#my final message... keels over. and dies. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cilldaracailin · 4 years

Text

The Show Must Go On

Hello my Tumblr Lovelys!

Random thing today but it was on the news that the dolphin I saw in Kerry last week was missing for two days and they presumed he had died... Turns out he hadn’t and was spotted this morning by a fisherman. Glad to hear he is still around!

Anywhoo, I am back with the next story in the Robyn and Taron series.

Hope you all enjoy this one!

Suze x

*Disclaimer - I don’t know Taron and this is just fiction and for the purpose of the story, anything medical related, I research thoroughly before using*

“There is a great difference between worry and concern. A worried person sees a problem, and a concerned person solves a problem.”

Robyn was worried. When she stepped off the podium after giving her presentation on the Irish curriculum for Early Years Education at the childcare conference in Paris, she automatically checked her phone to see if Taron had messaged her about their possible dinner plans for the evening but instead of a message from him, she had five missed calls from Lyndsey and immediately rang her back. Once Robyn managed to talk to Lyndsey after her third attempt to call her, she heard the anxious tones of his publicist’s voice.

“He is hiding it from me Robyn but I know him too well and he has been burying it for at least two if not three days.”

Taken aback by how troubled Lyndsay was, begging Robyn to come and see Taron for herself, as he refused to listen to anything Lyndsey had to say, getting nothing but angry at her for even suggesting that he was sick. Robyn had apologised to Emma, explaining that something was wrong with Taron and she had to go. Thankfully Robyn knew once she had completed her obligatory presentation, she wasn’t really needed for the rest of the afternoon and Emma had told her to go, her manager knowing she wouldn’t have been able to stop her work colleague when it came down to anything to do with the Welshman and satisfied she had fulfilled her obligations for the Saturday conference, Emma was happy to let Robyn go.

Robyn wished she had worn her converse and not heels as she sat in the taxi on her way to the hotel where Taron’s current interviews were taking place as she had literally run from the conference centre to a main road in Paris to try and hail a taxi and now her feet were killing her and with her knees shaking with nervous anticipation, it wasn’t helping her poor feet. Neither was the dark navy pinstripe suit she wore and she was feeling warm and overheated in the back of the car, the Spring weather in Paris warm and muggy but the formal wear was necessary for the presentation she had been a part of and she wasn’t taking a detour to get to her hotel first so had to make do with the warm suit and high heels to go and see Taron.

She had followed Taron’s travels and promotion very closely through social media but also by talking with him as often as they could. The time difference when he arrived in Japan, had woken her during the middle of the night twice, Taron apologising profusely when he realised she had been sleeping but Robyn was happy to talk to him, listening to his excited tones which only increased as he finally got his hands on some fried chicken from Korea when his tour moved there.

He was even more elated when they visited China and the movie had received a wonderous reception from the critics and fans, telling tales of more food he had tired, hilarious games he had taken part in and staying up drinking sake and singing karaoke, which he paid dearly for the next day.

He was just as excited when he got to visit Sydney again and had filled Robyn in on all of the antics himself and Matthew got up to, even Colin joining in with the laughter during the trio’s day of interviews, Robyn smiling as she heard the happiness in his voice. Sure, he sounded a little tired but he was always in good form and full of animated chat, not even noticing at one point that once again he had woken Robyn up with the time difference until half way through their call.

She had watched every interview that had surfaced and laughed at his escapade’s with Colin, the older man rolling his eyes as the younger made a few jokes at his expense and frowned when some interviews focused on her relationship with Taron. During one particular table panel in L.A as a question was asked about them, she saw his eyes change colour so quickly and the pure annoyance he was feeling clearly on his face, she thought he was going to storm off the stage. It was a horrendous and inappropriate question he was asked about their sexual involvement and if the CPR was just an act to cover for their long-term hidden personal relationship. With the way the panel had been cut together, Robyn was sure it was Lyndsey or Taron himself who put a halt to the questions immediately, the person who had asked the question completely over stepping their boundaries, as in the next part of the interview, Taron had taken his jacket off whereas before he was still wearing it. Robyn knew Taron was more than willing to talk about their relationship, even telling him to do it herself and not avoid the question but there was a point where even Taron felt under attack with questions he was asked and when he had spoken to her on the phone once they figured the time difference out, she could hear the frustration and irritation in his voice. She managed to get his mind off it by talking about her impromptu flour fight in work with the children, making him giggle and talk about the one they had had together which completely lifted his mood by the time they ended the call.

Naturally the travelling and constant working showed on his face and once the tour had moved to America, she could also hear the strain in his voice at one point ending the phone call she had with him because his voice sounded overworked and extremely tired and it wasn’t long before that over tiredness appeared on his face and although he tried to hide a yawn behind a cup in one interview for Good Morning America, Robyn easily caught it. It was his traveling around Europe during the end of his second week of promoting the movie that his change in mood and persona really and obviously transformed.

It was easy to know which interviews happened on the same day, Robyn using Taron’s clothes to judge which ones happened one after the other and the day he wore his blue cardigan and white t-shirt was the beginning of his complete personality turn around. It was before they had travelled to France, the tour stopping in Germany for a night. The once happy Taron became withdrawn and quiet, the dark circles under his eyes which were expected, now deep crevices on his cheeks making his whole face look hollow and almost sickly looking. Robyn knew Taron still gave his all even when he was thoroughly exhausted and always managed to keep smiling or make a smart remake, a laugh or a joke but he was giving nothing except robotic like answers, leaving a lot of the talking to Matthew as they sat together and he was constantly drinking from a bottle of water. Nothing new for Taron, the endless talking easily dried out his throat but the fact that he wasn’t talking and still milling the water into him was out of character for him. When Robyn had tried to call him, he didn’t answer the phone but text her back explaining he was completely caught up with interviews and promised to call her back when he could, though he never did, another text coming through apologising saying he fell asleep or got caught up with a photoshoot or question and answer session. Even their contact that day had been through text although it was pretty one sided as Taron had yet to answer her back about their dinner that evening. It had been three days since she had actually spoken to him and heard his voice.

So when Lyndsey had contacted her to tell her that Taron was sickest she had ever seen him, to the point where he was almost keeling over with a cough and not eating or drinking, Robyn didn’t hesitate to get into a taxi to go to him.

“He is cranky as fuck, refusing to listen to me and pretending everything is ok and while he acts like it is for the camera, off camera I can see how he is lying to me. He won’t listen to me, won’t stop to take a break, insists on ploughing through but his whole body is held in this stiff position where it looks like if he even moves an inch, he will crumble. I have seen Taron go through a lot, but I am really worried Robyn. He is pale, sweating, breathing hard and his voice is desperately hoarse.” Lyndsey took a quick breath. “There is only one person in this world who Taron will listen too and that is you.”

Robyn could hear the desperation in Lyndsey’s voice and the not so subtle hint that she really needed her to go and see Taron because he was being stubborn and surly and a typical man. When Robyn told Lyndsey that she would be there within the next forty-five minutes, Lyndsey was silent in shock for a few seconds before she thanked her profusely, telling Robyn she would be waiting outside the hotel for her and to ignore the fans outside.

Robyn had never even factored in the possibility of fans or the media waiting outside the hotel and as the taxi pulled up to the hotel, Robyn had no idea how she was going to pick Taron’s publicist from the crowd or even see her over all the heads in front of her. After paying the taxi driver, Robyn got out of the car and stood back allowing it to leave before she figured out her next move. There were security guards positioned at the doors to the hotel and the black cars out the front were obviously the ones laid out for the cast but as far as Robyn was aware this hotel was actually the same one that Taron was staying in that night, Lyndsey taking away some travelling for him by booking him into the same hotel where the interviews were taking place, even though it might not be the most luxurious one, it gave him more time to rest up after a full day of press.

As Robyn stood behind the crowd, she took a breath and walked around to the left edge of the footpath and gathering of people, hoping to find a gap that she could get through so she could try and get a glimpse of Lyndsey but she was having no luck and as she manoeuvred through the fans and group standing outside the hotel, even though she didn’t speak French, she could understand the points and stares that were coming her way and was starting to feeling slightly uncomfortable at being noticed, really feeling at a loss of not seeing Lyndsey immediately and becoming more desperate to get to Taron. She was normally comforted by his hand when she was in a crowd like this, especially a crowd that was becoming more aware of what she looked like and who she was and the fact that she was standing there in the open made her heart flutter a little with nerves and she could definitely hear her name echo through the all the people standing around her. It was only when she blinked as a flash went off that she realised not only was the assembly of people filled with fans but with some press and media and another blinding flash went off in her direction. That flutter soon became a harder thump and she could feel herself getting uneasy as more people started to recognise her and whispered her name, more photo’s being taken of her as she stood frozen on the footpath.

She jumped a little as her phone rang. She pulled it from her large handbag and was glad to see it was Lyndsey.

“Hey I am outside.”

“Me too. I can’t see you.” Taron’s publicist still sounded distressed; her words spoken fast.

“I am behind the crowd.”

“Come around to the right side of the fans and media and I will get you through.”

Robyn listened to the end call tone and with Lyndsey ending the call so quickly, Robyn was beginning to fret now too. Lyndsey always appeared with a calm and collected persona, her focus on her job but now she sounded completely frazzled. Robyn made herself walk calmly around to the right side of the crowd again and managed to squeeze herself in through the people, ignoring the looks of animosity she was receiving from the young girls and the whispered of French around her, standing right in front of the barrier that blocked everyone from the hotel entrance.

“Robyn! There you are!” She looked up to see Lyndsey practically running towards her with a security guard on her heels.

He got the crowd to move back quickly, speaking rapid French and once there was enough room, opened the barrier to let Robyn in, Lyndsey grabbing her hand and pulling her hard away from the crowd and towards the hotel, without even a hello or hug as she normally greeted Robyn with. Even with her back turned to the throng of media and press, Robyn could see the flare from a camera flash roll over her and hated that her picture was being taken in such an underhand way but as Lyndsey had a very tight grip on her hand she didn’t really have a lot of time to think about it too much, especially when Lyndsey started to speak in hurried words to her.

“I have never seen him like this. Sure, I have seen him run down and ill. Always comes with the promotion but he is just so withdrawn into himself, almost forcing himself to hold in how shit he feels. I couldn’t tell you the last time he ate something and in-between interviews, his whole body is completely consumed by this horrible cough. He won’t listen to me and actually bit my head off this morning when I told him he needed to skip today and rest up but he was having none of it.”

Lyndsey was still pulling on Robyn’s hand as she spoke and Robyn was finding it hard to keep up with the pace, her heels clip clopping loudly as they rushed in through the doors of the hotel, past the reception and towards the lifts.

“Ok Lyndsey, slow down.”

“He is really sick Robyn and I am so worried about him.”

“I know that but you need to take a breath for a second. You are starting to panic.”

“He won’t let me help him. Taron always lets me help him. Always.”

Robyn turned to face the older lady and placed her hands on her shoulders, seeing in her eyes the concern as clear as day. “And you know how stubborn he can be especially when it comes to his work and please take a breath for me.” When Lyndsey gave her an exasperated sigh, Robyn frowned. “Do it.” She said a bit more sternly, glad to feel her shoulders rise under her hands. “One more.” Robyn insisted and when the lift doors opened, Lyndsey had calmed down considerably.

“Sorry.” Said Lyndsey as they stepped into the lift and she pushed four on the keypad.

“You don’t have to apologise.” Robyn moved to stand beside her in the lift. “I know how much you care about him, so naturally when he acts out of character you are going to worry about him.”

“He normally listens to me.”

“What about Matthew?”

“No luck either. Got the same very angry and irate answers back. I am hoping maybe you can get through to him. You don’t know how glad I am that you were able to come, that you are here at the same time as he is. You were ok to leave work?”

“Yeah it is fine. I was finished my presentation so I could leave.”

Once the doors of the lift opened, they were met with another three security guards but as Lyndsey flashed her pass their way, the two were let through and Robyn followed the publicist down the carpeted hallway following the signs for conference room four.

“They are in the middle of an interview but due a break afterwards for some food before they continue again.”

“How long has he been working today?”

“Since six this morning.”

“Six this morning?” Exclaimed Robyn. “It’s nearly five in the afternoon. Please tell me it’s not been constant!”

“Mostly. They had an early morning TV show followed by interviews, then a photoshoot for a magazine and then himself and Matthew have been here since eleven going through the French press one by one. There are others here from other European countries too so it is pretty full on for him.”

“What time is he due to finish?”

“It should be seven but everything is running behind because some of the interviewers needed help with translation and they are taking up extra time.”

“Did he sleep last night?”

“My gut feeling is no but of course he told he me did.”

“Of course he did.”

Lyndsey stopped outside a pair of double doors, another security guard standing outside on watch. “She is with me.” Once they were through the door, Lyndsey gestured to Robyn to keep quiet and they walked to a screen behind which they could stand to watch Taron and Matthew who were sitting in the middle of an interview.

Even though Robyn knew she had to keep a low profile and not be seen, she still side stepped a little so she could see him better and immediately her heart dropped out of her stomach. It was the worst she had ever seen Taron look and that was including the first time she met him. He looked thoroughly exhausted, his face completely miserable even though he was trying to hide it with the fakest smile she had ever seen on his lips and the laugh he gave was so forced, it made Robyn cringe. She had never heard him laugh like that before and as he lifted the bottle from between his legs to take a sip of water it was either to avoid answering the question that was asked or as Lyndsey had said, to hold in the cough that was desperate to leave his body and his shoulders shook with the struggle of keeping the cough in. She could also see how Lyndsay had explained how he was holding himself too and Taron sat so straight in the chair, it looked so unnatural and uncomfortable. After holding the bottle to his lips but obviously not drinking, Taron eventually took his turn to answer the question, his voice quiet and Robyn could hear the scratchiness with which he spoke and how gravelly he sounded.

“See what I mean?” Lyndsey whispered to her. “Not himself at all.”

Robyn nodded. “But is doing a very good job of trying not to show how shit he actually feels.” Her eyes were glued to Taron. She knew the tour was going to be tiring on him but she couldn’t get over how wretched he looked, incredible black rings under his eyes, eyes which normally had a little sparkle, were dull and lifeless and she could see the effort it took him to answer an easy question, the short breathes he took to counter the cough he was covering. His cheeks were not the rosy red she loved to see when he was slightly embarrassed but more red raw from a high temperature which she was sure he had as along with his red face, there was a clear and obvious sheen of perspiration of his skin. Robyn wasn’t surprised to see the heat on his skin as he was dressed in a leather jacket, jumper and she could also see the collar of a shirt peeking through.

“How long until they are finished?” Robyn turned to Lyndsey.

“About another five minutes or so.”

“Anyway I can interrupt it and stop it?”

Lyndsey smiled sadly. “Wish you could and would love to let you but it’s best we let them finish. He is already going to be mad at me for ringing you to come over.”

“Let him be mad. I can handle him.”

“And that is why I knew I could call you. He needs you Robyn. He will always need you.”

Robyn didn’t answer but turned back to Taron and just wanted to walk over and hug him tightly against her until he gave in and accepted that he was quite obviously ill, just as Robyn predicted he was going to get back on St Patrick’s Day and it hurt her so much that he felt he had to hide how crappy he felt and put up a front for work, to keep working and not even attempt to take a break, to give himself a break, only working himself past the point of exhaustion and pure illness putting his body completely to test.

As Taron sat in the chair half listening to the questions he was being asked by an interviewer from somewhere in Europe, he couldn’t quite remember where, he shivered violently. He had been feeling cold all morning and even after he had pulled on his jacket, he was still frozen. He had been desperate for a coffee to try and not only wake himself up but warm his body up but he couldn’t stomach it or even attempt to swallow it. His throat felt like it was covered in razor blades and every swallow was painful. He had been feeling a bit rough since Wednesday and he woke up with a headache and scratchy throat and although he had been eating paracetamol to try and lift his cold, it hadn’t been helping and now he felt ten times worse, his whole body filled with aches and pains and what was making everything hurt even more was the horrible chesty cough he had been cursed with. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before, up most of the time coughing uncontrollably and every time he lay his head down on the pillow to try and sleep, his whole chest seized up once more and he had to physically get out of the bed and stand up, hoping it would help ease his cough but it never did and at one point he was holding onto the desk in the room as he tried to catch his breath, his whole body convulsing painfully. In the end he had to sit up in the bed and sit up straight and it was uncomfortable for sleeping. During the day he had tried his best to hide the cough, swallowing it down or making an excuse to go to the bathroom where he hid in the cubicle until his fit of coughing was done but it left a sting in his ribs and any deep breathe only brought the cough on so he did his best to avoid any movement that would rustle his upper body, keeping his posture held tight and firm.

He knew he had been a rotten mood since yesterday and felt awful for taking his sulkily temperament out on Lyndsey but the tour was so important to him even more so because the filming had to be halted due to what had happened to him in Florida in the first place and he wasn’t going to miss any interviews because of a small cold. Lyndsey had been on his case since that morning about taking the day off and staying in bed but he couldn’t do that. He had too many responsibilities to follow through with and after he had taken more pain killers, which scraped and burned his throat horribly, he put on a brave face and used his best acting skills to hide how rotten he was truly feeling.

He had such an amazing time on his promotional tour before he started to feel sick and had enjoyed every moment, even the travelling which would normally bring him down when he was over tired and severely jet-lagged didn’t bother him as before. He was putting it down to the fact that every day, even if he got the time difference wrong, he spoke to Robyn and filled her in on the excitement of the day or his annoyance at the nerve of some of the interviewers asking certain questions about their relationship, really overstepping their privacy boundaries. He had laughed and joked and been as proud as punch promoting his new movie, both himself and Matthew bouncing off each other as they sat on early morning TV shows and Q&A sessions and panels and the whole tour had been absolutely perfect.

That was until he started to feel absolutely shit and the more he sat on the chair under the heat of the lights which normally made him sweat, he felt bitterly cold and found it more difficult to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing as he worked on repressing the need to cough.

“What would you do Taron?”

He had been focused on trying to rub some heat into his frozen hands, he missed the question asked to him and looked up.

“Sorry?”

“If you were faced with the same situation liked Eggsy where he had to shoot his dog? Do you think you could do it?”

While Taron’s mind cursed the question, he forced himself to smile and try to be good natured with his answer. “Definitely not but if it was a life or death situation or to save a family member or a friend, then I guess I would.”

“Even Robyn’s?”

“Sorry?” Taron couldn’t help the edge to his voice, his pounding head and pain behind his eyes not helping him even try to act professional as her name was mentioned.

“If Robyn’s life was in danger, would you shoot the dog.”

“What kind of a stupid fucking question is that?” He spat angrily, taking both Matthew and the interviewer by surprise. “What do you think? She saved my life but I would give up hers for a dogs? Fucking bollocks.”

“And that is time on the interview.” Lyndsey walked over to stand in front of Taron. As soon as she heard the complete change in Taron’s voice, she knew he had had enough of the interview and needed to see a friendly face in the form of Robyn, Lyndsey praying the Irish woman could help him see sense. “You did get the little memo beforehand about the questions about Robyn.” She said to the interviewer. “And your time is actually up. Thank you very much.” Lyndsey turned to look at Taron and he was scowling at her. “Get that look from your face Taron. I know you feel like shit but there is no need for the attitude you are giving me.”

“I am fine.” Taron retorted, his blocked nose making it hard for him to fully pronounce the word ‘fine’. “And if they are going to talk about Robyn like that, I am going to react.”

“First off Taron, you are not fine and secondly you cannot get up on your high horse and go off on one whenever her name is mentioned. You know this.”

“Fuck off Lyndsey. I am fine. Just need some air from all of this shit.”

“Taron!” Robyn had been listening behind the screen and nodded to Lyndsey when she walked away to quickly to put an end to the interview. Inside her heart had soared to hear him talk so protectively about her even though she knew she probably should have been mad at him for his reaction and how he responded to the question but when she heard his angry words to Lyndsey, she wouldn’t have him treat his publicist in such a way and Robyn being Robyn couldn’t help herself and had to interfere, marching around the screen and over to where he was sitting, standing right in front of him. She immediately saw the surprise look in his tired and blood shot eyes, his features changing quicker than a finger click from infuriated to disbelief. “You do not talk to Lyndsey like that.”

Everyone in the room froze, when the young woman walked with purpose right onto the make-shift interview set up and stood in front of the lead actor with her hands on her hips, a definite scowl on her face and not only because of her sudden appearance but because they knew who she was.

“Robyn!” She could hear the pain it took him to exclaim her name and how gruff it sounded, his voice completely losing its tone before he had finished speaking.

Taron’s whole face switched from anger to surprise to relief as Robyn stood in front of him, dressed in another stunning fitted pants suit and he suddenly forgot what he was angry for but seeing the look of disappointment on her face, his head hung to his chest, remembering how he had spoken to Lyndsey feeling completely ashamed with himself. As he let his body flop a little back in the chair, he wasn’t holding himself as he had been and the strength at which he had been using to cover the cough left him and his whole body crumbled forward with fatigue as he was hit with a severe and brutal fit of a burning cough from his chest and as he over balanced on his chair, finally fully giving into how he truly felt, he expected to hit the floor but instead a strong pair of arms caught his left arm while a very familiar pair went to his shoulders to help keep him upright.

Robyn knew her sudden presence had the people in the conference room talking to each other in quiet French but when she dropped to her knees to catch Taron before he fell forward off the chair, she had definitely heard the gasp from those around her, glad Matthew had also reacted quickly grabbing Taron’s left arm to keep him upright too.

“I’m sorry.” Taron spluttered through painful spasms of coughing. “Lyndsey I am so sorry.”

“Shhh don’t talk.” Robyn gave his shoulders a slight rub, feeling them violently shake under her hands as he coughed. She thanked Matthew as he helped to make sure Taron was sitting by himself and she knelt up, in-between Taron’s legs putting her right hand straight onto his forehead and immediately became more concerned than she already was. As she predicted he had a temperature and as she moved her hand around to the back of his neck, Taron’s skin was on fire with an obvious fever and not only was his skin over heated, it was definitely covered in a layer of perspiration and Robyn wasn’t surprised as he was dressed in more layers of clothes than she had ever seen him wear.

“Robyn?” Lyndsey came to hunch down beside her, so glad that Taron already seemed to be admitting defeat to how he was feeling, immediately letting Robyn in to help him but she saw the look of worry increase on her face.

“I need help to get this jacket off him.” She answered moving her hand from his neck and as she went to slide the leather off his shoulders, Taron’s whole body was stricken with another horrible wave of coughing and within seconds, his face had turned red and Robyn could see the pain in his shattered facial features. “Shh Taron shh.” Instead of trying to take his jacket off, Robyn wrapped her arms around his body and pulled him to her, taking all of his weight as he slumped against her, his arms by his side, as she gently rubbed his back round and round in soothing circles. “Shh Taron.”

Matthew had stood up and was standing behind Robyn, ready to catch her in-case she lost her balance as she held Taron but she looked extremely steady on her knees, so he moved to stand beside Lyndsey.

“She came.” He said to the woman who stood with her eyes glued to Taron and Robyn. Lyndsey had told Matthew in-between their interviews that she as going to call Robyn and although he couldn’t say he was surprised to see her, the woman having flown to New York for Taron, he was definitely relieved. He had watched Taron suffer in silence over the last three days and though had tried to talk to the younger man and help him, he was being his usual stubborn self and refusing to listen. Thankfully there was one person, apart from his mother, who Taron listened too and she was currently holding him tight in her arms, whispering to him.

“Of course she did.” Lyndsey confirmed. “She would do anything for him and I knew as soon as he saw her, he would do this.” Lyndsey didn’t really know what to do as she looked at the two in front of her, if she should go and help Robyn but with the two locked in a tight embrace, more so Robyn holding Taron, she didn’t want to move them until Robyn was ready to.

They both watched as Taron finally let go of everything he had been holding in and he sounded terrible, even worse than Lyndsey had imagined. She had never known Taron to be so secretive about his health before, always being open with her if he had a headache or needed an extra shot of expresso to keep him awake because he had slept badly the night before but for some reason he felt the need to keep it to himself how sick he was really was and as she watched Robyn whisper to him, Lyndsey was so thankful for the Irish women who held Taron’s heart in her hands.

Taron felt like he was dreaming and found it so hard to believe that his wonderful Robyn was in front of him. He literally collapsed into her arms and had nothing but trust for her to catch him and she did and he clung to Robyn, his head on her shoulder and he couldn’t even bury his face in his usual comforting spot on her neck as he was consumed by the pain in his chest and ribs from coughing and he was so caught up in how dizzy and poorly he felt that he hadn’t even properly processed how she was in front of him holding him but there she was, rubbing his back with one hand, her other at the base of his neck.

Robyn could feel her legs shaking as she took all of Taron’s weight but she didn’t dare let him go or ask him to move. As he leant against her she could feel how the horrendous cough travelled through his whole body and not only feel it but hear it too and the rattle in his chest was worrying to her, especially at how long it took for the current bout of coughing to end. Once he had caught his breath, she felt him almost throw his face into her neck and she could feel the laboured gasps for air he made against her skin. She moved her right hand into his hair and cupped the back of his head. “Don’t take deep breathes Taron. Just little shallower ones. Too deep and you will cough all over again.”

Taron always trusted Robyn and followed her advice, concentrated on doing the opposite of what he was used too when he was feeling panicky or his anxiety rise and the quick little intakes of air helped him a lot. As he closed his eyes and breathed Robyn in, he felt her hands move from the outside of his jacket and right under his clothes, her hands on the bare skin of his lower back above the waistband of his jeans and belt and the cold of her hands felt so wonderful on his skin and he moaned when she took them away.

“I need to get you out of this coat.” Robyn pushed her hands up and under his clothes as far as she could and once on his bare skin was met with a little dribble of sweat that dripped down his spine and his body was over heated and temperature ridden as it fought whatever bacterial virus it had picked up.

“I am freezing.” He whispered hoarsely into her neck.

“You have a temperature Taron so while you feel cold, your body is on fire. I need to get some of these layers off.”

Robyn looked to Lyndsey who was standing to her left and nodded with her head, glad that Lyndsey understood that she needed some help. Together, with Matthew helping too, they managed to slide Taron’s jacket down his shoulders and off his body, Robyn feeling a shiver run through him as he still leant against her.

“And jumper. Hun, I am going to have to get you to sit back on the chair.”

Taron moaned in protest at being moved but with no energy at the moment, he couldn’t object as he felt his body being gently moved back in the seat. He looked up to see Lyndsey beside him and he reached over to grab her hand. “I am sorry.” He croaked.

“You can make it up to me when you are not a pathetic sweaty mess and I can say I told you so.” Lyndsey gave his hand a squeeze. “You are bloody lucky to have Robyn in your life and I am glad you listen to her. You are never to let yourself feel this ill again Taron, do you hear me? This could have been sorted three days ago if you had of just been honest with me. You are so much more important to me rather than the bloody promotion and your health comes first before anything.”

With a pitiful nod, Taron brought his hands to cover his mouth as he took another fit of coughing and as his cheeks turned red once more, Robyn could feel his friends starting to panic. Without a doubt, Taron was very ill but he didn’t need to see those around him with worried faces.

“Lyndsey does he have a spare t-shirt or shirt?” Robyn was glad to see her nod. “Can you get it for me please.” Once Lyndsey had walked back behind the screen, she turned to Matthew. “Any cold water around?”

“Cold bottles ok?”

“Perfect.”

Once Robyn was sure Lyndsey and Matthew were distracted for a few minutes, she turned her attention back to Taron who was sitting slightly hunched forward with his eyes squinted closed. Now that he was finally given a break from coughing, she could hear once more how laboured his breathing was and the raspy rattle that was coming from his chest.

“You are a disaster,” She said to him, smiling slightly as he managed the tiniest of nods. “Do you know how mad I am at you?” He nodded again. “Is this why you haven’t actually called me since Thursday?” Another miserable nod came her way. Robyn shook her head. “Can I take this jumper off now?” Taking his next nod as permission, Robyn reached forward and holding the bottom of his jumper started to pull it up his body. “Arms up.” She instructed him, Taron listening to her and lifted his arms up above his head, giving Robyn the space she needed to get the jumper off him. Throwing it to the side, she couldn’t help the sigh that came from her lips. “And the shirt too.” He wore a light blue shirt under his jumper and Robyn deftly opened the buttons and pulled it down his arms and threw it to the side with the rest of his clothes. “Jesus Christ Taron. I am fit to kill you.” Robyn’s eyes glanced over his white t-shirt, sighing at the wet patches from where he had been sweating in his layers. She brought her hands to his face and once her hands touched his cheeks, he immediately leaned into them. “I am glad your mother can’t see you like this.”

Taron groaned, cringing as another cough filled his lungs, his throat on fire, his head feeling like it was going to burst. He could feel his body being guided into Robyn’s again and he couldn’t help but lean against her once more, relishing in the coolness of her neck against his right warm cheek but he shivered, feeling cold in the large conference room. He could feel Robyn’s hands running up and down his back and he felt too unwell to even care that the back of his t-shirt was soaked with perspiration or to even feel embarrassed when her fingers creeped under his top and ran in such delicate circles down his spine. He was exhausted in every possible way and his body was making it very clear that he had taken hiding how ill he was too far.

“Here Robyn.”

Matthew walked back over with two cold bottles of water.

“Thanks so much. You can just leave them on the ground beside me.”

“Here is a clean shirt for him too.” Lyndsey knelt beside Robyn with a fresh crisp black shirt in her hands. “What can I do for you.”

“I would really like to try and cool him down a bit. He is running a desperately high temperature.”

Lyndsey looked to her. “You can tell that just by holding him?”

Robyn smiled a little. “Kinda but if you feel his forehead, the back of his neck and then feel your own you will feel the difference immediately.” When Lyndsey hesitated, Robyn encouraged her by taking her hand and guiding it to the back of Taron’s neck, both Taron and Lyndsey reacting to the difference in temperature that they felt. “Now feel the back of my neck.” Robyn bent her head forwards a little and with her hair twisted up in a plait, Lyndsey had easy access to her skin.

“Jesus Taron is so hot.”

“I knew you always had a thing for me.”

It was a laughter that broke up some of the tense atmosphere around them but unfortunately the laughter turned silent as Taron was consumed by another round of coughing, moving completely away from Robyn and back into the chair as he brought one hand to his ribs and one to his mouth. He could feel Robyn’s hands on his knees which he was very thankful for.

“Robyn what can we do for you?” Asked Matthew.

“He really needs a doctor.” Robyn summarised quickly.

“No.” Taron spoke through a rough cough.

“Taron…” Warned Robyn.

“No doctor. I will be ok. Just need to…” He never got to finish his sentence and bent over with his head in his hands as a sharp pain pricked him behind his eyes and once again, he was catching his breath, rasping sounds coming from his chest. “No.” He said as firmly as he could manage. “I just need to sleep it off.”

The three stared at him before Lyndsey and Matthew turned to Robyn. In her heart, she knew he needed to see a doctor, the intensity of the cough she was sure would only be helped with an antibiotic but if Taron was already refusing to even talk about going to see a doctor, Robyn wasn’t going to waste time to convince him, Taron needing to accept that fact for himself.

“Right ok then well let’s get this t-shirt off.” Robyn had lifted her hands to the hem of his top but stalled and looked around the room to the crowd who had gathered around them. She hadn’t really noticed them before but now as she went to physically strip Taron, she could feel every pair of eyes staring at them. “Any chance we can have the room to ourselves for ten or fifteen minutes? Just to make a start on cooling him down? He doesn’t need a crowd around him.”

Lyndsey got to her feet and walked straight over to the event managers to have a quick word, while Matthew knelt beside Robyn, as Taron sat back in the chair again, taking some shallow breathes with his eyes closed.

“Do you have some magic or something? Maybe some fairy dust from the leprechauns? Can I borrow some for when we film the new movie?”

Robyn looked to him. “Magic leprechaun dust?” She questioned, reaching forward to hold Taron’s hands in hers. “What on earth are you on about?”

“You have this way about you when it comes to Taron, I am wondering if you give him something when he goes to visit you.”

“I do have a fairy fort in my back garden so I have access to fairy dust and magic mushrooms whenever I want. I slip some into the cookies I bake for Taron when he comes to see me.”

Robyn grinned when she saw confusion cross Matthew’s face and feeling a squeeze on her hands, turned to look at Taron who had a small smile on his too.

“Really?”

“Sure Matthew.” Robyn shook her head. “Fairy dust in the cookies,” She turned back to Taron as he cleared his throat a few times, watching as his eyes creased at the side. “Can you take a drink for me?” She asked him, frowning as he shook his head a little. “If you are going to refuse to drink anything for me, this is not going to work and I will be calling for an ambulance, never mind a doctor.”

Taron didn’t even need to look at Robyn to know how serious she was about calling the ambulance. “My throat is so sore.” He winced.

Robyn let go of his hands and placing her thumbs on his jaw, moved her fingers to his neck, feeling the swollen glands of an obvious sore throat. “Of course it is and yet you still won’t go and see a doctor.” Robyn picked up one of the bottles of water Matthew had brought her. “Small sips. You don’t take any water in; you end up in hospital.”

Reluctantly, Taron took the bottle from her which she had opened for him and bringing it to his lips, took the smallest of sips, his throat painfully dry.

“Is there anything other than water around?” Robyn asked, knowing the water probably tasted horrible to Taron at the moment. “Anything like a Lucozade?”

“I think they have something like that, hold on.”

While Matthew stood up and walked over to the refreshment table, Robyn took the bottle of water from Taron, much to his delight and as she screwed the lid back on, Lyndsey walked over.

“We have twenty minutes to ourselves. They are asking when the interviews are going to continue.” She spat shaking her head. “Absolute nerve of them.”

“And you did tell them they aren’t right?”

“I told them as politely as I could that these interviews would not be going ahead with Taron, today or tomorrow.”

“What?” Croaked Taron. “Lyndsey no. I have to do them. I need to promote the movie. Especially after the rush to get it finished on time.” The more Taron spoke, the more awful he sounded and Robyn could hear the ache in his voice. “I will change my shirt and continue on.”

Robyn knelt back on her heels, staring at him. “Are you actually serious?” She questioned him.

“What?” He asked, looking to her, wide troubled eyes looking back at him.

The extreme tiredness was so evident on his face and his scowl made it look so much worse. “You want to sit through another five hours of interviews when you feel like complete and utter shit, can barely talk, are crippled with a horrendous cough and have a banging headache?”

“The movie needs to be promoted.” He insisted, trying to hold in another cough that wrecked his chest.

“Taron you’re about this close to collapsing on the floor from exhaustion and how ill you are.”

“I have managed so far today without anybody’s help. I can keep going.” He insisted.

“I give up.” Robyn stood up.

“Robyn?” Taron asked, his voice breaking as he said her name.

“You know I love you and will always support you, but not this. I can’t watch you sit here hunched over in agony, barely able to drink anything or talk. You are sick Taron and incredibly sick with a stupidly high temperature that could easily become very serious but if you want to put your body through more interviews and answering questions by all means go ahead and do it, but I won’t stand or sit here and watch you do it.” With a quick turn, Robyn walked away from him and headed back towards the door she came through with Lyndsey.

“Robyn!” Taron got to his feet and though he was very shaky as he stood, walked after her as she strolled away from him, pushing past Matthew and Lyndsey who tried to stop him. “Please don’t go. Not again.” He took to a quick jog, every movement hurting him. He caught up with her and grabbed her hand. “You can’t leave me, not like this.” He coughed.

Robyn shook his hand away. “When you are finished the interviews, call me and I will come back.” Robyn picked up her bag from where she had left it on the floor. “I am going to sit downstairs in the bar until you are done.”

“You are serious about leaving me again.” Taron rasped.

“You seriously want to sit through another five hours of this feeling like you do?” Robyn turned sharply to him and gestured to the set up for the interview. He didn’t answer her, his eyes going to the floor. “I know how much this movie means to you and I understand how much pressure you felt for this promotion, how important it was for you to get it perfect. The filming was halted because of Florida but something happened that you had no control over and yet you feel so guilty over that and getting through these three weeks and doing it thoroughly and properly is everything to you at the moment.” Robyn took his hands. “I understand it Taron but it doesn’t mean that I can watch you do it, not when you are this sick and ill and I care about you way too much to watch you suffer through it. Another five hours of this and I guarantee that you will be in a hospital bed, on an IV line. You know where I will be if you change your mind.”

Robyn let go of his hands and turned on her heels away from him. It was a drastic and very unfair move to make on him but her reaction needed to be severe for Taron to see that she was deadly serious about walking away from him when he needed her. She had her hand on the door ready to push it open when he called for her.

“Robyn please.”

It was the hopeless and grave voice with the deep broken tone she had expected to hear and she quickly turned around to face him and dropped her bag onto the floor, her arms out to catch him as he stepped over to her and crippled over from tiredness. This time Robyn wasn’t able to keep herself and Taron standing and she didn’t know how she managed but eased the two of them to the floor, Taron’s face buried under her chin as they sat in a ball together on the floor, Taron’s hands gripping her arm tight.

“Don’t leave me.” He cried unhappily as he dug his face into her shoulder.

“I am not going anywhere.” She assured him as she stroked his left cheek. “Except to get you to bed.”

It was a tight cuddle, one that Taron needed desperately and as his body was crippled with another cough, Robyn laid her cheek on his head, feeling Matthew and Lyndsey stand close by waiting and watching for what was going to happen next. Robyn continued to soothe Taron with hushed words and feather light caresses on his cheek as he held her tightly. It was an awkward and uncomfortable position for both as Robyn knelt and Taron was half sitting and half kneeling against her and once Taron caught his breath, Robyn nodded to his director and publicist and the three got the exhausted Welshman to his feet and back onto the chair.

“Reverse phycology at its best.” Robyn explained to his publicist and director as they questioned her moves and words. “Works like a charm.” She pulled at the hem of his t-shirt and as Taron lifted his arms above his head, finally got the sweat ridden piece of cotton off him.

“Always were good at it.” Taron whispered as he shivered, now in just his jeans, goosebumps covering his upper body. “I am sorry and you are right. I need to go to bed.”

“And you had better remember that and no need to say sorry again. Let me cool you down a bit first before we move you to your room.” Robyn slipped off her own suit jacket and placed it on the ground beside her. She picked up one of the cold bottles of water and poured it over his white t-shirt, squeezing the excess water out so it dribbled onto her jacket and not all over the floor. Once she was satisfied with her home-made cold compress, she knelt up between Taron’s legs. “This is going to be cold Taron but it will immediately help to get this temperature down.”

“You mean how hot I am?” He asked hoarsely.

Robyn grinned at his attempt to smile. “We don’t need to fix that, just your body temperature.” She placed her left hand on his right cheek and placed the folded t-shirt on his forehead, seeing Taron close his eyes at the initial touch, feeling the shiver that ran through him. She moved the t-shirt down to his right cheek and then around to the back of his neck, Taron’s chin moving to his chest to give Robyn more space to cool him down. “You ok?”

“Cold.” He answered.

“Not hot anymore?” Robyn joked.

Taron’s slight laugh turned into a cough and his hands went to his chest and ribs. “Don’t make me laugh. It aches.” He closed his eyes as Robyn moved his wet t-shirt down his back and up to his neck once more before she took the t-shirt way from him. He then lifted his head and looked at her, Robyn’s focus completely on wetting his top again. She was wearing a light blue blouse with a V-neck and if he didn’t feel so rough and rotten, he knew he would be feeling something other than tired and ill. As she knelt in between his legs, once again looking after him, he couldn’t quite believe that she was there for him when he needed her the most and hated her way of making him see that he couldn’t carry on with the interviews and desperately needed to lay down and rest but she did it so well and he knew it was her way of showing she cared. His eyes still did a quite roam over her and his heart jumped as it always did, but he moment of joy was soon overshadowed by his cough and he brought both his hands to mouth. He felt Robyn’s wet hands on his shoulders and as always, he felt comforted by her touch.

“Just let me go over you once more and then we can get you settled in your room.”

Taron wished he had the energy to return a smart comment to her and his chin went back to his chest as she placed the wet t-shirt on the back of his neck again.

“Robyn what do you need?” Asked Lyndsey. Herself and Matthew had been keeping quiet, just watching Robyn look after their friend. Of course, they had heard the stories from Taron about Robyn, about her actions in Florida but to see it first hand, both gave each other a knowing look. There was definitely more than friendship between the two. Lyndsey walked over and crouched beside the Irish woman. “I can make a run to a pharmacy for you.”

“Please.” Robyn gently pushed on Taron’s shoulders, getting him to sit back against the chair and moved the cold compress to his forehead. “Paracetamol and cough bottle for a chesty dry cough and lots of tissues and where the nearest doctor is.”

“No doctors.” Taron murmured.

“And where the nearest doctor is and if they do call outs on the weekend.”

“No doctors.” Taron repeated though he knew he was being ignored as his publicist and best friend spoke in hushed whispers. Through tired eyes, he saw Lyndsey walk away from them.

“I got that drink for you too Robyn.” Matthew now crouched beside her.

“Perfect.” Robyn thanked him. “Not that he is going to drink it.”

Taking the wet t-shirt from his head, Robyn threw it to the side and picked up the black shirt Lyndsey had left on Matthew’s chair for him. She draped it over his shoulders and helped Taron to get his arms in. Once the material was fixed on his frame, she buttoned it for him.

“Best we just get him to his room.” Robyn said to Matthew. “What floor is he on?”

“Seventh.”

Robyn groaned. “Of course, he would be.” She looked at Taron as he sat with his eyes closed, taking short breathes through his open lips. “And how many people would we meet along the way?” She asked herself. “You have a hat?”

Taron shook his head before he started to cough again, the throbbing behind his eyes increasing with each painful cough.

“Ok shh Taron.” Robyn placed her hands on his cheeks, feeling the heat on his skin and left them there until he had stopped coughing. “You poor chicken.” She said quietly. “Really putting yourself through hell.” She turned to look at his director. “Would you help me get him back to his room?”

“Of course.”

Robyn left Taron to grab her handbag and she stuffed her suit jacket and Taron’s clothes into it, actually slipping his leather jacket on herself. “Maybe this is something else I can add to my wardrobe.” She joked but when once again Taron didn’t take to laugh, she knew he was definitely feeling very unwell. She dropped in the bottle of Lucozade type sports drink that Matthew had given her into her bag too, needing something other than water for Taron to drink. “Anything else belonging to you around here?” She asked Taron, who was just sitting in the chair sad and completely deflated.

“No my phone is in my pocket.”

“Ok so let’s go then.”

Robyn looked to Matthew and they nodded to each other and taking an arm each, got Taron to his feet, who was very glad to have the support either side of him, even happier when Robyn slipped her arm around his waist, her grip on him tight and firm. He felt himself leaning more into her than Matthew and once again was so thankful for her in more ways that he could describe.

@fuseburner @hitmeonmytspot @primaba11erina @turkish276

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Love #Friendship #Trust #Illness #Sick #Feeling Under the Weather #Cuddles #Manflu #Stubborn #Robyn and Taron

18 notes · View notes

ask-de-writer · 4 years

Text

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 83 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 83 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

///////////////////////

“Why, one,” said Master Juris, bothered now by where the questions might lead. Master Clard and the others all followed in a ragged chorus, “One.”

“Could you all hear the drum talk between the ships?” Kurin had hands on hips now, and determination in her tone.

Again the chorus of yeses sounded.

“So, you knew that Mister Kotance was attempting to seize my personal property on the pretext that I was only a child as Master Juris just tried to claim as well? That he was trying to take a ship and murder people that you all knew very well were seeking redress of wrongs done to them by the fleet? Then you just stood by and let at least a quarter of the crew risk Scattering for participation in piracy? It wasn’t until Mord Halyn, whom I still regard as my Captain, tried to deal with the results of the piracy’s failure that you, your apprentices and journeymen finally emerged in spite of the guards and took over, as you should have done at once.

“Now you throw in our faces the attempt to save you from the results of your own folly?” Kurin finished severely, “Take the Wergeld offer. Save your ship. Or take the Fleet Law and lose it.”

While the Longin’s abashed officers and Masters conferred, Kurin turned to Tanlin. “Thanks for that hug. I really needed it.”

“Oi know,” she replied. “Ye needed ‘Igh Cloud too.”

Softly, Kurin asked, “Lady — Captain Tanlin, can you take something from me?”

“I’ tis w’at Oi suspect tis, nae. Nae now,” Tanlin answered equally softly. “Just now, we’re tryin’ t’ save t’em, nae drive t’em onto a reef — in a storm — wit’ a Dragon-tide t’ ‘elp t’ings along.”

The Longin’s conference was brief. It was Master Clard who spoke for them. In a clear voice he said formally, “Your Honors, Kurin, the Longin wishes to formally apologize to you all, and you, Kurin, especially. Master Juris spoke from passion, not thought. He was angry and let his feelings get the better of him.

“For the rest, a majority of us have decided to hear out the Wergeld idea. If we do not, it would appear that we are dismasted and sinking with no help in sight. Make your offer.”

Kurin stood up, relief clear on her countenance. “The first part of the agreement is common to all Wergeld agreements. It is simply the rules of the Wergeld. You must acknowledge the wrongs in dispute and publicly agree to the settlement that we bargain out. The settlement will have the force of fleet Law once reached. It is between us alone. It may not be used as a precedent or in any future criminal or civil action not directly related to the terms of this understanding. Things said or admitted in this Wergeld may not be used against either of us in future legal action, civil or criminal. Any future charges brought must stand on their own merits and may not derive from this agreement. Last, all grudges and feuds between the parties of this Wergeld must be put aside or the whole thing is voided and the Law will take its proper course.

“The wrongs in question have been listed already. They are not disputable. All else is subject to negotiation.

“The first term of the offer is this. Mister Kotance has already been separately charged. No term of this Wergeld shall be in any way binding on him.

“For our part, we have Mister Morgu and Silor who will have to be tried before the fleet for their mutiny, attempted murder and murder. This whole sad mess began and was caused by their hate. They also shall have no protection in this Wergeld.

“Can you agree with us so far?” asked Kurin hopefully.

Alor, the Longin’s Purser and legal officer, asked Captain Sarfin, “Before we say anything, will the Naral fleet agree to this — Wergeld thing?”

Sarfin steepled his hands, thought for a moment, and then conferred with Sula. He nodded and Sula spoke for the bench. “As one of the parties involved is Arrakan and we are not in Naral fleet waters, Arrakan Law and Custom may be properly invoked. The Third Great Law gives the Naral fleet no choice in the matter. They must enforce the Wergeld as agreed between you.”

“Then we can agree, so far, Kurin.” She tilted her head in sad puzzlement at one change that she had heard. “Us? We? Our? Kurin? Will you still leave us? What good will this do if we cannot have the school and the mapping contract?”

“Don’t be afraid, Alor,” Kurin reassured her. “I won’t abandon you to be Scattered. Some things do have to change, though.”

She turned and asked, “Barad, will you present the next term?”

He stood and smiled in a twisted sort of way. “I never thought to be in this position. Mord Halyn Longin, I have to apologize to you in particular. That I tried to stop the mutiny is no excuse for starting the plot in the first place. I was wrong. I am sure that my error brought you onto dry land for a time. I am also sure that you now have safe water under your keel. The term is this. The fleet must restore your Master’s Certificate and replace you at the helm of the Longin. They need you. If you don’t think so, just look at how quickly and to what extent they went out the scuppers without you.

“Besides, you were a guest at our Announcement Feast, so my old feud with you is dead or I lose my wife. Can you agree to this?” He held out his hand toward Mord, who appeared to be looking for some hook in what he had heard. At last, prodded by Alor, he shook Barad’s hand in agreement. He appeared to be disturbed that he owed his restoration, ship and freedom to Barad whom he had always thought of (correctly) as an enemy.

Tanlin stood and raised hands for attention. “As Ca’tain o’ t’e Grandalor, Oi ‘ave t’ bring t’e next part o’ t’e Wergeld. By t’e terms, Oi can bring up yer violation o’ t’e Fift’ Groit Law an’ ye cannae be charged in any way because even i’ t’is negotiation gets off t’e hook, we’ve let t’e matter go. As a result o’ t’at violation t’ree o’ m’ crew were killed an’ twa wounded. In t’e piracy attempt, a furt’er ane wa’ killed. T’e murderer ‘as been charged but ‘is chance came because nane o’ ye but Kurin tried t’ stop ‘t.

“We lost Lenai Halin, t’e best riggin’ surveyor an’ sail lofter in m’ experience. She wa’ a gentle soul ‘oo never raised ‘er voice t’ any. She spent many ‘ours at m’ bedside teachin’ m’ t’ read yer script an’ figure wit’ yer numbers. ‘Er son Arnat’s got nae mot’er now.

“Helmsman Macoul wa’ dead before ‘e ‘it t’e boat under ‘im. ‘E braved t’e Coriolis Storm, off ‘is wotch, t’ bring ‘ot food an’ drink t’ Barad an’ Darkistry as t’ey conned t’e ship int’ t’e eye o’ t’e storm. A good mon. Gone.

“Bosun Modanet ‘elped direct t’e rescue operations wen t’e Princamorn sank. ‘E an’ Barad pulled m’ oot o’ t’e woter an’ saved m’ life. Died on yer ship wit’ never t’e attention o’ a doctor. Cast overboard loike garbage.

“Our second day wotch drummer, Morga, a lad o’ fifteen. Nae older’ll ‘e get. Ripped apart an’ sent over t’e side by a Strong Skin catapult ‘arpoon aimed at Kurin an’ Darkistry.

“Like t’e mot’er Orca o’ Kurin’s tale, Oi’m surry for us bot’. We cannae bring t’em bock. Oi propose t’at ye pay Arnat ten skins a Gat’ering for ‘is maintenance. Any unused balance, an’ t’ere will be, is t’ go into ‘is Purser’s account as a nest egg for wen ‘e gets married. For Lenai, we ask an annual rigging an’ sail survey dune by t’e Mordan at yer expense. Any replacement cable or cordage is t’ be Mordan Twist. We split t’e cost o’ any sails needed. Oi ask yer ‘elp in Macoul’s case. Oi donnae know how t’ value ‘im. Oi wish t’at Oi’d known ‘im better.”

“We are not responsible for …” Master Juris started when Mord, Alor and Mistress Daeron all silenced him.

Mistress Daeron said, “Even in the Rope Walk, I heard the fog drum go silent. I knew that we were still in fog and I did not send to find the cause. I know that the rest of us did the same because we have all discussed it.

“I do not know whether anything would have changed if we had investigated. We cannot change it nor bring back your dead. We should have tried. That we are guilty of. We stood by and did not even try to do something when we knew that something was wrong. We heard the screams. All of us.”

Tanlin answered her, “For our part, we precipitated t’e incident. We approached ye under false colors. Ever’ member o’ t’at party bore a message from m’ t’ clear t’at up after t’ey had gotten aboard.” Tanlin paused and shook her head sadly, “We dinnae expect t’at nane o’ t’ dozen wad reach yer deck alive.

“We came t’ t’e Longin because we couldnae trust any ot’er ship except t’e Dorton, an’ we dinnae know w’ere she wa’. We ‘oped t’ speak t’ Kurin. At a ‘orrible cost we did. She ‘as repaid our trust better t’an we could ‘ave ‘oped. She’s even saved m’ Barad.

“T’e cost t’ ‘er wa’ equally ‘orrid. T’ ‘elp us, she’s lost ‘er ‘ome ship.”

Master Juris spluttered, “She has not. The Longin needs her. We couldn’t send her away. It would ruin us.”

Tanlin said scornfully, “W’at ye’ve just said makes t’e case. Nae part o’ w’at any o’ ye said wa’, ‘We luve ‘er.’ Since ‘er fat’er died, only five beings on t’is world ‘ave said, ‘Oi luve ye’ t’ ‘er. An’ t’ey were all birds.”

“Six,” Kurin interrupted, speaking to Tanlin. “You were part of the flock that came to save me from Captain Urson. And you have held and hugged me without needing a reason.”

Master Juris snorted, “We could do that.”

“T’en wye dinnae ye?” was Tanlin’s sharp retort. “Ye ‘ad six Gat’erings t’ ‘elp a child. All ye did wa’ teach ‘er an’ praise ‘er wen she did well. No ‘ugs. Naebody t’ ‘old. Just pain an’ emptiness inside, ‘eld at bay by learnin’ an’ work.”

A tear of gratitude leaked from Kurin’s eye as she said, “The last part of this Wergeld is this. We will settle all the remaining unsettled claims. I am the price you must pay. I have found a home on the Grandalor, not just a place to stay.

“Your Ship’s Business will remain safe, specifically, the mapping and charting, the navigation system, the Longin lace, and the fishing and shellfish taking and storage methods.

“I will come to the Longin to supervise and teach the school and also to map the Naral fleet waters according to your contracts. From each Fall Gathering to each Spring Gathering I will be aboard the Grandalor while she trades with the Arrakan, Daroff, and Pallant fleets. By the time that your mapping contract with the Naral fleet is done, if not well before, there should be others who can take over the school.

“That should complete the Wergeld and keep you safe from the Scattering that would otherwise be required. We have thrown you a line. Don’t drown.”

Kurin turned to Tanlin. “Captain Tanlin, I have something for you. It has nothing to do with the business of this Court. This is my own free choice and I want it seen and witnessed by all.” She held out her hands in the Arrakan style and knelt. Tanlin took Kurin’s small hands in her own as Kurin began, “I Kurin Behar Longin, now of the Grandalor alone …”

“I wish that I had known about this kind of love when I gave you your Gift,” said Blind Mecat softly. “I never got it either.”

-THE END-

<==PREVIOUS

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 83 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

9 notes · View notes

editorialsonlife · 4 years

Text

hello tumblr world its been a while since there’s been a proper update here so prepare for a dump and a half my friends because the last few weeks have been a fun trip (and that’s not even including the bloody US elections OMG)

we went to hawkes bay, so that was a good time. NOT. we turned up late because we slept in which was a great time. and also very fortuante because we arrived and no one came out to say hello which is terrible weird. So we start unloading the car and walking to the door and paul eventually emerged and was like, oh your mother’s just taking a nap we’re a bit tired. we only got home from the hospital an hour ago’. alaring for several reasons.

the last couple of times this has happened, dave’s grandma died, his grandfather died, paul was in hospital for a suspected heart attack, paul had a heart attack & was flown to wellington for emergency surgery. let alone all the other family dramas in the intervening times.

so it turns out that she threw her back out badly, fell over, and ended up in hospital when they couldn’t get on top of the pain with their sizable drug haul (pharmacist families man). didn’t think to text or call or give us a heads up in any way. when I asked why they wouldn’t text the response was, and I quote “Well she wasn’t dying so we didn’t think it was important’. like, fucking wow bitches.

She couldn’t move without crying and groaning like she was in labour, she couldn’t move without a walker, she was on morphine, coedine, steroids and antiinflammatories, and still fucking miserable.

poor dave was so stressed out. it was actually just a fucking horrible weekend. a) seeing another human in that much pain who utterly refused to do anything about it and still is

b) not being told the full story about whats going on, although I did read her medical discharge notes when they were both asleep

c) seeing poor fucking dave stressed to shit because who the fuck knows whats going on and that’s his mum hes watching in so much pain.

it was fucking horrible. never again. and walking into it with no warning was just the shittest thing of all.

I was so fucking angry when we got home. like, ridiculous. I’m still raging tbh. guess who’s place we’re not going to for christmas??

So that was our five days of leave, and our holiday, once again shat all over (at least it wasn’t covid this time?!?)

got home on monday evening and went to send an email to work to be like hey homies not showing up tomorrow, need a day to recover to find out I had a client meeting at 830 the next morning I had to attend which was so hard to get through. here, let’s pitch for 80k of work which isn’t going to solve any of your problems? why not. it makes me so mad. SO MAD.

rolled through that and our team meeting and a colleague was like how are you doing? just about burst into tears so I peaced out of there. turned up to counselling on thursday, didnt even make it into the room and anne was like, you seem angry? I was like, mmmmm no, don’t think angry quite covers it mate. so that was great.

got to last weekend, was meant to be meeting friends for brunch but there was a massive crash on the motorway so we ended up driving somewhere else which was an hour each way so that basically ruined the day but it was a lovely brunch anyway, had a great time. best smashed avo and lots of cuddles with little miss izz who is not so little anymore but so gorgeous!! Had a great day on sunday, finished off a bunch of work (yes, work is insanely busy right now, such fun, will be working again this weeked), got heaps of planting done, mowed the lawns, hung my artwork, finally felt like I was back on a happy even keel (fuck life is nice not having permanent anxiety) only to be sitting in a meeting on monday afternoon to find out homegrown is on the same day as our wedding. the second wedding since the first one was cancelled.

I pretty much just lost my shit. honestly. why is it so fucking hard to just organise something to celebrate being married. legit feel like the universe is just fucking with us at the moment and like, did we even make the right decision doing all of this? because every time we try and do something it gets fucked over and its v stressful. and yes i know we’re lucky to be covid free and be able to plan these safely and everything else but like, honestly. I’m so over it. every holiday this year has been fucked over, the wedding was done, the family reaction was so shit, like, its just ridiculous. the worst part was I came home in rage mode and dave came home in problem solving mode and was like, we can fix this and like, yeah, i know we can, but like, I’m fucking sick of making do. It’s meant to be one of the best days of our lives, and we’re already onto plan fucking c for it, and just like, I’m done with it? I’m just done. I cannot be assed. I don’t want to email everyone, I don’t want to reschedule all this shit, I don’t want to reorganise all my hair appointments, I don’t want to have to worry about the weather and rebooking it all and dealing with all this fucking shit. I’m so done. I’ve done it twice already I don’t want to do it again. RAGE. anyway. survived monday night, the week did not get any better, work got worse, and the PMS hit fucking hard yesterday. cried before work, cried at the stupid 8am meeting, cried turning up to anne and was like, I have an hour to get this all out of my system before client meetings in the afternoon.

and hot damn, god bless best friends, because bish messaged me and was like, lets do lunch homie, so we went to the botanic gardens and sat there and had the most insane conveersation ranking the best flavours of shapes, then biscuits, then crackers. and honestly, it was the pointless, best, most lighthearted discussion and everything I needed and I love her so much.

all I can say now is thank fucking god it’s friday, and its the weekend, and we have zero plans beyond going to mitre 10. I’m gunna order all my christmas presents online this weekend adn get that out of the way. need to do a couple of laods of washing, hopefully only like 6 hours of work, but like, it’s gunna be chill. and I’m v relieved.

she’s been a bit of a nightmare.

HOWEVER

despite all this complaining, looking back on where I was a year ago, like fuck me i am in so much of a better place mentally and life is just so much better. I’m so relieved. and period binge aside, physically I’m getting better too so I’m gunna take it all as a massive win. week in adn week out its been a grind, and it’s been uncomfortable and hard and horrible at times but man, coming out the other side is such a relief. having capacity to do things like supporting a friend through her current nightmare and managing dave and dealing with all the work stress makes such a fucking difference honestly. it’s also nice to feel like I can manage myself better so I can look after everyone else better too.

Feeling v grateful for this little life of mine, and the people in it, and for being in this little corner of the world. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I am so so so so so grateful for it.

4 notes · View notes

conant21 · 5 years

Text

Heart of Iron

So not only is this the longest of the chapters so far but also the hardest to write. No worries thought because I had lots of fun writing this one. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. i am hoping to get the next chapter out before the new year, but I have a special surprise on Christmas for you all so stay put!!

Prologue: the beginning Chapter 1: Ophelia Chapter 2: Viper

Chapter 3: Insight

January 9th, 2014 Washington DC

The sound of boots could be heard in the bank vault as lab techs continued to work. Looking up from her file’s Y/N noticed Rumlow walking towards her. Looking back down his gruff voice called out; “We have a problem, Pierce wants you to send the Asset with a team to take Fury out. He knows something is wrong with Insight.” “Last time I checked our presence was to remain undetected. So why can’t you take Fury out?” “And last time I checked when the boss gives orders you follow them or are, we going to have a problem Viper?” Huffing and rolling your eyes you replied, “No it will be done.” Sparing one last glance at Rumlow you got up walking towards the cryo pod station. Nodding at the doctors they began to start the processes of waking the Winter Soldier. As the screams began you turned away otherwise, they would see the compassion you had for the Soldier. A doctor came to tell you he was ready for orders. The orders that you had to give made you sick to your stomach. There he set, staring blankly ahead. “готов соблюдать”

It is done. Fury is dead. The only person with the power to clear your name was gone. You stood hidden in the hospital where he was taken after James had shot him. From all the activity you knew he was alive when he arrived but as you saw Captain Rogers leave the building you knew he had to be gone. Opening the door in which his body was held you noticed he was absent. The sound the door closing had you spinning on your heal, gun raised at the source. Maria Hill stood arms crossed staring at you. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes Stark” Smiling you lowered your gun, putting it back in your waistband, “Can’t complain here. Is there somewhere we can talk?” she nodded, “Meet me in the loading area, make sure no one is following you we don’t want you to blow your cover, yet,” with one last glance she left the room. You waited a few minutes before leaving; walking through the guarded halls unnoticed to the back entrance of the hospital. In the loading bay stood a black unmarked SUV with Hill in the driver’s seat. Once you got in and closed the door, she sped off into the night. “No one followed you right?” “Yes Hill no one followed me. Trust me I would know” you replied looking out the window despondently. “Good. I am taking you to a safehouse that only 4 people know about including you and it needs to stay that way. I am assuming you being at the hospital means you know something about the assassination order?” “I was the one who orchestrated it.” Hill quickly looked away from the road with her eyebrows raised noticing you staring blankly at the passing traffic. The rest of the journey to her safehouse was spent in silence; both agents wondering if they could trust one another. Pulling up to an old bunker of some sort both agents got out of the van Hill finally spoke up “This is to stay between us no one can know” “of course” “Good he will want to see you.” You froze shocked watching her form enter the bunker. Rushing to catch up she took you towards a makeshift medical room with plastic sheets helping to keep the room sterile. In the bed laid Director Fury, still alive.

“The man I would haven taken a bullet for is the one to have called for my death. See this is why I have trust issues,” exclaimed Fury from his bed you were sitting next too. “You do understand what this means Sir, that HYDRA has been within SHIELD this whole time. I am so sorry I could not get the information to you earlier, but I was afraid the line had been compromised.” Hill spoke up from across the room, “Do you know what Project Insight is?” “All I know is that its going to kill anyone HYDRA deems a threat which is millions of innocent people.” Hill and Fury exchanged a look, “Well it need to be terminated before it’s launched” Fury said. “I can’t help you without burning my cover, what about Natasha and Captain Rogers, can’t they help stop the helicarriers?” “No, they don’t know about the director still being alive yet or about our HYDRA mole” Hill replied. “And it’s to remain that way until we no longer need the intelligence that you can provide. I need you to keep tabs on Pierce until we stop Project Insight. Romanoff and Rogers can’t know my knowledge of HYDRA being in SHIELD or that he oversees the whole thing. You are to keep in contact, and I will give you a rendezvous once HYDRA is thwarted. Until then continue cover,” spoke Fury. Standing up and turning to follow Hill out you stopped and looked Fury in the eyes. “Sir there is one more thing that you should know. The Winter Solider is Sargent James Buchanan Barnes, Captain Rogers old friend. I understand this could be a problem in the coming conflict, he doesn’t know who he is. I do however have a rapport with him that could help but, if Rogers is to find out it would not be good.” Sighing Fury nodded his head heavily at you. With one last look you went back to the only world you know.

It had been 24 hours since the orders had been given for Fury’s death and James had been out of cryo. HYDRA was looking for Rogers and Natasha, it’s only a matter of time till either you or James are to be called in. Walking into the makeshift cell that housed James you dismissed the guards standing watch, you entered. There on his cot he set watching as you made your way towards him. Keeling down in front of him you pretended to scan his arm for issues you spoke in a soft voice that only he could hear “I found a way for us to escape hydra. I need you to trust me though.” James turned to look softly in your eyes. “I know we have talked about it before but this time I know we can make it.” You looked into his eyes as he leaned his head down so that both of your foreheads were touching. “они накажут вас, если нас снова поймают.” “I know but don’t we owe it to ourselves to try?” you turned away from him, looking at the cinder blocked wall. Silent tears came running down your face. “I can’t leave you behind…I just can’t.” You could feel the coldness of his metal hand as he moved your head, so you were once again looking into each other’s eyes. A soft rumbling came from his chest as he spoke. “тогда попробуем, но, если дело доходит до нас двоих, я всегда буду выбирать вас.” Just as you were about to reply James resumed his original position faster than you could blink. The sound of boots reached your ears and you frantically removed any trace of sorrow from your face. James continued to stare straight ahead as Rumlow called for you to join him. Giving James one last look she turned on her heel to follow Rumlow out. “We need your help to run point with the security council. Pierce is having them flown in and wants you there when things go down. I am getting the asset ready to hunt down Cap and the Widow. He was last seen with Zola and Pierce is pissed that he had to destroy Zola,” he spoke leading you out towards cars that would take you to the Triskelion.

You stood off to the side as the council members began to file in to the meeting room. The only female council member made eye contact with you, the message you had sent to Fury had gone through now all you could do was wait. Once Captain Rogers had finished his speech you knew it was time. Filing in after the other strike members you watched as Natasha took them down. As one began to sneak up behind her you pulled you gun out of its holster and shot him once in the head. “I am sorry did I step on your moment” replied Nat as she removed her disguise. Looking at her then at you Pierce snapped “Well aren’t we full of surprises today. How long have you been with SHIELD?” “Since the beginning,” pulling your gun from its holster you pointed it at Pierce you watched as Nat started the process of dumping SHIELD and HYDRA’s secrets onto the internet. “It’s going to take two alpha level members to get past the encryption for that information” “Don’t worry company is on it way.” The sound of a helicopter could be heard. Looking out the window you watched as Fury got out and walked towards the doors. “Did you get my flowers?” Fury, ignoring Pierce, continued to walk towards the screen displaying all of shields secrets. You pushed Pierce forward; gun still trained on his back. “We deleted your credentials after you died Nick.” Fury turned to face Pierce and slowly moving his eye-patch over his eye, “In order to stay ahead of me Mr. Secretary you’re going to have to keep both eyes open.” Nat moved forward with her gun pointed at him as well. You both shared a look of mutual understanding, he would not be leaving this room alive. Once the files were upload on the internet it was time to leave before the helicarriers destroyed the surrounding area. As you turned to Fury the sound of the remaining council members crying out in agony sounded in your ears. Nat, Fury, and you had your guns on Pierce in an instant. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. One movement and I put a hole through her sternum.” Fury exchanged a look with Nat and turned to you nodding his head. You bother lowered your weapons. The crashing sound of the helicarriers firing on one another could be heard from within the room. “What a waste, come on council women this way. You are going to fly me out of here,” Pierce began to shuffle Nat towards the helipad doors. “You know there was a time I would have taken a bullet for you,” Fury replied trying to stall for time. As Pierce turned to reply; Nat activated one of her Widow’s Bites, electricity surged through her body disarming the device. Both Fury and you fired one shot into the Secretary. With that shot you were finally free from HYDRA.

January 15th, 2014

The sun shined brightly down on the cemetery. You stood back as Fury went to talk to Rogers and Wilson about joining the two of you to hunt down rouge HYDRA agents. “You know your dad never shuts up about you.” You turn your head to see Natasha walking towards you. “Well some things never change,” you smiled. “Imagine my surprise when Fury told me who you are. I don’t know if you know but a few years back I had to go undercover to look after your dad and in his file, it said you had died in a car crash. I guess Fury gave the idea?” “No, it was my idea. I wanted to be able to be an agent with out him having to worry. Before my grandfather died, he used to tell me stories of SHIELD and I guess they never went away.” Nodding Natasha looked over to the boys talking, “Are you ever going to tell him that your alive? He has a right to know.” “Mm, I know it’s just I don’t think he would ever forgive me for lying and part of me doesn’t want him too. I put him through so much pain.” A calmness settled over the two of you as Fury walked away from the two solders towards the two of you. “Well if you ever need anything you know where to look. Oh, and your secret safe with me,” Natasha smiled walking away to have her turn to talk to the boys. Fury spoke up, “You might want to make introductions with Rogers, they might need your help looking for Barnes. I’ll be in the car it seems Agent Coulson needs our help so make it quick,” he walked away before you could reply. Sighing you made your way over to the two men. “I want to tank you for your help with hydra. We wouldn’t have been able to do it with out you Miss..?” Steve’s voice carried over to you. “Y/N Stark, and you would have been fine without me,” you smiled at his shocked expression. “Stark? I thought Tony didn’t have any siblings and his daughter is dead.” “Well I wouldn’t believe all that you hear Captain. I’m his daughter and I would prefer if we could keep that between us.” Both Steve and Wilson exchanged a look before nodding. “I came over not to tell you my story, but I am but to help your search. I don’t know if Fury told you, but James trained me, and I have a more personal connection with him. If you ever need my help you call me.” You pulled a card from you pocket with a burner phones number written on it. Steve looked down at the card “Personal?” “Well hydra isn’t all sadness and torture.” Sam snorted “I like her.” Steve looked you in the eye “Thank you. Do you have any idea where he might go first” “I would check the bank vault first. Its probably swarming with HYDRA agents though,” you replied before walking towards Fury’s car. “We could use you on our team,” Wilson called out to you. “I already have a team,” you called out before stepping into the car driving you off to your next mission.

готов соблюдать- ready to comply

они накажут вас, если нас снова поймают – they will punish you if we are caught again

тогда попробуем. но если дело доходит до нас двоих, я всегда буду выбирать вас. - Then we’ll try. But if it comes down to the two of us, I will always choose you.

tag list:

@hnnhjy @purplekitten30 @aspiring-fangirls-world @calciumcow @amazingfantasticmarvelous @truthdaze @laceyn-1201 @givemebooksorgivemedeath @spacewalker02 @jsmith509 @lizs2000 @geekysimmerthings @eternallyvenus @iamaunicorn4704 @thelostallycat @white-wolf-buckaroo @starkbelova @broco8 @caswinchester2000 @alainabooks143 @vxidnik @belledawnidk @bitch-imma-head-out

65 notes · View notes

blueluneacy · 5 years

Text

As Steady as the Nile

To christen this blog, I wrote this. Enjoy.

It’s just a Part 3 Dio x reader. Remember that requests are now open!

Also on AO3!

There was a haunting chill in the air as you walked along. You had been running for hours, until the sun finally rose, but you felt safe now, in the strange glow of sunset. How long have you been awake? 2, no, maybe 3 days? You weren’t quite sure. You had left that dark mansion at noon, running through the day and into the night. You feared for your life as the sun set that fateful evening. And yet, you kept walking. You had a bit of money on you, thankfully, and a smallish pocket knife that you kept in your hand. Your plan was to travel up the Nile from Cairo to Rasheed, or Rosetta as its known in English, and use the port to try and get the hell off this continent. And if you couldn’t get a boat in Rasheed, well, You could always travel west using the coast as your guide to get to Alexandria. You just had to get going. You had to. You felt there was no other choice. You didn’t stop moving when you saw the rays of the sun fade. If you needed water, you could stop and boil that which you found in the river. It would be your only stops until you made it to Greece, or Italy, or Spain, or wherever else. It would all be worth it, you told yourself. It would all be worth it once you were free from Egypt, and by extension, the man who kidnapped you.

You weren’t sure why he had chosen you, you really weren’t. He would babble on about things you didn’t understand, words that meant nothing to you. About passion, desires, heaven itself, but they had no effect when you were chained to his bed. He who drained your life force away, who asked you to reveal your spirit to him, his words couldn’t affect you in any way except bring you fear. So, you kept walking. Your legs felt so weak now, your head pounding, your entire body begging for rest as it overheated in the Egyptian sun. You were out of Cairo at this point, now moving through different small villages and patches of valley that the fertile Nile gave birth to. In a way, Egypt was a sort of motherland for the life you longed for, the same peace and dignity the people of long ago craved. It was strange to feel such a connection to them in a time like this, where your legs felt like lead and you feared closing your eyes for even a moment, for they might not reopen. You were just so exhausted. You felt your stomach grumble, but you tried to ignore it, fearing stopping your trek during the night, for it was his domain. You felt the last remaining rays of the sun leave your face, and twilight settle into your stomach. You had to wonder, was he already out and about then? You weren’t quite sure about the logistics of all that, and how exactly you were going to escape it. It wasn’t a concern. You could figure that out later. He would certainly catch you if you stop walking.

And yet, your legs were starting to fumble on you. You hadn’t even realized you had fallen until you face felt the still hot ground. You felt thankful it wasn’t sand. If you were about 20 feet farther from the banks of that giant river, you might have more burns to worry about.

You tried to pick yourself back up, but you couldn’t seem to find the strength to do it. Or maybe was it will? No, you had the will to escape. You had come so far, you had to be at least half way, right? You weren’t sure. Everything was so blurry, your body so hot. You thought of those cool sheets at the mansion that was your prison, the dark of it all embracing you as candles were lit to try and bring in some light to the eternal night, the teeth of your captor covered in your own blood as he-

That last thought was enough to get you standing and moving again. You kept on walking, trying to ignore the grumbling in your stomach, instead moving against next to the giant river. Part of you was tempted just to hop in, to let the flow of the river take you to Rasheed and hope you don’t drown. The other, more rational part, was thinking about how to make a raft, maybe get some rest while you still moved. But the current was too strong to not keep watch of, yet not strong enough to keep you from trying to paddle or steer. Your arms wouldn’t be able to take it. Besides, humans were built for walking. That’s why we have marathons, right? You tried to forget about the end of that story, how the warrior Pheidippides immediately died after delivering his message. Maybe you would keel over and die once you reached Rashaad. But, that was a thought you could have when you got there. You slowly started to pick up sticks you saw reasonable to make some sort of float for yourself. Worse comes to worst, you could hope vampires couldn’t swim.

When you fell a second time, you thought you were losing it. You could have sworn you heard his voice, mocking you. Taunting you.

“Did you really think you could escape me?”

“Such a precious thing, shaking at the sound of my voice.”

“You’ve come so far, running like this. How clever.”

“If you submit now, perhaps your punishment will be more lenient.”

You turned to try and hear his voice, only to get all twisted up, losing your balance and falling over. You groaned at the newfound pain you found in your ankle. You turned, trying to bring yourself to your knees, to face him with some sort of dignity, only to see no one there. Not even a bird chirped in this desert cold, and you felt yourself shivering. You were definitely not well dressed enough for his, but you tried to pull your jacket a little closer to your body as you stood up. Your poor ankle complained, and you noticed a great lump forming on it, so you resigned yourself to a week limp, keeping yourself going. You now had a new goal in mind. Get to the closest village. You were clearly starting to hallucinate from sleep loss and whatever else you were going through, and at this rate, you could swear he was whispering in your ear. You felt and heard it, that hot breath, that low voice, but every time you turned to try and see him, there was no one there. You must be finally losing your mind. You had to be.

“I could’ve taken you back any time. Did you think you got this far on your own?” No, you had to have made it on your own, you had to. You had planned it all so carefully.

“Are you afraid of me? Afraid of what I’ll do?” You were afraid, of course you were. That was why you were running. What kind of idiot didn’t know that?

“I am your end, (y/n). You’ll never escape the fate I have in store for you.” You whimpered at that, your feet starting to stumble. You had to keep going. No matter how much every fiber of your being was begging for you to stop.

“Your fate as my possession. My darling. Perhaps, even as my lover.” Love? You stopped at that. You couldn’t help it. It felt so impossible that he could even feel love. And yet, where you were. Perhaps some could construe his actions as love. How he forcefully kissed you, held you close in bed, hurting you but never severe enough to kill you. You could never understand how that could be love. And yet, part of you yearned for it. It sounded so nice to you at the moment. His cool body against yourself under those silken sheets, the smell of spices and warm wine you would never drink, for you knew the truth of it. Finally, you spoke up. You were going mad, you knew. Talking to your hallucinations was never a good sign. But maybe, it would make things more palatable.

“Will… Will you take care of me? Will you let me rest?” You asked, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice and he replied.

“Of course. In my world, perhaps everything will feel like a dream.” You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. His world? Just another weird concept he babbled about. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to take it. And yet, it sounded nice. Just to be in a dream, drifting away, like a twig on the mighty Nile. You felt your knees start to weaken. You put a bit of weight on your ankle, despite its protests.

“And… Would you really love me?” It was a question you didn’t really know what answer you would get. You expected a lie, or some sort of trick to break you, but not… What you got.

“Oh, my darling. Don’t you get it? I already do.” His voice was so sweet, so tender to your weak mind. It would be so easy to give in, to let him take everything from you then and there. You started to understand why so many women gave their lives to him. Right now, you wouldn’t mind joining them, if it meant your pain going away. You tittered slightly, your breathing quickening. Everything just hurt so much. All you wanted was to be at peace.

“Succumb to me, (y/n).” And you did. Your knees finally gave out, and you fell. You expected to find the cold ground again, to die on the banks of the Nile, only to find his sturdy arms instead. You looked up as the scooped you up, seeing the look in his eye. You couldn’t help but compare it to some hungry beast that had just caught its prey.

“Dio…” You mumbled, letting yourself relax into his arms, completely giving in to the sensation of not having to walk, to having to carry yourself a step farther, even if it meant to go back. You realized that he was right. Dio could’ve taken you back any time he wished, but chose not to. He wanted to let you see how futile it was to try and escape. There was no way you could leave him without failing on your own. You needed him to survive. So, you let yourself snuggle into his chest, your eyes fluttering shut. You almost immediately passed out, but before you did, you could’ve sworn you heard him say one more thing. Maybe it was your imagination, you trying to grip onto the physical world before you lost yourself in the blackness of sleep. You could never really know.

“One cannot escape the flooding of the Nile. In the same vein, you’ll never escape me.”

#dio/reader #dio brando/reader #dio x reader #dio brando x reader #jjba/reader #jjba x reader #yandere x reader #yandere fic #writing

118 notes · View notes

mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

Text

Silence in the Library || Morgan & Mike

CW: Depression

@exorciseyourspirit

Morgan finally leaves the house to be an adult. Mike makes her regret everything.

Amnon was getting close to finishing his big project. There were just a few finishing touches he needed for it, and then, hopefully, it would all fall into place. As long as no one figured out what it was that he was gathering, then he had no need to worry. The little medium and the hunter and the dead wife could pose a problem, especially if the three began corroborating, but he had a plan in mind to take care of them, too. All it would take was one display of power, and they’d back off. Just like everyone always did. But today, he was at the library for a different reason, picking out books that seemed, to most people, to be normal historical reads. His chest ached dully-- turns out, broken ribs were a problem. He should’ve remembered, he’d been human once, but time made fools of memory. Rubbing his side, he stacked another book on his cart and moved along, turning the corner-- and very nearly running into someone he’d never expected to see here. It was, however, a pleasant surprise. “Aahh,” he said in Rebecca’s cheeriest voice, “if it isn’t the bottom feeder.”

Morgan had to return her library books eventually. Her automatic renewals had tallied themselves up until they could tally no more, and every morning she opted to stay curled up on the floor or in bed beside Deirdre, the library desk replied with a frighteningly cheerful message that they were still waiting for her returns. So, bolstered by her quiet Beltane and the bright day, Morgan forced herself outside to return them. It’s not that hard, she told herself. Get rid of some bad research memories. Actually have something to say in response to “how was your day?” It wasn’t that hard. She could pull herself together long enough for a library trip. She liked the library, didn’t she? But as soon as the books were dumped, Morgan had a panicked, self-conscious feeling that her drab sweats and not-washed-recently-enough sweater were being judged by the family and students milling in. Shrinking from the attention, she marched herself inside, trying to hold herself like she belonged there and hadn’t just crawled out of the house for the first time in a week. She went to the fiction section, always the easiest to find, and did her best to pick out a novel or two to take home. Something she could hide herself away in, a safe bet.

Morgan, dizzied by the abundance of titles, impulse settled on two books that she had been meaning to get to and already knew half the plots of from pop culture discourse. See, she was fine. She had picked out books like normal, together people who knew how to be alive. She was fine--then she was crashing into a book cart and Rebecca. Or rather, the thing that lived inside her. Her face fell with disgust. “Don’t you have any other tricks besides that one?” She asked, a thin edge to her voice betraying how it still hurt. “It’s not a good idea to remind me how easy it would be to drag you down with me. And then where would you be?” She looked down into the cart, angling for a glimpse at the titles. Whatever he was up to, it was safe to bet it wasn’t anything good.

Amnon just smiled. How easy it would be to remind her of her place or to show her how little power she actually held in the moment-- but he didn’t need to. It would just be for her sake and he cared so very little about it. “Lovely to see you, too,” he said, leaning against the car to look at her amusingly. “You know, it’s cute how you think you’re actually threatening.” He plucked another book from the shelf, glanced over the title, and set it in his cart. “I’m sure it works on most people-- it’s the little ones you have to watch out for, after all--” waggled a finger, “but you’re cute little antics don’t threaten me at all. How’s your girlfriend?”

Morgan went stiff, gripping her book tighter to her chest. Any pretense of pleasantries fell from her expression. She turned hard and bitter; had she been alive she might have flushed with her anger. “You don’t know the first thing about who I’m seeing,” she snapped. “And I’m going to keep it that way, Mike. And if you think that I won’t hurt you just because you’re wearing my friend as a meat mask, you can think again. I’ve been through death, dipshit. You don’t scare me.” She shoved the bookcart away to one side, rattling the wheels and knocking off the topmost volume from the stack and started to go.

Amnon was delighted to see that mentioning her girlfriend set her off, stepping away slightly as she shoved the cart aside. He simply crossed his arms and looked over at her. “Oh, I don’t think that you won’t hurt me, I simply think that you can’t,” he said with a shrug. “You’ve no idea what I’m capable of, after all, and you? I know your limits. I know your weakness,” he finished quietly, taking a single finger and dragging it across his throat in one, fluid motion, the universal sign of decapitation. He bent down, hiding his wince of pain in his ribs, and picked up the book, dropping it on the top. “So, go on then-- are you gonna show me what you’ve got? Or do you just wanna spit venom at me.”

Morgan stopped in her tracks. She should go, she thought faintly. She should go and crawl back into her hole under the blankets in the bedroom. There was a voice in her above the death-pit that knew this. But the rest of her, the part that raged, that wouldn’t message Remmy, that watched with jealousy as animals died, pulled on her. And it was so galling, to hear these words from Rebecca’s voice, Rebecca who wasn’t even here to be sorry or understanding or judgemental. Rebecca who she couldn’t even be angry at for letting this happen to her in the first place, for deciding she wasn’t good enough to have her curse broken in a way that would have given her a real life. And this ghost, this thing that had screwed her worse than Constance was laughing behind her face, was enjoying himself like she was something to play with-- Morgan whirled back, stomping towards her, arm outstretched to see how the two of them liked feeling broken.

She took the bait, just as Amnon expected her, too. Newly born vampires and zombies always seemed to hold such anger. It was the same story, over and over again, even when they knew it was coming, even if it was something they’d told themselves they wanted-- the pain of a lost life was always more than they could handle. Even Amnon had felt that way when he’d first materialized. In a way, he sympathized with Morgan’s plight. But in his eons as an incorporeal swirl of power, he’d lost the ability to do just that-- sympathize. And so, when he saw her hand reaching for Rebecca’s wrist, it took only a second to unleash the power in him, a telekinetic ram slamming into Morgan and pushing her back into a shelf. He stood up, no longer smiling, eyes hollow. “I told you,” he hissed, “you can’t hurt me.”

Morgan’s back slammed against the wall before she could even give Rebecca’s body a scratch. Had she been alive, something might have cracked. But as she sank to her feet in a clumsy mess of limbs, staring at Rebecca with horrified awe, her bones righted themselves on their own. “What the hell?” Had Rebecca always been able to do that? She scowled, straightening. “And I said I’m not afraid of you. You think that felt like anything?”

“Oh, I’m well aware of your tolerance to pain,” Amnon said darkly. People were beginning to gather, but he didn’t care. “Try and touch me again and I’ll show you just how far your pain tolerance can go.” He turned and grabbed his cart, pushing it around the corner, away from Morgan again, only to run straight into-- Morgan? “I thought I told you--” but something was different about her this time. It wasn’t her. Black and white stripes and a menacing look to her eye-- Amnon knew within seconds what this was. In the next, the cart was slamming into Rebecca’s broken ribs and he was keeling over. Funny how that worked out. Being human, being vulnerable.

Morgan was going under, not on the ground, but in the part of her that knew the appropriate thing to do was run like hell in the other direction and leave Mike to whatever fate awaited him. She was storming towards him again when someone--some thing darted out from the stacks and gave him one to the ribs with the cart. Morgan stopped short, the wind starting to flag out of her sails, and then-- “Oh, earth.” It was her. Only, it wasn’t. They locked eyes, and the mime creature flashed a look of menacing glee. She staggered towards her in a cartoon like zombie walk, then mimed taking a knife from her hip and lunged. Morgan held her hands out to keep the mime at bay, but somehow, despite all odds, the fabric around her sweater split and a trickle of blood peeked through along with a pinch of discomfort. Morgan shoved her away, hard enough to make her stagger a few paces and walked--into the hands of Rebecca’s mime double. The mime woman kicked her off balance at the knee and threw her to the floor. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Lucky for Amnon, the Morgan-mime seemed more interested in her actual counterpart. Although that made him feel a flash of anger. How dare someone ignore him. Gritting his teeth, he stood back up, clutching his side, strode forward-- and came face to face with Rebecca. He blinked, bewildered again. “You can’t be--” he started, mind reeling for a moment. No. He was in Rebecca. This was just an illusion, or a dream. Like in his sleep. And then it hit him-- both literally and figuratively, as a fist dug into his stomach again and he collapsed to the floor. “Oh, chara!” he cursed, slipping back into his native language subconsciously as he let loose a string of Arabic curses. The Rebecca mime reeled a foot back to kick him while he was down and he gathered himself just enough to raise a hand, eyes flashing, and throw her straight through a bookshelf, toppling it over onto the Morgan’s.

Morgan didn’t stay down long. She was crawling away from this and going home. “Fuck mimes, fuck curses, fuck this town, and--fuck!” She barely rolled away from the falling shelves in time. There was no safe direction to run towards--except to Mike. She didn’t have time to be baffled at aligning with him, just enough to get behind the person who could make shit fly. “You might want to be running,” she started to explain, but her mime double shouldered her way out from under the shelf, groaning with hunger. One arm hung loose and all wrong from where the books had crushed it, but she staggered towards them with ease, one foot determinedly over the mess, then the other. The Rebecca double, not far behind her. “Yeah, she definitely skipped breakfast.” And Morgan didn’t have much on her for stopping either one in their tracks. Well, at least not for good. “You got any better ideas besides playing slap fight?” Their doubles scrambled up the shelves on pantomime ladders then higher, til they dangled on the ceiling. Morgan backed away from their strange painted eyes as they smiled down at them and leaped in for another attack.

Amnon did not sit well with being made to feel weak. Eyes flashing again, anger rising, lights began to flicker. A low hum as the electricity in the air began to build. “Yes,” he growled, Rebecca’s voice low and dark. “Kill them.” He followed her line of sight up to the mime doubles hanging from the ceiling and stopped on the lighting fixture Morgan’s was holding onto. As if from seemingly nowhere, it crackled, sparked, and exploded, toppling the mime, setting her ablaze with electricity. The smell of rotting flesh filled the room, and Amnon staggered, winded. He’d forgotten how much power it took, coughing into a hand. He pulled it away to reveal blood. In the next moment, a heavy body came down between him and Morgan-- Rebecca. Well, the mime of her. Fists curled around his neck and squeezed. For the first time in perhaps thousands of years, Amnon gasped for breath-- and for help.

Morgan’s double fell within feet of her, spasming with the impact of more stimulation than even her dead body could take. Morgan brought her foot down on her neck, eyes screwed shut as she felt the bones give and the muscle pulp. It wasn’t real, she told herself. It wasn’t really her down there, getting rubbed into the carpet and even if it was-- Morgan grimaced as she brought her foot up again and stomped into her skull--she was a lucky bitch to be out of her misery so fast, even if she was evil and “Gross--!” Filled with black blood. She turned to check if Mike was seeing this, but he was a little occupied getting strangled. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She could leave him. Maybe she even should, but he sounded too much like Rebecca, wheezing and desperate. Morgan could imagine exactly how the heart in Rebecca’s body raced, how the lungs must be trembling with panic, fighting for just a little more in the world. And Morgan saw Blanche and Rebecca’s students collapsing under the news, and hearing that she had let it happen and knew she still didn’t want to be another creature that only took from the world “Damnit, Mike!” She crossed the short distance between them and wrenched the mime double’s arm until it popped out of its socket, then pulled her, ragdoll style, free from Mike before pinning her against the wall next to him. “Yeah, I’m between meals too,” she said. “--Seriously?” Rebecca’s mime twisted an invisible knife through her abdomen. “Mike--?” She called.

Amnon felt the world slipping away from him. Surely Morgan wouldn’t leave them. She couldn’t, not when it was Rebecca would suffer in the end. He could just leave if he wanted to. He even prepared to begin the tug to leave her body, but-- blackness ate away and so did he, falling into a darkness. Rebecca’s body hit the floor when the arm was yanked away. But she did not move. Stirring, after a moment, her head lifted. Eyes sullied and hollow and tired as she turned to look up at the scene unfolding before her.

“Morgan?” Rebecca muttered, staggering to her feet. She swayed, reaching out for something to grab onto. “Where-- “ she tried, but her voice felt lost, her vision still blurry. It clarified enough for her to look directly into her own eyes. Body freezing. What was going on? Was she dreaming again? Rebecca blinked, reached out-- she had to help her.

But one more blink, and dark eyes returned. Amnon groaned with his effort, still exhausted, still winded, ribs pounding with pain. Without thinking, he reached into Rebecca’s belt and pulled out her holy dagger. Staggered forward with a heavy step, limping, as he swung the dagger down, past Morgan’s arm, and into Rebecca’s heart. He’d pictured this moment for so many years, finally doing it, finally seeing it-- it didn’t bring him as much joy as he’d wanted. Black blood oozed over his hands and down to the floor, but he held the dagger there. With one heavy exhale, he turned to look at Morgan silently, as the clone melted into nothing in front of both of their eyes.

Morgan was frozen in place, staring horrified as Rebecca--real Rebecca, who was kind and knew things and could tell her how to exist here without hurting people or wanting to die again--surfaced for all of a second and vanished again. Was she coming back again? It had really been her, right? She’d used her name, and her face--she was worried, maybe tired, maybe scared, things Mike barely knew anything about feeling. “Shit,” she whispered. Then, quickly, “You couldn’t even pretend like it was hard. You’re a real psycho, you know that?” She turned away and stepped carefully over the goo her own double had left behind and stood over the mess. Her books were right there, unharmed except for a few pages, but she suddenly couldn’t find the energy to pick them up and carry them to the checkout desk. She kicked one over, wondering if the will would find itself if she gave it another second. Weirder things had happened; half a minute ago she’d seen Rebecca come back from the nowhere.

Amnon pulled the dagger back only once the clone had all but melted away into a puddle and puff of smoke. Wiped the blade on Rebecca’s pants, before acknowledging what Morgan had said. In his moments of darkness, he hadn’t known what had happened, but he could hazard a guess. “I do, actually,” he said back to her, walking over and thumbing through the pile of books and broken shelves for the one book he needed most. Picking it, he stuffed it under his arm, glaring down at Morgan. Sirens blared outside, employees already heading towards them, ready to offer help or start cleaning up. He wasn’t going to stick around for it, however. “Don’t think this changes anything,” he said to Morgan, before stepping specifically on one of the books she’d been holding as he passed her by.

Morgan flinched away from him, chilled by how quickly his moods shifted. And not even a fucking thank you. “Course not,” she grumbled bitterly. And then, as he left, “Sure thing, Professor Rothbard! I’ll tell them to charge you for the property damage, no worries!” Some student intern picking up books reached for one of the ones she’d picked up and held it out to her timidly. Morgan looked at the boy with confusion. What was he so afraid of? And then it sank in. How she must have looked, yelling like that, bashing evil mime-bones in, the works. “Thanks,” she mumbled, frowning, and shrank away. Maybe it really would have been worth deleting one more stupid reminder email.

#wr rebecca #wr chatzy #wr mike #wr rebecca chatzy #wr mike chatzy #:------)#wickedswriting

9 notes · View notes

cheekaspbrak · 5 years

Note

11 for the sentence starters? (I think you’re writing is great btw)

Yo, this one is angsty with no happy ending. Maybe I’ll write a part two, depending on if anyone wants one and if I feel like writing one. Also, thank you for the prompt and compliment!! :)

Read here on ao3

Prompt taken from this list.

“Nobody’s seen you in days.”

The first day, Eddie didn’t think much of Richie’s absence. Well, that’s not true, he thought about it a lot, about how boring being stuck in a hospital bed without him by his side was. But, he figured Richie was spending the day in his hotel room, sleeping and recovering from the absolute exhaustion they’d all faced after defeating It. He’d been in and out of consciousness for almost 24 hours, and every time he opened his eyes for a few minutes Richie was there, asleep in the chair next to his bed. When he’d finally managed to stay awake for longer than five minutes, Richie was all over him. He held his hand and stroked his cheeks like he couldn’t believe he was real and Eddie had never felt so alive despite being chained to a hospital bed after nearly dying.

He was alive, and he was in love with Richie.

Some part of him had always known, sure. As a kid, it was easier to pass it all off as a close friendship. But, when you reconnect with your childhood friend after 27 years and still feel butterflies around them, it’s a bit harder to ignore. Eddie didn’t want to ignore it any longer.

He had made a plan, of sorts, to tell him the next day. Richie was making this plan difficult, though, because one day quickly turned into three. Eddie had nearly died, and Richie suddenly disappeared for three days.

Well, disappeared isn’t exactly the word, because the other Losers claimed his car was still at the hotel. His room door was locked, and anytime they tried to call out to him the room was dead silent.

On the third day, his car disappeared. Eddie was in utter shock at the idea that Richie just up and bolted. He’d always known Richie was the kind of person to run from his feelings and he was always understanding of that. This time, though, he felt completely betrayed. Richie just didn’t know when to stop running away.

And that was true. That’s why Richie was at the airport, looking around wistfully, like he expected Eddie to hobble out of the hospital and go after him. Maybe he’d chase him down and grab him by the shirt and shout at him for being a cowardly idiot who deserted his best friend days after a near-death experience. But, that’s not what will happen, because Richie’s life isn’t a fairytale. If he thinks about Eddie for too long, he’ll break down in the airport and that’s something he’d rather not do. He’s been avoiding his emotions for so long he doesn’t think he’d be able to stop once he started. He certainly wasn’t able to stop loving Eddie once he started.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? That was exactly why he couldn’t stick around Derry surrounded by past memories and overwhelmingly, immensely enveloped by Eddie. He couldn’t hold back anymore.

When Eddie had woken up, looking pale and bruised and covered in bandages, he’d nearly keeled over and died himself. It felt like a fucking miracle, like Richie had a guardian angel. He’d been ready to spill his guts right then and there. He wanted to tell him how long and how quietly he’d loved him all those years, but then, in the middle of some banter, Eddie said-

“Oh shit, I should call my wife.”

And Richie clammed up, realized he’d gotten too excited. Eddie had a whole life outside of Derry, and Richie had nothing. Well, not exactly nothing, he was a successful comedian with his own Netflix special. But, without Eddie, it sure felt like nothing.

He’d realized that he couldn’t be around Eddie any longer and keep pretending like he didn’t love him. So, he stayed long enough to ensure Eddie was going to be okay, gave him a not-so-friendly kiss on the cheek, and moped in his hotel for a few days. Then, he was gone like he’d never been there.

Everyone had been texting him since he left that morning, especially Eddie. He couldn’t bring himself to look at any of the messages. Richie was a coward, but he was stubborn when he had his mind set on something.

As the plane starts to board, he can feel his phone buzzing in his hand. Eddie’s name is on the screen and it’s enough to make his heart squeeze in his chest. He declines the call.

“B Group is boarding now…” The gate agent says, and Richie knows he should be going soon, but his phone buzzes once again, this time with a voicemail from Eddie.

He stares for a long time, blinking away obstinate tears in his eyes. He eventually makes the decision to turn off his phone and board the plane. He can’t bear to hear Eddie’s voice right now.

And maybe if he had listened to the voicemail, he would’ve changed his mind. Maybe he would’ve turned back. But he boards the plane, puts his bag in the overhead bin, and pushes his headphones in his ears to drown out the sound of Eddie’s voice telling him to turn around.

Hey, uh, this is Richie Tozier. I’m not at the phone right now ‘cause I probably have better things to do than talk on the phone so… leave a message?

BEEP

“Hey, Rich. It’s Eddie. I, uh, I don’t really know what’s going on right now. Nobody’s seen you in days. And, we miss you. Well, at least I do. It’s really boring in this hospital room without you charming the nurses or complaining about the shitty hospital food. I really hope you didn’t leave, but I know you… and I’m pretty sure that you did. I really hope you didn’t, you asshole. You’re really giving me no other choice but to tell you this over the phone… I love you, Richie. I do, and I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to realize it.

I don’t know if you feel the same way, but even if you don’t, could you please just come back to the hospital so we can talk about it? I’m getting a divorce, and no, it’s not because of you so don’t get a big head. I could really use someone to talk to, though, and you always know how to cheer me up. Please come back. I miss you.”

Tag List: @constantreaderfool @violetreddie @girasol-eddie @thorn-harvester-ven

#reddie #reddie fic #Richie x Eddie #eddie x richie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #h writes

57 notes · View notes

caps-lockdown · 5 years

Text

Next Round’s On Me

Hey everyone here is a quick one shot based on a dream I had the other day! After making some changes to the story (And piecing together my memories) I’m super happy to share it with you! Enjoy!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Words: 4,148

Rating: PG-13

Summary: You meet up with your friends Clint and Natasha at a Brooklyn bar for drinks, when a mysterious man keeps buying your rounds. Who is it?

Warnings: Alcohol and confident(ish) Steve. Also some swearing and adult jokes.

Don’t own any characters but the reader and the bartender, no beta so the mistakes are all mine!

Next Round’s On Me

“Y/N! You made it!”

Winston’s in downtown Brooklyn was loud and packed with people, everyone letting loose on a Friday night or trying to catch the game that was plastered on the large T.V screens. You felt all sorts of an outsider. This wasn’t your type of place. Meeting up with your friends for the first time in nearly a year to have a couple drinks wasn’t your ideal situation either. You forced a smile while you forced your way through the small ocean of people, trying to be as polite as possible and avoiding stepping on any toes. Literally.

“Nat! Clint! Long time no see!” You beamed, pulling each of them into a big hug when you finally made it to the long bar that sat at the far side of the rowdy establishment. You had been friends with Laura Barton through college, so you took to Nat and Clint like gas to a fire. Moving to New York a few years ago you had thought you would be able to spend more time with them, but life simply hadn’t favored you in that way. You were constantly travelling for your job, always on the go. Your apartment was barely unpacked at this point.

“How was Europe?” Nat asked, you shaking your head with a laugh.

“An absolute nightmare. Lost the Boysen deal, so needless to say I could use a few dozen drinks.”

“I can certainly help with that!” Came a smooth voice from behind the bar, your eyes moving over to glance at the beautiful woman. She had to be nearly six feet tall in the stilettos she was wearing, her tight blue dress clinging to every curve. Her bright green eyes sparkled as she looked to you and your friends. She was stunning, and you suddenly felt very self conscious of your plain high waist jeans and black crop top combo.

“Name’s Madi. What brings ya to Winston’s tonight?”

“Y/N. Oh just catching up with some old friends.” You motioned to them, looking back to her. “I’ve never been here before but it’s right down the street from my apartment.”

“Oh okay. Well we’re happy to have you, as well as some of the Avengers.” She smiled, tossing her hair over her shoulder and looking at Nat and Clint. “Steve Rogers comes in here a lot too, which I find to be a major incentive to work nights if ya catch my drift. What can I get ya?” You smiled at her openness. Steve Rogers was probably your favorite of the superhero group, not that you knew tons about any of them. He was just very nice to look at. And his story tugged at your heart strings.

“I’ll have a tequila sunrise. The biggest one you have.” Nat and Clint ordered their beers while you waited, the perky blonde setting to work on your beverage. The two left to find a small table for the three of you nearby, you bubbling with excitement as the bartender poured the alcohol into the glass. The first sip hit your soul, an appreciative groan leaving your lips as you went to pay for it.

“Don’t worry about it beautiful. On the house. You look like you could use it tonight.”

“You are officially my new best friend. Thank you.” You sighed in gratitude, taking your drink and turning to find your friends but nearly running into someone in the process. Thinking quickly you covered your booze to keep it from spilling on said person, bringing your face up to apologize. Your breath hitched at the most intoxicating pair of blue eyes you had ever seen.

“S..so sorry!” A blush crept over your face as you stammered like an idiot, ears picking up laughing at your friend’s table. “I’m a total klutz!”

“Y/N you haven’t changed a bit!” Clint chuckled you bringing up your hand to rub your forehead while the tall drink of water in front of you laughed. It was low, deep, and delicious to hear.

“Hey no harm no foul.” The man, no god, spoke to you, the world somehow stopping while you took in his face. He wore an American flag baseball cap, his beard perfectly groomed and you had to keep from keeling over as he licked his lips. “I don’t mind a beautiful woman, such as yourself, running into me at all.”

“Well..uhm regardless I’ll try to refrain from doing that in the future.” His eyes stared into yours, your pulse picking up as he winked at you.

“That’s too bad, see you round Doll.” The man was gone with a flash, you gathering your shattered nerves up off the floor and making your way to the table.

“Who was that?” Nat gave a knowing look to you as you shrugged, taking a much needed draw of your drink.

“Just the most perfect example of a man I’ve ever seen. No big deal.” You swooned, Clint shaking his head while Nat coughed into her beer.

“Oh is that so? He looked…good.” Your face contorted into one of shock.

“Nat did you see those shoulders? My ankles would make an awesome addition to them.” You fanned yourself thinking about him. “He could probably snap me in half and I would say thank you.”

The red head nearly died of laughter, hitting the table top with her hand. Clint raised an eyebrow at her and then you. “It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it?”

You groaned into your glass, staring at the man with a stern expression. “Three years.”

“Damn Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Nat abruptly stopped laughing, placing her hand on top of yours as you finished your drink. “Consider me your wing woman for this evening!” Her smile made you a bit uneasy, and the flicker of fire in her eyes didn’t help either.

“Oh that’s not really…”

“Nonsense! You’re young! You’re stunning! I’m committed to getting you a date!”

“Nat I just got back from the longest six months of my life across the pond.” You stopped her rambling, bringing your other hand to top hers after you sat down your now empty glass.

“I don’t have the time for a date. I don’t even know the first thing to dating anymore. You know any guys who are just as much fish out of water as I am when it comes to that?”

“Actually…” Came Clint’s response, you rolling your eyes.

“No. You don’t. That isn’t the world we live in anymore. We live in a time of dating apps and conversations via text message. No one buys people drinks anymore without expecting something. No guy just buys a woman flowers just because anymore. No one puts in the effort of courting, or wooing someone. This isn’t the nineteen-forties.”

Your two friends avoided your gaze at that moment, clearly knowing something you didn’t. You ran a hand through your hair, forcing the negative thoughts of dying alone out of your brain and putting a smile on your face. “We should talk about something that isn’t so stressful. How’s the job? You two still work together yea?”

“It’s..well it’s a job.” Clint stated flatly, a giggle escaping you.

“That’s total bullshit Barton. You and Nat save the world right? Or did I miss something and you’re now both pencil pushers?”

“It still comes with a cost Y/N. Sometimes I’d kill to be a pencil pusher.” Clint muttered quietly, your heart squeezing at realizing how much it had taken a toll on your friends. Clint had a family, Laura was one of your closest friends and you always talked on the phone once a week about your lives and problems. You knew how much she missed Clint, and hated him being away so often. How much the kids were growing, and how much he had to be missing out on.

“Well so much for talking about something that wasn’t so stressful.” Nat quipped, her voice bringing the three of you back to reality and you offered a small chuckle.

“Yea I’m gonna go get me another drink.” You went to stand up when suddenly there was another tequila sunrise in front of you. Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline as Maddy giggled at you.

“Is it Christmas?!” You went to take out your wallet, the bartender stopping you and shaking her head. “Well shit I feel terrible now because I didn’t get you anything.” Perking your ears up you watched her bend at the waist, leaning in to talk to you.

“A very handsome man wanted to buy your next round. Anonymously.” The blonde woman grinned widely at you, your face flushing as you coughed to hide your embarrassment.

“Well tell him I said thanks stranger.” You forced out, Madi nodding enthusiastically before bounding away from your table.

“It was probably that guy you almost mowed down earlier.” You swiftly threw a nearby coaster at Clint, Natasha’s laughter ringing out over the bar.

Your conversations continued for the next couple hours, all of you drinking happily and catching up about your lives. Admittedly you didn’t know much about The Avengers, so listening to them talk about their teammates was proving a bit of a challenge. You knew their names sure. Everyone did. But you didn’t actually know the people in the suits, save for Nat and Clint. It was nice hearing their stories, feeling like you were being given inside information about the group who often saved the planet from certain doom.

“Alright. Bathroom break before I pee myself.” You interrupted Nat telling you about Captain America and Iron man’s constant bickering, pushing out from the table and following Nat’s finger to the back of the bar. Nearing it you could see the beautiful stranger from earlier sitting at a high top table, his eyes transfixed on the game in front of him. His brunette and almost equally attractive friend elbowed him upon seeing you checking his buddy out, the blonde’s blue eyes momentarily sweeping over you before offering a cheeky smile. You gave a small wave, picking up your pace and pretty much speed walking into the restroom.

“Pull yourself together Y/N. He’s just a guy. An absolute dreamboat but just. A. guy.” You spoke into the cheap mirror after finishing washing your hands. Fixing your hair you opened the door to head out, once again coming face to face with the man from earlier.

“We have got to stop meeting like this doll.” He smirked, heat rising to your face and you could only nod in response. Taking a step to your right at the same time he did you quickly let out small laugh, moving to your left only to have the blonde Adonis mirror your actions.

You looked at him and huffed. “Listen if we’re gonna dance I should let you know I have two left feet.”

“Is that so?” His eyes sparked a fire in you, tilting his head as you looked to the floor.

“Yep. If it was possible to have three I’m sure I would.”

“If you ever need someone to practice with, look me up.” Your eyes shot up to meet his smug expression, your heart beat hammering in your ears.

“I don’t even know your name.” You said softly.

“I’m not hard to get a hold of. At least not for you, anyway.” His admission made your eyes go wide, it suddenly becoming very hard to breathe. Thankfully your friends saving you from dying of a heart attack by shouting at you.

“Hey Y/N! It’s shot time!” You excused yourself, not being able to contain the huge smile on your face as you joined them at the bar again. Looking at the shot glass with a squint you sniffed it, reaching to grab the salt shaker to your left. Finding the mystery man in the crowd you decided that he couldn’t be the only one playing the tease card tonight. Not breaking eye contact you brought the back of your hand up to your mouth, sliding your tongue along the side of it before applying salt to the exposed skin. You watched as his eyes seemed to darken, his arm coming up to scratch the back of his neck and he quickly looked away. Was he actually blushing?

“Here’s to good friends, good times, and no hangovers!” Clint yelled over the music and people, your trance being broken and you focused your attention back to your friends, licking the salt off your hand and downing the shot. The tequila burned in a good way down your throat, Nat handing you a lime wedge which you took greedily.

“Alright, time for another drink!” Nat called, you nodding your head, feeling the effects of the alcohol in your body. Madi nodded to the three of you, grabbing their beers and starting on your next sunrise.

“How much I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

“Wha?” You gaped, the blonde enjoying at your slack expression before placing her arms on the table and holding her head in them.

“That’s right sweets. Nothing. In fact, he actually paid for your next round too. Come to think of it I actually have kind of a challenge for you.” You narrowed your eyes as the Blonde giggled, forcing the drink into your hands.

“Oh really?”

“Yup. So your drink was paid for by the same gentleman from earlier right? If you can figure out who it is by the end of the night, I’ll buy you a drink every night for a week.”

“Do I get any hints? This place is crawling with men!” Madi’s smile grew wider upon your acceptance of her challenge. You merely giggled back when she jumped up and down, her energy was infectious.

“Yes you get three yes or no questions! You don’t have to ask them all, or even all at once! Just get your answer to me by closing.” She watched as your eyes gave a quick sweep of the room, biting your index finger as you appeared deep in thought. Throwing caution to the wind you looked back to the bartender, leaning in to whisper.

“First question. Does he have facial hair?”

“…Yes.” You beamed with pride. Maybe it was your mystery guy from earlier? The one that was having no trouble making you a little hot under the collar? As quickly as you were filled with hope you realized that had only narrowed the bar patrons down by half. You needed to think of another question to help your chances of winning this thing. You weren’t even in it for the free drinks, you wanted the satisfaction of knowing who had been so nice. Maybe ask to return the favor.

“Did he arrive the same time I did?” You asked, watching a bunch of rowdy men leave, none of the bearded ones even sparing you a glance.

“Yep. You’re pretty good at this!” The blonde nodded and you felt your heart race. What were the chances it would be blue eyes?

“I think I’ll hold off on my last question, thanks Madi. And you’re way too good at making these.” You pointed to the drink before walking back to the table. As soon as you took a seat Clint was on your case.

“So what’s up with you and the bartender? Ditching us to make new friends.”

“What’s it to you Barton? Who knows the next time I’ll see you, and Madi works down the street from my apartment.” Your comment caused him to chuckle, you looking at Nat with a pleading look.

“I actually need your help. You said you’d be my wingwoman tonight?” The red head nodded as you explained the challenge, her eyes going to the same high top table nestled towards the back of the bar that you had thought about all night.

“You got it Y/N. She never said you couldn’t use a lifeline.” Nat winked at you, quickly scoping out the bar and memorizing faces and body language. “You got any leads?”

“Yea. One. The guy from earlier. We ran into each other before we did those shots. He keeps calling me Doll. Which I won’t lie, it’s probably one of the sexiest things I’ve heard in my life.”

Clint’s eyes suddenly began to bulge out of his head, Nat whipping her head to look at you.

“Blonde or Brunette?”

“Blonde. Why?”

“Uh…no reason! Thought you might have been talking about an ex of mine.” Nat waved in dismissal, but you not fully believing her as she avoided your gaze.

“Why do I get the feeling you two aren’t telling me something?” You questioned, Clint shuffling in his chair uncomfortably and avoiding looking you in the eye as well. “Well?!” Your demanding tone made both of your friends shrink away, Nat standing up abruptly and looking at you.

“I have a theory, but I need to talk with Barton outside, alone for a moment. Do you mind hanging out here by yourself? It’ll be ten minutes tops.” A sigh left your lips as you shooed them away. Well this was just peachy. Your friends were keeping things from you again. Maybe they had good intentions, sure, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit deflated.

“A sour mood don’t look good on you sweetheart.” A husky voice danced across your ears, you craning your neck to find those magnetic blue eyes staring at you. Your body jumped as you realized he was only a few steps away from you, that same smug smile from earlier gracing his kissable lips. “Rough night?”

“No, quite the opposite. My friends just suck.” Your retort came out strangled as you struggled to get air in your lungs. Your heart lurched as his cologne invaded your senses, your brain going into an instant fog.

“I’m sure they mean well.” His voice was velvet to your senses and just as quickly as he had come around, he was walking away from you.

“God bless whoever made those jeans.” You said rather loudly, looking startled when the owner of said amazing backside turned to look at you over his shoulder, giving you flirty wink.

A squeak of embarrassment left you, crankily crossing your arms over your chest as you awaited your friend’s return. You sat there watching people trickle out of the bar as the time ticked by, your curiosity peaking as to why they were taking so long. Did they figure it out and weren’t going to tell you? Why the hell did that stranger look so familiar? You never met him before but you could have sworn you’ve seen him from somewhere.

Digging deep into your brain you began to match faces with his, your eyes lighting up when everything started to click into place. You knew exactly where you’d seen him before.

“Sorry that took so long Y/N. We had much to discuss.” Clint offered you a pat on the shoulder when they walked back into the bar, your eyes dropping to the clock on your phone. It was nearly one a.m, which meant before too long it would be…

“LAST CALL FOLKS!” Madi shouted from the bar, you quickly standing up and squaring your shoulders.

“Think you have your mystery guy?” Nat looked carefully at you, you offering your best smile and nodding eagerly.

“Yep. And we will certainly be having words when I get back.” Your voice was hoarse from all of the groans of anger you had let out while they were gone. You honestly felt stupid for not seeing it sooner.

“Hey sweets, want your last freebie?” Madi’s voice was tired, and you could tell it had been a long night for the bartender.

“Uh huh. Last round and last question.” You purposely waited, watching almost all of the people leave the bar, not wanting to risk being pulled over on the way home or all of the traffic getting out. Which only created traffic. She handed you your drink and you proceeded to suck it down, not paying attention to your friends (or your mystery guy’s) surprised expressions.

“Ohh yea I almost forgot!” Madi’s excited tone was back in a second and you were quite positive she was getting a ton of enjoyment out of your challenge. “Lay it on me sister!”

“Last question.” Your voice dropped low as you bent over the bar, bringing one of the flat food menus up to conceal your profile from everyone’s view. “Is he still here?”

Madi’s nod had you over the moon and you felt your confidence soar. “Don’t make a big scene, but is he the guy still sitting at that hightop by the back with his friend? The one pretending to be interested in the game but he keeps sneaking glances at me and then you. Has been all night?”

“Y/N you already know the answer to that. He hasn’t exactly been secretive about it. All he’s yammered about since seeing you is how much he loves your laugh. How pretty you are. How gorgeous your eyes are. It’s exhausting.” You laughed at that, a blush creeping up your skin at the thought of him rambling about you.

“Is it Steve Rogers? Don’t nod, just blink once of yes and twice for no. I have a plan and he can’t know.” Her eyes bore into yours before she very dramatically blinked them one solid time. Satisfied, you dropped the menu, taking out a pen from your purse and beginning to write on a rogue napkin. Turning your head and steeling your nerves you dropped your expression to one of sadness, looking at Nat and Clint while shaking your head at them.

“What?! I thought you said you had it!” Nat yelled, you shrugging in response.

“Win some you lose some, no big.” Pulling your wallet out of your purse and returning your pen you switched your vision back to Madi, raising an eyebrow. “How much were…”

“Oh no. He made me promise I wouldn’t tell you how much your drinks were.” She shook her head adamantly at you, backing away a few steps.

“How much were his drinks Madi?”

“Ohhhhh I got you. His are usually three bucks a beer. Why?” You swiftly put a twenty dollar bill on the napkin, folding it up and slowly sliding it to her.

“Give this to him when he goes to leave ya?” She nodded and you tossed her a brilliant smile, patting the bar top before turning around.

“Wait! You didn’t leave your number!” Madi whispered sharply, you turning back around to see the blonde looking confused.

“No. I didn’t.”

“But he’s Steve Rogers. Captain America!”

“Especially because he’s Steve Rogers. He wants my number he can be a big boy and ask me for it himself. I know where and who he works with.”

“Dammmmn girl. You make him earn it!” You laughed as you nodded at her.

“See you tomorrow for my freebie.”

“See ya then Y/N.” She giggled, you turning your sights onto your friends.

“Alright kids let’s go! I need three advil and a huge ass glass of water if I’m going to tolerate you two at lunch tomorrow.” You made your way to the bar, sneaking a side glance at Steve who was now standing with who you could only guess was Bucky. The minute they started headed towards the bar was when you hit the door, not looking back as Clint and Nat followed you out.

“I really thought you would have figured it out Y/N. I’m sorry.” Clint smiled sadly at you, Nat reaching to give you a hug goodbye.

“It’s fine. I’ll text you when I’m up yea? Kay’s sound alright?”

“That sounds awesome. Goodnight Y/N.” You wished your two friends a goodnight and parted ways, you starting your trek back to your apartment building, not looking back at Winston’s.

~~Meanwhile~~

“Well Madi, have a goodnight!” Bucky called, the blonde motioning for him and Steve to come over to her. She wordlessly slipped the napkin to a confused looking Captain, who managed to catch the twenty dollar bill when it fell out.

“What the…” His eyes dropped down to the beautiful handwriting on the napkin, eyes scanning quickly across it and grinning from ear to ear. He looked up at Madi, who only nodded in the direction you had gone.

“She lives in the apartments a few blocks down, if you go now you should be able to…” He didn’t wait for her to finish, practically sprinting out the door to catch up to you, leaving the napkin on the counter as he slammed the door shut.

“He’s gonna want this back later. As a memento.” Bucky rolled his eyes at his friend, grabbing the square and looking at it, his own smile reaching his eyes as he read the note.

“Hey Stranger, your eyes are pretty gorgeous too. Next round’s on me. Y/N”

Tag List: @kaytizzle @cuffski @giggleberts

#fanfic #marvel #captain america #one shot #steve rogers x reader

58 notes · View notes

frekydeki · 5 years

Text

Cupid Can’t Fall in Love

Part 1

Summary: (AU) Eternal and true love is a business transaction for you. Soulmates are simply two file folders tied together with a golden bow. But when eight folders come across your desk, your job gets a little bit stickier with each passing day. Being a Cupid isn’t so easy as it sounds...

Pairing: (Jihyun x Reader)

| Part 1 | Part 2: Upcoming

It’d be beautiful. The golden grass, the falling sun, the gentle and warm wind, the serene silence… It would all be so beautiful if he wasn’t staring into your eyes so tearfully. You trace your eyes over his blue hair and follow the line of his jaw, then his neck, over his collar bone and to his heart. Your e/c eyes widen to the size of the moon; a glowing arrow burns frantically in his chest. You harshly draw in a breath and smack your hand over your own arrow, hammering in your heart.

You can’t process the tear trailing down your cheek as you turn your eyes away and up to the scattered clouds in the sky. Why? How did this happen? It’s got to be a mistake…

It’d all be so beautiful… If only you could fall in love.

How… Did it come to this?

Working for Aphrodite isn’t the most exciting employment option. When you were first born, you took a little bit more to your father’s side, preferring to kick ass here and there. But after a run-in with a seething Achille’s, – you told Zeus to just kill the guy but he insisted you talk it out – you got your butt kicked so bad that even Ares himself worried over you. Your mom said your warrior days were over that day. Nobody defies the word of Aphrodite, after all, and that’s why you’re holed up in this stupid office. Battle armor feels much more natural than the pencil skirt and blouse you’re wearing, but this is what you have now; platform heels, scrunchies, paper cuts, and the sound of typing like chinese water torture to your ears. Lucky you, though! You’ve put in your two millennia to get a personal office, away from all the typing and scratching on parchment; its maybe one of your greatest achievements in the past two thousand years since Aphrodite and Ares put you on the bench.

This tiny little office is your hell a little bit away from hell, you like to say. You still have mental break downs and panic attack under your desk, and you’ve forgotten what wood your desk is made out of; but at least you get some damn silence. Except for the obnoxious banging on your door that’s happening right now. Is it eight already? The dread of a thousand punished souls in the underworld escapes from your lips in a groan; you barely even filed the cases you finished yesterday. Nevertheless, you roll in your rock hard chair – Hera was kind enough to make you a small cushion, even if it looks like a grandma’s afgan turned cushion, you and your butt love it – to swing your door open at a dangerous speed.

The young blonde before you smiles and points towards the soft close door.

“Isn’t it great Ares installed those personally for you?” Her raspy voice sputters to you quickly. Her scrawny finger then points to the coffee mug in your hand, “Hey, is that coffee.”

“Yeah, what el-“ Your hand becomes lighter as she snatches it from you and takes a long swig.

“I haven’t slept in like three days,” She babbles to you as she puts the coffee back into your hand and turns to the cart littered with folders, “Finals are next week and I haven’t studied all semester.” You’ve grown used to the incessant mumbling that Angelia lets loose every morning while handing in your cases… She’s like this every week, even without finals. “Becoming a god sure isn’t easy work!” She loudly laughs before continuing on about offerings and the rules of appearing to humans.

“You know, Angelia, if you didn’t spend all of your time programming social media sites for humans, you’d be able to get your work done.”

“How else is a messenger god supposed to stay relevant? Dad already does all the messaging between gods, so there’s no work for a dumb college god like me.”

“You’re in college… That’s your job right now.” Your lidded eyes meet hers as she blows a loose strand of curly hair from her face and drops two folders onto your lap.

“Yeah but I’ll disappear if I loose followers.”

“No. You won’t. You’re a god born of two gods, not a god born of need. There’s a clear difference. We survive whether or not humans worship us individually. Plus there’s other jobs for gods to do other than meddling and fucking around.”

“Yeah but I wanna be a messenger god!” She whines as she drops four more folders onto your lap. “Only eight new assignments today. Lucky you.”

“L… Lucky me?” You screech at her. “I already have two hundred and eighty- eight active cases!” She surrenders her hands and pursues her lips at you.

“I don’t decide who gets what cases.”

“Yeah but you could also maybe throw in a word to Aphrodite and be like, ‘Yeah, boss, don’t you think MC already has enough assignments right now?’ You know, maybe stick your neck out for a friend once in a while?” Angelia continues to stack cases on your lap, unphased by the explosive temper you let loose every morning, and you keep on crying up to her, “Are you listening to me Angelia? I’m drowning in stress right now! If I were a nymph I would’ve shriveled up and died three hundred years ago.” With your pouting expression and whiney voice, you can be compared to a kid whose mom put her favorite cereal back on the shelf.

“But you’re not a nymph. Yay! You won’t shrivel up and die.”

“But if I were a nymph I would have. Doesn’t that concern you? I could die!”

“Gods don’t die.”

“Yes we do!” You snap up to her grinning face, “And the leading cause is stress!” The over caffeinated girl isn’t moved by your whining, so you switch to a bargaining strategy quickly.

“Okay, hear me out,” You begin with a lowered voice, “Maybe if you just slip these onto someone else’s desk, and then pretend that you didn’t notice when Aphrodite asks you “What the hell?” By then that Cupid would have already started the assignment so there’d be no point in bothering me to do it.” Angelia drops the last heavy file folder on your lap and shakes her head. You blink as the weight of your coffee is lifted from your hand again.

“No can do, my friend.” She begins as she sips loudly from your coffee mug, before her face scrunches, “Too much creamer.” Angelia puts the mug back in your hand, all the while you watch her with eyes the size of the moon; is she serious right now? Of course you know there’s too much creamer in there; you just had a late morning so for all you care she can take her scrutiny and shove it. “Anyways, Aphrodite and Eros both said - very strictly, I might add - that these files are meant for your hands only. Anyways, I’m only part time, here. That all is way above my pay grade.”

“Angelia,” You suck in a heavy breath through your nose to try and curb your frustrations with the shrugging girl before you say, “You suck.” At that, she laughs heartily. She giggles her good-bye to you over the sound of her clicking heels as she moves to give the next guy his shackles for the day. “Hey!” She turns over her shoulder to acknowledge your head poking out of your office, “You tell Aphrodite that if I get any more cases this week I’m going to go ahead and fall in love, ya hear?”

“Yeah, right. Someone like you, fall in love?” She snorts, “Not even Eros would take that assignment.” You lift your lip, eyebrows pinching together, and shout back to her:

“Go bother someone else… I’m gonna be here all night because of you.” She waves and smiles pleasantly, which you return half-heartedly. The door shuts gently, and you groan back over to your desk.

Eight files don’t sound like much to the human ear, but these files hold every single aspect of the subject’s life, so it looks like the holy bible. It’s not that you mind the read all that much – it’s like a nice little short story – but it’s the paperwork and scheming that you hate with every fiber of your explosive being. You look to the mirror hanging on your wall after glancing through one of the files – these were all a little bit bigger than the normal case – and decide to put your work order in for their vial’s early; it’s going to take a while to gather their life essence. You grab a drachma and turn it about in your hand as you scribble the eight names onto separate blue ribbons.

“Ánoixe.” You cough, watching the solid mirrors surface begin rippling like water after a stone is thrown into it. “Eudorus.” The rippling increases before orange begins to reflect in the mirror; it slowly stops to reveal the freckled and smiling face of your good buddy. “How are you this fine morning?”

“Don’t play coy with me, MC. I know you’re only here to give me more work.” Your lips snap shut before you laugh lightly.

“I’m sorry. I usually wouldn’t bother you about it until tomorrow but… I just got eight new assignments and they’re really big files. I thought I’d give you a head start on getting their essence for me.”

“Eight!” He cries at you, his freckled cheeks becoming red and eyes watering. “You’re already drowning in work already!” He purses his lips and puffs his cheeks as he mumbles under his breath, “Mom really has to stop giving you so much work. You’ll keel over soon because of lack of sleep.”

“Can you do this for me? I’ll buy you dinner tonight?” He smiles at you.

“I’d do it even if you didn’t offer food, but since you did you can’t take it back now. Give me the ribbons and I’ll give ‘em to you at dinner.” You push your hand through the mirror, flinching as the humid air of his workplace gathers to your hand.

“How do you even breathe in there Eudorus? It’s so humid.”

“You get used to it after a little.” He stops as he eyes you, his lips parted and brows slack in what you can only dreadfully identify as one thing; concern. “Are you getting enough sleep, MC?”

“With all these cases on my desk, I can’t afford sleep.”

“We might be gods and all, but we need our sleep just like the humans.” You grin as you roll your eyes playfully.

“You’re starting to sound like Apollo.”

“If he sees you like this MC he’s going to tear you a new one about taking care of yourself, and you know he’s going to crack down on your eating habits! You’re worse than Hades sometimes…”

“I know, I know… I’ll just avoid him at all costs.” Your half-brother grins at you before he waves the ribbons held lightly in his smooth hands.

“I better get to work on theses. And you better to, if you want to cut down on those piles on your desk.”

“You’re right. Have a good one, Eudorus.”

“Yeah, you too.�� You watch as your red-headed brother disappears, and the mirror hardens again. Staring at your reflection, you realize you really do look like you’re on your deathbed. Your skin is a shade or two lighter from its usual hue, hair messily tossed into a bun, your bags much more prominent, and lips pulled down in a frown much more than usual. You look away quickly, recalling Angelia’s words from earlier…

“Yeah, right! Someone like you, fall in love?” You stare critically at the stack of finished reports you need to put in their rightful files; you will never have one of these for yourself… It’s strictly off limits for you as a Cupid. If you fall in love, you lose your job. Sometimes it makes you mad, other times sad, and some rare times, you’re glad.

Filing cases is the easy part of your job; all the hard work’s done, now all that’s left is topping off the paired folders with golden ribbons and filing them into your large bookshelf for review and approval by Eros. Eros, that sleaze. It’s been at least a millennium since you went through the trouble of pairing him with Psyche and he still has the nerve to waltz into your office and flirt with you shamelessly. Plus, he gets to keep his job despite being head over heels for his wife; who cares if he’s a primordial? He should be held to the same standards as everyone else!

That’s not what matters at the moment though, you guess. Getting these cases off of your desk is the priority! You managed to close thirty cases last night, so you just need to focus on getting them all patched up nicely. You glance to the new files on your desk; once this is done you can stick your nose into the new assignments.

“Is this a joke, mom?” Saying you sounded as loud as Zeus when he and Hades butted heads would almost do a disservice to your anger. You are livid, fuming, downright insane with rage. Her beautiful violet eyes snap up to your own as she gracefully pushes her blonde hair from her face and folds her hands in front of her.

“Is what a joke, MC?” Most of the time, her voice would’ve calmed you down to the point of rational thought, but not today. You’re ready to body slam her into Tartarus. You wave the files frantically in front of you and drop them onto her desk, eyes on fire and steam running out of your ears. You’re an Ares level threat right now.

“What the hell are these assignments?” You screech. Opening the top folder you drop the picture of the blonde on her neat, tidy desk. “Yoosung Kim, 21, college student. He’s fucked up right now, mom. He recently lost his cousin, who, might I add, is also one of these files. How the fuck am I supposed to make a dead woman fall in love? And how the hell am I supposed to make someone like Yoosung fall in love while he is like this?” She opens her mouth to respond but you slap another picture in front of her. “Jumin Han, 26, an executive who doesn’t know the half of relationships and trusting another person. I can’t work with this yet! And don’t you even get me started on Saeran and Saeyong, have you even looked through these files? And Jihyun? What the fuck is going on with this guy?” You feel a large hand plop down on your shoulder. A growl nearly comes from you as you look up to your father, his yellow eyes telling you to try and calm down. “Well when the hell did you get here?”

“I was here the whole time MC. You just marched in, ready for the kill.”

“Well if she wouldn’t hand me such bullshit cases on top of all my other cases I wouldn’t feel like murdering everyone on this damn mountain!” Ares chuckles as he shakes his head in amusement.

“You sure are my daughter, but you’re almost worse than me. What have I always told you, little soldier?” Your mouth draws into a thin line, before you mumble your response so lowly that no one could understand you. “No matter how hard it gets, it is your duty, and so you shall finish it.”

“It could also be Eros’ duty. Or Agata! She only has like, ten assignments right now.”

“Yes, my dear. But Agata is also very new to working as a Cupid.”

“She’s been in the department for two hundred years!”

“These cases require experience and power greater than that of a two hundred-year-old nymph.” You draw your lips into a thin line and eye your mother critically. What the hell does she expect you to do with this? You’re originally a war goddess. You were meant to fight, not shoot people with metaphorical arrows and make sure they fall head over heels with each other!

“This is the life you have now, MC.” Ares begins, for like, the millionth time this month. You grind your teeth and step away from him. You know that you have to content yourself with working in a quiet office, watching others fall in love, constantly typing on a computer, wearing these stupid pencil skirts and bows…

“But I hate wearing these damn heels!” Is all you can screech, childishly. Aphrodite giggles as she stands and walks to you.

“But they make you look so beautiful.” You send a harsh glare up to her; of course, she doesn’t even flinch cause your glares are as harmless to her as a feather is to a rock. “I trust you to handle these assignments better than anyone working here… Even myself. I wouldn’t have given them to you otherwise.”

“How do you suggest I start these, then?”

“Drink their essence and see what they need.”

“I’m not a damned therapist.”

“Hear, hear!” Ares uselessly calls as he resumes his seat on the couch. He shrinks a little when Aphrodite sends him a harsh, menacing glare; if there’s one thing all the gods have learned, it’s that Aphrodite – and possibly Persephone – are the scariest when they get mad.

“Yes, but you will know where to go. I can assure you.” You puff out your cheeks and cross your arms.

“Fine, but you owe me three weeks of vacation since I can’t go next week anymore!” You hiss as you take the files she’d gathered in her hands before you even simmered down – it’s like she knew she’d win you over – and stomp to the door. “I had tickets to the premier of the new marvel movie! Do you know how expensive those are?” You cry, ready to slam the door shut, but giving your mom one more, half-hearted stare.

“You’re a goddess, sweetheart. You have an endless supply of money.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to waste it!” And you move to slam the door shut, but it slows just at the end. You swear your eyeballs set on fire as you realize that your father installed yet another soft close door because of you.

What’s your plan? Dive in head-first and get blind-sided at every corner like Zeus? No way, just thinking about that has you ready to start another war. You need a plan, a good plan, and as much information as you can get. Meaning you’re going to have to work with their guardians. Pompous, inconsiderate, above the law shit heads is what guardians are. In your millenniums, you’ve avoided most, if not all, contact with them. You don’t work well with big heads; they always mess things up because they’re always right, narrow-sighted, and rash. Add to that the state that these wards are in, you can’t imagine these guardians will be the best help… But you’ve got to take whatever you can get.

And that’s why you’re sitting at a large table of seven guardians, enjoying a measly meal of chicken tenders and fries; ambrosia is too damn expensive these days. But you suppose that as the times have changed, your offerings and followers have fallen to a measly, absolute zero. No worshippers? No ambrosia. It’s a good way to stir up some envy here on Olympus.

“So, what do you need, Cupid?”

“I need to know about your wards.” You sigh as you plant a folder in front of each guardian. You point to the empty chair and raise your brow, “Where’s Mina’s guardian?”

“Uh, she’s out on sick leave.”

“I thought you guys were invincible?”

“Well, after all the times she’s worked, I’m sure she needs a break for a little.” Aeneas snaps at you. You roll your eyes; guardians were specifically designed to do everything but need a break. You’d have to check in with Zeus later to see what the hell is going on with her.

“Okay, whatever.” Continuing, you decide to get straight to the point, “Tell me everything you know about your wards. Why are they in the state they’re in?”

“Some wards are harder to guide than others.” Jac gently speaks. You look to the soft-featured man, nodding your head. You know that… You’ve always treasured Jac as a guardian, he’s one of the few to look at you on equal grounds.

“I know. I’m sorry if it felt like I jabbed at you. Could you all maybe explain to me what you’ve learned does or doesn’t work with these wards?”

“Of course… We’ll do as much as we can to help…”

26 notes · View notes