appeared in the doorway. “Bring me the brat.”

Emma shrilled as the woman left the room, setting off to search for their son.

Their son.

His son.

He had a son with Emma. He couldn’t think about that right now, right now they just needed to survive.

He caught David’s eye as the man stood on the other side of the room. Nodding his head, he stepped closer to the door as David reached behind himself, pulling the gun he always kept at his back. Things moved suddenly the moment the gun came into view. Gold twisted quickly and Emma used her shoulder to shove the older man to the ground at the exact moment that Killian rushed Neal.

The two men crashed through the open-door frame into the hallway. Killian used the man’s surprise to his advantage, punching him square in the nose before he could get his bearings.

“Killian…” He looked up to see Ruby at the other end of the hall.

“Save Henry.” He screamed, continuing his assault against the man on the ground in front of him. Ruby ran down the hall toward the rooms where Henry was sleeping. Neal watched as she ran, a sudden kick to the side causing him to lose his balance as Neal scrambled away from him.

Killian took one look into the room, watching Emma rushing at Gold, as David was shoved into the wall. He had to trust that they would be ok, he needed to get to Henry before Neal. Standing up he gave chase after the man as he ran in the direction that Ruby had disappeared.

When he reached Henry’s room, the door was open. Ducking into the room, he rushed to the bed to find it empty. Turning around he saw Ruby laying on the ground behind the door. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he lifted her off the ground as her eyes flew open. “Henry.” She exhaled.

“Where’s Henry?”

“Neal…he took him.” Killian leaned her against the wall. “Go, I’m fine. I’m right behind you.”

Killian rushed back into the hall, looking up and down to determine which way Neal would have gone. He heard a clattering at one end of the hall and ran quickly after it. He pushed through the door of the stairwell and began climbing, praying with each step that he would find his son at the top.

When he breached the door, the light flooded his eyes as he rushed into the room, the water swirling through the boat dock. He spotted movement near the boat and yelled.

“Neal.”

The man stilled his movement, spinning around with the boy in his arms.

~*~

The cane came crashing down against her arm and Emma grabbed ahold of the wooden stick, yanking it forward as the man tumbled to the ground beside her. Emma took advantage of his imbalance and climbed onto his chest, holding the wooden cane against his neck, pressing it harder as the man struggled to breathe.

“Emma.” David sent her a warning from his spot on the floor on the other side of the room as he recovered from his previous entanglement with Gold.

“He can’t live.” She cried. “He’s too dangerous.”

She felt his hand on her shoulder. “That’s not for us to decide.”

Emma slowed her breathing, trying to rationalize the need to remove Gold from the playing field with her need to make him pay for everything he had caused.

“He’s not worth it, Emma.” David warned softly beside her.

“He’s dangerous.” She cried, watching as the man’s eyes widened in fear below her.

“Your son needs you.” Emma flinched, relaxing her grip on the cane as the man slowly lost consciousness. She threw the cane to the ground, falling back against the wall beside her.

“Go.” She said turning toward him. “Go find Killian and Henry.”

The man nodded, turned toward his wife, and then left the room.

“All of this, because of one man.” Mary Margaret said from her bed. “Because of greed.” She said angrily.

“I’m so sorry.” Emma said as the tears fell from her face. “You don’t deserve to die.”

“Don’t you worry about me. I have faith and so should you.”

“How can you be so positive at a time like this.” She said with a laugh, wiping her face with her hands.

“I don’t know, I guess I don’t feel like giving up just yet.”

Emma smiled, she appreciated the optimism of the woman, even if she didn’t share it. Suddenly the wind was knocked out of her, a blinding pain hitting her like a lightning bolt against her back. Before she could react she was lying face down on the cold cement, a foot pressing against her head.

“Neal said you were smart, but I think he was just blinded by a pretty face. That boy of mine is not a good judge of character.”

Emma gulped for air, choking in muffled gasps. She swung her arms, trying to grasp the man behind her, if she could just get ahold of a leg of his pants, or even a shoe. Her vision was blurring, sparkles of light flashing behind her eyes as she began to lose her fight to breathe. Her hand dropped to the ground beside her, a crashing sound vibrating in her ears.

Suddenly her airway opened, she choked, sucking in breath as her lungs filled with air. Beside her a wooden cane with a brass top fell to the ground. Emma rolled onto her back, looking up at the silhouette above her, she blinked her eyes, trying to focus as a hand was extended to her.

“I’m up here doing all this work while you take a nap, eh?”

Emma grabbed Will’s hand and pulled herself up, wrapping her arms around him. “You’re supposed to be resting.” She said with a laugh.

“And miss all the bloody fun?” Will teased before coughing. “Now go.” He gestured to the open door.

“I can’t leave him.”

“I think Mum and I can keep an eye on him while you save the world this time.”

“We’re going to fix this.” Emma said, looking between Mary Margaret and Will.

“Go Emma, find your boy.” The woman demanded and Emma ran out the door.

~*~

Killian stared nervously at Neal as he dangled Henry over the water. “Put the kid down, Mate. He’s innocent. You want to hurt someone, come at me.”

“You know I tried to do this the easy way, all you had to do was go on with your new life. But you just couldn’t stay away, could you?”

Henry’s face was red, the loud cries echoing in the hollow corners of the room. “Come on Neal.”

“Don’t!” He shouted. “You took everything away from me. Emma. My kid…”

“He was never yours to begin with.” Killian growled, which caused the man to twitch angrily, and Killian immediately regretted taunting him. “Please.” His voice cracked. “Just don’t hurt him.” He begged.

There was a loud crash behind him, causing Neal to step backwards closer to the water. Killian kept his eyes on the small bundle in the man’s arms, desperate to reach the child and pull him to safety. Suddenly Regina crashed through the crates behind him, landing on her back on the ground. David came rushing out after her, diving against the crumbled form.

Killian used the distraction to rush toward Neal who looked up right before he reached him. A smile grew on his face as he dangled the boy over the water, a menacing look on his face. Killian’s heart raced as his feet tripped closer to the man just as he released the boy into the dark waters below them.

“No!” Killian screamed as the bundled child fell into the icy water and sunk below the surface. He didn’t stop as he rushed past Neal, pushing him away from the edge and diving headfirst into the murky depths below.

#void of extinction #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan modern au #captainswan

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desperationandgin · 4 years ago

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Strawberry Wine - Chapter 14

Also Read On: AO3

Summary: Where has Jamie been, and where did he think Claire was, all this time?

A/N: Thank you so much for the incredible and overwhelming outpouring of support for this little fic. You have all been amazing, and I'm so grateful you came back to finish reading ❤️See you back here next week for the 2nd to last chapter!

Chapter 14: I Come Back to this Place

He was there. Right there above me, staring as if I were the ghost.

Perhaps we both were.

Jamie was cupping the back of my head, a look of shock etched on his features, and when he spoke, it wasn’t in English. Finally, slowly, his eyes met mine, and I could see they were shining with unshed tears as he seemed to refuse to blink.

“Ye...ye’re alive, Sassenach…”

Carefully he helped me sit up, and when my hand wrapped around his arm, I felt the sting of my own emotion to feel him, real and solid under my touch.

“So are you,” I whispered. A tear slipped down my cheek and dripped onto the back of his hand as he cradled my face.

“I thought...they told me ye were dead,” he choked out, and I felt his body sag, the two of us coming together in a tangle of arms.

“I’m here,” I insisted over a tremor in my voice, taking his hand and pressing it to my chest, over the beating of my heart. “I’m here with you, Jamie.”

His free hand moved into my hair, cradling the back of my head as his eyes raked over my face. “I grieved for ye. Mourned and ached…”

My tears only fell with more force at his words, and I had to let go of a sob before I could begin to form words. “Then why did you come?”

Jamie blinked and looked down at me, rearranging himself so that he could better fold me in his embrace. He squeezed me as tightly as he dared while composing himself enough to speak. “I returned a few months ago, to see what condition the property was in, now that I’m in a position to buy it back into the family.”

His voice sounded rough, right on the edge of tears. He paused to kiss my temple, and I sank into the sensation, into the reality that was Jamie holding me.

“Somethin’ drew me out to the river,” he continued, dropping his forehead against mine. “I dinna ken what it was, but I thought of ye and found my way to the strawberries. I wanted to think of ye in the place where it was only ever the two of us. I found yer message and I…”

When he paused this time, I reached up with both hands to hold onto his face. “You had hope again.”

Jamie nodded against me. “I didna ken how it could truly be you. Officers told me ye were in an explosion,” he managed to say, even though his voice grew strained and broke. “That they couldna even find anythin’ to send home to bury.” He’d gone pale and looked as if he wanted to vomit.

I shook my head, trying to somehow wrap my entire body around him. “Another unit found me. But no one knew where I’d come from. I was injured,” I explained, wetting my lips as fresh tears began to fall. “The attack forced everyone to move, and by the time I regained consciousness, I had no idea where you might have gone.”

His eyes were closed, a frown drawing his brows together as his hands skimmed up my back slowly. “Yer letters began returning to me unopened.”

His voice was nothing more than a whisper, but I could feel his words in my bones.

“The day after they told me ye’d died, Ian and I went on a raid. I had no mind to return alive if it meant being denied a chance to be wi’ ye.”

I felt my chest heave as a sob attempted to wrench its way free from my throat, but I swallowed it back as my hands held onto him in desperate reassurance that he wasn’t a figment of a dream.

“I was injured as well. Ian…”

He trailed off and I looked up at him, prepared to mourn the man I’d once thought would be my brother-in-law.

“There was a bombing. Thank Christ he lived, but he lost a leg.”

I looked Jamie over and ran my hands down his arms. All there.

“But there was a fire. My clothing, it...” He cleared his throat uneasily. “It melted to my skin. I dinnae remember anythin’ about it happening. No’ even before the fighting began.”

I didn’t have to ask what his last memory was. He’d gotten word that I was dead, and everything else had ceased to matter.

“I meant to die that day, a nighean.” His voice shook, but I still understood his words. “Always wondered why I hadn’t.”

I was powerless now to stop the whimper that cut through me as I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck. “I was out there. Looking for you.” I managed to pull myself together enough to explain everything to him — how I’d met Ned Gowan — but didn’t get much further.

“Is Jenny alright, Jamie?”

He smoothed a hand over my hair softly, nodding. “Aye, she’s well. I’ll tell ye everything, Claire, but right now, I...I need to look at ye, I need to see ye.”

I wasn’t sure if I would ever stop crying, but I pulled back so that he could see me fully. I took my own time looking into the face of the man I loved, taken aback by how the decade had changed him. He had more facial hair than he ever had before the war, just a touch or two below a full beard. Gone was the soft roundness of youth he’d still held onto before the draft. Now, he looked older — less like a farm boy, easy to laugh, and more like a hardened soldier with a sharper edge.

I wondered what he saw on my face.

When my eyes met Jamie’s again, I let myself believe, finally, that he was here.

“Claire.”

Apparently, he was convincing himself of the same thing.

“Ye’re real.”

I closed my eyes as two of his trembling fingers grazed my cheek. Then, he reached for my hand, the one with his first initial jaggedly etched into my palm. Slowly, his thumb moved over the scar before he spoke in an unsure, shaking voice. “I want...I would...verra much like to kiss ye.”

When I opened my eyes he was looking directly at me, tears on his lower lash line refusing to fall.

“May I?”

Knowing my own eyes were shining, I smiled so widely my cheeks hurt before nodding, leaning closer. “Yes.”

He leaned forward, pausing to wet his lips. “I havena done this in a verra long time.”

Before I could respond, Jamie’s lips grazed mine, and his hands fell away to drop down against my waist. One of my hands came to rest against his cheek, and I was powerless to stop my tears from falling. I could feel his dropping against my palm, and when I tasted salt on his lips, I couldn’t be sure whose tears they were.

“I saw ye so many times,” he breathed out raggedly once we parted. “Ye came to me so often...when I dreamed, sometimes. When I was in a fever. When I was so afraid and so lonely, I knew I must die.”

My hands paused their movement over his features as he spoke, my heart wrenching painfully in my chest. To know he’d been so ill, and I hadn’t been there — sorrow passed on my face even as he continued, his hand cradling my chin.

“Whenever I needed ye, I would see ye, smiling. Yer hair curled around yer face.”

I began to smile, but it died on my lips when he spoke once more.

“Ye never touched—”

His voice broke, and our foreheads came to rest together as our fingers twined.

“I can touch you now,” I whispered, nuzzling the side of his nose with the tip of my own. “If you give me a thousand words,” I began quietly.

Jamie let out a quiet, tearful laugh. “I’ll give ye a thousand kisses.”

We melted into one another once more, kissing with everything we’d tentatively held back before. My arms wrapped around him, and we kissed until we were breathless, only pulling back to take a few greedy gulps of air.

“Where were you, Jamie?” I finally asked, just as gathering clouds broke and a raindrop landed on the tip of my nose.

“I’ll tell ye,” he promised, patting my hip to stand. “Out of the rain.”

Rising, I reached for his hand and held it steady as he took it and pulled himself up. That swift movement was all he needed to pull me flush against him, kissing me again for all he was worth. The sound I released into his mouth was something between a whimper and a sob, and he responded in kind before finally pulling back as the sprinkling transitioned into a steady pour. Leading me by the hand to his vehicle (another truck, I realized happily), he opened the door and let me in, urging me to scoot across before he slid into the driver’s seat and pulled the door shut behind him.

For a few quiet seconds, we simply watched the rain come down over Lallybroch, the stone of the old home darkening in the damp. When Jamie reached for my hand again, I turned to find him already looking at me, and closed my fingers tightly over his.

“It took months for me to be able to do anythin’ other than lie on my stomach,” he began, and I covered our joined hands with my free one.

“Your back?”

“A ruint mess,” he admitted.

I shook my head and kissed his wrist. “You're alive, Jamie.”

“Only barely. I had an infection that nearly took me, before I was finally well enough to stand the flight to America.”

I blinked in confusion. “America?” Never had I thought to expand my search overseas, and I said so.

“I had nae reason to mention my Aunt Jocasta before. But when Da…” He paused to swallow, squeezing my hand. “Jenny wrote to her when she had nowhere else to go. Jocasta never thought she would see us again once she moved to the States, but our aunt has enough that she could take her in.”

My mind was swimming with new information, and as he spoke, I felt as though I only had more questions. Jamie anticipated them, it seemed, and raised my hand to his lips.

“I couldna find anyone while I was convalescing, so I wrote to everyone I could think of in the family.”

“You found Jenny when your Aunt Jocasta wrote back,” I surmised, closing my eyes and exhaling as events played out in my mind. I couldn’t imagine him weak and vulnerable, unable to move. It contrasted so starkly with how I’d always known him and as I saw him now: strong and solid.

“Aye,” he murmured, gathering me into his arms, unable to stand the foot of space between us. I went easily, pressing my ear firmly against his chest. I could hear his heartbeat, and when he spoke, I could feel the low vibration against my cheek.

“Ian was able to go before me. Was another two weeks or so before I was cleared.”

His voice took on a quieter, more subdued tone, and I tilted my head up to look at him.

My heart felt as though it had broken in my chest, snapped jaggedly in two.

There were tears on Jamie’s cheeks, falling silently as he held me as tightly as he dared. “I’ve no’ ever felt so alone, Sassenach,” he admitted shakily. “My da was gone, then Ian left and you were…” he swallowed and closed his eyes as fresh tears fell.

“Ye were lost to me, Claire.”

The tenuous hold both of us had on our emotions broke then, and as he wept, my own sob escaped ahead of tears. I could feel the way his large hands spanned the width of my back, and in an instant, I knew no one else could have ever made me feel so whole again.

“I kent ye were dead, and that I wanted to be.”

I’d spent so long thinking he was exactly that, and I shook my head in rejection of his words. At the same time, he seemed desperate to find my lips, tugging me away from his chest only to pull me up into a kiss. Our teeth clashed with the urgency of it, his hands helping me move until I was sitting in his lap, able to kiss and touch his face, both of us overcome with emotion. Only when thunder cracked, so loud it seemed to shake the truck, did we reluctantly part.

“Where are ye staying, Sassenach?” he asked me quietly, his nose nuzzling my temple.

“Mrs. Baird’s. Do you know it?”

As soon as I said the name, Jamie gave an owlish blink before exhaling what might have been a laugh under different circumstances. “Truly?”

Confused, I nodded. “I rented a room when I arrived. Why?”

“That’s where I’ve come from. I have a room too, left directly there and came here.”

Now, I matched his awed expression. “We slept under the same roof last night.”

Closing his eyes, Jamie pulled me close again, his forehead pressing to mine. “Perhaps our minds grieved wi’ little to no information to go on,” he suggested, finding one of my hands and tangling our fingers together. “But our hearts were already together again.”

I reached out with my free hand and traced his bottom lip with my thumb. “Take me there, Jamie,” I requested quietly before sliding back into the passenger seat.

There was more to talk about, more to learn about one another and how we’d lived in our time apart.

But it would all have to wait until we caught up with our souls.

#outlander #outlander fic #jamie x claire #strawberry wine #my fic

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shirophantomvox · 4 years ago

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Lotor's Nanny

Hello y’all! I am back yet again with another Voltron short fiction! I got this prompt from @vld-prompts and this one is great! Some dialogue in this are mixed quotes from the show. The prompt is: “Dayak comes to Galra HQ unexpectedly.” The link shows the reference I used in this story. Its somewhat the same, I changed some elements and dialogue. I mentioned the Code of Ethics because some companies do not allow in-dating. That means you cannot date one of your coworkers. This story has been on my mind for a while and it came out better than I expected! I hope you all like it. Be sure to follow me for more writing content!

Team Voltron slowly walked across the bridge of Galra HQ formerly known as Zarkon’s ship. Chills ran down their spines as they approached the now Emperor Lotor and his staff. Right above them were tapestries filled with light purple, white, and yellow; the same colors the paladins of old had. The expression on Lotor’s face was the complete opposite of his new comrades. The paladins had been through enough; their lives could end at this very moment and to think they blindly walked into Galra HQ? Thank God, Lotor didn’t have any tricks up his sleeve...or did he?

Lotor approached the Paladins with open arms aimed at Princess Allura; hoping she’d give him a hug and not leave him looking like a fool. Reluctantly, she embraced him softly, barely placing her arms fully around his back. That was good enough, for now. She backed up quite smoothly, lifted her head, and looked at the tapestries that hung above her head. They all gasped and at the beauty and detail of them. The yellow had thin lines of dark yellow as the outline. They glistened in the spotlights because of the white glitter that was in its place. Lotor smiled large, folded his arms, and lifted his head. This was his time to shine and he was ready to do so.

“The colors you see before you are the same ones that our fathers used while battling. These colors represent friendship, leadership, and an emphasis on an unbreakable bond. Although the unbreakable bond didn’t workout well the first time, I’m certain it will now.”

Lotor’s smile slowly faded as he glanced directly in between Allura and Shiro. “Lover Boy” Lance McClain came storming between the two, stood toe to toe with him, and pointed his lengthy index finger in his face.

“Lance, that’s rude! What are you doing?!” Allura’s tone wasn’t her usual sweet, calm reflection but instead more like an irritated mother. She had been used to Lance’s irrational fears but this was TOO FAR for her. She developed feelings for Lotor, she is one of the leaders of Voltron, and having him misbehave insulted her leadership skills.

“Don’t worry, princess. I just want to make sure he doesn’t have any tricks up his sleeve.”

Lotor arrogantly chuckled quietly to himself. Although Lance appeared to be the airhead surfer boy, he took his role as paladin and valued his team seriously. They had been ambushed several times by Zarkon, his father. They have every right to be paranoid even if Allura didn’t think so. One thing that irked the team was her sense of trustworthiness. She hated Lotor simply because he was truly a threat and was Zarkon’s son but once she found out he was half Altean, it appeared as if she did anything he said. She fell for him; hard and that isn’t always good.

“I assure you, I am not here to play games or have any “tricks up my sleeve”. Trust me, if I did, you would know about it already. I am more skilled than you. There’s no need to lie.”

“As much as I would love to believe you Lotor, the Galra aren’t the ones to ‘turn the other cheek’. They keep fighting and fighting until they die.” Hunk began to sweat a little as his nerves began to run amuck.

“Hunk has a point. Why all of a sudden are we teaming up with Zarkon’s son to fight against his own empire that your the head of? It doesn’t sound right.”

“If Pidge agrees with me, it must be a set up.” Lance turned around and allied himself with the rest of the team. They were not pleased at all. Could it be a possibility that they were being paranoid? Is it wrong that they haven’t given him a chance to prove himself? Lotor released an irritated sigh, closed his eyes, and opened them again.

“I assure you, I have nothing to hide.” He snapped his fingers and two robots came at his side quickly. “If you all don’t mind, we are going to HQ and we will have a chat about what our next steps are going to be.”

The centurions led the way to HQ. On the way there, it was quiet and awkward; the only ones that were talking were Allura and Lotor. He had a large binder open with pages and pages of scientific research that Honerva had been using to figure out information regarding the creatures from the rift. Both were so intrigued by the findings that they began to pick up speed next to the centurions, leaving the team a bit behind. Allura took hold of the binder to find something specifically related to Oriande relating to “life givers”. Lotor began to close the space between the two placing his arm around her waist and gently placing his hand around her thigh. Lance was about to blow his fuse! Pidge and Hunk reassured him that Allura has stated several times before that she is not interested in dating him. It would be unprofessional; Lotor and Allura were considered to be allies. If they dated they’d be violating the Code of Ethics...somewhere.

“If she wouldn’t be interested in dating him, why isn’t she throwing his arm off her?”

“Lance, I haven’t dated yet but I know something about girls.” She pushed her glasses closer to her face and pointed in the air. “Some girls just entertain the behavior in the moment so the guy doesn’t flip out. They also do it so the man’s ego won’t get hurt. Both reasons are stupid and unhealthy but that is why. I have no idea why a man’s ego is so easily destroyed just because a girl rejected his passes.”

“Good question. It makes the good guys look bad.” Hunk stuck his finger in the air and smiled. “I’ll always treat my woman like a queen!”

The team had finally reached HQ. Lotor suddenly became quiet and stood still. He squinted his eyes, frowned, and slowly moved away from them. Once he approached his subject, his eyes widened. There was a tall woman dressed in long black clothing, her head covered, with her back turned. She had two blue binders that said “memories” on the binding side and an old cloth blanket. The emperor face palmed himself quietly backing away instructing the team to leave HQ quickly without making a sound. As soon as the robots began to move, the woman turned around, gasped and yelled his name.

“Lotor!”

“Goodness gracious,” he replied quickly under his breath.

The woman came walking towards him with a smile of endearment. He could now see the front of the binders and nearly lost his mind. He blushed at the sight and glanced back at her. She laughed, assuring him that she was moving his belongings to another part of the ship.

“Oh, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Embarrassed about what?”

Lotor changed his expression and turned around. Still blushing, he managed to smile.

“This is Dayak, my governess. She raised me when I was a child, trained me, and helped me become the man I am today.”

“Barely,” Lance blurted out. He snapped his head and smiled oddly at Lotor. Lance was able to put two and two together and realized what he was embarrassed about.

“Wait, wait, wait. She raised you from a child? As in your nanny?!”

“Governess!” The emperor face palmed again, not able to look in Allura’s direction.

Why would ANYONE want their old photos to be shown to anyone they liked?!

“Oh boy, you had a nanny! Oh my goodness, I didn’t have one!”

“That’s why you're lacking in so many areas. Can’t you tell?” He began to flex his arm, showing the implied muscles through his shirt.

“That’s all you’ve got? At least mine are real!”

“Mine are too! You look like you’ve been using steroids!”

“Steroids? How do you know what those are? You’re an alien.”

“Ok, Lance, that’s enough. Dayak was going to speak,” Shiro said, somehow not irritated. Given the chaotic life he has, this was nothing but pure entertainment.

“Thank you. True enough I am this young emperor’s governess and I did far more than nanny duties. Lotor underwent intense training at the age of 6 years old. Many doubted his abilities but I knew he had it in him.”

“Thank you, Dayak.”

“Lotor, don’t hate me for this. Dayak, what are in the books that you are holding?” Hunk was generally curious and had no ill intent in asking unlike Lance. Still, Lotor was pained to see what was in those books. His style would have definitely been cramped.

“I’ll show you if it’s ok with the emperor.”

Lotor sighed heavily and threw his hand in the air.

“Yes, it's ok.”

Everyone gathered around his governess as she opened one of the books. The font read “Memorable Moments” and God knows what was in them. The team released a number of “awws”, “wows”, and “oohs” . Dayak, the nanny--governess, smiled as she turned each page remembering how cute the emperor looked in his formal clothing and how hot she looked when she was younger. This stage in his life would have happened matter what; Honerva would have done the same thing.

“This picture was taken after Lotor learned the Galran alphabet, vowel sounds, and numbers.”

“Wow! Lotor used to take a stuffed animal to class?” Hunk laughed. “Ha!”

“I was afraid, ok? I was all by myself.”

“And no one is shaming you for it buddy! Well, maybe Lance, but we aren’t.”

“This picture was taken during PE class. He loved to play buckets. I thought he was going to pursue somewhat of an athletic career!”

“I have to admit, he gets his muscles from Zarkon.”

“Aw. Thank you Princess.”

“That’s not a compliment dude.”

The emperor realized that the old photos of him weren’t so bad after all. They were milestones; it showed how well he has progressed and how he will continue. These were his allies after all. It was important for them to see him during his softer moments to know that they could talk to him about anything.

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webeattheuniverse2to1 · 3 years ago

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Tell me a lie, I’ll believe you

CHAPTER 6

Time ... how many times have we wished it to pass quickly?

When we get bored, we want time to be in a second. But, if we stop and think ... for what?

Why do we want to escape those situations? What awaits us? What's after?

Instead, we should stop and enjoy those moments. The moments that we consider less significant.

The ones we believe we can have forever. That will never end. Do you know what they are called? Happy Island. But I call them limbo. The calm before the storm. The light before the dark. The day before the night. We know how long they will last, because we know when they end. But we can't know when the night will end.

We can only commit ourselves to survive, in the memory of the light.

And curse us for not having fully savored those moments, wishing they would pass.

And now? Here is the answer? We still needed time.

The first time was at Kepner's wedding. Even though she hadn't used the words "will you marry me" directly, she meant that. And he was angry when she said she wasn't ready. Not 'no', but she just wasn't ready.

The second time ... well, that was a disaster.

He thought she was ready. But she wasn't. In fact, it wasn't that, just 'I can't'. He could not. Those words were like a punch in the stomach. She didn't tell him why, but she just couldn't.

The third time ... there was no question. It was just 'no'.

Not 'I'm not ready'. Not 'I can't'. Only no.

Take or leave.

Stay or go.

And he made the mistake of choosing the latter.

And he curses himself for doing it.

If he had listened to her, if he hadn't forced her ... now maybe everything would be different.

If he and he alone listened to her, they could both take the day off the next day so she could tell him everything.

Today they could have been together.

Instead they shot her.

Weather. Here's what he wanted. He still wanted time with her, to be with her. To be able to stand by her, listen to her talk about hospital gossip over and over ... those talks he never paid much attention to. But he should have done it. What would he give him to be able to hear her laughter again echoing through the loft walls.

The loft. That landfill she had bought for them, so they could be alone and where to start building a life together.

Alex thinks about this as he walks into the loft after two weeks.

He didn't want to leave Jo, but she had been taken to the operating room so that the others could understand how far the infection was. He wanted to stay close to her, but in the end he was forced. How could he go against Bailey? So now he finds himself there. It feels so empty without her. As if something is missing. Alex sighs, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge, looking around. The couch. The one she had bought for him with the money she won on the bet. The kitchen. Where he had failed miserably several times to cook something. He chuckles at the thought as their whole story passes by. Blurred images of Jo disappear as a lone tear escapes his eye. He turns behind him to look at her side of the bed. He forcibly closes her eyes, bringing her eyebrows closer together, warding off tears.

When he opens them, he takes a deep breath. Suddenly his sense of oppression seems to crush him as he quickly gets up, throws his clothes into a duffel bag and walks away.

He can't be without her. And if she doesn't survive ... he doesn't know if he'll be able to live there.

An hour later, he is in the gallery above Jo's operating room. They had tried to stop him, but nothing could be done. They couldn't keep him away.

He was watching intently, but then decided to turn on the intercom. "How is her?" he asks. "Karev, what the heck are you doing up there?" Bailey asks, without looking up at her. "Bailey, come on, how is Jo?" he asks more and more impatient. She sighs, looking at Jackson across the table. "All in all, better than we expected. But, Alex, we don't have to rush. The drugs are working, but the infection is still there." Alex nods, sitting down on one of the chairs behind him.

Ten minutes later, they are ready to shut down when the monitors start ringing. Alex leaps to her feet, almost shouting over the intercom. "What is happening?!" "Heart rate is dropping!" Avery yells. Soon after, the heart rate monitor line flattens out. "Start compressions!" "Prepare the plates!" Bailey stops with the compressions, but there is no heartbeat. "Nothing, load at 200!" she says, placing the plates on Jo's chest. "Clear!" she shakes her head when there is no result. Avery resumes compressions as they prepare the plates again. "Ok, load up to 250! Clear!" they are all looking at the monitor, which continues to mark the flat line.

Then suddenly the frequency increases and the heartbeat resumes. Alex runs a hand over his forehead, leaning against the glass. Everyone in the room sighs with relief. "Well, now let's close ...! And, Jo, don't play tricks like that anymore ..." Bailey sighs, taking the thread from the nurse.

Once again, Alex puts on her gloves, mask and scrub before entering Jo's room. Even if he was improving, they shouldn't let their guard down, because at this moment it would take little to make the situation degenerate.

He stops in her doorway, watching her. She looks different to him. She is different from the energetic and perky Jo he was used to. She was ... different. Paler than usual. She seemed more worn out than a few days ago. "Hey ..." he is shaken by her thoughts from her submissive voice. He looks at her, a faint smile gracing her face. He smiles back at her, moving closer to her. "Hey ... how are you feeling?" he asks cautiously. "I've been better ..." she says in a faint voice. He gives her her usual crooked smile, even though he's not sure she can see it through the mask. He places his hand on her cheek, gently stroking her with her thumb, looking at her softly.

"How did the surgery go ...?" she asks. He sighs, trying to stay optimistic. "Well ... it went well ... you are healing, it will take some time, but you will be fine ...!" he reassures her. She looks him directly into her eyes, sighing. "You can't tell ..." "Oh, I do ...!" she frowns "Alex, you know I may not make it ... I may have been fine before I was seriously ill ... what are the chances that I will fully recover ...? We are doctors, you know it could happen ..." " Jo- "" Alex, "she says, taking his hand with what little energy she has left. "Please ... don't have too many illusions that I'll make it ... I don't want you to feel bad for me ... you can go if you want, I'll understand ..." "Shut up ...!" he says bluntly, taking them back to that night in the storm. "I'm not leaving you, for nothing in the world, okay? I don't want to leave to never see you again. I don't want to be without you ...! I don't want to live without you ...! I won't go away. And I know that you won't either ...! You won't die, you'll be fine because I need you! I don't want a wife, I don't want children, I don't want a house with a white fence without you! I don't want to give up on you. You are all I need. You will be fine, you will live, okay? Because I don't want to wake up in the morning without you by my side. I don't want to see movies sitting on our sofa without you next to me. I want to try to put together a dinner without you laughing. I don't want to have children if you're not by my side. I don't want to have a wife if this isn't you. I don't need anything, just you Jo! " he says, wiping the tears from her face as she leans into her touch. "I was wrong, Jo. I shouldn't have cared. I shouldn't have given you an ultimatum. I shouldn't have left, but I should have listened to you. And I know you don't want me to blame, but all of this ... I feel it's my fault .. . I shouldn't have left you, and I swear to God, I will never, never again. Because you are worth everything and more Jo, really. That night I was serious. To me you are everything. I love you, Jo. And I don't have I need marriage, I don't want it. I want you. And if you want the same ... well, then you don't need to be married, just be together. After all, that's marriage, isn't it? 'each other for life. For better or for worse. Health and disease. Forever. I promise you, Jo. Forever. I will not leave you. " she giggles in tears, putting all her strength together and placing a hand on her cheek, looking into her eyes and nodding. "If ... if this is marriage ... that's what I want ...!" their submissive laughter mirrors as Alex presses his forehead against hers. "I really wish I could kiss you right now ..." she whispers to him. He chuckles at her, stroking her cheek. "Rest now ... I'll be here when you wake up," she says. "Do you promise?" "I promise," she assures her. When she thinks she is asleep, she whispers "I love you too Alex".

In the end ... after dark the light goes back to spending. After the night the sun will rise again. The bad times ... well, those will always be there, but they last forever.

#jolex #jolex fanfic #jo wilson #alex karev #greys anatomy

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talietikasero · 3 years ago

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Stability

Random prompt from 8/11 [finished 8/16]: rewrite the Strive ending / create an alternate epilogue [to line up with my story project]. I may or may not rewrite the whole thing for fun lmao.

[Main story preview here (contains 6 scenes)] // [Chapter 1 now on AO3]

"I guess... that's what they meant..." She let out between huffs. Both the voice in her head and the former Sanctus Maximus Populi said the same thing regarding her potential ability.

“When the time comes, with your seed, you hold the power to save or destroy the world.”

“You can prevent the end of it all.”

Energy drained, she fought off the sluggish pace her body was moving. Looking over to her partner, she noticed he was barely hanging on to his life, staying incredibly still, and trying to regulate his breathing while facing down. While her body contained the [Scales of Juno], he had the [Flame of Corruption] ripped out from his, reverting him to a human. "On second thought, don't move." Once she closed the distance between them, she knelt and put her arms around him. Face against the scuffed leather sleeve, and she struggled to hold her emotions in. "H-hey..." Voice cracking, she lowly muttered between sniffles, "please, don't go..."

"..."

"You... you stayed true to... your word about... a-about..."

"..."

"Fighting to... s-save the world..."

"If the world was going to disappear tomorrow... What would you do today?"

"What kind of a question is that? Stop whatever's ending the world or die trying."

Her embrace tightened as tears ran down her face. "Human, Gear, or neither. The world still needs you."

With drooped ears and saddened eyes, the wolf spirit whined. Its host and companion soothed it by scratching behind its ears and reassuring the worst had come to pass. "(It's okay, Rei. We're still alive.)." She whispered to the spirit in her native tongue. Another whine followed by a lick to the side of her face, Giovanna patted Rei's forehead. "What? Are you worried about me? I'm okay, I swear." She winced as another sharp pain ran through her body. "Ouch..." Her superior, the President, placed a hand on her shoulder. Half-expecting him to say she's no longer needed, she began, "I'm sorry-..."

"None of that." Vernon's voice was firm; however, it sounded... fatherly. He may have his doubts about the agent, but he knew she was more than capable of the job. Facing off against an unstoppable force, she did prove she's worth giving a higher position. "I can tell what you were thinking, but you're not being let go. You take as much time as you need off, Gio. Goldlewis, Erica, and I will await your return."

Saddened at the loss of someone he could consider a friend, the time traveler meekly looked down at the minty green and white guitar he held in his hands. This entire time he was unaware of her true identity. If he had to lose someone like her, it didn't have to be this way. Regardless of if she recalled who he was and why he was important to her in the first place, false memory or not. He threw away his chance to return home a while ago, and now he felt that it would've been for nothing had he gone through with it. "It shouldn't have ended like this... Megumi." Axl softly said under his breath.

After regaining control over his body and revealing the wicked goddess's weak point, the vampiric samurai pierced the ground a few centimeters with his sword. He kneeled to show his appreciation for defeating the evil force that used him as a puppet. Now, he could see why his master was fascinated by the will of a single person. This same person was stripped of his powers and still faced death head-on. "May you rest for now. The next time we meet, it won't be as enemies, but acquaintances." Drawing his blade from the ground, Nagoriyuki sheathed it and took his leave.

The King of Illyria – his lifelong rival and their son-in-law – made his way over to them, stopping a few feet short to maintain distance. "It's finally over. They're gone. We can... we can go home now." Part of him wanted to hold a hand out to help him stand, yet he held back and deemed that action unnecessary. Ky's spirits rose once he noticed the man in front of him was taking steady deep breaths -- body slowly moving to show signs of life.

Right hand maintaining its grip on the Outrage's handle, his free hand lightly grasped one of hers. Face still downward, a weak smile formed. "...You think so?"

She couldn't believe it. He's hanging by a thread and using what energy he should be saving to answer her with a question of his own.

"I know so."

The past three weeks were a blur. From the day she woke up and adjusted to this new world to the present, where she aided in bringing down a god. She never would've guessed that any of these events could've transpired. In the days leading up to September 2016, she was a terminally ill scientist who refused any life-saving alternative to live past what little time she had left, insisting she spent it with her significant other. Fast forward to December 2187, and she was brought back to life and became the partner of humanity's savior -- the very same person, albeit for the last time.

_____

The next day, another patient was checked into the hospital. This time there wasn’t a commotion caused by bringing his unconscious form bursting through the front doors. She wasn’t strong enough to carry him in her arms like he held her – that’s what the gurney from the airship’s infirmary wing was for.

“I have a request. May I stay here until he recovers? I… I don’t want to leave him.”

Three days later, word had reached his family that he's – miraculously and defying all odds – alive. His refusal to follow the light after what had happened was attributed to his stubborn nature. The Grim Reaper knocked at his door, and he slammed it shut in their face. Occupying the same bed, in the same patient room as her around a month ago, the now de-powered hero lay hooked up to the vitals system.

"Is he going to be alright?"

"Hard to say, but he'll pull through. He did wake up this morning, so there's something, yeah?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but has anyone seen my mother? About my height, short red hair with white underneath, and wearing a blue leather jacket? She hasn't been seen since everyone returned."

"She's in the room and hasn't left at all. I had someone stop by the house and bring her spare clothes since she spent the last four days here."

"Oh, thank god." The queen was relieved to know her mother's whereabouts. She respected her parents' privacy by not asking if she was able to go in.

---

Ring-ring. Ring-ring. Ring-ring-ring.

Sighing in aggravation, she answered her phone. There was only one person she kept in contact with these past few days. "What do you want now? He's still not up, so stop cal-..."

"I was going to ask something else. I'm going to regret this, but are you still angry?"

"You're a smart man to keep your distance from me, but a dumbass to ask that. Of course, I am! You ruined our lives with your 'self-righteousness' and nearly brought another apocalypse."

"...Aria, I understand your rage. If only I could rewind time and prevent your illness. I shouldn't have forcibly converted him and disappeared with your sleep capsule. It wasn't my intention to have our research weaponized, but I was figuratively and literally held at gunpoint to hand it over to the US Government. I should've known better and anticipated that Chaos -- erm, the Original's creation would sabotage your activation. Your screams still haunt me... and... I'm... I'm sorry."

"Asuka."

"I can't fix this by excessively apologizing and listing off my crimes, but I hope everything goes well for you and Frederick."

"Whatever. Enjoy the moon, or don't." She ended the call before her former friend could reply. "Asshole." Aria slumped back in the chair and opened her book to the page she left off. "We should've launched you into the sun."

"Oh my. And I thought 'Sol' was a hothead. You're pretty harsh, you know that? It's more frightening than I-No on a good day." Jack-O's voice rang through. Capable of feeling and expressing emotions herself, the Valentine was taken aback at what she heard during their calls. "If possible, can we listen to his show sometime? Please?"

"...Okay."

"Thank you. ~"

---

Forty minutes after the heated conversation, a groggy voice broke the silence.

"Is the... afterlife a sterile... hospital room?" Frederick's eyes were half-open, staring directly at the ceiling.

Aria closed what she was reading and placed it on the counter. Ignoring the monitors that once kept track of her, she looked over his body to see minimal damage sustained. "Looks like you've still got some of that healing factor. Or you're just too hardheaded to die."

He slightly turned his head to face her. "Heh. Probably both."

Running a hand through his now short hair, her lips curved into an unsure smile. "Welcome back to the land of the living?"

"This doesn't look like heaven. If you're my welcome guide, then I'll stay." His body was still sore, but he extended his arm out for her to hold his hand. The warmth from the fire magic still dwelling within them made their contact feel safer.

"I should've worn that jumpsuit and halo." Her inner voice's reaction was an exaggerated throat clear. "But if I did," she held a finger to her temple, "I don't think she would've appreciated that."

"I would've been mildly annoyed at best. Mildly annoyed yet honored that you'd wear it because of what you did."

"You're really pissed off at Asuka, aren't you?"

"How much did you hear?"

"All of it. Didn't know you were capable of that."

"I felt like you after the second day." He took that as a friendly poke at his history. "Since you've saved the world for the last time, are you still up for that 'alternate life' you mentioned the other night? We don't have to stay at Ky and Dizzy's. They can arrange something for us."

His ears perked up at the suggestion. Did she remind him about his statement regarding them settling down? Having survived an act of God, living a quiet life together a few minutes out from the capital didn't sound like a terrible idea. "What did you have in mind?"

"A fair-sized home, nothing too big or small, probably just down the way from their place. I don't want to throw everything away and live in seclusion. We're way out of our own time, but we finally have a family, people who care about us, and we care about them in return. Unless you have a better idea?"

"I'm fine with anything. Can't imagine I'd be able to go out much or at all because I'm officially a dead man."

"Not too long ago, I was a dead woman walking. Besides, the world thinks that Sol Badguy is dead, not Frederick Bulsara."

"Point there. You know, now that I think about it, this situation is just like a month ago."

"With you in my place, but I didn't have to be dragged in? This is the same room where I spent my time recovering. It was also -..."

"Where you got your new start."

"Y-yeah. That's exactly it. This is where I woke up to my new life! Not as Justice, or Jack-O, but as myself. That same day, I met our daughter and her husband, and then I saw you again. Just this time... I've been here since you were checked in. Everyone tried to get me to leave, but I refused."

He noticed the duffel bag placed near the door. There was a pant leg hanging over one side of the unzipped bag, and next to it were two pairs of footwear. "Way to tug at the old heartstrings. Stubborn as always, aren't you?" If he were honest with himself, he wanted to do the same when she was still unconscious. He had the feeling that the IRMC staff wouldn't have thought about asking him to leave the premises, even though he almost kicked the doors clean off the first time.

"One of my best qualities." She winked at him, giggling at her remark.

"Hey, Aria."

"Hm?"

He slowly sat up despite the mild pain, leaning over to bring her in for a hug. "Thank you."

Aria returned the motion, both holding onto each other, not wanting to let go. She had felt incomplete up until this moment. Preventing the end was a combined effort, and she couldn’t be any happier to have been a part of that team.

A sense of déjà vu, the song playing on the radio had neared its end.

You are all I long for All I worship and adore In other words, please be true In other words...

"I love you."

#guilty gear #aria hale #only tagging her since she's the main character of this little project #other characters in this mini prompt: sol axl giovanna nagoriyuki and vernon #also ky asuka and jack-o #the main fic's about 90 percent done #and i wrote this because i hit writer's block for two days #i'm ending the main fic's chapter 3 at the beginning of ggst so i may do some more rewrites #the song at the end is the brenda lee version of fly me to the moon #nat's fanfics #ah whoopsie it's 5am #by the energy drain i intended for her to jump into god i-no's body like in the actual story mode #but then she was torn out after starting the halting process

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omgkalyppso · 4 years ago

Text

Honeyed Words

How many fics have this title? Probably a million. I wrote something featuring @esaari‘s tes breton oc Philip, and my imperial oc Oretia. Enjoy!

The grass was cold and wet from vestiges of the midnight frost puddling under the weight of the midday sun. Summer at Winterhold. The worst possible time to be a tome, or scroll, or a visitor. Inside the College, papers were kept magically dry and well kept, but as soon as you stepped one foot into the city, everything wilted with the humidity, including the people.

The citizenry was more amenable to the mages and their initiates since the reconstruction, after the civil war, but that did not forestall all of their prejudices, Philip had noticed. They phrased their suspicions of foreigners, of which he was no longer considered, as warnings of unstable mountaintops, roads that were thin with ice and awaiting unwary travelers, and beasts that roamed beyond their hibernal caves, but he heard the truth behind every bitter courtesy. ‘You are as unwelcome by the land as by our hospitality,’ they cried.

It was why they still lacked a dedicated blacksmith, a tanner, a wheelwright, fishermen — and Nine help that poor dentist who’d tried to move in four months past.

There were new bodies to fill the houses that had been built — carpenters and farmhands, tailors and midwives, but it was no wonder they still had to rely so heavily on the summer caravans.

The largest of the year was present now, the one that circled from Windhelm to Whiterun and Dawnstar, leaving Winterhold with both the last selection from Windhelm and the benefit of what the caravan had collected on its journey, just before they finished their circle and headed back home. The gamut of their venture was nearly complete, and so Philip felt triply insulted by the price being demanded of him to carry scroll and missive — which included a painstaking transcription of an extremely valuable book — to the new astrologer in Windhelm.

“Thirty gold is more than fair,” he insisted. “Twenty would cover a gold a day for the service, and fourteen was the cost last year.”

“Thirty might be fair,” replied the nord man, who was clearly dealing with other problems — but none of them were Philip’s, “but eighty is the cost.”

“Set by you, unreasonably.”

“Are you calling me unreasonable, my lord?” The title had been wrong, but Philip’s choice of words had been fumbling. He needed this, it was important.

“I misspoke. Surely, you are a man who knows his worth and his services, and so, you must know, that it is not up to the College to champion the losses of your caravan. You are headed to Windhelm anyway. I will offer forty, far more than you’d require.”

The nord nodded to someone standing outside of Philip’s periphery, and his shoulders tensed. The temptation to invoke others to grant weight to his title and his person was present, for he was on good terms with his Thane and his Jarl, and Skyrim’s champion of the war; but so too was he Archmage now, and whatever his personal insecurities, knew that he demanded his own respect. He shrugged his elbow towards the person who approached from his side, striking them, if lightly.

“I am not some common miscreant. Do not look to demean me. There are other couriers.”

“Then find one,” replied the nord.

Philip looked to the imperial woman at his side as she spoke and frowned in surprise. She was hobbling a little, unsteady on her feet, and not the manner of muscle he’d expected the nord to be summoning.

“And I wasn’t hired to help with customer service, Herknir. This doesn’t look like a case of banditry.” Her accent was thick and southern, and Philip flinched to look at her more directly as despite her words she still laid a hand upon him — but it was gentle, so much so that he couldn’t even feel it through his robes, on his upper arm, a signal to wait and not a reprimand. Philip took a step away from her anyway, disinterested in her reassurance.

“Take the illustrious Archmage for a walk, Oretia. I can smell the enchantments on him, and I won’t risk the safety of our men to the whims of secret, magical documents without collateral.” Philip blanched, he hadn’t expected Herknir to be thinking of anything beyond what he could get with the money. Herknir pointed a finger at him, to further cement his point, “If it were a message from one of your initiates back to their parents or their sweetheart in Windhelm, then that is one service; but you should know that your time is worth more, and you should be prepared to pay more in the future. Cool your head. Try Tilly’s honey-pops, and come back to me when you’re willing to talk business.”

“Sorry about him,” Oretia sounded exasperated, and Philip had to wonder if she had felt suitably chastised by Herknir over the course of her time with the man, as he did now, sent for a walkabout like a petulant child — though one who had been flirting with the crackle of magic on the edge of his fingers. “And me, I had assumed you were a nobleman. I should not have placed my hand upon you.”

“It is nothing,” Philip assured her, dismissing the perceived insult with a smile — tickled by the idea that she would more readily lay her hands on a Thane. They wove their way through a crowd, where the locals parted naturally by his presence. There was nowhere for Oretia to hide her stumbling.

“But perhaps I owe you an apology? Did I set you so off-balance?”

“Oh!” she laughed. “No, I— My legs are sore. I’d spent the last four days climbing up and down your mountains.”

Philip snorted, infected by his companion’s good humor. “Whatever for?”

She sighed, smiling, wistful. “To see my sister. It had been a few years and she’s settled up there. I thought that, seeing her would make it easier to accept, but now I’m less sure than ever about leaving; but you don’t need to hear about that. What was Herknir so upset about? Do you really have secret, magical documents?”

The way she exaggerated the word was light, teasing, and free of ill-will Herknir had managed to fit into the word.

“I—” Philip scoffed, “I suppose I do. The documents themselves aren’t magical, but few things that leave the College can be described otherwise.”

“Secretive?” Oretia prompted.

“For certain,” Philip assured her.

She seemed to take a measure of him then, a once over with suspicious eyes. Philip wondered what she saw.

“I could leave you now,” she suggested, tilting her head. “I rather doubt you need my company.”

Philip thought of the trader and patrons, and wondered whether for the moment she might need his. He wondered if she was asking for the freedom of privacy or to socialize with a friend from the caravan, but outside the College and inside Winterhold, his friends felt ever fewer, and Oretia had been friendly enough as to prove distracting from his other worries.

“There are a great many things I don’t need, but enjoy regardless. Of course, you’re free to go, and I’ll make my way back to Herknir in due time, but if you’d like to point me towards those honey-pops…?”

Philip felt any lingering stress melt off his shoulders when Oretia brightened.

“They’re very sweet, but delicious,” she insisted, directing them now with purpose. “There are some with raspberries caked in which are wonderful in tea, but they’re just as fine as a little delight.”

Philip bought ten for a gold piece, a strange assortment of things to pocket, even wrapped in wax paper as they were, but Oretia was right, they were good, as the two of them found a bench shielded by the cold of the sea, but still hidden by the warmth of the sun, as they each enjoyed one of the candies for a few silent seconds.

There was something about the way others seemed to have more time for trysts, and he wondered whether another person might take this time to proposition their companion. The pair of them with lips flush and spit slick from their choice in dessert, people might even think they had done something elicit when they returned to the main road. The air was thick and the blossoms were sweet, and Philip wondered whether he’d simply been surrounded by familiar faces for too long, that the blush upon a stranger’s cheeks would send his mind so far from his original intentions. He pat himself down, confirming the location of his missives, before plucking the honey-pop from his lips and assuring Oretia, “Thought I’d dropped something.”

He sighed, resting his hands on his knees. “Tell me about your sister? Might I know her?”

“No,” Oretia answered quickly. “Wylla Cosmotius — err, Wylla Ienith now, I suppose. She might have spent some time here, but wouldn’t have made a name for herself. Found the Shrine of Azura by accident, and then spent a few years “adventuring,” or whatever you might call it, with the priestess, to whom she’s now married.”

“Cosmotius?” Philip echoed. “‘Of the stars?’”

“Mm,” Oretia hummed in agreement. “A name I imagine Wylla was glad to be rid of. Pretentious ancestors. Not that the title of Archmage is any less assuming.”

“I?” Philip hesitated. “I didn’t choose that. And it’s practical, the position is what the title says, I oversee other mages, and am one myself.”

“I didn’t say it was wrong, I said—”

“You implied it was pretentious.”

“And you became defensive,” Oretia observed, amused. “Is my good opinion so important?”

“As important as any other,” Philip said, dismissive, shrugging. “There are a lot of things said about The Archmage, meaning both myself and my predecessors. I do my best to improve those rounds of gossip.”

“I apologize, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know.”

Oretia bumped a knee against him. She went on, “My sister went through a lot, as a mercenary and … well as an imperial in Skyrim during the civil war. When I was a child I would think of how one day marriage might separate us, but I hadn’t expected to be lost to her when she needed me before that. To be treated as a guest, and not as family, when I would see her again. I worry that she could die on that mountain, and if I were to be in Windhelm, I should never know.”

“And so you’re thinking of staying?” Philip remembered. “Do you ply a craft? There are still incentives to settle in Winterhold.”

“The city is known for surviving winters without me. I don’t know how useful I could be, or how interested people would be in buying leathers, or how abundant the game is year round for the purpose of gathering supplies. I feel I don’t know much of anything lately.”

“If it’s any consolation I find that to be more true with each passing year.”

“Even for the Archmage?”

“Especially for the Archmage,” Philip groaned. “There’s much to learn and more to discover. That’s why I need to see my post sent to Windhelm.”

“I could take it,” Oretia suggested.

“As a reason not to stay?” Philip inquired, furrowing his brow.

She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t just stay all at once. I have employment and friends and possessions. But I might come back. Settle. It wouldn’t hurt to be owed a favor by the Archmage.”

He hesitated, surprised and unsure. Philip wondered whether he could get her in trouble with Herknir, and whether she was even trustworthy to begin with.

“I couldn’t make a pact like that,” he said quickly, in regret.

“I’ll take the fourteen gold?” Oretia offered. “And no favor.”

“Thirty then,” Philip suggested. “And maybe dinner, if you return?”

#tes #skyrim #oc tag: oretia #long post #my writing #i made this #the fanfiction i mean #bless esaari's approval and excellent oc's #i'll probably write more of these two sometime #<3333333 #esaari's oc: philip

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avengerscompound · 5 years ago

Text

The Test

The Test: A Clintasha Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count: 3111

Rating: M

Square filled: @clintbartonbingo - G1 Missing Scene

Warnings: Sex talk, pregnancy scare, talk of past miscarriages and red room stuff, angsty, hurt/comfort

Synopsis: When Natasha wakes up feeling nauseated, she and Clint had to face the possibility that she might be pregnant. With the newness of their relationship and the fact that the Red Room has made it impossible for her to carry a baby to term, the three minutes it takes for the test to work are the longest of their lives.

A/N: After Natasha showed up in Rocket Raccoon with two of Clint’s kids I’ve been thinking about a story about how that happened considering in 616 Natasha can’t carry kids to term. Now with Katie Barton showing up too, this story of finding out Nat was pregnant came to me. I’m really happy with how it turned out.

The Test

Natasha woke completely engulfed in Clint’s arms. That’s how it had been since she’d started her relationship back up with the archer. It was like he was worried that during the night she’d disappear on him again and realize they weren’t meant to be together. Not that she could blame him for that. Their history was anything but smooth sailing but even at their worst, she had loved Clint Barton. He was her best friend. The only person who looked at her and saw the potential for what she could be despite her past, rather than a limited version of herself because of it. There were often times she didn’t think she could live up to the image Clint had her, but god damn if she didn’t want to when he looked at her the way he did. Even when he was married to someone else, or she was dating someone else, he never looked at her with anything other than the eyes of someone who truly believed in her.

They had always felt inevitable, but timing or their own messed up bullshit had gotten in the way. This … this felt different. Permanent. Home. She just hoped they didn’t mess things up again.

As much as she wanted to stay, wrapped in his well-toned arms, the bathroom called her. She slipped out of his embrace, pushing a pillow into his arms as he reached out to the once occupied space. She knew it wouldn’t keep him asleep for long but it would buy her some time in the shower alone before he hopped in behind her and it became about anything but getting clean.

She used the bathroom and hopped under the warm stream of the shower, letting it wash over her. It was a rare day where she didn’t need to be somewhere doing something. It was nice to be able to just enjoy it. She grabbed the shampoo and squeezed some into her palm. Something about the scent triggered her gag reflex. She dry heaved as she rinsed the soap from her hand, and staggered out of the shower, dropping to her knees and throwing up into the toilet.

Clint appeared behind her and pulled her hair back behind her head. “Are you okay, Nat?”

“No,” Natasha said, throwing up again as he rubbed her back. When her stomach finally seemed to settle, she sat back and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Pizdets. That came out of nowhere. I can’t even remember the last time I threw up.”

Clint helped her to her feet. “Maybe it was something you ate. Those shrimp tacos from that dodgy-looking food truck?”

“You had three times as many as me,” Natasha argued as she got into the shower. She used the water from the showerhead to rinse the taste of sick out of her mouth. “Why aren’t you sick?”

Clint stripped off his clothes and took out his hearing aids, putting them on the top of the medicine cabinet. He climbed in behind her and circled his arms around her. “Because I’m a manly man and you’re just a tiny girl.”

Natasha elbowed him. Hard. It made his foot slip out from under him and he pinwheeled his arms trying not to fall before Natasha caught him again. ‘Are you trying to make me kill you?’ she signed.

“Yeah, I was regretting that as the words were leaving my mouth.” He said a little too loudly.

Natasha let out a breath and leaned her head against his shoulder. She wondered if it was the tacos. She’d been feeling a little off for weeks now. Achy and ill. Like she was getting the flu. She stood back and looked up at Clint. ‘Maybe it wasn’t the tacos. Maybe I’m getting sick,’ she signed.

“Can you even get sick?” He asked.

She shrugged and turned away from him. Honestly, she didn’t think so. While the serum she had was flawed compared to Steve’s it had always kept her healthy. Maybe it had started to run its course now. Or maybe whatever she caught had been designed specifically to attack super-soldiers.

“Maybe you’re pregnant,” Clint teased, running his hands up Natasha’s sides. “Let me see.” He cupped her breasts and seemed to bounce them in his palms like he was trying to weigh them. “They do feel bigger.”

Natasha scowled and wheeled around on him as she tried to mentally count back to when she’d last had her period. She had never been great with birth control. The hormonal stuff worked for a little while and then the serum would start adjusting for it, and her body physically rejected any kind of implant. So there was just the barrier kind, and she’d remember that most of the time until things got comfortable. Normally it didn’t matter. The serum had made it hard for her to conceive anyway. But not impossible. “Don’t even joke about that!” She snapped, not even bothering to sign it, and trusting he got the tone in her voice by lip-reading alone.

“What?” Clint asked, a genuine look of confusion on his face. It was hard to keep her fear and anger directed at him. Besides, as far as he knew she was just infertile because of the Red Room. He didn’t know the dirty details.

She huffed, jumped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and dashed to the bedroom. She grabbed her phone and started going through her calendar to work out exactly how late she was. Clint appeared in the doorway, still dripping water, with a towel wrapped low on his hips as he put his hearing-aids back in. “What did I say, Nat?”

“Pregnant, Clint!” Natasha shouted. “I think I’m pregnant!”

Clint just stared at her with his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “What? What? What do you mean, Nat? You said you couldn’t?”

She dropped her gaze. “No,” she said. “I can. I have been before.”

“What?” Clint said. “Nat! You said! I would have been more careful!”

“I know, Clint!” She cursed under her breath. Just a string of random nonsensical swearing in various different languages, including Latin.

While Natasha was trying to figure out how exactly to explain to him how she’d fucked up, Clint’s face seemed to go through a whole emotional journey. Like he was experiencing the five stages of grief all at once but instead of settling on acceptance, he settled on a hopeful optimism. He moved to Natasha quickly and kneeled on the ground in front of her.

“But this is good,” Clint said, taking her hands in his. “Nat, if you are… you get to be a mom like you wanted. That’s good isn’t it?”

Natasha felt a very unfamiliar sensation in her eyes. Was she about to cry? Was Clint’s hopeful little puppy face about getting to have kids with her going to make her cry? She rubbed her eyes in frustration and shook her head. “You don’t understand, Clint.”

“Is it me? You don’t want to have kids with me?” He dropped his hands and flopped back onto his butt. Lucky seemed to sense something was up with his favorite human being and he padded over and flopped down directly in Clint’s lap. “Of course you don’t. Why would you? I’m a fucking mess. I’m sorry, Nat. If you… I dunno… want to …” He shook his head and shrugged. “...alone. Or whatever.”

“Oh, you idiot bird,” Natasha said, kneeling on the ground in front of him and cradling his jaw. “I love you so much. Of course, I would want to have kids with you. If anyone it would be you. It was always you.”

“Then what is it, Nat?” Clint asked. “Shouldn’t you be excited?”

“There are so many things, Clint,” she said, looking down again. “We’ve only just gotten back together. Our lives. But most of all…” She stopped and let out a shuddering breath. Clint looked at her with both fear and hope written all over his features and she was about to break his heart, the same way hers broke every time she thought about this. “Clint, it’s not that I can’t get pregnant. I can’t carry to term. The serum makes the pregnancies non-viable.”

“Oh,” Clint said. The sound almost like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Oh,” he repeated. He leaned forward pressing his forehead against hers. “Has this happened before?”

Natasha sucked in air suddenly and two tears escaped her eyes. She turned her head away from him. He couldn’t see her weak like this. She couldn’t be weak like this. Not in front of Clint. Not when he looked at her like the way he did.

He reacted quickly, shoving Lucky off his lap and pulling her into it. His hands bunched in her hair and he kissed her. The kiss was everything she needed it to be. Strong and reassuring. Loving and tender. She knew exactly what he was thinking as he kissed her. It was going to be okay. Whatever happened, good or bad, they were together and it was going to be okay.

When he broke the kiss he kept her wrapped tightly in his arms. “Maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves, Nat. When was the last time you had your … you know?”

Natasha pulled back from him and got back up, retying the towel around her. “My period?” She asked, and Clint nodded enthusiastically. “Good god, Clint. You want to have a baby with me and you can’t even say the word period? What if this works and it’s a girl, and I die, and you have to tell her about periods?”

Clint started laughing as he got up. “That is really getting ahead of yourself, Nat,” Clint said and when the scowl didn’t leave her face, he shook his head and looked into her eyes. “If we do end up having a daughter together, I promise I’ll practice saying period.” He sat down on the side of the bed and patted the space beside him. Natasha moved up next to him and put her head on his shoulder. “But when was it?”

“I’m not sure exactly. It tends to be erratic. They really did a number on my reproductive system. But I’d say around two months ago. Give or take a couple of weeks.”

Clint patted her leg and got up and started pulling on the dirty clothes he had scattered around the room. “I’ll go buy some tests. Okay? Then we’ll know and we can work out what to do from there.”

Natasha watched as he hurriedly got dressed and Lucky seemed to be determined to try and trip him over. “Clint?” She said quietly.

“Yeah, Nat?” He said as he pulled on his shoe.

“You’d be a good father, you know?” She said.

Clint came over and kissed her forehead. “Thanks, Nat. You’d be a great mom.”

“I’m really scared.” She whispered.

“That’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s scary.”

She caressed his cheek with her thumb and flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I’ll be right back.” He said and whistled for Lucky. The mutt trotted after him as he headed out the door.

Natasha was still lying staring at the ceiling when Clint burst back through the door. She hadn’t moved at all since he’d left. She had just stayed lying there, wrapped in her towel with her legs hanging over the end of the bed. The only difference between when Clint left and when he arrived was Liho was now curled up on her chest.

“Nat?” He said softly. “Are you dead?”

“I wish I was dead.” She replied.

He sat down beside her and gave Liho a scratch on the head. “I got you some presents. Look.”

She sat up, putting a disgruntled Liho on her pillow, and looked in the plastic CVS bag he was holding open. Inside was some Hershey’s Kisses, a Pez Dispenser in the shape of Ariel from the Little Mermaid, a bottle of strawberry lemonade, a small remote-controlled car, and the pregnancy tests.

“You bought all this for me?” Natasha asked, looking up into the blue of Clint’s eyes.

Clint nodded and kissed her forehead. Her eyes glistened with tears again and Clint's heart ached for her. He knew how she felt about looking this weak, even in front of him. He wished he knew the right words to say to make her realize she could do this.

“I love you, dummy.” She whispered.

“I love you too, Nat.”

Natasha sighed and pulled out the tests. “I better do this then.”

Clint sat on the edge of the bed and waited for Natasha to come back out of the bathroom. He pulled the remote-controlled car from the box and set it up. When Natasha returned, she sat down next to him and put the tester on the bedside table. Clint handed her the car’s remote.

“What do we do if it's positive?” Natasha asked. Her voice was hollow like she had lost the ability to emote over this anymore. She started driving the car and immediately hit the dresser, knocking one of the wheels out of alignment. Clint got up and picked it up. He grabbed the multi-tool he kept on the dresser for when he wanted to mess around with his custom arrowheads and came and sat back down while he attempted to fix the small car.

“I don't know, Nat,” he said, frowning. “What do you want to do?”

“I just -” she let out a breath and leaned over to watch what Clint was doing. He wasn't entirely sure himself, but he'd taken off the whole base and was trying to straighten up the wheel. “I hate how the Red Room still has this control over me. I want to be a mother. And I can't imagine anyone else being the person I have kids with except you. But they've taken that from me. This will just go like it did last time. I'll get excited about it. Start buying baby things. And one day I'll wake up in a huge pool of blood and it will be gone. I can't go through that again, Clint. It'll destroy me.”

Clint put the car back together and put it on the ground without saying anything. Natasha pressed on the controls and the car did a donut and spun off under the bed. Lucky barked at it and crouched with his head under the bed, his tail wagging like a helicopter blade. “I’ve been through that too, you know?”

Natasha turned her head to face him. “What?”

Clint nodded and fiddled with his fingers. “Bobbi. It wasn’t planned. Like now. But damn if we weren’t excited about it. She didn’t make it very far into it before we lost it, so we never told anyone it happened. Didn’t want the sad looks and asking if we were over it yet. It hurt. Bad. But you move on. There’s not a lot of choice. Whatever happens, if you want to try to go ahead with it, I’ll be here. If you do end up losing it. I’ll be here. If you really think you can’t go ahead with the pregnancy… for whatever reason… I’ll be here, Nat.”

Natasha rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. “What if it does work out? I want to be a mother more than anything, but are we really ready for that, Clint? How would that even work? What if all that happens is we end up breaking up and raising this kid who just hates us for never being there because there’s always Avengers stuff?”

Clint shrugged and reached under the bed. He pulled the car back out and took the control from Natasha and started to drive the car in figures of eight around the bedroom floor while Lucky both chased it and ran from it. “Now? Later? What difference does it make, Nat? We’ll never be ready. Not really. But I love you and I want… all of that with you. We can work it out. Even when we weren’t together, it’s always been you and me.”

Natasha put her foot out and the car banged into it. Lucky pounced on it and flipped it onto it’s back. They both started laughing and Clint pulled Natasha into his arms.

“We’ve never talked about any of this before. Family. Children. Not even marriage. You married Bobbi but you never even brought that up with me.” Natasha said.

“Bobbi asked me,” Clint said. “In fact, Bobbi asked me, took me to Vegas and booked a cabin in the mountains with a spa, so we were married and on our honeymoon within a week of her saying she even liked me like that. The first day I met you, I was in love with you. I would have married you right then and there. But I know you, Nat. That’s never been you. You want to get married?”

You smiled and nosed at his cheek. “Maybe. To you.” She let out a sigh and wrapped her arm around his waist. “I hate the can still hurt me. I’ve been away from them for years and they can still make me cry. I don’t cry, Clint.”

“I know, Nat.” He said gently. “You’re my strong and emotionless girlfriend who I love very much.”

“Has it been long enough?” Natasha asked.

Clint picked up the test and looked at it. There were two indicator windows, a really small one with a single vertical line running through it and a much larger one that had what looked like a big bright pink plus. His heart skipped and for a second he forgot how to breathe. Positive. The test was positive. Natasha was pregnant and maybe she’d end up losing it, but right now she was pregnant with his baby and he was the happiest he had ever been in his entire life.

“Positive.” He said, keeping his voice neutral, in the hope that how happy he felt wouldn’t put pressure on her to do something she didn’t want to.

Natasha looked up at him and slowly her face broke in a smile. “We’re parents, Clint.”

Clint grinned and leaned in and kissed her, cradling her jaw in his large hands. Maybe it would go the way it had for both of them in the past. Maybe they’d have to work through their grief together in the broken, fucked up way they both dealt with things like that. But right now, at this very moment, they were parents and nothing, not even the Red Room could take that from them.

#clintbartonbingo2019 #clint barton #natasha romanoff #clintasha #clint barton x natasha romanoff #hawkeye #black widow #hawkeye fanfic #black widow fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #pregnancy #angst #the test

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atamascolily · 4 years ago

Text

So I want to talk about one of Luke’s less publicized fails in Legends, namely with Cray Mingla and Nichos Marr in Children of the Jedi by Barbara Hambly. It’s not as flashy and obvious as his failures with Kyp Durron and Kueller, since only two people die, and the New Republic government doesn’t get involved. It’s framed as the result of his students’ choices, rather than their teacher’s, and Luke benefits a great deal from the fallout. But the more I study the backstory for fic purposes, the more convinced I am that Luke Majorly Screwed Up, and I want to call him out on it.

When we first meet Cray and Nichos, the situation is presented as both a tragic love story, and also a Done Deal. Two Force prodigies (and childhood best friends?) fall in love and come to Yavin to train, only for one to be diagnosed with a fatal illness, and the other uses their life’s work to save them. It’s a Nicholas Sparks novel with robots.... except it doesn’t work.

Instead of successfully transferring Nichos’s spirit into a new body, Cray creates a droid replica straight out of the Uncanny Valley, with life-like face and hands. a metallic body, and all of Nichos’s memories. (How she does this is handwaved as techno-wizardry, with a little bit of Ssi-ruuvi techniques thrown in the mix, which is... even more horrific if you start to think about it.) The result isn’t the “real” Nichos--it’s not the man she fell in love with. It’s a construct, a copy, not a human being.

I get where Hambly was trying to go with this meditation on what constitutes personhood, but I feel like dismissing the new Nichos as “just” a droid” is kinda sketchy, given that machines and droids in the Star Wars universe have emotions and personalities and are clearly capable of independent agency not directly contradicted by their programming. Maybe this new Nichos is “another Corellian by the same name” and not the original, but does that make him any less deserving of autonomy and personhood? I don’t think so.

Droid-Nichos is clearly aware that he’s not human--he pretends because he wants to please Cray (and there’s a not-so-subtle implication she programmed him to do that, which is hella creepy)--but his conversations with Threepio make it equally clear that he sees that as his only function, and he’s not of much ‘use’ for anything else. His very specificity makes him an outlier among droids. He doesn’t fit into either world, which is why he’s so willing to sacrifice himself at the end of the novel--besides the fact that Cray asks him to and he’s not in position to be able to say no.

But Cray is so deep in denial she refuses to admit that this isn’t the original Nichos until droid-Nichos is unable to rescue her from torture because he’s wearing a restraining bolt. Then she breaks down completely, sending droid-Nichos up to shut down the ship and be shot to pieces while she commits suicide by letting Callista’s spirit take over her own body.

So where does Luke fit into all of this? Isn’t it unfair to hold him responsible for Cray’s decisions, given that he was unconscious at the time and determined to sacrifice himself instead? At twenty-six, Cray was a grown-ass adult; if she wanted to create a walking RealDoll with the memories of dead lover, that was her business, right? Right?

The thing is that Hambly makes it clear during Cray’s breakdown that Luke knew all along that Cray hadn’t saved the “real” Nichos.

“Luke …”

He looked up quickly, to meet the blue glass eyes. In the shadowy gloom the face that he’d known so well was almost a stranger’s, affixed monstrously to the silver cowl of the metal skull.

“Am I really Nichos?”

Luke said, “I don’t know.” He had never in his life felt so helpless, because in his heart—in the secret shadows where the truth always lay—he knew that this was a lie.

He knew.

Luke knew exactly what the new Nichos was, and he never sat down with Cray and talked about this or staged an intervention of any kind. He let her deceive herself, even though one of the foremost principles of being a Jedi is self-knowledge and facing grief and failure directly. He knew and he never said anything, because.... I don’t know, exactly.

The Doylist answer is that Callista needed a hot young body to inhabit, and Cray’s entire existence was to provide her with one, more or less guilt-free. (I still think it’s incredibly creepy, and I know I’m not the only one, but most of the characters in-universe let it slide, and I just... can’t even...)

“Am I ‘another Corellian of the same name’?”

“I’d like to tell you one way or the other,” said Luke. The bolt came away from the brushed-steel chest, lay thick and heavy in Luke’s hand. One hand real, one hand mechanical, but both his. “But I … I don’t know. You are who you are. You are the being, the consciousness, that you are at this moment. That’s all I can tell you.” That fact, at least, was true.

The smooth face did not alter, but the blue eyes looked infinitely sad. “I had hoped that, being a Jedi, you would know.”

And Luke had the uncomfortable sensation that, having been a Jedi, Nichos knew perfectly well that he was keeping something back.

It’s worth noting here that Luke is one of the few people in the GFFA who we see treating droids as people. He’s not dismissive of Nichos’s existential angst, and he’s not going to dictate what Nichos is, no matter how much Nichos wants to be reassured one way or the other. I don’t know if other characters who are less sympathetic to droids would react this way.

I also like the juxtaposition between Nichos’s metallic body and Luke’s mechanical hand. Luke is human; Nichos isn’t--where’s the line between them? Isn’t Luke’s point here is that the line is where you define it to be?

Or at least that’s the image Luke wants to project. He’s still holding something back--namely, the real truth, which he shares with Callista:

“Is Nichos all right?”

Luke nodded, then caught himself, and shook his head. “Nichos … is a droid,” he said.

“I know.”

Callista sees right off that Nichos is a droid; she calls him “the droid with the human eyes” and asks if he’s some new creature of Palpatine’s when she and Luke first meet. Luke can admit to her that Nichos is a droid, but not to Nichos or Cray--not even when Nichos directly asks him. So, #TeachingFail there, I think. What the hell was Luke thinking?

This gets even worse as Callista continues:

“Luke,” she said gently. “Sometimes there is nothing you can do.”

He expelled his breath in an angry gust, fist clenched hard; but he did not, after all, speak for a time. Then it was only to say, “I know.” He realized he hadn’t known that, two weeks ago. In some ways, learning about Sith Lords and cloned Emperors had been easier.

So if Luke didn’t know there was nothing to be done but accept the situation as it was, why didn’t he try to do something for Cray before now? Why did he let her coast along in denial with her robot boyfriend for months?

Which makes it all the more ironic that the conversation turns to the role of mistakes in the education of a Jedi, as well as recounting of Luke’s other teaching mistakes.

“I just wish some of those one thousand eighty mistakes didn’t involve teaching students. Teaching Jedi. Transmitting power, or the ability to use the Force. My ignorance—my own inexperience—cost one of my students his life already, and threw another one into the arms of the dark side and caused havoc in the galaxy I don’t even want to think about. The whole thing—the Academy, and bringing back the skills of the Jedi—is too important for … for ‘Learn While You Teach.’"

Luke isn’t responsible for Nichos’s illness or his death, but he is responsible for letting Cray keep her illusions for so long. He isn’t responsible for the dramatic, over-the-top way in which Cray’s fantasies come tumbling down--but why did he let it get to that point in the first place?

Here’s Cray’s reaction when Luke does try to talk to her about Nichos:

“I know he had a scum-eating motherless restraining bolt, you jerk!” She screamed the words, spat them at him, hatred and fury a bitter fire in her eyes; and when the words were out sat staring at him in blind, helpless rage behind which Luke could see the fathomless well of defeat, and grief, and the ending of everything she had ever hoped.

Then silence, as Cray turned her face aside. The nervous thinness that had advanced on her during Nichos’s illness had turned brittle, as if something had been taken, not just from her flesh, but from the marrow of her bones. Over the torn uniform, grimed with blood and oil, the blanket hung on her like a battered shroud.

If they had had this conversation before now--after Nichos’s death, or at any point before that trip to Ithor--would matters have come to this? Is Luke culpable for all the things he didn’t say to Cray, as well as the things he did say to Gantoris and Kyp (cited above)?

Does Cray fall prey to the Dark Side here? Is that why Callista loses her powers? I don’t know. I love this novel, but so much of its logic is incomprehensible to me, and I don’t understand it. Maybe that’s why I love it so much, because it keeps me thinking about it.

“Don’t hate him for being what he is,” he said, the only thing he could think of to say. “Or for being what he’s not.”

The words sounded puerile in his own ears, like a half-credit computerized fortune-teller at a fair. Ben, he thought, would have had something to say, something healing … Yoda would have known how to deal with the wretched ruin of a friend’s heart and life.

The mightiest Jedi in the universe, he reflected bitterly—that he knew of, anyway—the destroyer of the Sun Crusher, the slayer of evil, who’d defeated the recloned Emperor and the Sith Lord Exar Kun, and all he could offer someone who had been disemboweled was, Gee, I’m sorry you’re not feeling so well …

Luke, you should have had this conversation with her months ago. Or if you didn’t feel up to it, you should have insisted she go to THERAPY as a condition of her continued training at your school, you knew damn well she wasn’t okay, and you just let her go on her way as if nothing was wrong and I just...

As a result of his screw-ups with Cray and Nichos, Luke survives, his ghost girlfriend gets a body, and the Eye of Palpatine is destroyed, so I guess it works out pretty well for him. Cray and Nichos, not so much, sadly. Does he learn anything from the experience? I don’t know, because nothing quite this weird happens ever again.

Anyway, I don’t know why I’m so mad about this one point from a novel published twenty-five years ago that only a handful of people remember, but I can’t read it anymore without wanting to smack Luke here for his part in this whole mess. Even though I think I understand why he holds back, why he’s afraid he’ll make matters worse, and why it’s easier to just to leave Cray alone and hope it all works out, it’s still the wrong decision and Obi-wan and Yoda and I are all shaking our heads at him, because really, Luke, why did you do that--??

#star wars #star wars legends #Luke Skywalker #Children of the Jedi #SW meta

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border-spam · 4 years ago

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Leech Lord: Regret

Tyreen

Regardless of how much of herself The Leech has eaten away, how difficult it is for her to remember what empathy felt like or the way feeling sadness for another person burned the back of your eyes and throat in a way you could never really sooth, Tyreen will never forget how much she regretted lying to Troy about Pandora.

It's not the being here she regrets, I mean, things turned out incredibly. Look at them, Godhood is their destiny... it's remembering that first week planetside. Remembering the slash of that glass bottle across her face, or the scream that was either Troy's or the Bandit's she husked in defense for the first time as both twins stared on in horror, or sitting in that rancid filthy shack, watching her brother die.

Ty hadn't been sick in so long that she couldn't recall what it felt like anymore, and Troy? Well, he was sick all the time, but nothing like this. This was disease ripping through a body with no protection, no immune system grown over a lifetime to fight it back. Neither of them had considered what illnesses would be waiting on a planet they'd never visited after all, they'd no medical experience bar what the ancient E-Doc onboard droid on Dad's old ship had been able to share from databases so corrupt with age that it barely functioned anymore.

She'd sat with him for 2 days, completely helpless, terrified. Watching him vomit up blood streaked bile and gasp for air between painful retching spams, nothing left in his stomach bar the water she'd try and force into him every hour. Not even clean water just.. muddy filth, but it was all she could find in the barren wasteland of those flats. She'd scrabble out into the desert every couple of hours when he’d lose consciousness again, and find anything she could leech. Dry half dead plants, insects, mangled roadkill still dragging in twitchy breaths, anything she could pump back into him and hope he'd heal.

He didn't.

Troy would wake and be incoherent, rapidly flip between spewing hate at her for MAKING HIM COME HERE when he'd told her so clearly it was a stupid fucking idea, when he'd said they would die... and begging her to forgive him. Apologising, reaching out to shakily grasp at his sister's hand as he stumbled over his words and tried to let her know how sorry he was that it hadn't worked, that the natives had rejected them. It was his fault. He hadn't researched, he hadn’t written her dialogue right... his script let them down.. he’d..

She never forgives herself for the betrayal of what she did to him, even years later.

God Queen Tyreen still wakes up some nights remembering the stink of his blood and vomit and sweat in that shack, and those are the mornings he finds poorly prepared breakfast ready on his kitchen table, or a scrawled note that seems so out of character - thanking him.

Genuine, heartfelt words reminding him how much she loves her twin... Even though she forgets so quickly after.

Seifa

She left friends to die once.

Well, not “friends” friends. Not like the friends she's grown over time since, but people still. Living people who'd expected her to protect their backs even though she'd been clear that wasn't going to happen, that if shit went south she was gone. It had, and she'd done exactly as she said, but their faces... man.

She's alive and they aren't. That's how it goes. That's the long game.

She can't remember their second names but she remembers what they looked like. Bavi and Cass, pair of small time smugglers she'd run trades with for a couple of years, played poker with, shared leads with... They'd convinced her this was a good call. She'd said it hadn't been. They'd argued there was nothing to worry about, she'd told them there was.

She'd gone along anyway. Stupid kid, barely 20. Idiot. She'd gone along because they told her they needed her skills, when what they actually needed was a gun behind them and someone a hell of a lot more competent than Seifa.

She'd told them it would go sour, she'd tried to catch their attention from the corner of their eyes as they buttered up the supplier they were keen to fleece, despite his companions subtly moving to palm their guns.

She'd tried, they hadn't listened, so she'd walked. Cut her losses there and then just before that powder keg ignited and she'd go down with them. They'd turned to pay attention far too late, shock and betrayal on their faces as the door closed behind her with one final glance.

She'd heard the gunshots before she made it to her ship.

But she's alive and they aren't. That's how it goes. That's the long game.

Troy

A million faceless, nameless people have suffered directly under God King Calypso in one way or another. He's done horrific things, and he's allowed even worse ones to take place.

In the back of his mind, there is usually a kind of excuse. They wanted it, or they themselves had done terrible things, or he truthfully wouldn't have been able to stop Tyreen anyway, or that's just how Pandora is, or...

The few things he cannot excuse are the ones that haunt him. The real failures, the real shame. Troy will never, for the entirety of his life, forgive himself for Jak-Knife, Ven, or Sei. It won't matter how much they reassure him. It won't matter if one day the tightness in their eyes when they reminisce about the original COV softens, he will take it to his grave.

Not just the slow trauma he knows he is responsible for regardless of how things had been, the abuse, the stress, the constant push for more and more from people who were already breaking themselves trying to give everything they could, but what happened after that. The visceral failures that are entirely his fault.

Jak-Knife's annointment... God. That had been meant to help. That had been meant to soothe burns and bolster a body into a fortress to match the soul inside, that had been meant to be a gift, and he'd done what instead? Tortured one of the most loyal beings he had ever known with a slow, agonising corruption.

Ven? He'd known. He'd seen the signs the Oracle couldn't, and still he'd not kept him underwing. Troy should have been a towering wall between Tyreen and Ven at all times, he knew he should have and yet he'd still travelled to Athenas without him. Had left him behind, unprotected and vulnerable in the Grand Cathedral. Ty had been a predator stalking the shadows of those halls, keen eyes watching for a weak link, an opportunity.. and Troy had practically dropped his friend into her waiting claws. One stupid, pointless, OBVIOUS mistake and it had been his Ven that had suffered for Troy's distraction.

Seifa? He catches her sometimes, out of the corner of his vision. The sadness as she stares at those scars on his neck. Her unspoken concern towards him. The whispered care to JK and Ven every time they meet, just before the smiles settle root and everything feels right. She's still carrying wounds for everyone, he can see it even if she can't, and Troy caused the injuries.

She regrets for him.

He remembers Leda apologising on those nights where his ribs burned and the mangled tissue along his right ached from growth spurts it couldn't keep up with. He remembers her feeling at fault, like she'd made the cuts that disfigured him for the rest of his life.

He see's that in Seifa, and he regrets becoming his father after all.

Asks are Open!

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #calypso twins #seifa #jak-knife #ven #leech lord #my writing #my hcs #lldrabbles

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masked-buffoon · 4 years ago

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Chapter 5: One’s desires (Part 1)

Warnings: manipulation/mind control, torture

Author notes: now that chapter 4 is over, I feel more comfortable with the rest of the story! We’re going to stay a bit more in the Port Mafia for now!

The sun was slowly going down from its zenith, this afternoon. The view of Yokohama one could get from the roof of a rather high building was breathtaking; the skyscrapers, with their large bays, reflected the sun rays, creating a most intricate light show, while the further ocean delicately undulated under the breeze.

However, I was not there for sightseeing. The tablet I held served as an interactive map, on which I could see precisely the moves of both my men and my target. I was on a mission to catch a zealous agent of the government who owned too much information about our organisation to let it slide, and it seemed the person was rather skilled at running away. Why, it appeared the ministry still knew how to train its members. If only they could be more useful chasing real life-threatening criminals instead of going after a Mafia they knew could not be taken down... I sighed, shoving a pain reliever in my mouth. Lately, I had tried to use pills again, instead of morphine, so I could slowly separate myself from the routine of injections. Now that Dazai-san allowed me to sleep every night, there was no need to relieve my headache anymore, except on rare occasions when I would have to intensely make use of The Sweet Appeals. But although there was no pain to relieve anymore, my habits as an addict would not disappear just in the blink of an eye, and, sometimes, it frustrated me greatly not to have my income of morphine.

"Our little mouse is running away..." I communicated with my men "What are you even doing? Should I come in person?"

"Ogawa-san, the agent keeps changing route..." One of them complained, sounding rather tired.

They could follow the bug set onto the target's suitcase as well, on their phone. What did they mean by "changing route"? However, it was true that the moves seemed odd, as if our agent changed his mind each time... I realised.

"Cancel the operation." I ordered "We lost the target. The suitcase has been passed to several people in a row; surely fellow agents."

"Didn't the case contain important documents...?"

"This person is more likely not to give away a suitcase full of proofs." I tapped the side of the tablet with my finger "Go back to the headquarters."

"Understood, Ogawa-san."

I instantly knew the position of the agent I was looking for when the door to the roof opened brusquely and I heard the familiar clicking sound of a firearm pointed onto me.

"There you are, mafioso."

I stood up, hands raised in the air so the government agent would not shoot while thinking I had ill intentions.

"I assume you are 'Tsukamoto Kichibei'-san." I smiled, turning around "You've hidden your name very well, but..."

My lips turned upwards.

"Your true identity is that of Hirashima Chiharu-san, isn't it~?"

Her hands trembled, and I could accurately see how it became difficult to hold her weapon toward me. I made several steps toward her, until the barrel pressed against my chest, directly, I was not afraid, not the least. I knew she would never shoot, because she had orders not to kill anyone, and at close range, it was impossible to miss me. I smirked down at her.

"You should not underestimate the Port Mafia." I warned her "We have eyes everywhere, ears hidden in each wall around you. Who knows... Maybe even one of your colleagues is a spy for us...~?"

"Th-That can't be..." She trembled.

Swiftly, I seized her gun and reversed it toward her.

"Come on, Hirashima-san... We are both women, don't be afraid. I only want to have a good talk, after all." I sounded falsely reassuring.

"Th-Then, don't point that gun on me...!" She stuttered, paralysed.

"But I can't have you leaving, right...?" I pouted "Wait, I'll tie you up, then...!"

My fingers wrapped around the handcuffs she kept for me and I cuffed her to the fence of the roof. There, she would not be able to escape; I had even confiscated the key to open the lock.

"So..." I looked into her pockets to find a USB drive "Now that I have my information, let's have a chat...! I heard the name of your current boyfriend is Kamiya Hideyoshi? That's good...! But I wonder if he'll still want to go out with you when he learns you have a five years old daughter..."

I glanced at her, to see the most frightened look a prisoner could ever give me. Who needed tools and weapons when humans had words to torture each other? Making the target bleed and scream was just gross, I preferred breaking them mentally; there was less to clean afterwards.

"H-How... You...?" She asked, eyes widened "No one knows..."

"That you had a kid out of wedlock? Mmh, sure. Not even your parents, am I right? They are respectable people, you should have told them. I'm pretty confident they would have helped you out..." I hummed, toying with the drive "You should enjoy having caring parents..."

"Enough...! You've got the documents, you've got me! What else do you want...?!" She cried, struggling against the cuffs.

"Careful there..." I sighed, making her stop pulling "We wouldn't want you to bruise that thin wrist of yours, would we? Besides, you are right. I have everything I wanted from you."

"So, you can —"

"Do you truly think I will release you?" I looked down at her "Fool. How can I be sure you have not memorised the contents of the USB drive?"

Hirashima Chiharu looked absolutely terrified. Now, I could start the additional mission.

"I-I don't know..." She sobbed, looking down "I don't want to die...! My daughter... She'll be all alone... And Hideyoshi-senpai is a really good man..."

"Oh, so he's your senpai?" I whistled "Impressive. But I'll take your reasons into consideration. I could let you live..."

"Would you...?!"

"Indeed, but my favour is not free..." I chuckled, sliding a finger down her cheek "You will belong to the Port Mafia..."

"W-What...?"

"Nothing too complicated." I shrugged "When we call, you answer. When we ask for information, you give them. And if you go to the police..." I stopped as my palm pressed against her throat "That's your daughter's life we'll ask for..."

She nodded, expressively, and I released her from her restraints. The woman was quick to run toward the door, but I stopped her.

"One last question... If I had demanded you to kill your daughter to survive, would you have done it?" I narrowed my eyes at her.

"... No..." She gulped down, before leaving to run down the stairs.

"Obviously not! Who is she taking me for...?!"

I sighed deeply. Why did all parents think about their children before themselves and mine had selfishly tried to protect their lives until the very end? A mystery which would remain unsolved, for the said parents could not ever be questioned anymore.

#bsd #bsd oc #bsd fanfic #bsd dazai #bsd imagines #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs oc #dazai osamu

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out-of-jams · 5 years ago

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Airplane Mode | Track 03: Magic Shop | jhs

Summary: Inspired by Love at First Touch by bagelswrites.

In a world where a bruise marks the first touch of your soulmate, time is the only thing that matters. The marks take hours to appear, sometimes even days if you're really unlucky. Once First Touch is initiated, both parties only have a few weeks to find the other. From then on, the body begins to reject any form of sustenance other than the touch of the other. If one fails to find their soulmate in time, they starve to death. So what happens when your soulmate is a world famous idol?And you're just one fan in a sea of many who can't even speak the same language?

Pairing: Hoseok x Fem Character

Word Count: 4.7k

Genre: Fluff. Angst. Idol!au. Smut. Soulmate!au. Explicit language.

Warnings: Chapter contains swearing.

Previous | Next | Track List | Masterlist |

Standing in the middle of the busy Manhattan sidewalk, Eunjae ignored the flow of pedestrians brushing against her long, grey peacoat. A shaky exhale left her lips as she stared up through the lenses of her tinted sunglasses at the modern building towering above. A thick, black knitted scarf wound itself around her neck, tucked high enough to hide most of the bruising on her face. Eunjae had spent forty minutes that morning just trying to slap enough foundation on her cheeks to hide the ugly marks. However, the bruises from First Touch were impossible to completely cover. At least, according to Google.

So much for a first impression. Eunjae thought, grunting when the shoulder of a small child rammed into her ribs. She gave a tiny, polite smile as the kid’s mother apologized quickly before chasing her unruly son further down the sidewalk. Tucking her hands into the deep pockets of her coat, Eunjae buried her nose further into her scarf in an attempt to ward of the biting wind. Well that, and the gross smell of downtown Manhattan.

“Just fucking do it.” She muttered to herself, eyes still laser focused on the brown building. No one paid her any mind as they passed, too focused on wherever it was that they were going. Nodding to herself for encouragement, Eunjae flipped away the hair that blew into her face and moved her feet before she could change her mind.

The automatic glass doors whoosed open at her approach. As her booted feet stepped through the threshold, her shoulders almost instantly relaxed when the warm, central heated air hit her chilled skin. Eunjae pushed the sunglasses from her nose to perch in her silver hair, dark eyes scanning the fancy hotel lobby.

“Hello, miss.” The polite voice drew her attention away from where she was scrutinizing a tall man standing by the far elevator. Head turning, she met the gaze of a smiling hotel concierge. The golden name tag attached to the lapel on his black suit jacket read, ‘Steven.’ “Could I assist you with anything?”

“Uh,” Eunjae would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little overwhelmed by the stuffy atmosphere of the building. The few hotel patrons that glided through the marble lobby were dressed like little Bruce Wayne clones. She was half expecting the man stepping down the stairs to pull out a mask and scream, ‘I’m Batman!’

“I’m good, thanks. Just meeting someone.”

Eunjae waved her phone in the air as if it were some kind of golden ticket to solidify her presence there. The concierge just nodded with a smile and stepped off, leaving her to fend for herself. Sighing, Eunjae unlocked her phone to scroll through her most recent contacts. Listed right at the top was the mystery number that had called her the day previous.

It hadn’t been Jung Hoseok, much to Miles’ disappointment. Instead, it’d been one of Bangtan’s managers, Sejin. He’d introduced himself uncertainly in heavily accented English and asked if he had the right number. Eunjae had almost dropped the phone at his introduction and she’d nodded at his question like he could see her over the line.

“Yes, that’s me.” Eunjae had spoken slowly as she sat up against the couch ramrock straight. Miles was jabbing a finger into the meat of her arm incessantly, mouthing for her to put it on speakerphone.

“Good, good.” Sejin’s deep voice sounded almost relieved, if not a bit hesitant. “I’m not sure how to go about this, so I’m just going to ask outright. Please excuse me if this sounds strange. But has anything...odd...happened to you within the past day?”

“Odd?” Eunjae couldn’t help the nervous amusement that tickled her voice. “Yeah, you could say that. So it’s really true, then? This is really happening? Is, uh...is...”

She trailed off, not sure how to ask the question straining on the edge of her tongue. Luckily, the man on the other line seemed to understand what she was trying to say. “Yes. Maybe it would be better if we could discuss this situation in person? How does tomorrow morning work for you?”

Fingers gliding across the screen of her cellphone back in the present, Eunjae sent off a quick text to Bangtan’s manager that she had arrived. Her hands were shaking with nerves in anticipation of the upcoming meeting.

I’m about to meet J-fucking-hope. Taking a deep breath, Eunjae tried to calm herself. My soulmate. No biggie.

Digging the toes of her ankle boots into the rug of the hotel’s entrance, she shoved her clammy hands back into her coat pockets. Sure, she’d met Jung Hoseok face-to-face at the fanmeet almost two days ago, but that had been very brief. Now, she was about to walk into a room that would seal her fate. After today, she would no longer have the same life she used to. And because of that, Eunjae wasn’t quite sure how to feel.

Her feelings were a mixed bag. Part of her was excited--thrilled even--at the prospect of having one of the members of famed Bangtan Sonyeondan as her soulmate. Eunjae loved their music, she watched their v-lives when she could, and of course binged BTS crack videos on YouTube when she needed a laugh. Any ARMY would kill to be in her position.

But, Eunjae knew that she was going to have to uproot her entire life, and she wasn’t sure if she could give that up. It would be naive of her to think for even a second that Big Hit would allow one of their members to relocate to another country. There was nothing that Eunjae could do to change that, and a part of her hated it. She hated not having a choice on things that directly impacted her life.

But she didn’t--couldn’t--have any ill feelings towards J-hope. It wasn’t like it was his fault that fate drew them together. He was just as blameless in the situation as she was. So, taking a deep breath, Eunjae forced the thoughts from her mind before they could drown her.

“Morales Eunjae- ssi ?”

Blinking from where she’d been searing a hole into the rug with her eyes, Eunjae tilted her head back to look up at the man standing in front of her. Dressed in a soft looking beige sweater and black pants, Sejin stared down at her, eyes silently questioning if he’d gotten the correct person. The joked secret eighth member of Bangtan pushed the black frame of his rounded glasses further onto his nose with a smile.

“Yeah.” Eunjae’s voice came out in a squeak and she mentally berated herself for sounding so pathetic. Like always, once nerves started to take over, she lost control of both her mouth and her body. Her small fingers wiggled in a lame attempt at jazz hands, “that’s me.”

Lips twitching in amusement, Sejin bowed his head slightly before holding out a hand for her to shake. He took her bruised hand in his gently, eyes quickly scanning over the marks. “It’s nice to put a face to the name.”

“I’d say the same, but I already know who you are.” Eunjae joked, retracting her hand from his.

“I have a private meeting room reserved in the back.” Sejin tilted his head towards a hallway branching out from the side of the lobby’s main desk. “If you’ll follow me, we can talk there.”

Eunjae nodded before following the tall man across the lobby. She silently thanked Big Hit for being so thorough as to have Bangtan’s manager learn English. Eunjae didn’t even want to think about how awkward it would be to have a serious conversation with the man through Google Translate.

“So..,” Eunjae began in a half-joking tone as they walked down the empty hall. The pair passed one or two staff members who didn’t even spare them a second glance. “I’m not going to end up on the front cover of Dispatch for being caught here, am I?”

Sejin glanced down at her with a huff of amusement. “No. We’ve made sure that the staff here is very discrete.”

That was one way to say that they must have paid the hotel staff a large sum of money to keep their mouths shut.

“Ah.” Bruised hands clenched in the pockets of her coat, Eunjae asked the question that had been on her mind all day. “Is everyone gonna be there?”

Sejin shook his head as he turned left down another corridor. As they passed a few clouded glass doors, the man answered. “Bangtan has an interview in Chicago tonight, so the rest of the members and staff flew out last night. So it’ll just be the three of us.”

Internally screaming, Eunjae nodded her head calmly. While she felt a little bit of anxiety die down at the reassurance of not having to meet everyone at once, the thought of being in such an intimate setting with J-hope made her nervous. “Cool, cool.”

“There’s also some paperwork that we’re going to have to go over.”

Eunjae paused in responding as a staff member passed them by. Just how big was this hotel ? “Paperwork?”

Sejin glanced down at her as he finally came to a stop at a glass door at the end of the long hallway. Reaching out to pull down the handle, he nodded. “Yes. We’ll have to go over a nondisclosure agreement.”

That’s not at all daunting, Sejin, thanks.

The breath caught in her throat as he opened the door, anxiety rushing back to greet her. God, she was so nervous. When the door swung open to reveal an empty room, however, Eunjae blinked in confusion. As if sensing her thoughts, Sejin waved a hand to a door at the back of the room.

“Through there.”

She followed him around a long, rectangular table to the back room. Bottom lip caught between her teeth, she felt her hands clam up as the tall man opened the door silently. Eunjae didn’t have to search far before her eyes landed on the lone man in the room.

Jung Hoseok sat in a leather rolling chair pulled out from the small table in the center of the room. His long legs, dressed in black skinny jeans, were spread open as he tapped one booted foot against the carpet. The man’s black hair was pushed back from the golden skin of his forehead with a thick red, white and yellow Supreme headband. And he had on a fitted white shirt with another grey jean jacket, this one with an emblem of a tiger on the right side. The sharp jaw of his profile greeted her as he stared down at the phone held in his hands.

Wow, he’s beautiful. Eunjae’s lips parted on their own accord in stunned awe. The breath caught in her throat when, as if hearing her thoughts, he looked up.

Hoseok’s eyes scanned her from head to toe almost unconsciously as his heart-shaped lips stretched into a smile. He took her in, from her long silver hair, to her buttoned up peacoat and down her short, jean clad legs. The moment passed by before Eunjae could process it, and he pushed his chair back to stand, eyes locked on hers.

“Hi.” Hoseok grinned, tiny dimples revealing themselves under his high cheekbones. His long legs cleared the short distance from his chair to her quickly, and he extended a hand for her to shake. He’d barely even spoken, but the confident swagger he excluded spoke volumes. The palm of his hand had the same ugly dark bruises that matched hers.

“Hi.” Eunjae breathed out shyly, lips pulling up on their own accord. She reached out to grasp his extended hand.

The second their skin met, a zing of electricity spread from her fingertips to the top of her shoulder. It didn’t hurt, quite the opposite in fact. It was warm, inviting, magnetic . The feeling burrowed under her skin like an old friend and the anxiety that had been pumping through her veins quieted at his touch.

Eyes widening in surprise, her eyes shot down to their conjoined hands. Neither of them had let go, both just staring down in awe. Lips parting, Eunjae muttered a quiet, “holy shit .”

She’d heard stories of how the touch of a soulmate affected the body, but never would she have imagined it to be like this. It felt like coming home. Like her soul had finally found a piece that she hadn’t even realized was missing.

And it was so completely, and utterly overwhelming .

“Wow.” Hoseok breathed. His eyes drifted back up to hers, jaw dropped in surprise.

The sound of a throat clearing broke through the stunned silence.

Hand dropping his like she’d been burnt, Eunjae looked over at a smirking Sejin. The man was obviously trying to hide his amusement at the situation as he entered the room. For a moment, Eunjae had forgotten that he’d even been there. Subtly flexing her tingling hand, she tried to push down the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch Hoseok again. His body called out for her and she felt like a drug addict itching for her next fix.

Sejin walked over to the four chaired table and pulled out a seat, letting the pair still standing in the doorway have their moment.

“Ah,” Hoseok spoke, drawing Eunjae’s attention back to him, head tilting back to stare up at him. He scrunched his face cutely and flashed a smile that would have ARMY’s everywhere swooning. “Nice to meet you.”

His cute, accented English would be the death of her. The end of his sentence lilted in a questioning tone and it took Eunjae a moment to grasp at what he was silently asking.

“You too.” She returned his smile with one of her own. “I’m Eunjae.”

“I’m your hope, your my hope, I’m J-hope.” He fluttered his fingers around his face cutely and Eunjae snorted a laugh at his dramatics. It was almost as if he was able to sense her nervousness and was trying to defuse the situation. He paused for a moment, eyes lifting to the ceiling as if searching for the correct English translation. “But call me Hobi.”

“Okay, Hobi.” The use of his nickname earned her another wide smile, his eyes twinkling down at her.

“Now that introductions are out of the way,” Sejin spoke, drawing both of their gazes. Eunjae had to lean around Hoseok’s tall frame to look the manager’s way. “Let’s get down to business.”

Sejin gestured to the two open chairs across the table from him. A dark brown folder had appeared out of seemingly nowhere and Eunjae felt slight apprehension grow at the thought of what it contained. She followed Hoseok over to the table, sending him a grateful smile when he cutely pulled her chair out for her.

The adjustable chair was pulled up to its’ max height. So when her feet failed to reach the floor, Hobi hid a smile behind his hand and muttered under his breath in Korean. After he took his own seat, Sejin folded his hands on the table and straightened his glasses.

“There’s some details that we need to work out before we have to catch a flight in about an hour. But first,” Sejin slipped the folder open and pulled out two pieces of paper stapled together. He slid both that and a ballpoint pen across the table to her. “This is just a standard nondisclosure agreement. By signing it, you’ll be agreeing to not post anything on social media or otherwise, regarding any details of this situation. We’re lucky that we’re able to get ahead of it now. It would be in the best interest for the safety of both of you if no one else catches wind of this.”

Eunjae raised an eyebrow as she scanned over the document. “Makes sense.”

And it did. The K-Pop world centered around promoting idols as single and within reach of their fans. Eunjae had always found it disgusting how groups were essentially pimped out to their fans as their management tried to make them seem as attainable as possible. Not only did this make it virtually impossible for idols to date, but it put both them and their group’s reputation in danger should they ever get caught in a romantic scandal.

If the media, let alone ARMY, caught even a sliver of a hint pointing to her bond with J-hope, they’d both be ripped to shreds. And Bangtan could kiss their reputation goodbye.

“Feel free to hold on to that if you want to go over it with a lawyer.” Sejin continued, waving a hand at the document she was reading over. “You could fax it over once you’re done with it. No pressure to sign right now.”

“It’s fine.” Eunjae shook her head and signed the bottom of the last page with a flourish. Hoseok was resting his chin in his hand, eyes bouncing back and forth between her and his manager as he tried to follow the conversation. “It’s all pretty straight forward.”

The central heating in the room was starting to make Eunjae sweat under her coat. Scrunching her nose in slight disgust, she reached up to tug the scarf off from around her neck. Her fingers worked the buttons of her pea coat off and she slipped out of the sleeves with a small sigh of relief.

A noise of surprise left Hoseok and he straightened in his chair to stare her down. Eyebrows raised in confusion at his sudden reaction, Eunjae tilted her head at him. “What?”

Hobi leaned over the side of his chair and gestured a ringed finger at her cheeks. Speaking in rapid fire Korean, his forehead pinched with concern. Blinking, Eunjae tried and failed to translate what he’d just said.

“I don’t..,” Eunjae’s brow creased and a beat of awkward silence overtook the room as she stared up at him in confusion. “What?”

“You..,” Flapping a hand at her, Hoseok attempted to communicate what he’d just said. Sejin just sat there, a smile of amusement hid behind a hand as he let the two of them work it out themselves. Finally, Hobi pointed back at her face with a murmured, “ouch.”

Eunjae’s mouth formed an O as she finally picked up what he was trying to say. She gently prodded her bruised cheeks with a finger. “Yeah. Ouch.”

“Actually,” Sejin interrupted with pursed lips. “That kind of brings up a good point.”

“What do you mean?” Eunjae asked, finally breaking eye contact with Hoseok.

“Those bruises are kind of a red flag. Especially for Hobi- ya . And from what I’ve read up on, they aren’t very easy to cover up.”

Hoseok looked over to his manager at the sound of his name. Nodding in agreement, Eunjae thought back to her own poor attempt at covering the marks on her face. “This is true.”

“Yes,” Sejin nodded as well. “So we should get those healed up as much as we can while we’re here.”

“What do you--oh.”

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. The only way to heal the bruises on their skin was with the touch of the other. Biting her bottom lip at the thought of snuggling of to J- fucking-hope , Eunjae couldn’t help the heat from rushing to her face.

It wasn’t that she hated skinship, in fact, she was a pretty avid cuddler. It was one of the reasons why Miles always refused to share a bed with her. However, Eunjae wasn’t in the habit of snuggling up next to a man ten minutes after meeting him. She only liked skinship with people that she knew well and was comfortable around.

Seeing the slow reddening of her cheeks, Hoseok raised an eyebrow and spoke to his manager in Korean, likely asking what was just said. At the reply from his manager, he hummed in acknowledgment and said something in response before turning to Eunjae with a warm smile. Hoseok lifted the arm closest to her invitingly, seeming not at all bothered at the thought of cuddling a virtual stranger. Perhaps he was able to sense her apprehension, or maybe she was just that easy to read, but his ability to disarm her so easily already was scary.

“Cuddle time!”

How he even knew those words in English was a mystery to Eunjae. Hoseok reached out an arm to hover over her shoulders, pausing to look down at her with questioning eyes. “Okay?”

Nodding, Eunjae forced down the feeling of her body screaming out for his touch. She appreciated the fact that he’d asked first. Even just having him that close pulled at her veins like a magnet. “Okay.”

At getting her permission, Hoseok slowly placed his arm around her shoulders, the material of his jean jacket tickling her skin. Eunjae had to bite her lip to stop the sigh from leaving her lips as the electric current spread through her body. The small, painful throb from the bruises on her cheeks stopped at his touch. The only thing she could feel was his warmth and she had to stop herself from leaning further into him, from burrowing herself in the feeling rushing through her veins.

When he scooted his chair closer to hers in order to find a more comfortable position, the scent of his cologne washed over her. He smelled woodsy; the warmth almost competing with his touch. Hoseok’s hand brushed casually against her arm and she chalked his comfort with skinship up to the cuddly maknae line. At the feeling of his body relaxing against hers, she wondered if he was feeling the effects of their bond just as much as she was.

That thought brought up a very important question.

Brows furrowing, Eunjae looked back to Sejin who had watched the whole thing transpire with a small smile on his face. “How’d you know it was me, by the way?”

“What do you mean?” Sejin asked and she could feel the gaze of Hoseok burning into the side of her face.

Eunjae wiggled a bruised hand in the air. “How’d you figure out who his soulmate was?”

“Ah.” Sejin leaned back into his chair. “We had a team pour over the CCTV recordings from the event. It took them a little while, but they were able to analyse and correspond the bruises on Hobi- ya ’s hands with the way he’d touched you. From then on, we backtracked and matched your entry ticket to get your contact information.”

Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. Eunjae couldn’t help but feel both impressed and a little scared at how easily they’d found her. “Oh.”

Sejin glanced down at the watch on his wrist and frowned. “I hate to rush this, but we need to leave soon and there’s a few more things we need to sort out.”

This is it, Eunjae thought reluctantly. She came into the building knowing that what transpired in that room would change her life. Either for better or worse, she wasn’t sure yet. Mentally bracing herself for the words that would ultimately bring her reality crashing down around her, she met Sejin’s gaze head on.

The man’s eyes turned apologetic, almost as if he could read the thoughts going through her head. “As you know, the boys are getting ready to go on tour soon.”

He waited for her nod before continuing. The arm thrown around her shoulders shifted as Hoseok’s leg pressed against hers. The electricity flowing under her skin was so palpable that she could almost taste it on her tongue.

“We could try and arrange a workaround if you wanted to stay here in New York.” That statement left Eunjae blinking in shock.

She’d figured that she wouldn’t even get a choice in the matter. But now she was being given the option of staying. Eunjae knew that if she did ultimately choose to stay in the city, the difficulty of arranging schedules to find time to prevent both of them from starving to death would be immense, bordering on impossible. But the fact that she was getting a choice was more than what she’d hoped for.

“Or,” Sejin continued, breaking her train of thought. “If you so choose, you could move out to Seoul by the end of the month. Or before the side effects of First Touch begin to show themselves. It would be all expenses paid, of course. The company would set you up in an apartment in the same building as the boys to make it easier to be discreet. And someone would be there to help you acclimate to South Korea, if need be. You attend university, correct?”

Feeling overwhelmed by the situation, all Eunjae could do was nod.

“We could help you transfer to a university within Seoul, if you wanted to continue your education there.”

“I don’t..uh,” Eunjae’s eyes widened. “I don’t know very much Korean.”

Nodding as if expecting that response, Sejin reassured her. “We could easily arrange for private lessons with a tutor to help teach you Korean.”

He stopped speaking then, giving her a moment to process everything he’d just said. Eunjae would be lying if she said that his offer didn’t sound at least a little appealing. But the thought of leaving behind the only people close to her to move to a new country and be essentially alone gave her pause.

“I know it’s a lot to take in.” His hands splayed on the table. “But you don’t have to answer right now. You have my phone number. Think it over--sleep on it, and you can give me your decision whenever you’re ready.”

Eunjae leaned back in her chair at his words, the cold button of Hoseok’s jacket sleeve digging into her neck. Glancing out the corner of her eyes, she saw that he’d already been looking at her. It seemed like Hoseok had given up on trying to translate the conversation, and had instead decided to just take her in instead. Heat once again rushing to her face from his gaze, Eunjae turned back to Sejin.

“Yeah. It’s..,” she waved a hand, searching for the words to encompass her feelings. “A lot.”

“Understandable.” Looking down at his watch again, Sejin grimaced. “I really hate that we have to rush this, but we need to get going if we’re going to catch our flight on time.”

He said something in Korean that had Hoseok straightening a little in his chair. The rapper responded too fast for her to try and decipher it. Shifting, his hand gave her shoulder a quick, seemingly reassuring squeeze before he retracted his arm. The sudden cold that took the place of his touch sent a shiver down Eunjae’s spine.

She only had time to blink once before Hoseok was holding his phone out towards her, lit up to show the new contact screen. His eyes scrunched into half-moons as he sent her a blinding smile. Gently wiggling the phone in his hands, he stated, “keep in touch!”

Eunjae tried to ignore the giddiness from the thought of being able to talk to him whenever she wanted. Sejin stood from his chair and she entered her information quickly and handed him back the device. Hoseok sent her a cute, cheeky smile before tapping a few times on the screen. The back pocket of her jeans vibrated at what she assumed to be a text message from him and she couldn’t help her smile.

“It was nice meeting you. I wish we could have stayed longer but, well, that’s part of the job.” Sejin tucked the brown folder under one arm, reaching out a hand to shake hers once again. “We’ll be in touch.”

The chair under her rolled backwards as she stood, Hoseok towering over her as he rose as well. “You too.”

“I would wait a few minutes before leaving after us,” Sejin warned, stepping around the table. “There might be paparazzi waiting outside.”

“Got it.” Eunjae slipped her arms back through her coat with a nod, winding the scarf back around her neck.

As the two made their way towards the door, Hoseok paused before he turned back. He reached out a hand to squeeze one of her shoulders, dark eyes scanned her form one last time. Cherub cheeks dimpling with a smile, he hummed. “Talk soon.”

The sound of the door closing behind them sent the final walls of her reality crashing down to the floor of the stuffy, heated room.

#bts #bts soulmate au #bts fanfic #bts fic #hoseok

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