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koshkamartell · 2 months

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No One But Me

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*chapter warnings* - talk of rape, sexual harassment

You didn't reveal what had happened to Oscar, or to anyone else. You kept your word to Joel and did not speak about it. You were still afraid of what he was capable of doing if you did tell someone, if he somehow found out that you told the truth. You felt ashamed and dirty, as if you were deserving of Joel's wrath, that what he did was justified. Maybe you shouldn't have been dancing and drinking so much that night, maybe Joel was right about the men at the bar and their lecherous intentions. After all, you had to defer to Joel's knowledge and extensive life experience when certain subjects were concerned, and this time seemed to be no exception.

Ellie and her happiness were also at the forefront of your mind. You knew that she would be devastated if she discovered how Joel had treated you; the security of her world and a happy family life would be shattered and her heart broken. You couldn't do that to Ellie. Not when you could see so much of yourself reflected in her, that same yearning for a stable and loving family.

Yes, you still loved him, and perhaps a small part of you always will. But he has broken something inside you and you know it can never be repaired or compensated for in any way. Joel had pushed you too far for you to be able to forgive and forget. A bridge has been crossed and there's no returning to how things once were. Where do you go from here? Do you leave him? Joel hadn't accepted that the first time you tried to leave him - would he relent this time?

You tried not to show the inner turmoil you were facing when around others. Working at the school proved to be a good distraction from your thoughts; the young faces of the children, their innocence and wonder at the world, always managed to motivate you to be collected and calm.

However the library shifts proved to be more challenging at times. You were alone more often than not, only the occasional visitor popping in to seek out material on a specialist subject or children wanting to peruse the comics and picture books. Left alone with the whirlwind of introspection inside your head could be tormenting.

Does he really even love me?

What if he does it again?

He's been so sweet and loving lately, maybe he's changed?

Maybe he's realised how much I mean to him?

This fruitless cycle of thoughts was interrupted by the surprise appearance of Oscar at the door, a grin on his face as the bell jingled above him. You felt startled, like you had been caught doing something you weren't supposed to, but you quickly composed yourself.

"Is it weird that I miss that sound?" He chuckled.

"Hey stranger," you greeted him, flashing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes . "Didn't expect to see you here. How can I help you?"

Oscar smiled at you, his clean shaven face boyish and handsome, and you suddenly felt warmth spread all over your cheeks. Surely you weren't blushing because of Oscar?

He walked to the counter where you stood and plopped his satchel on the counter top. "Mhm. It's lunchtime, so I figured I'd stop by for a visit and we could pretend it's like old times - us eating together, hanging out. What do you say?"

"Oscar, are you sure you wanna spend your work break with me?" You asked dubiously, making a face at him.

"You're kidding me, right?" Oscar arched a thick eyebrow in question. "As far as I'm concerned you're the only person I wanna eat lunch with."

He didn't wait for you to speak any further before he flipped open his satchel and took out some sandwiches wrapped in wax paper and a few pieces of fruit. You looked away from him bashfully and shuffled your feet. You could definitely feel your cheeks glowing now.

"Oh Oscar," you murmur, sighing a little. "I don't deserve this."

"Don't deserve to eat lunch? C'mon," he scoffed.

"No, you know what I mean," you said while smoothing your hands over your skirt, still unable to look at Oscar. "You coming here specially for me."

Oscar proped his elbows ontop of the counter and leaned forward so that his head was craning closer to you, tilting his head in an attempt to catch your gaze.

"Hey, look at me," Oscar implored softly.

You obeyed his request and slowly raised your head up to face him. He was gazing at you with a mixture of confusion and pity on his features.

"Why do you think so little of yourself, when others think so much of you?" Oscar asked quietly.

The question is too raw for you to actually answer. It makes you feel bare, like your insides are being dissected. How can you possibly explain to Oscar that you've carried this low self worth all your life, that it has been rooted into your very core since your parents died, left to pullulate and fester like a disease?

Somehow, you believe Oscar already knows that he isn't actually asking for an answer.

All you can do is shrug awkwardly and look away from him. Oscar sighs and extends his arm over the counter to take hold of your wrist. "Honey, what is it going to take for you to believe just how important you are?" His thumb begins to stroke the fragile spot where your pulse and veins intertwine under the thin layer of skin.

You close your eyes and savour the sensation of his soft hand wrapped around your wrist. "Important to who?" You murmur.

"The children at school. Ellie. Me." Oscar whispers silkily. "Look at me."

You raise your head once more to gaze back at Oscar. He studies your face, his eyes roaming over your features longingly. The tip of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. "You're a beautiful person, and I'm lucky to have you in my life."

The the lilt of his voice and the passion in his gaze penetrate your heart and send electric like shivers up and down your limbs. "T-thank you, Oscar." You stammer.

He smiles at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He gently releases your wrist and stands back upright. "Now, enough of this nonsense. I'm hungry and I want you to tell me everything that's been going on here since I left. Didja finish Bug Science? What about that paperback that old man stole and refuses to give back?"

You can't help but laugh at Oscar's light hearted way of breaking the tension in the room. When he sees you finally smile genuinely, he smiles back with a mix of relief and adoration.

After you finish eating and Oscar has to go back to work, you both agree to a regular lunch date at the lunch every week.

That night you were pacing around Joel's kitchen preparing dinner for when Ellie arrived. She was making a dedicated effort to spend more time with Joel without making him feel awkward; you had suggested that regular dinners together were an uncomplicated way to achieve this, and so naturally Ellie had invited herself over.

You alternate between stirring the pot of stew on the stove and shuffling to the dining room to set the table. You carefully arrange the bowls and cutlery in their places, mindful to give Joel a slightly bigger bowl than you and Ellie, knowing that his appetite was more voracious than either of you, especially after a patrol shift.

The setting reminded you of a tale you had loved as a child - a papa bear, a mamma bear, and a baby bear, all with porridge bowls and furniture corresponding to their sizes. Three bears, a happy family with food and a comfy house. Until an intruder comes and disrupts their carefree life.

What was it again? Ah, yes. Goldilocks and The Three Bears.

Silly stories and fairytales created to entertain and teach children morals and valuable lessons. You only vaguely remember some of them from your childhood. Just like the innocence and curious wonderment of youth, your happy memories had been destroyed by the end of the world, shattered to smithereens.

You want Ellie to be able to experience the things that had been so brutally ripped away from you. You know she's suffered her own share of trauma and horrors in her life, things she hasn't shared with anyone but Joel. You know their bond is what has given them both reason to endure and survive for so long. But Ellie was still young, and now she was safe from whatever was still left in the wild of the world. She deserved her own fairytale.

You know you will have to try your best to mask your melancholy for the upcoming evening. You are about to turn off the stove when you hear the front door rattle open, then the sound of boots stamping at the door. It seems Joel and Ellie have arrived home at the same time.

"Good evening!" Ellie trills as she floats into the kitchen. "What did you make? It smells fucking amazing!"

Your heart lights up to see her bound over to the stove and lean over the pot to take a big whiff of its aroma. She lets out an exaggerated sigh and rolls her eyes.

"I'm sooooo hungry!" Ellie groans. "Work sucked today."

You chuckle and pull her into a hug, brushing a little snow flake from her head. "The goats giving you trouble again?"

Ellie was assigned as a farmhand for her work duties and tended to the goats, chickens and sheep. "It was the sheep this time, lazy fuckers wouldn't listen."

"Didn't do what they were told, huh?" Joel chimes, walking into the kitchen with a smug smile tugging at his mouth.

"You callin' me a sheep, old man?" Ellie pretends to square up into a boxer's stance and raises her fists. You watch the interaction with your fingertips pressed to your lips, hiding your smile. No matter how low you were feeling, being immersed in the domesticity of Ellie's and Joel's company was always entertaining.

"You know what insolent means?"

"Uh, nope," Ellie says with a crinkle of her nose. "Why, that what you're callin' me?"

"Damn right."

Ellie punches his shoulder playfully and then begins a hasty exposition on just why her job is so taxing and why Joel should shut up. You shake your head at her theatrics and slip on some oven mitts before carrying the pot of stew out to the kitchen table.

"And if you actually let me go on patrol I could show those assholes just how badass I am," she laments as she follows behind you and Joel.

"No." He takes his seat at the table. "Too dangerous outside the gate."

Ellie just scoffs loudly and flops down onto her chair. You ladle the stew into the bowls and hand them to Ellie and Joel before serving yourself.

"You gotta teach me how to make this," Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of stew. "Tastes amazing, dude."

You settle into your seat and dip your spoon into the bowl. "Yeah, I can do that."

"How'd you learn how to cook?" Ellie asks between another slurp.

You occupy yourself with slowly stirring your spoon through the vegetables and chunks of lamb floating in your bowl. "I picked up some things from working in the mess hall but I mostly taught myself, through cook books and experimenting. More so experimenting."

"Cool," Ellie says, sounding sincerely impressed. "What's your favourite thing to make?"

"This kind of stew, I guess," you respond quietly, still not meeting her eye. "It's hearty, so it's good for when you're sick. And it reminds me of a dish my mother used to make when I was a kid, so...I find it comforting..." Your voice trails off at the end of your sentence. You never spoke of your mother or father but the words had come rolling from your tongue without thought, leaving you to feel as though you've said too much, been too vulnerable infront of both Ellie and Joel.

"Oh," Ellie murmers. "Well, that's good that's it's good for when you're sick, right? You've been sick alot lately so--"

"Ellie," Joel says low and warning.

A tense silence falls over the dining table. You are sure Joel can read your mind, the automatic internal response that you dare not utter aloud - "I wasn't sick last time, Ellie, I was just hiding my face."

You are thankful when Ellie fills the silence once again and starts talking about her friends and the different adventures she's had lately. You listen but do not talk much, only sometimes expressing a hum of agreement or a noise to indicate your interest. To your surprise, Joel makes an effort to engage with her to ask questions or make comments; it is unusual but refreshing, and you can't help but think Joel is doing it for your sake.

When Ellie excuses herself to go to the bathroom, Joel outstretches his hand to you and tenderly clasps it over yours. He lightly squeezes your small hand in his large one and leaves it there, his thumb making tiny circles over the knuckle of yours, soothing and supplicating. You glance up at Joel but he's staring down at his lap unmoving, and you wonder if it's because he feels too ashamed of himself to look at you.

When Ellie returns to the table Joel doesn't move his hand from yours.

It feels like forever since you've joined the girls for a meal in the mess hall. A few days after Ellies visit, you were greeted by Kate waiting outside the school to surprise you after your shift. Despite being exhausted from the days work her cheeky grin made you laugh.

Truthfully, you hadn't thought much about your friends since the night you had all celebrated Jackson's birthday at the Tipsy Bison. It seemed like the time between then and now had stretched infinitely, the events of that night like a vivid dream that was not real but of which you still could not shake from your memory. Seeing Kate in person and so excited to you makes you feel guilty for not being more involved in your friendship circle.

You sit side by side with Kate and Cassie at one of the dining tables, Rhi and Jess opposite you. You have little to no appetite and even the delicious dinner menu doesn't inspire any hunger from you; you mostly move your spoon aimlessly around your plate, only occasionally taking small bites of food. Rhi has lowered her voice and is recounting a recent incident between her and the blonde ranger she has been pining for.

"Can you believe it? He actually stuck his hand up my skirt right then and there!" She hisses with disgust. "Without even kissing me!"

The four of instantly you scrunch up your noses in revulsion.

"Gross!" Jess gags.

"Who the hell does he think he is?!" Cassie fumes.

"What did you do? Did you slap him?" Kate grumbles. "God, please tell me you slapped him!"

"Ofcourse I did!" Rhi answers haughtily, primly running her fingers through her hair. "No bastard touches me like that without my say so."

"He's was cute but boy, did he turn out to be an asshole," Cassie tuts, then adds sympathetically, "I'm sorry, Rhi. I know you liked him for a long time."

Rhi shrugs dismissively. "Eh, better I find out now than after six months of dating and wasting my time."

"Very true," Jess chimes in. "You deserve better than that shit."

"Ofcourse I do! I'm staying out of the dating game for a while, men are so not worth it." Rhi concedes, scooping up some potato and carrot with her spoon.

You watch the airy way Rhi speaks, how the words spill so confidently from her mouth. She's so self assured - in her capabilities, in her worth, in her beauty. You are simply in awe of her. You have often found yourself wishing you were more like Rhi; someone more bold, stronger willed.

You're sick of being timid. You're tired of never standing up for yourself. You're exhausted with hating yourself.

It was becoming more and more difficult for Joel to ignore the fact that he was in love with you. Obviously he knew you belonged to him, but he hadn't really examined just how deeply his own attachment to you ran. The concept of romantic love was something so foreign to Joel that during his pursuit to conquer you he hadn't even recognised how much he loved you.

It hit him when he returned to his house after a gruelling double patrol shift while you were still at work. The inside of the house was still and lifeless and seemed so much bigger and colder than usual. Not a trace of your pretty fragrance or your soft voice to greet him. Joel hated it.

It was you who Joel wanted to see when he ambled through the door after work, aching and weary and hungry. It was your face that he wanted to see when he opened his eyes every morning. And it was your lips that he wanted to kiss goodnight before each time he went to sleep. Joel needed you as close as possible, so it was a natural conclusion that you start the process of living together.

It wasn't part of Joel's plan - he hadn't expected things to have progressed so quickly, but then again he couldn't deny just how much he needed you. So for the first time since living in Jackson he had decided to follow his heart.

One night after his patrol shift, a week and a half after Jackson's birthday celebration, Joel slipped through your front door and toed off his boots.

"I been thinkin' about somethin'," Joel calls out as he shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the hook by the door. "I want you to come stay at my place. Got plenty of space for your things. Can even turn one of the spare rooms into a library for your books."

When you didn't answer him he turned around and stepped into the living room. You were sitting on the couch with your feet tucked under you, staring down at your hands as they fidgeted with a loose thread on the cuff of your sweater. Joel put his hands of his hips and clears his throat.

"Baby, you hear me? What do you think?" He asks with a tilt of his head.

He was trying to temper the irritation that was pricking at the base of his neck, but when he properly looks at you it quickly disappears. He clocks the despondent slouch of your shoulders and the pensive expression on your features.

You sigh softly and then tilt your head up to meet his gaze. You look tired, and the tears swimming in your eyes alarmed Joel enough for him to stride over to the couch and sit down beside you.

"What's goin' on?' He asks with genuine concern, his soulful brown eyes darting up and down your form.

Joel had seen you cry many times before, and it was he who was the reason for your tears more often than not. It usually did not perturb him or discourage him. He knew from the beginning that you were sensitive and soft hearted, the opposite of himself. But something about this instance was totally different.

You swipe the sleeve of your sweater across your eyes to brush away the tears that have spilled over.

"Nothing," you mumble, downcasting your eyes back to the loose thread on your cuff as your fingers toy with it. "Just lonely...missing my parents alot today."

Joel hums and smooths his hand over the back of your head tenderly. "Come to my place, babydoll, stay at my house. You'll never feel lonely there."

"Like, live there forever?"

"Well, not just yet." Joel smirks as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "We can move your belongings gradually."

"What do you mean?" You question him with a side eye glance.

Joel leans into you and nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck. One of his arms snakes around your middle and he effortlessly drags you closer to his body like a scolded kitten tugged by its scruff.

"You can move into my place permanently later, aint no rush. But for now I want you close by, always. In my bed waitin' for me after work. Sittin' pretty on my lap while you read." He inhales your scent and places a soft kiss on your neck. His breath is hot against your skin and his whiskers tickle you. It makes shivers crawl up your spine.

"I don't know Joel," you whisper hesitantly. "I don't think I'm ready for that."

Joel's body immediately tenses at your words. He slowly draws his face away from you and loosens his arm from your waist. Your first instinct is to cower away from Joel and curl into yourself, to distance yourself from any potential outburst of wrath that he might choose to rain down upon you.

"What d'you mean?' Joel asks in a low, dangerous tone.

"I just...want to stay here, I don't want to go anywhere," you mumble, not meeting his gaze but still feeling the heat of his scathing glower nonetheless.

"Don't wanna go?" Joel growls harshly. "Look at me when I'm talkin' to you."

You cannot control the automatic reaction that his sharp tone commands from you; your head whips up to look at him obediantly. You feel small and vulnerable under Joel's glare.

"You don't wanna live with me in my house?" He hisses. "I thought that's what you wanted."

You sigh helplessly as you feel the tears begin to well in your eyes once again.

It is what I wanted. But now I'm not so sure.

"I'm ready to give you everythin' and now you wanna throw it away?" Joel spits bitterly, scowling. There is an inflection of dejection in his words, and the disbelief and hurt reflected in his glistening eyes causes a small stab of guilt in your chest.

"I just...don't think it's the right time," you explain with slow deliberation. "I'm not ready for that."

Joel takes a sharp inhale and scoffs. "So you changed your mind? Just like that, you changed your goddamn mind?"

"Joel," you speak calmly in order to placate him. "I want to keep my place. I don't want to live at your house."

"Why the hell not?"

The pressurised anxiety and woe that has been gradually constricting around your organs finally explodes, rapidly surging through your veins and your limbs and up into your skull.

"Because you raped me!" You snap suddenly, your voice hoarse and choked with emotion. You haul yourself off the couch and storm to the other side of the living room. "Because you hurt me worse than you ever did before!"

The word rape hangs heavily in the air, shocking and weighted in the way it tears from your throat. Joel's mouth falls open and shut, like he's too shocked to form a response.

And truthfully he is. He's speechless at your outburst, at seeing you so impassioned that you have raised your voice at him for the first time in your relationship. He wonders where this argumentative side of you has come from so suddenly. This kind of back chat and disrespect would usually warrant a punishment, but the near hysteria of your demeanour has thrown Joel off completely.

And then it clicks. He really did hurt you. He hurt you so much so that you are expressing anger at him for the first time, aswell as rejecting him. His throat feels dry. Joel swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing.

There had been times in the QZ when the women Joel fucked had been desperate enough to acquire something he smuggled in that they let Joel use their bodies however he wanted. He had readily accepted the trade conditions but had never taken any woman unwillingly before, had never forced himself upon a woman or abused her. He openly despised the men that did - the FEDRA officers, the perverted assholes that roamed the streets, the raiders on the outside that thought nothing of gang raping a girl and leaving her bloodied and broken for the infected and wild animals to devour.

But when it came to you, Joel seemed to lose his sense of morality and rationality. He was blinded by the intrinsic need to dominate and possess you from the moment he saw you. It was something feral and biological inside his brain, his heart, his loins. You were his, you belonged to him, and he had to assert ownership over you in any way possible in order to never lose you. That included having to punish you at times to remind you of your place beside him.

Joel knows he's been rough at times. But rape?

Rape. A disgusting and violent violation used to assert control and cause one of the worst kinds of pain possible.

And that's what he did to you. He hadn't stopped once to think exactly what he had done, but now you've said it outloud he has to acknowledge it. He raped you.

Joel heaves himself from the couch and steps towards you but you flinch, wrapping your arms tightly around your waist and shrinking into the corner.

"I...I know what I did wasn't right. I just got carried away." Joel confesses. "Got so angry I wasn't thinkin' straight."

"Angry for what?" You sob, glaring directly at him. "For having fun with my friends like every other person in town?"

"I don't want my woman behavin' like that," Joel declares while shaking his head firmly, his mouth downturned in a scowl. "Not when she belongs to me."

"So you call me a whore and rape me?" You cry with exasperation, the tears pouring down your face.

Joel sighs and runs his hands through his hair in frustration. "I told ya I didn't mean to go that far, but you know I got a temper."

"That doesn't give you the right!" You argue back, secretly thrilled by your surge of self confidence in confronting Joel. "Imagine if someone did that to Ellie, what would--"

"Don't." Joel grits fiercely, his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenching. "Don't you dare mention her."

"Why not?" You ball your trembling hands into fists and stare him down. You can see the anger simmering just beneath the surface of Joel's restrained exterior, the mannerisms that signify an imminent danger. Your heart is thrumming in your chest and your stomach feels sick with trepidation but you won't back down. Not now. "So it's okay if you do it to me but if it's El--"

In a flash Joel storms toward you, his boots thundering heavily on the floor boards. He grabs a tight hold of your wrist and yanks you to him. You squeak with fear and collide into his chest. His eyes bore down into yours with steely reproach.

"Better listen to what I say, little girl," Joel warns lowly. "Mind your fuckin' manners."

You stare back up at Joel, tears of outrage and hurt stinging your eyes. Neither of you move during the tense stand off and time seems to stand still. There's a loaded intensity emanating between you two that is intoxicating, like both your souls are being forcefully pulled together despite fighting tooth and nail to resist. Amidst the anger and pain is something primal, a kind of hunger that is magnetic and electrifying. You can see it burning in Joel's orbs as his gaze flits between your lips and your own eyes.

Before you do something you'll regret, like kiss him or slap him, you try to pull away, but Joel effortlessly keeps you pinned to him. You shake your head despairingly and a sob escapes from your lips.

"I l-loved you," you whisper brokenly. "S-so much. And you have d-done nothing but hurt me."

Joel's expression softens and his grip on your wrist looses a tiny bit. The hardness leaves his dark eyes and is replaced by a helpless kind of sorrow. He blinks and clears his throat.

"That ain't true," he whispers back. "I been tryin', you know that, don't you? Been tryin' to show you how I feel and make it up to you."

"You broke my heart, Joel," you confess in a barely audible whisper.

Joel appears almost pained when the words leave your mouth; his brows furrow and his eyes shut tightly for a second. Then he releases his grip around your wrist and instead cradles your hand in his rough palm. The gentle way his paw engulfs yours is beseeching, as though your very being is the elixir that sustains him, something vital to his life yet is also so fragile. It brings you no comfort and instead makes the situation feel even more gut wrenching. Why can't you always be like this? You want to scream at him. Why now, when it's so late?

"I'll fix it," he says definitively. "Lemme fix it."

"I don't know if it can be fixed," you whisper truthfully.

You move to pull away from Joel again but his other arm wraps around your waist and holds you firmly against him. His emotive puppy dog eyes search yours beneath the heavy frown of his brow.

"Please," he whispers.

You shut your eyes and your breath hitches in your throat. You are so empty that you cannot evoke any words to describe the maelstrom of emotion inside you. Your legs feel weak and you feel like sleeping. Without speaking a word, you feel Joel dip down and lift you up into his arms like a child, and then carries you to bed.

Joel lays you carefully on the mattress, placing your head delicately on the pillow. You pull your knees up to your chest and curl up into yourself, wanting nothing more than to drift off and dream of alternate realities that you had read of in your favourite books, of imaginary places and people that you longed to visit. Joel climbs over your legs and plonks down behind you with a grunt.

"Baby," he whispers in your ear. Joel slips his thick arm around your waist and presses his front flush against your back. You hate yourself for the way your body has become conditioned to crave the heat of his body, how you still relish the sensation of his skin on yours even after he's defiled you.

"I'm nothing more than a whore for you, aren't I?" You whisper back wetly.

"What?" Joel breathes. "What? N-no, God, no." He props himself up with an elbow and uses his other arm to flip you onto your back. You stare up at the ceiling ans blink away the tears threatening to pool in your eyes.

"You said that," you warble.

"I know," he says with a sigh. "I didn't mean it." Joel splays his large hand over your belly and leans down to press his forehead to yours. "I'm sorry," he whispers. The two simple words stun you - it is the first time he's ever apologised.

Joel nuzzles his nose against your cheek tenderly, his eyes falling shut.

"I ain't lettin' you go," he whispers against your lips. "I'll prove myself to you. You'll see. You're mine, babydoll. I love you. You only belong to me. No one but me."

taglist - @@sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows @puduvallee

#joel miller dark #joel miller x reader #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic #joel miller #dddne

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eywathemother · 1 year

Text

Fish Lips; Introduction

Ship: Aonung x Kiri's twin sister!Reader

This is a series.

Warnings: Language, bullying, gore, fighting, talk of war, injury and blood, slow burn, enemies to lovers (not really a warning just some people don't like that trope), death of (a) character(s), not proofread

Words: 1,840

Keys: (y/n) = your name,,(y/i/n) = your Ikran's name,, Neural Queue= the braid extension of a Na'vi's nervous system that allows them to link up to animals and Ewya,,

Chapters; Introduction || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10 ||

Spoilers for Avatar: The Way of Water A whole ass lot.

Please don't make fun of my horrid translation of Na'vi from the movie... I'm not sure if i am 100%, It's so hard as a beginner in Na'vi to figure out the right translation so hopefully I made it grammatically correct or else I'm severely embarrassed. I know I got English and asshole right but that's about it lol.

" We're so toast." You whispered allowed, more to yourself than anyone else. Lo'ak didn't like that and sent you a side glare." Shut up, (y/n)." You rolled your eyes at him with a scoff and turned your head back to the dream walkers. They were wearing military clothing and carried heavy weapons." This is your fault though; you shouldn't have followed those tracks." You grumbled.

Kiri, your sister looked towards you with a glance of agreement. He scoffed but ignored you, keeping his eyes trained on the people.

" Dad's going to ground you." Kiri whispered and Lo'ak rolled his eyes." Stop." Kiri eyed him amusedly at his aggravation. " For life." She continued to tease." Kiri, stop." He said a bit louder.

"Sh, what if they hear us because your loud ass doesn't want to shut up." You hissed and Lo'ak quietly mocked you. Spider and Lo'ak began to whisper about the battlefield, and you just rolled your eyes.

" I gotta call this in." Lo'ak suggested and Spider's eyes widened." No don't we're gonna get in trouble." Spider whispered and he wasn't wrong. Especially you and Lo'ak considering what happened during the raid a few days earlier.

You weren't even technically supposed to be out, being grounded and stuck with your grandmother until your ankle healed. During the raid while you and Neteyam were trying to get Lo'ak off the ground and back to spotting the gunships came in. When running away an explosion that knocked all of you down caused a rock to land on your ankle. Luckily it wasn't heavily but it left bruising and swelling of your ankle.

It hurt to put too much pressure on it, but you didn't want to be stuck to your grandmother's side for weeks." Listen, let's just go. Tuk shouldn't be here anyways." You whispered, rubbing Tuk's arm who looked a bit worried.

Lo'ak took this into consideration and nodded his head once." Let's go." You all turned around and began to move further back into the forest as quietly as you could. Lo'ak began to inform your father as you and Kiri put in your ear piece. You all stopped and huddled down while Lo'ak informed your father.

"What's your provenance?" Jake asked and Lo'ak and Spider glanced at each other while your rubbed Tuk's shoulder. Tuk was mostly worried about getting in trouble, but you had anxiety of the possibility of your guys escape souring.

" Uhh, we're at the old shack." Lo'ak said, glancing at Spider who shook his head.

"Who's we?" Jake asked and Lo'ak hesitantly spoke everyone's names. Jake began to give instructions and soon you were heading out of the area in a hurry.

" We're going to be in so much trouble." Kiri hissed at Lo'ak and Tuk who was in front turned around." It's almost eclipse come on!" When she turned back around one of the soldiers from before popped out and grabbed Tuk.

She let out a scream and almost immediately you all grabbed your weapons and started hissing at them. In a few seconds you were surrounded by a whole squad. You began to drop your weapons as they screamed at you to do so.

A soldier came around, grabbing you roughly and pulling your Neural Queue. you let out a yell and hissed at the guy pulling your braid. It only made him pull harder and he kicked the back of your knees bringing you down to the ground.

The one holding down Kiri grabbed her hands and almost looked happy to see that she had five fingers." Colonel, four fingers. We got a Halfbreed."

He glanced at Kiri and her fingers before moving to Lo'ak, demanding him to show his fingers. Lo'ak being Lo'ak showed them but decided to flip him off while doing so.

The guy chuckled." You're his. Aren't you?" Lo'ak responded with a hiss but that only seemed to confirm this guy's question." You're his alright."

He grabbed Lo'ak's braid, pulling him up to his feet as Lo'ak cried out in pain." Where is he?" At first he didn't answer but Colonel pulled his braid again." Ngaytxoa (I'm struggling with the translation on this part) 'ìnglìsì...ne vonvä (Sorry, I don't speak English to assholes)."

Colonel tugged again." Peseng ngeya sempul(Where is your father?)?" He tugged harder this time, making Lo'ak scream. He held his ground though, hissing at Colonel.

"Really you wanna play it this way?" Colonel took out his knife, leaning it towards Lo'ak's neck.

"Ftang(stop)!!" You shouted, Kiri crying out as well. Colonel stopped, throwing Lo'ak down. He turned walking towards Kiri." Kehe(no)!" You shouted pulling against the mans grips.

"Kehe, no, stop!" Lo'ak shouted miserably failing to get up and intervene only to be held by his braid once more. "Stop! Don't touch her!" Spider shouted, trying to pull from his captures grip. Colonel stopped in front of Spider, like he knew him." Please don't hurt her please." Lo'ak pleaded behind him.

"Whats your name, kid?" Quaritch asked and Spider glared at him." Spider. Socorro." He answered and something seemed to click in the man's mind because a small smile appeared on his face." Miles?" Spider shook his head a bit." Nobody calls me that."

'Is this man somehow related to Spider?' You thought as you watched the weird exchange between them." Well I'll be damned. I thought they sent you back to Earth."

"You can't put babies in Cryo dipshit." Spider responded and an uncomfortable silence fell in the air. Finally Colonel stood up." What are we doing boss?" The one holding Spider asked, as Colonel pushed his communicator on." Iron sky blue unactual."

"We're standing by for extract." he responded." We are bringing in high value prisoners." You all began to be moved and Kiri tugged and pulled." Let us go." The one holding her yanked her back." Shut up."

They moved you all and sat you down, tugging and barking 'shut ups' when any of you spoke. As you struggled against your capture a video of what sounded like Jake and the guy standing as boss played.

As the sky began to turn to Eclipse, they gathered you in a line. Waiting for something, you assumed was your father. It began to rain as you all waited, listening intently for any signs of your mother or father.

Then you heard your mothers calling, ears perking up you waited for your time to move. Kiri mumbled comforts of her own under her breathe, the soldier holding her eventually got tired of it. Yanking her head down he aggressively told her to shut up.

An arrow hit his head only a few seconds after. As they started shooting you took your chance. Moving your hands upwards you grabbed the man's arm, biting into it enough to draw blood. He screamed and when he let go you took your chance.

Following Tuk you ran as fast as you could, Lo'ak helping you over the log towards the escape route. You weren't fast enough and your braid was soon yanked back. Falling backwards you landed next to one of the soldiers. He grabbed your knife he had been holding onto and put it to your throat.

" You listen here, I-" But before he could finish an arrow went into his head. You felt a sting on the bottom left side of your neck, but you paid no mind and began to run to where Lo'ak and Tuk disappeared. You caught up to Lo'ak and Tuk who were stopped with the rest of your family.

"(y/n)!" Jake called out. He ran over, reaching his arms out as you held your neck." They got me a bit." You huffed, and he removed your hand from your neck. Neytiri came over, analyzing the cut. It wasn't deep but you were losing blood. He put your hand on it." Keep pressure on it. Don't move your hand." He rushed you to his Ikran, helping you up and immediately flying off as everyone else followed quickly.

You knelt next to Kiri who was listening next to your Marui, Tuk had her head down peaking inside. Your wound had been stitched up and bandaged and they finally let you go after an hour of monitoring you. You were a bit pale from some blood loss and they recommended to take it easy. Lo'ak and Neteyam had stay next to you the entire time, taking peaks at your wound and either making teasing comments or talking about a cool scar forming.

" What's going on?" Neteyam asked as they both came and squatted where you guys were. Kiri immediately silenced them, and you all began to listen to their conversation.

" I cannot, you cannot ask this." Neytiri stated, and you heard her move." I cannot leave my people." She set something down." I will not." She defied.

"He's hunting us." Your father replied, and your ears went back as you listened." He's targeting our family." He sounded so tired, and it made you feel bad for making him worry today." You cannot ask this!" Neytiri yelled at him." The children, everything they've ever known, the forest. This is our home!" She screamed at him.

" He had our children. He had them under his knife." A small silence passed." We got lucky (y/n)'s neck wasn't cut any higher, she could've died!" he huffed, and a tense silence broke out between them. You stared straight ahead but you could feel the glances from your sisters and brothers.

Your mother sighed, a few seconds later you could hear her pick up something." My father gave me this bow, as he lay dying! And he said protect the people." She said a bit more quietly." You're Toruk Makto!"

" This will protect the people!" His voice was sounding more agitated the more he had to explain." Quaritch has Spider, that kid knows everything!"

You glanced at your siblings, all of you sharing a look before going back to listening. " He knows our whole operation! He could lead them right in here!"

" If the people harbor us, they will die." You knitted your eyebrows together, hating that your father was telling truths. " Do you understand?"

Another silence fell and you could hear your mothers' huffs of emotion, distraught by the thought of leaving her people behind." Look I got nothing, I got no plan." Your father admitted." But I can protect this family, that I can do."

You knew what this meant, this meant you were leaving your home. Kiri rubbed your shoulder in comfort, and you grabbed her hand in silent thanks.

You could hear your mother begin to cry." But I know one thing." He paused." Wherever we go, this family is our fortress." You looked at your siblings and you all snuck away quietly to go to a spot and talk about what you just heard.

Later that night they had brought you into the Marui to tell you the news you were expecting. You were leaving your home, to go far away, to protect the people and your family. You were upset, beyond upset really, and you knew everyone else was too.

You didn't get much sleep last night, thinking about how you will most likely never get to see your friends, or call the Omaticayan clan your people ever again.

#avatar x reader #avatar the way of water #avatar #aonung x reader #aonung #atwow x reader #aonung x you

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violetsiren90 · 10 months

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All I Haven't Said | Namjoon/Reader

💜 Chapter 2 💜

Table of Contents: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (part 1), Chapter 3 (part 2)

Pairing: idol!Namjoon x f!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU; idol AU; chapter fic; strangers to lovers; a bit of idiots to lovers, tbh; slow burn; eventual romance; eventual smut; angst (life is messy & hearts are complex); OT7 featured

Summary: You found your soulmate - or rather, he found you. Turns out he's an idol of much acclaim who needs you for very real and unglamorous reasons. What could become of two hearts so used to giving of themselves when they are confronted with needing each other?

Chapter Warnings: This fic is 18+, as is all my work and my page as a whole; Talk and depictions of cancer, its treatment, and the symptoms of both; implication of some disregard for personal agency by entertainment and medical industries; MC is diagnosed with asthma and experiences symptoms; flashbacks of a distressing situation; soulmate first touch & subsequent skinship; partial disrobing for medical purposes; medical setting and minor treatments; some social awkwardness; talk of food, eating, and alcohol consumption in the context of a soulmate AU

Author's Note: Chapter 2 is here! I tried my best to write Namjoon's response under the circumstances, but honestly I don't know how well it was executed. Let me know what you think in the comments/asks! I'm super open to constructive criticism and feedback. Also, I did my best with the Korean phrases and medical jargon. If anyone has more extensive knowledge on those subjects and wants to fact-check, please let me know!

P.S. If you want to join the tag list, drop me a comment or ask!

P.P.S. If no one has told you yet today, you're loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

"At night I dream that you and I are two plants that grew together, roots entwined, and that you know the earth and the rain like my mouth, since we are made of earth and rain.”

~ Pablo Neruda

Chapter 2: Touching Me, Touching You

When you touched down at Incheon International Airport, you and Matt were greeted by a rather unnecessarily large party of Hybe personnel in black plainclothes wearing masks who snatched up your baggage and ushered you into the first of a small fleet of black SUV's. The member of the legal advisory team who had visited you in the states, Choi Kang Dae, was riding shotgun and speaking into a cell phone that had not left his ear since departing the baggage claim. In the row behind you was another man you assumed to be a translator, given his fluency in English, but who was currently chopping it up with Matt in Korean, and beside him a large, serious, silent man whose eyes kept traveling to you every now and again. You assumed that meant that the rest of the ensemble filling the vehicles behind you were security, which somehow made you feel less rather than more at ease.

The further you advanced in traffic through the busy streets of Seoul, the more anxious you became. A thousand questions began to flood your brain as your heart began to hammer in your chest. If all these people had come to meet you, were you headed to the hospital now? Weren't you supposed stop at your accommodations first? If you didn't, would you even have a chance to shower a day's worth of airport off before meeting your soulmate? Were you about to bond right now? Would people be watching? Would it hurt? Why hadn't you ever thought of these things before? You felt a familiar tightness in your chest and pulled out your inhaler. An asthma attack right now? They always seemed to strike at the most inopportune times.

Matt was suddenly turning to you.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, looking at the inhaler you were shaking for a second puff.

You slowly exhaled and nodded.

"I'm fine. But where are we going right now, can you ask them?"

The translator asked the Kang Dae something in Korean, and after he responded, the other man turned to you.

"We're going to the hospital. Namjoon-ssi had a seizure last night due to a prolonged high-grade fever, so we are trying to act as quickly as possible to avoid further complications."

Matt turned to the translator.

"This should have been the first thing we heard when we stepped off that plane. I'm not trying to play hardball here, but we're going to have to be communicated with about every step of this process so we can decide how we're going to respond. This was in the contract, communication and a chance to speak with me before she makes any step in this process..."

Matt slipped in and out of English as the attorney apologetically reassured him through the translator of their full intent to follow the contractual specifications. You felt sick, and your heart continued to hammer - though now for different reasons. You had been worried about a shower while he was fighting for his life. This was no time for nerves. You had to fight for his life too.

When the vehicle pulled into the ambulance bay, you and Matt were handed surgical masks and ushered, with security and other Hybe personnel in tow, through the ICU and into a massive steel elevator. You watched the round button number "5" light up red as Kang Dae pushed it with a gloved hand. After the brief assent, the doors opened into a space that looked like it was straight out of a Star Trek episode - floor to ceiling white, blinding fluorescent lights, and hospital workers covered from head to toe in sterile garments ebbing and flowing in urgent silence to and fro to the rhythmic serenading hums and beeps of medical equipment. You blinked in the offending brightness.

Your party was immediately approached by a small woman with a tablet and stylus who addressed Kang Dae. You heard your name mentioned. You heard Matt's. After a brief exchange with the Hybe attorney, Matt relayed that you were going to meet with Namjoon's oncologist. Kang Dae turned to address the security staff, and his words were met with nods and murmurs of acknowledgment except by the tall, serious man from the SUV, who responded to the attorney in a low but firm tone, his eyes flashing over to you as he spoke. You looked over to Matt, your brow creased in question. He watched as Kang Dae concluded the exchange and lead your now small group of four to follow the petite woman down a long, wide hall. As you walked, Matt leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"It appears the indignant gentleman is your personal bodyguard. Seems he's reluctant to stay behind with the rest of security."

You glanced in surprised curiosity over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of the guard seated beside the rest of the team, elbows propped on his knees and hands clasped under his chin, a pensive expression on his rugged features, before he disappeared from view as you rounded a bend.

The hall connected to a labyrinth of others, snaking off left and right, and punctuated with massive, heavy doors. Your guide abruptly swung left to face one of the entrees, flashing a badge card across a sensor which beeped, allowing her to push it inward. It opened into a suite of rooms much homier than the atmosphere behind you, though every bit as sterile.

In the vestibule was a small acrylic table surrounded by matching chairs. As you passed through you noted to the right, a small kitchenette, and to the left a rather large bathroom. At the end of the suite, you shuffled into a large room, separated on the far left end by a curtain. The space in which you stood was fitted with grey leather furniture, a tall bamboo plant in the corner, and a low acrylic coffee-table. An older, distinguished looking man in a white jacket stood from where he had been seated in one of the arm chairs and bowed. Your group bowed in return, and the translator asked that you be seated.

Dr. Na, as the man in the coat was introduced, would run through some last matters with you before you were to meet your soulmate. He relayed through the translator that this hospital was state of the art, Korea's finest, and a frontrunner in successful experimental treatments for cancer and other genetic diseases. The room you were occupying, he said, was a suite meant for long-term inpatient care, and would be nearly identical to the space you would share with Namjoon for the remainder of his inpatient treatment. He explained that Namjoon's condition has been detected far later than was desirable, and that treatments had included invasive surgery and aggressive rounds of chemotherapy, which had slowed, but not stopped the spread of tumors throughout his body. He said that Namjoon had displayed extreme physical and emotional resilience, but that his will to fight the disease overtaking his body had begun to wane with his strength and increasingly burdensome symptoms from both the cancer and its treatment.

At this point, Dr. Na turned to face Matt full on, and earnestly imparted to him while gesticulating at you. Matt's brow furrowed, and he nodded as he listened to the oncologist before turning serious eyes toward you. Kang Dae began to say something, but the doctor held up his hand while also turning his eyes toward you with an expectant gaze.

"Y/n," Matt began, interlacing his fingers as he often did when trying to choose his words carefully, "Dr. Na says that there is not a lot of research around treating cancer, especially at such an advanced stage, with the soulmate bond. There are accounts of it having seemingly miraculous effects on injury and illness, but none that have been objectively measured. It has been scientifically proven to a degree that soulmates bring about peak physical conditions in one another through the bond...over time. The thing the good doctor here really wants you to understand is that there is no guarantee that there is enough time in our situation. He says that bonding with him is going to be a major risk. If the treatment isn't successful and Namjoon should pass, that would mean your ultimate death soon after."

Matt's face had lost most of its stoicism. He looked deeply worried. He looked like he wanted you to get on a plane with him back to the States. He looked like he knew what you were going to do instead. You see, you had already thought about it - the possibility of death. You nodded.

"Tell him I understand, Matt," you said calmly, "Tell him I'd like to meet Namjoon-ssi."

Matt stared at you for a beat, as if debating with himself before turning back to relay your message to Dr. Na. The oncologist nodded, and then turned to you and asked another question in Korean. The translator explained that the doctor wanted to know if you understood the basic implications of the soul-bond. You sighed. You did. You knew that once bonded you would be reliant on each other for nourishment and survival until the end of your natural lives, and that the bond once established was irreversible. You knew the bond was initiated and maintained through skin-to-skin contact. You knew that the bond changed your body chemistry to no longer need food or water, and that food would eventually be rejected by the body like poison. You knew these things because you had done extensive research, not because anyone in the company asking for you to give over your body and soul had tried to make you aware. They had been interested in matters of signatures and compensation. How considerate of someone to ask you now, you thought with some contempt. You wondered what Namjoon knew, what he had been told, what he had been asked.

"I would like to meet my soulmate now," you said suddenly, cutting through the exchange between Dr. Na and Kang Dae.

All eyes turned on you, leaving in half-finished sentences a wake of mild surprise. "I know what I'm getting into on my end of things. You had expressed before that time was of the essence and I would like to be brought to him now."

Matt relayed your response to the group, and the doctor nodded. Soon you were being handed a hospital gown, and a sports bra, underwear, and socks from your suitcase - that you realized with a bit of alarm and indignation, you had not given anyone permission to retrieve - and were instructed to shower and change into these items.

You slipped into the bathroom and sank down on the closed toilet, dropping your head onto the little bundle of clothes in your arms. In your first few moments alone in over twenty-four hours, everything was beginning to hit like a volley of arrows. Agendas, agendas. Hybe wanted your soulmate. The hospital wanted to beat his cancer. You wanted to help him live. But what did he want? Had anyone asked? Would he be honest, if they did? Not for the first time, something squeezed in your chest at the thought of him. But this time, it was stronger. Your head shot up from your lap. You had somewhere to be.

After a quick and thorough wash-up, you padded into the hall where the little group awaited you. You were self-conscious in your limited attire, and you stood awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the next as people murmured in Korean. A nurse, who had joined the small throng, approached you, slipping a hospital bracelet with your name and Hangul characters and little numbers around your wrist and handing you a pair of grey slippers. Matt turned to you.

"This is it, kiddo. You're going to go with Dr. Na and have your vitals taken, have some blood drawn, and then you'll go meet him."

Matt sighed deeply, his eyes searching yours. He took a backward glance and stepped just a bit closer, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"You sure about this?"

You nodded.

"Yes, Matt, I'm sure."

He pulled his mouth in into a tense line, his brows drawing together.

"That face you're making, that defiance in your eyes," his hand fell from your shoulder, "You could be his twin. I know I can't change your mind now. Nothing could."

You gave a knowing smile. He wasn't wrong.

"I'm gonna be okay, Matt. I'll see you tomorrow. Call my mom and tell her things went fine. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Matt scratched the back of his head, regarding you thoughtfully for a moment before nodding. He bent to press a kiss to your forehead, and turned to make his polite goodbyes.

The nurse ushered you down the hall and into a room that looked a little more like a typical hospital room with a gauze-covered table, a scale, and other vaguely familiar machines and equipment. After she had collected the desired data and taken a vial of your blood, she made a page in Korean, and then motioned for you to follow her. She took you down another series of passages and finally, when you were sure Theseus himself couldn't have found his way back, she stopped in front of a large steel door and scanned her badge.

Room number 594.

The door opened on its heavy hinges, swinging slowly inward. Your heart was hammering in your chest. You realized the moment you crossed the threshold that you didn't have your things. You didn't have your phone, or your bag, or the book that was inside it, or what was between the pages of the book.

You thought about pear-shaped Italian cheese as you crossed through the kitchen area.

You thought about little Diana trying to stop your mother from crying as she lay on the floor of the kitchen, body shaking with sobs, as you moved into large open room at the end of the suite.

And then, there he was. It was all you could do not to gasp.

You would never have recognized him for the man in the photo Diana had shoved into your face last week. Sitting propped up in a large hospital bed, he was covered up to the waist in blankets. His frame, though unmistakably large, was gaunt, and his white tee draped around him like something that used to fit - patches and wires visible across his chest through the cotton fabric. His long arms were thinner than they should have been, ashy, and littered with bruises. His head leaned back against the pillows, he wore a black beanie low on his brow, but not low enough to hide the naked skin where his eyebrows had been. His full lips were chapped and parted as he labored somewhat to breathe. The doctor was speaking to a tall man in a black tee and jeans beside the bed. Namjoon was watching them, until, suddenly, his gaze flicked to you. Your breath caught in your chest. His eyes were unchanged. Something flooded your veins.

"I need to speak with Namjoon-ssi, please," you said abruptly, turning to the doctor and the man beside him.

They looked at you, quizzically. You cleared your throat to speak again, slower and more firmly.

"Could I be alone with him, for a moment? I need to speak with him before we begin."

The doctor turned to say something to the tall man, but a voice from the hospital bed addressed them in a soft, deep timbre. The tall man glanced at you and then at Namjoon and replied. They held a short exchange before both he and the doctor filed reluctantly out of the room, taking the nurse with them.

Namjoon sat further up in the bed, his face contorting in pain as you approached him. You stood a few feet from where he sat, your hands inexplicably itching to reach out for him. You clasped them behind your back.

"Hello," he, rasped.

Even the hoarseness couldn't hide the warmth of his voice. You thought his eyes and his voice must be made of the very same stuff. You were suddenly a different kind of nervous. You didn't even register your own initiative to speak as the question came tumbling out.

"Do you want to live?"

Your soulmate blinked in surprise.

"What?"

You took a breath and repeated yourself, this time with intention.

"Do you want to live?" You asked again. "I know there are plenty of people who want you too, but I want to know what you want."

He regarded you in intent silence for a long moment.

"Yes," he said finally, his cadence thoughtful and deliberate, "Yes, I want to live. I wasn't sure I did, but I do. I do now."

You exhaled a little breath you didn't realize you'd been holding.

"Okay, good," you nodded, looking away from his intent gaze as you fought, again, the surging urge to reach for him.

His lips quirked into a little smirk at your reaction.

"I was going to ask you a question too, but after introductions," those eyes caught yours again, teasingly, and the little smile deepened just a bit, pressing a dimple into his sunken cheek.

The misery he was living in and he was teasing you? You felt something flutter a little in your chest which you willed yourself to ignore.

"I'm sorry," you bit back a smile, glancing away a bit bashfully, "I just needed to know that you had agency over what was happening here, that it was what you wanted. If no one else was going to give you that choice...well, I was."

He regarded you silently again before addressing you.

"It's good to meet you, Y/n-ssi. I'm Kim Namjoon."

You couldn't suppress a smirk at his stubbornness, and at the fact that he already knew your name, like you knew his.

"It's good to meet you, too, Namjoon-ssi," you replied softly.

He suddenly leaned back in the bed, wincing, his chest heaving a bit. You looked over at the heart monitor that beeped beside him to see that his pulse was rising.

"Should I call in the doctor?" You asked in concern.

He shook his head weakly.

"Not yet," he pressed out, with effort. "I...need...to know..."

You stepped closer to hear him.

"Know what?" He closed his eyes , bringing a hand over his chest as the beeping slowed.

"You...could...die...trying to..." he broke into a bought of coughs that was obviously painful. Once he had caught his breath, he rasped, "Are you sure, Y/n-ssi?"

"Yes," you answered without hesitation. "Yes, I'm sure. This is my choice. I'm sure."

He opened his eyes. You held each other in a silent gaze. He looked like he wanted to say something. He didn't. He merely nodded and asked,

"You ready, then?"

You met his questioning gaze with a wry smile and what you hoped were steady eyes as you answered.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

After the staff had returned to the room, the tall man in plainclothes introduced himself as Sejin, Namjoon's manager. He gave you a deep bow, which you returned, thanking you in practiced English for agreeing to bond with the idol - something that made you uncomfortable all the way down to your bones, and which you tried to dismiss without being impolite. The doctor spoke to Namjoon at some length, gesticulating to you several times. Sejin nodded along as the nurse typed notes onto her tablet.

You felt a bit frustrated, being on the outside of what so immediately concerned you. You were on the verge of asking for Matt to be brought in when Namjoon turned to you.

"The doctor says that while he understands first touch is an intimate experience, that he and two nurses will need to be present to monitor my vitals. My heart is on the weaker side these days."

He looked almost contrite as he said it and your chest squeezed. You nodded understandingly. He might be your soulmate, but you knew this wasn't a meet-cute. This was clinical. What was about to happen between you was a treatment. The doctor continued, and a nurse came around the bed to where you stood and waited expectantly as Namjoon turned to you, this time with an unmistakably apologetic look on his drawn features.

"Dr. Na says that if first contact goes smoothly, we'll need to begin treatments aggressively, which means as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. I guess they want us both in just undergarments."

Ah, hence the hospital gown.

You felt heat creep up your neck. Under any other circumstances you would have been upset at the lack of privacy of it all, but these weren't like any circumstances you had ever been prepared to anticipate. You were going to have to figure the boundaries out as you went.

The nurse beside you rolled up a chair for you to sit in beside the bed, facing Namjoon. She untied and tugged the top of your hospital gown down to place a heart monitor on your chest, your soulmate respectfully averting his gaze.

When all the necessary preparations had been made, you found yourself sitting in a swivel chair cranked up to reach the height of the hospital bed, socked feet not touching the ground. You were facing Namjoon, who kept sitting forward, much to the chagrin of the nurses who kept gently but impatiently guiding him back against the pillows. You felt a sick feeling creep into the pit of your stomach as you glanced at the second nurse wheel in a defibrillator. How bad could this possibly be? Would it hurt? You steeled yourself as Namjoon sat forward again, turning up the palm of his large right hand which rested on the covers beside you.

"It's time," he murmured softly, eyes on you as you gave one more glance to the doctor, who nodded, and giving in to an urge you had kept at bay since you entered the room you slipped your hand into his.

A jolt shot through your body like an intense electric pulse. It hurt, like relentless aftershocks of overstimulation to sensitive flesh...and yet if felt good. So good. You had instinctively pulled to yank your hand away from the pure surprise of it, but you had tugged yourself back to no avail. You opened your eyes (you hadn't remembered closing them) to see Namjoon, head thrown back against the pillows, lips parted and eyes screwed shut as he clutched your hand in a vice grip. You glanced at the heart monitor spitting out beeps consistent with well over a hundred beats per minute. Was that yours or his? But you couldn't very well hold a coherent thought in your mind as warmth began to flood your body, followed by a tingling sensation that seemed to fizzle up from the base of your spine and trickle down your limbs.

Raising suddenly heavy eyes, you realized that you were swaying a bit on your feet. When did you stand? And you were much, much closer to Namjoon - your hand was curling around the base of his bicep, your elbow in his palm, as you pressed every possible square centimeter of your bare arm to his. His eyes were open now and he was looking at you as his chest rose and fell. You returned his gaze, unfocused, drunk on the sensations spreading through your being.

You blinked as you heard the doctor speak, but neither of you tore your eyes away, and as if in a trace, as the nurses helped you out of your clothes, and you crawled into the bed and slotted yourself against his side, stretching out your right arm to wrap around his torso. Every aspect of the feeling grew impossibly stronger, the pleasure factor so high that it felt somehow wrong to be experiencing this with a total stranger in a hospital room surrounded by others. You felt Namjoon let out a shuddering breath. His arms had snaked around you.

The last thing you remembered before falling into a delirium was the nurse pulling the covers over your bodies.

When you awoke, or rather, came to, you felt wrong. You rubbed hazy eyes to find yourself on a little cot. Before you could even wonder where you were or how you got there, the events of the previous day came flooding back.

Holy shit, you thought, you were in Korea. You had met your soulmate - and bonded with him.

When had you even fallen asleep? The last thing you remembered was climbing into Namjoon's bed. Your heartbeat quickened. First touch had been...something else. An image of your soulmate gripping your hand with his head thrown back flashed through your mind.

No, don't, you thought, and pushed yourself to sit up.

In your attempt to move, you quickly realized that the wrongness you felt was that you were incredibly weak. It was a strange sort of weakness, however, one that left you feeling exhausted with every tiny move but wasn't accompanied by any sort of discomfort. In fact, you felt like you were floating on a cloud, if only one you couldn't find the strength to roll off.

You were back in your hospital gown. There was a small table to your left with a lamp, a little vase of flowers, and white telephone. To your left was a machine much like the one you had seen beside Namjoon's bed beeping away, a little green line spiking and dropping across the monitor. A long curtain stretched across the space in front of you. You needed to pee.

As you moved to get off the cot, a sting of pain shot through your right arm at the inner joint and you realized that you had missed the IV drip beside the heart monitor. Clamping the IV stand you rose precariously on wobbly legs. You shuffled wearily forward, pulling the curtain back to reveal the other half of the room...and your soulmate.

He was sitting in bed, over the covers, in a heather grey tee and navy blue sweats, bare feet crossed at the ankles. He was still wearing the beanie, and his head was dipped down, immersed in the book he was holding open in his lap. The mid-morning sun spilled through the open window, bathing the suite in a pale yellow that blanketed generic seating furniture and a small bookshelf topped with a bonsai tree and painted clay figurine beside the bed, but left the abstract art piece on the opposite wall in relative shadow.

You were about to retreat back behind the curtain when a wheel of your portable IV stand betrayed you with a squeak. You pulled the curtain hurriedly shut, but too late.

"Hello?" You heard him call softly.

His voice sounded better, you thought. Not nearly as raspy. You must look like shit, you also thought. Oh well, you needed to get past him to look decent anyway. And to pee. And he was going to see you probably every day for the rest of your life, so, bashfulness regarding your morning mug was definitely a waste of emotional energy. You heaved a sigh, and slowly pulled back the curtain, peeking through as you advanced a step.

"I didn't want to disturb you," you fibbed, clutching the IV stand.

"You're not disturbing me," he responded, shutting his book.

He was looking at you with a soft expression, reserved, but still warm. He looked a lot better than yesterday, too; it was unmistakable. His skin had lost a great deal of its previously ashy quality and the bruises on his arms had nearly vanished. His lips were no longer chapped, and, you noted, were full and naturally deep in color. His face looked less wane, though still thin, his shirt still hanging loosely over his chest and broad, sloping shoulders.

"You look a little better," you urged, hoping to justify your prolonged stare.

He smiled. You were quickly reminded like a sock to the gut how pretty his smile was.

"I feel better," he concurred, "Thanks to you."

You looked down at your feet awkwardly. You had never been good at receiving praise or gratitude.

"Oh...I'm glad," you mumbled.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

You raised your gaze back up to meet his, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

"Probably about as good as I look," you rejoined.

He pulled his smile into a tight line, eyes creasing. You thought maybe that was what he looked like when he was trying not to laugh. Suddenly you felt your bladder demand priority of attention.

"Well, I'm gonna...get ready. For the day," you motioned, quickly realizing you had nothing to change into, and slipped back into the little room behind the curtain.

Scanning the space, you noted your suitcase and bag against the wall. You filled your bag with the essentials and a change before popping back out into the other half of the room on your way to the bathroom. You noticed out of the corner of your eye that Namjoon glanced at you before looking down at his book again, and you ignored the tight feeling in your chest one more time.

Your mom had always said that a hot shower could make a person reborn, and by golly you figured she was right. You felt life seeping back into your limbs slowly but surely as the warm water poured over your body. As always, hot water and steam against white tile oiled cogs of your mind.

Clearly, the bond had served Namjoon well. You were anxious to know what a medical assessment would report. Your own exhaustion confused you, however. Wasn't the bond supposed to nourish you, rejuvenate you? When would you stop needing food? How often would you need to practice skinship now that you were bonded? And what would that look like? A thousand questions filled your mind as you massaged your scalp. You made a mental note to write a list of questions for the doctor.

Once you had finished your morning routine, you felt infinitely more prepared to face the day. You changed into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt. As you shuffled back toward your room, you noticed Namjoon bent over the bonsai, tiny scissors in hand. A nurse was typing on a tablet on the other side of the bed.

"Um, Namjoon," you asked, as you paused.

He startled a bit as he looked up at you, dropping the little scissors and cursing under his breath. The nurse peeked over and when she had seemingly assessed that no damage had been done, she smirked.

"At least no bonsai limbs were lost this time," she murmured.

Namjoon slipped the scissors into a little leather pouch.

"Hilarious," he deadpanned, then turned his attention back to you, "Sorry, did you ask me something?"

"Actually," you blinked in surprise, "I was going to ask you to ask the nurse, but I guess I can ask her myself this time."

The nurse smiled at you.

"Ganhosanim, this is Y/n-ssi," Namjoon said, addressing the woman. She gave you a bow which you returned.

"Annyeonghaseyo," she greeted you, "I'm Nurse Cha and I'll be your attending on most days. Please feel free to speak to me in English," she smiled.

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders. While you had been studying Korean furiously ever since your decision had been made, having medical personnel you could communicate with at this stage without having to rely on Namjoon to translate for you was a welcome relief.

"If you have a minute, I have some questions? Or, I will, once I write them down. Could I just put my stuff away and come right back?" You asked eagerly. She nodded, still typing away on the tablet. You dropped your bag beside your suitcase, which you tossed on the bed and unzipped to extract a pen and a notebook with three little bees embossed into the cover. You donned your slippers and crossed back over to Namjoon's side. He was sitting on the bed again, and nurse Yun was examining one of his arms. You plopped down in an armchair beside the bookshelf.

"Nice bonsai," you remarked, trailing your eyes over the intricate geometric patterns of its shallow stone pot.

"Nice journal," he replied. "Moleskin?"

You nodded, holding it up to show him the front.

"It has bees," you said with solemnity, as if the whimsy of the endearing was something to be taken quite seriously, and Namjoon hummed in grave assent. Nurse Cha glanced between you, a smirk at the corner of her mouth.

"You said you had some questions, Y/n-ssi?" She offered.

"Yes," you began, scribbling a few down in the pages in your lap before beginning. "Firstly wha- Oh! What happened to me yesterday? Did I pass out?" You interrupted yourself to ask.

"Yes," she replied. "While the bonding was successful, and the skinship was highly rejuvenating for Namjoon, it appears that you were giving more than you were getting from a physiological standpoint, and while the effect was still probably similar to you on a cellular level, you were disproportionate in your transfer of energy. We've put you on an IV drip for now to ensure you're getting the replenishment your body needs regardless of food intake."

You jotted down a few lines of notes.

"Okay, makes sense. Now, moving on to the food thing - we're still eating, right?"

Nurse Cha began typing on her tablet as she responded.

"Yes. However, there is great boidiversity as to when and what people start rejecting as far as food goes. The average point of solid food rejection begins around two weeks after bonding. Generally, bonded individuals are still able to consume water and distilled alcohols, though they become unable to experience taste."

"Does alcohol have the same...effect?" Namjoon spoke up from the bed.

"An intensified one, actually," she responded, "Being a bonded mate means rediscovering your tolerance, and caution is of course advised. We've actually taken blood panels to alert us of any food sensitivities you may have. These should be immediately eliminated from your diet, as the rejection symptoms can be more severe in cases of late-stage ingestion with these items. The doctor will be in later to review those results with you."

"Okay. And how often will we need to practice skinship, and are we going to need to initiate it ourselves or are we going to be on a schedule?"

"I was wondering about that too," Namjoon said, adjusting his beanie.

"The doctor will go over that with you as soon as he arrives in a little while as well. I know I'm scheduled to update your charts every six hours, so I'm sure there will be some guidance involved at first."

You quickly glanced up at Namjoon and then down at your lap. A warmth spread through your chest as you tried to keep your eyes on your notes and off of his bare arms. You were having those stupid urges to latch onto him again. Your hand twitched around your pen. You wondered what his thoughts were on your next session.

Just then, Dr. Na entered the room. He greeted both of you warmly and Nurse Cha took over relaying the consultation in English.

The oncologist was very optimistic about the effect of the soulmate bond on Namjoon, saying that his vitals had stabilized, his pain levels were lower than they'd been in weeks and the inflammation in his body had decreased significantly. He stressed that, while these were good signs, they were not a guarantee that the skinship was treating the cancer, and that they would have to take scans after a time to see if the tumors had were in fact shrinking.

He reviewed your blood panel results, letting you know that from that point forward you were to avoid consuming nightshades while communicating to Namjoon that he hadn't tested positive for any food sensitivities. He showed you a chart dictating when and how long you should practice skinship each day, beginning with a session immediately following the consultation. He cautioned you to alert medical staff if during a session you began to feel overly-drain, as they did not want you coming to the point of fainting again. You were removed from your IV drip.

After the doctor had taken his leave, Nurse Cha fixed you with additional monitors, instructed you both to strip down to your maximum level of comfortability for the session, and departed. Once you were down to bra and panties, you climbed up into the huge hospital bed to join Namjoon, who once again kept his gaze trained anywhere but your side of the bed as you slipped under the covers and pressed yourself into his side.

Suddenly it was as if you had slipped into a warm bath under the influence of champagne. You closed your eyes and sank into the incredible sensation of his touch. His skin was like a warm cup of tea on the coldest day of the year. Like the first refreshing moments of a plunge into cool water at the height of summer. It was everything wonderful all at once, and you were so caught up in the sensation that you were barely cognizant of a tiny moan escaping your lips.

Horrified, you bit down on your bottom lip and prayed to all that was sacred that Namjoon hadn't noticed. His immediate soft laughter, however, betrayed him, and you felt your face burning with embarrassment - beads of sweat pricking on your forehead as you covered your face with a different kind of groan.

"Sorry," you murmured, ruefully.

"Nah, I get it," Namjoon chuckled, his chest rumbling under your cheek. "If it feels as good for you as it does for me, then that's the correct response."

You allowed yourself to giggle a bit in turn.

"I'm glad it's already helping," you remarked, and you felt him turn his head as if he was looking down at you.

He was silent for a beat before addressing you again.

"Everything happened so quickly yesterday, I didn't even get a chance to thank you."

"For what?" you countered, even though you knew exactly where he was headed with this.

"For leaving your life behind and coming to Korea to give a stranger a chance at his. I'm going to spend the rest of my time making it up to you."

You felt your chest tighten. You pushed yourself up on one arm and turned to face him. The sheet fell down your upper body as you moved, but you were too intent on looking him in the face to notice.

"Namjoon, you're not a charity case. I didn't do this so that you would owe me something. This is a choice I made. All mine. So relieve yourself of any debt you may feel you owe me. We're bound by circumstance, but you're a free man in every sense of the word. I won't be a burden you bear any more than you wish to be one to me."

If you had been looking through his eyes, you would have seen yourself, pressed up out of the sheets with all the modesty of a sea nymph, your features glowing with the effects of the bond and fixed with a splendid kind of resoluteness and soft defiance. But, you saw it from your own, taking in the quiet shock on Namjoon's features that slowly morphed into something you couldn't place. Not yet. You didn't know him well enough.

After regarding you blinkingly, he looked at you with earnest eyes and gave a nod.

"I accept those terms," he assented, and you believed him.

You thought maybe you'd believe anything he said, and, suddenly aware of the bareness of your torso under the intentness of his gaze, you slipped back down against his side.

"I noticed you dropped the honorifics," he murmured teasingly.

You glanced back up at him.

"Oh...sorry, I'm not used to it. I can -"

"It's alright," he interjected, "I think we should be familiar. It will make things easier, right? Only if you want, though," he quickly added.

"Yeah, no, I agree," you answered, shifting to press your leg more fully against his, and smiling to yourself as you keyed up your next remark.

"And I'm only your noona by a little bit anyway, so no need to call me that..."

This time a loud laugh burst out of him that shook your head enough for you to roll away and shoot him a look as he brushed a hand over his eyes in amusement. You smiled as you took in his dimpled cheeks and crescent eyes, and nearly didn't notice the voice speaking in bemused and startled Korean at the mouth of the hall. It was Namjoon who looked up first.

"Yah!" He called in indignation and warning as you followed his gaze to catch but a glimpse of two young men, badly repressing snickers as they bolted back down the hall to the entry of the suite.

Namjoon sighed sharply and turned to you with and apologetic expression.

"I'm so sorry, those idiots are my friends. They're used to coming and going as they please to visit me - which, obviously now they can't just barge in unannounced."

He slipped out of bed, and you glanced away as he pulled on sweats and a shirt.

"I'll tell them to come back at a better time."

"No, no!" you protested, "Just let me get decent. I want to meet them."

Namjoon paused as he kicked on his slippers.

"You sure?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, yeah. I know we're still on skinship time, but, maybe we can just...hold hands? I mean, as long as you're okay with it..."

Namjoon's mouth slipped into a wry grin as he glanced down to the other end of the suite.

"Yeah, I'm fine with it. I apologize in advance if they can't be."

You gave a confused shrug as Namjoon picked up his phone and crossed into the vestibule area to give you the privacy to change. You pulled your leggings and sweatshirt back on and perched yourself cross-legged on the hospital bed, listening with amused anticipation as Namjoon spoke in exasperated Korean on the other side of the wall. You heard the door and three sets of footsteps accompanied by giggles and shushing, and then your soulmate emerged, all but herding the two young men preceding him into the room.

You immediately recognized the strapping, dark-haired one with the leporine smile as Jungkook, the young man who had accompanied Hybe's representation to visit you on Namjoon's behalf. The other young man you also recognized from internet images as one of the members, though you couldn't recall his name. He was shorter than Jungkook, though not by as much as he should have been due to the significance of his heeled boots. What he lacked in height he made up for in athletic build and voluptuously beautiful facial features. He shook his honey blonde hair out of his eyes, earrings tinkling as he regarded you with a coy smile.

"Ijjogeun Y/n-ieo. Y/n, this is Jungkook and Jimin," Namjoon said, gesturing to each of the members as they made polite bows.

"Annyeonghaseyo," you said, returning their bows deeply, "Mannaseo bangapseumnida - dasi mannaseo bangabseubnida, Jungkook-ssi."

Jungkook flashed a blinding smile, round eyes wide and sparkling.

"It's good to see you again too, noona," he answered in English. Namjoon's brow creased as he glanced between you and the young man you had been originally introduced to as the maknae of BTS.

"You've met?" he asked. You nodded.

"Jungkook was one of the people who came to meet me in the US when your company made the proposition," you explained. "He spoke very, very highly of you. His reference of your character was one of the major contributing factors toward my decision to come."

You smiled softly at Jungkook. Namjoon nodded, brow still drawn, as he pressed his tongue into the side of his cheek, jaw clenched and jutting forward, as he clapped the youngest on the shoulder. You thought Jungkook's eyes were just a bit glassy as the two shared a look that seemed to hold a lifetime of history. Jimin regarded the two with sentimentality before returning his gaze to you, again full of enigmatic mischief. The blonde took a step toward you, then turned on his booted heal, saying something to Namjoon in Korean.

You cocked your head to the side, glancing at your soulmate.

"He said I look a lot better already," Namjoon said, eyeing Jimin warily as the younger man continued speaking, flashing you a devilish grin. Jungkook pulled his pierced lower lip between his teeth as he glanced between Namjoon and Jimin. You looked again to Namjoon expectantly.

Awkwardness radiated from him as he deflected saying Jimin was just making fun, and he shot the younger man a look that unmistakably communicated his lack of amusement. Namjoon made another remark in Korean, and joined you back on the bed, hesitating only a moment before he took your hand in his.

You saw his shoulders sag in relief as he breathed a sigh through his nose at the contact. You had to restrain your own reaction, glancing down shyly as to avoid the two pairs of eyes trained in rapt curiosity on you from the end of the bed. Namjoon continued to speak with them, translating between you when your limited Korean wasn't sufficient, and gradually your awkwardness eased in the comfortable presence that emanated between your soulmate and his members.

As the visitors were about to take their leave, Jimin trained you with a newly serious look, leaning against the edge of the bed, and glancing at Namjoon as he spoke in what you could decipher was gratitude.

"He says they're all so grateful to you and glad to have you with us," Namjoon translated. You noticed his thumb slide over the back of your hand as he said it. So did Jimin, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth as he eyed where your digits were intertwined.

"Ah," you said awkwardly, "No thanks necessary, we're in this together, right?"

You pulled your hand from Namjoon's and in an attempt to raise your arm and give him a nonchalant pat on the back, you backhanded him directly in the face.

Namjoon's hand flew up to his cheek and the two younger members erupted in laughter. You apologized profusely, trying to make sure Namjoon could hear you over Jungkook's wheezing and Jimin's shrieks of what you were pretty sure was "oh shit, there are two of them". When Namjoon had assured you that he was perfectly fine and the other two had composed themselves, you said your goodbyes. As soon as they were out the door, Namjoon was apologizing.

"It's fine," you smirked with a shrug, "That's friends for you. I would have been concerned if they hadn't poked a little fun. I like them. I want to meet the rest of them."

Namjoon slipped back up onto the bed and intertwined his hand with yours as he glanced down, a pensive look on his face.

"There's a lot of people you need to meet," he said quietly, thoughtfully.

You studied him as he continued to look down at your joined hands.

"In fact," he continued, "There was someone I was hoping you could meet tomorrow. Someone we should sit down...and talk with."

You nodded, regarding him intently.

"Her name is Kim Hyung-seo," he continued, "She's my fiancée."

AN: Yeah, sorry to drop that at the end and peace out. 😁✌

Tag list: @butterymin @little-dark-empress @aretha170 @kamilamb @jlee97 @thephotoend @callmenoona25

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mudisgranapat · 5 months

Text

II. Crash

Word count: 3,9 k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader Content: zombie apocalypse, mention of dead bodies, mention of dead children, mention of death, children, enemies to lovers, slow burn

Taglist: @poohkie90 @gaida-511

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Note: If the storyline is confusing at some point, please let me know so I can explain with more detail! Also, there is some stuff that will make more sense with time, so have that in mind. I'm trying to make this a bit realistic, so it will be a slowish-burn. With all that said, have fun :)

He doesn’t surprise himself with how fast his reflexes kick in anymore - the cameras were only on for seconds before Simon shot them down. He remembered where each one of them was, he barely had to look in their direction before aiming; besides, there was no use being discreet now. There was a reason Simon Riley had survived every single test life had put him through. He was fucking good at what he did.

It was also the exact same reason why he didn’t have a life outside of work. He was a soldier with every fiber of his body: he acted like war. He didn’t take the least aggressive route, and he didn’t put people before the mission’s goal. His hands had a mind of their own when they curled into fists and when they held a gun it was turned into an extension of his body.

None of those were compatible with dealing with an infant, and that was why, following the sound of the gunshots, a terrified cry erupted from the tiny baby’s body. Simon could swear that the noise was more aggravating than the sound of a thousand grenades exploding in his ears. All he could do was stare back at the baby through the hollow eyes of his skull mask, watching as the little girl’s face started to turn red.

“Are you out of your mind?” He didn’t need to look to know where that voice was coming from. Any small progress they had made into turning the girl into a less angry version of herself had gone out the window, and she was back to giving what seemed to be her signature disapproving glare. Somehow, the fact that Simon towered over her didn’t seem to scare the attitude out of her body. He wondered what would. “Do you not realize that there is a child by your side? You could have busted her eardrums!”

“I’m sorry about that.” Gaz says quickly. He seems to feel guilty about the whole thing, which Simon doesn’t understand. He had eliminated the threat most efficiently; if anything, she should be thankful that whoever had access to those cameras would only have seconds' worth of footage.

“You’re not going to say anything?” She insists. Soap watches with an amusing grin. He had never seen someone challenge Ghost like that, especially when he was dressed with his whole skull mask, skeleton gloves, and tactical gear combo. The Sergeant swore he could see his Lieutenant’s eyebrow raise in surprise behind the mask.

“A deaf baby is better than a dead one.” Simon states dryly. Y/N’s mouth drops open with an offended gasp and, seeing that as his cue, Johnny intervenes to stop the situation from escalating. He knew Simon wasn’t exactly a patient guy, and he was surprised that Ghost had stayed quiet for this long. Not that he would ever make small talk, but he figured that by now he would have at least told the woman to leave him alone, probably not so politely. Now he wished Ghost was mute, so he wouldn’t have to deal with him insulting a child.

“We’re sorry about that, lass.” He notices that there is still some urgency that lies beneath her words, and he wonders where such worry about being seen by the cameras comes from. “Don’t worry, everything is going to be alright.” That was a phrase every soldier was trained to say, and it slipped out of Soap’s lips easily while he put a comforting hand on Y/N’s shoulder. It was meant to reassure people and get them to trust you, and he pushes further to try and get some information out of her. “What are you not telling us? I’m sure we can help you.”

She doesn’t try to pretend she has nothing to hide but doesn’t seem willing to open up either. “Yeah, like you would care. I know you just came here to do your job, so don’t pretend you care about the damage you leave behind. I know the type of guy your little group is made of.” She pushes the hand away from her shoulder and starts to sway the baby in her arms, her venomous tone quickly switching into a sweet one as she whispers calming words into the little girl’s ears.

“We’re not here to hurt you, or cause any trouble.” It’s the Captain’s turn to intervene, and he shoots Simon a dirty look, like a dad that reprimands their child for saying something that, albeit true, is incredibly rude. “I know this must be scary for you. And I don’t mean just the four of us walking into your house, armed. Caring for a baby in a situation like this must not be easy.”

Maybe it’s the crying, maybe it’s the Captain’s voice (the old man can be sweet when he wants to), but she finally seems to let her walls crumble a little bit. Sitting on a nearby chair, she lets out an exasperated sigh. She looks at the baby with eyes so lovingly that they almost make Simon believe that he too could be loved. “You don’t understand. It’s more complicated than it looks.”

“Try me.” John gives her an encouraging smile and pulls a chair for him to sit. He has one of those faces that makes you want to trust him with your life. Simon envied that about John. Sometimes he looked in the mirror and wondered if people only saw Ghost when they looked into his eyes, even after the mask was gone. He knows he does, every morning when he stares back at the lifeless eyes that watch him through the mirror. Every time he takes his mask off, he wonders if he should sew it permanently into his face - maybe then he would have an excuse to never get rid of Ghost, and let Simon slowly wither into the memory of a man he had always been.

Y/N looks at Simon, and and the hesitance behind her eyes when she looks into his, lets him know that she only sees Ghost. “I stole something from the Resistance.” She finally admits. “They are looking for me, that’s why I’ve been hiding in here.” She takes a shaky breath. “They are going to kill me if they find me.” The second part of her confession is quieter, as if she didn’t want the baby to hear the terrible faith that awaited her.

“We won’t let that happen. We have a safe place, you can come with us.” That suggestion goes against every single one of Simon’s instincts, and he genuinely starts to worry for his Cpatian’s sanity. They can’t afford two more mouths to feed, two more people to take care of, two more people to share their resources with. But then he looks around and notices that neither Soap nor Gaz seem to disagree with Price’s offer. Then, he realizes that this is just another one of those moments where his stone-cold persona stops him from understanding why people would offer things just for the sake of being kind.

“In apocalypse lingo that means you have a cult.”

“It’s not a cult.” Gaz laughs. “We are mostly military personnel and their relatives, trying to survive.”

“I would say you’re doing more than surviving. I mean, what even brought you here? And don’t say you’re just looking for food. I’m no idiot.”

“Never thought you were, lass.” Soap looks at his Captain for approval to share information about their mission. It’s not like anything was classified anymore, but habits stick. “We have some scientists that still believe they can find a cure - we came here to see if we could find anything useful.” At that, he points at Gaz, who is still sitting by the computer, now trying to load whatever he had managed to uncover into a pen drive.

Simon notices how she visibly tenses under the word cure. His eyes are trained to see people’s reactions to information. That usually tells more about them than their own words. “I really appreciate the offer, but I am fine on my own. I will figure things out.” Y/N gets up and starts to walk towards the door, the abrupt change of humor taking them by surprise. “I always have. Good luck on your mission though, I hope your scientists are right.”

Soap takes after her, but Simon stops him. “Let it go, Johnny. We have a mission to finish.” The Sergent nods in agreement and moves to search through a pile of old papers with a defeated look. Soon she is out of sight, but they can still hear her shuffling in a hurry downstairs. If she didn't want shelter there was nothing they could do about it. It pained Soap to watch the girl leave, but he understood a thing or two about having a hard time trusting people; he just wished there was something he could do about it.

As they continued looking through the room, gathering the few bits of information they thought were slightly useful, Simon found himself looking through the window. That is when he caught a glimpse of Y/N, getting into an old red car she uncovered from some tarp. He was not only surprised that the junk still worked, as it looked pretty wrecked, but that she had been prepared for an emergency. He could tell the car was stuffed full of materials, blankets, and all sorts of crap that might come in handy. He lets out an amused chuckle but quickly covers it up with a cough before anyone can notice. He could tell she was resourceful from the beginning but was just now finding out to what extent.

A few documents and a pen drive later, they decide to call the mission a success and head back to the Humvee. “You think she is gonna make it, Cap?” Gaz asks with a hint of sadness in his voice. Surviving that long hadn’t been easy, not even for them. They might have been trained to shoot moving targets, but nothing can prepare you for the blanket of dullness that covers the atmosphere during an apocalypse. No matter how long a soldier is deployed, they still have a place to come back to, a reason to fight for. But fighting and surviving are completely different things, and when life becomes empty of any motivation to keep going, you find that a rifle is lighter to carry than a heavy heart. Simon was all too familiar with that concept: It was embedded in his brain since revenge tasted like sugar and anger sounded like a song that lulled him to sleep.

“There is no use thinking about that now, Sergent.” John says, turning on the ignition. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

They were getting in the car when Gaz stopped in his tracks and turned around. “Aw shit! Forgot my cap in the house.”

“Make it quick, Sergent.”

“Will do, Captain!” He shouts from the distance as he makes his way into the house, knowing he probably won't honor his promise. He has no idea where he left the damn thing.

John chose to wait in the front seat with the ignition still on, smoking a cigar, while Ghost and Soap made idle conversation resting against the back of the Humvee. At times like this, it was hard to believe the world wasn’t normal. But then a zombie would come around and Johnny and Simon would do “rock, papers, scissors” to find out who would have to take care of it.

“Hey. LT, how many Germans does it take to screw in a light bulb?” Soap asks with a grin on his face, as he cleans his knife from the blood.

Simon pretends to think for a moment. They had been exchanging two-liners for as long as he could remember, and it was surprising they could still keep going after all this time. Once, he could swear he saw Johnny pick up a joke book from an old library that they had passed by during a mission. He never teased him about it, because he knew it would pay off during moments like this. “How many?”

“One. They are efficient and not very funny.”

“You’re not very funny.”

Before Soap could get offended, the sound of a single gunshot penetrates the air. “Hands up!” A coarse voice commands. Simon moves to grab his gun, but another shot follows dangerously close to his head. He and Soap slowly put their hands up in surrender, as they hear footsteps approaching from the front of the vehicle, effectively surrounding them. They hear Price step out of the truck, and soon he is right beside them, as they stand in a line, side to side. A small group of what looks like military men corners them. They don’t look like the unorganized militia groups that they usually come across, with improvised armor and guns they barely know how to hold. These people sport matching uniforms and seem to be well trained, carrying the weapons with a confidence that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Where are the girl and the baby?” The same man asks. He has a scar that runs across his left eye, clearly jeopardizing his vision. “You’re a long way from home, soldiers. So why don’t you help me and answer the question? Maybe you can still make it back to the base before sunrise.”

John tenses after hearing how well the guy seemed to know them. He hated being at disadvantage. “We haven’t seen any girls ‘round here.”

“Now, don’t lie to me, John. I don’t like playing games.” He lets out a dry laugh. “I’ll ask you one more time: Where are they?”

He couldn’t believe this was the Resistance. Last Simon heard from them, they were a bunch of rebels running around without purpose, creating fires so they could put them out. Yet, there they stood in front of him, the unmistakable Resistance logo plastered on the left side of their chest: A red capital R with a dagger running through it horizontally. Not only did they know their names and address, they were asking about the girl and the baby. The girl and the baby that had been with them less than an hour ago.

They seemed familiar, and it irked Simon that he couldn’t exactly put a finger on why.

The Resistance is still the one behind the cameras in the lab, he concluded, with enough control over their surveillance to notice a couple of abandoned cameras going online for seconds and quickly respond to the disturbance with a group of soldiers. Seconds that had been sufficient for them to recognize the girl and the baby. Whatever she had done to piss them off, Simon could guarantee it was more than stealing something.

In response to the silence, the man puts his finger on the trigger of his gun but doesn’t raise it. Simon registers the name on his uniform: AJ Miller. When his arm lifts, a blast fills the air, in both sound and density, as a layer of smoke quickly covers the scene.

Gaz had thrown a smoke grenade.

Simon breathes in the smoke, and counterintuitive as it may seem, the vapor that fills his lungs brings clarity to his mind. He pulls out his gun, and the metallic smell of blood overpowers the aroma of moss that seems to always linger in the air these days. Gunshots wizz past him in every direction, each one missing him by either luck or his movements; it was hard to tell the difference. The smoke dies down and Simon counts: One, two three. No casualties.

That matter, it is.

Bodies lay on the ground in front of them, blood covering the old pavement, seeping through the cracks, and meeting the soil from where wildflowers grow. Empty shell casings reflect the sunlight with an even more golden hue and in a twisted way, remind Ghost of a starry night. Like most, the battle ended as suddenly as it started.

“Everyone alright?” The Captain asks, looking around the group. Gaz, Soap, and Ghost nod in agreement. “Good work, Gaz.”

“Steaming Jesus. What in the bloody hell was that?” Soap asks.

“The Resistance must have a new boss. Looks like someone has finally succeeded in weaponizing citizens.” John shakes his head, as if trying to find a logical explanation to what they just saw. “Last we heard of them, they were idiots chasing their own tail with a gun. Now they are a fucking army.” Silence never meant good things during war; they should have known better than to let the enemy grow undisturbed for so long. “Back in the truck, boys. Seems like Laswell will finally get the intel she has been waiting for.”

They were about to turn into the road when they heard shooting in the distance. Gaz is in the passenger seat this time, and he gives the Captain a pleading look. “They are going to die out there, Captain. We need to help them.” They don’t need to see the shooting to know what happened: the Resistance had found the girl and the baby. They had also been smart enough to divide the search into smaller groups of people so they could cover more area at the same time.

“The Resistance wants them, Gaz. She did something to piss them off and I don’t want to get us in the middle of the crossfire. They already know enough about us as it is.”

“She knows the Resistance better than us, Price. Maybe she can help us get the upper hand on those bastards.” Soap chimes in, taking Kyle’s side on the discussion.

“We don’t need the upper hand on them. We are not fighting against them. Besides, I doubt she would have anything useful to add.” Ghost argues, and neither Gaz nor Soap seem surprised that he is taking the Captain’s side.

“We are going to fight them, eventually. I mean, we have to, right?” Kyle asks. “They know too much about us to take a neutral stance against our group. They are becoming too powerful.” There was a pause and you could almost smell the hope that hung on Gaz’s words.

“They are right. Simon.” John finally gives in, as he takes a turn that puts them in the same direction the gunshots are coming from. “She might not be able to give us any useful intel, but the Resistance wants her, and until we figure out why, securing her will give us an advantage against them”. He steps on the accelerator. “Let’s just hope she didn’t get too far.”

As the commotion gets louder and their plan is laid out, Gaz positions himself out of the window, gun in hand. Soap takes the same position on the door on the back, and Simon prepares to jump out of the truck as soon as it stops. He hears a loud crash and looks out the window just in time to see the old red car get T-boned by a much newer black car. The red car drives off the road and hits a tree, and Simon wonders if the thing was built out of titanium as he watches it survive without immediately combusting into flames.

The Sergents start to shoot at the Resistance, giving Simon cover as he rushes out of the truck and in the direction of the crash. The sound of loud crying fills the air again, making his skin crawl, and soon enough he opens the door on the driver’s side. Thankfully, they had been hit on the passenger side, and the baby had been behind the driver’s seat.

“Take Cami. Please, you have to save her. You can’t let the Resistance take her.” Cami. That must be the baby’s name. He realized no one ever asked, and Y/N didn’t tell them either. Or maybe it’s Camille. Or Camila. He had never met a Camila before. Maybe it was Chamomile - he had heard of people naming their babies after flowers.

“You’re coming with me.” He reaches across her and undoes her seatbelt. As much as he was against the idea of taking them back to the base, he was a man following orders now.

“No. My leg is hurt, I’m going to slow you down. You need to take her and run somewhere safe. There’s no time.” She looks at him with pleading eyes. Eyes that seemed to have made peace with dying. They didn’t belong in a young face like hers. And as she stared into his eyes, she seemed to search for someone that wasn’t Ghost. Someone that would take her baby to safety, and watch it grow into a healthy young woman that she would never get to meet.

“I’ll carry you.” You’re not going to die here, he has the urge to tell her. But he doesn’t, because that is what Simon would have done, and Ghost knows that every second in a clock becomes an hour during war. And every second spent talking, is a second that is wasted.

“You can’t carry us both at the same time, you need to go-”

“Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do. Arms up, now.” And before she can protest more, he is throwing her on his shoulders, almost as if she is weightless. Pain shoots across her leg, but all she can think about is Cami.

Is Cami hurt? Probably, she could hear her crying.

Is Cami dead? No, she could hear her crying.

Is she dead? She wanted to be. Her baby was crying, and there was nothing she could do to help her pain go away.

With his free arm, Ghost opens the back door. Y/N moves on his shoulders, yelling something about Cami that he can’t quite understand because he is not paying attention. But then her voice switches to a much sweeter tone when she says “Everything is going to be okay, my love, don’t cry” over and over again, and suddenly, that is the only sound he can hear.

He knows he should have gone for the baby first. Children should always be the first to be rescued. But for the first time, Simon was in the field and he was scared. The last time he had a baby in his arms, his brother was still alive. He remembers the silence when he walked into his house years ago, his whole family dead at his feet. He remembers Tommy’s pale and lifeless face, and he remembered it twice because he saw it again when he looked at Tommy’s dead son’s pale and lifeless face.

He opens his eyes and hopes he doesn’t remember it a third time: but she is red, and it’s not blood, it’s just the effect of her face scrunching up and the breath coming out of her lungs. She is a baby, crying in the car seat, and she doesn’t look like Tommy. She is alive, her hands reaching for Simon, because she is too young to see Ghost.

He is running back to the Humvee, carrying a woman on his shoulder and a child in his arms. Her voice still echoes in his head: "Everything is going to be okay, my love".

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #simon ghost x you #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #john price

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jojo-schmo · 10 months

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Beauty and the Beast, but it's Metadede?

Ohohoho-!! This one really got me thinking!! :D If I had unlimited emotional bandwidth and time this could be a fun concept to explore a BUNCH! I'm a sucker for fairy tales! I'm not capable of fully developing this idea right now, but I did brainstorm a little bit!

There's some aspects of that story that I just can't think of good parallels for (Like Gaston, Belle's dad, Belle's character motivations and such). So this is more Beauty and the Beast inspired than being a perfect retelling.

Anyways, ENOUGH TALK. LET'S GO.

So when I read this ask, I immediately got slammed with a very passionate and explosive Brain Blast: Dedede as Beast!! BUT he's got an appearance inspired by King D-Mind (And Dark Mind by extension) and a beastly demeanor like his Primal form in Forgotten Land. So this is not Shadow Dedede!! Important distinction!

Like Dedede's personality in early Kirby games, he would be selfish and arrogant enough to be cursed by an Enchantress to find true love and compassion. (So the rose and its petals are still connected to this curse's time limit.) But at his core there is a being capable of love, compassion, and self-sacrifice! It just takes a bit of character development to get there!

Meta stumps me a bit more. He doesn't strike me as the kind of guy singing about how "there must be more than this provincial life..." And who would Gaston even be?? Beats me.

So instead of being a damsel from a small town with big dreams, maybe he's some kind of traveling knight or mercenary who has always worked alone. He's got a stoic demeanor that can even come off as cold since he doesn't make many meaningful connections with others. But those walls he's put up over his life are indeed capable of coming down with a little care!

You'll also have to forgive me for how little I changed Meta's design... I did this during my lunch break and all I could think of was adding some gold flourishes to his outfit- but there is definitely more potential there than I came up with!!

Why would he get stuck being Dedede's prisoner? Perhaps he bartered someone else's imprisonment for his own. Or he found himself in debt by chance to the King, or accidentally disturbed/destroyed/or damaged something important to him and has to pay with a prison sentence.

Whatever the reason, he's truly stuck living there. And they super do not get along at first. Dedede's fiery temper and Meta's colder exterior would be at odds a lot of the time.

Jumping ahead a bit, here's that scene from the original where Beast defends Belle from a bunch of wild wolves (but here they're Primal Awoofies!)

And from there, the character development continues.... Meta warms up a little and shows more emotion and vulnerability than he ever has before. Dedede cools down in turn and learns that he is worthy of affection and genuine connection... And so on and so on~

As for the supporting character roles filled by "Beast's servants," I figure most of Kirby's allies could be in this role! I just only explored Bandee and Kirby to start with.

I had trouble coming up with household object forms for them (granted I didn't invest that much time into it). So I thought about another time-sensitive form they could take that is high-stakes enough that they'd want to turn back to normal and break the curse. So I came up with the ghostly angel form that happens when you get knocked out in Kirby Fighters. :)

So there you have it! A few days worth of daydreaming for a metadede Beauty and the Beast-type story! Hehe. If anyone happens to find themselves inspired and wants to develop this further as an exercise in AU writing or just plain having fun with it, DO IT! This is my donation to the internet, lol.

...Just please share it with me. I love reading people's stories. <3

#metadede #Kirby au #ask #art #meta knight #king dedede #bandana dee #kirby #idk what to call this story haha but if someone thinks of a good name lemme know #thank you for the fun writing exercise <3 #I do like Dedede's “Beast” form a lot haha maybe I'll revisit it every now and then

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pikahlua · 6 months

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I hope I'm not pestering you at this point, but when exactly do you think he changed his idea of what being the number 1 meant to the extent that he no longer cared about the actually title? Because I got the impression that he'd accepted his weakness when compared to Midoriya under the condition that he would surpass him in the future, based on what he said during the War when trying to keep up with Deku. I kind of thought his visceral reaction to failing to truly damage Shigaraki, and him embracing the damage his awakening was doing to himself to kind of imitate Deku and the power he achieved with his self-sacrificial mindset, kinda supported that. How off am I?

Sorry if I'm making you repeat things you've said.

Oh, you're not off at all. Forgive me, I did not originally understand your meaning in the first question:

Do you think there's going to be a moment where Bakugou comes to terms with the fact that he might never be the number 1 the way he wanted? I can see the story is going on a "save to win" route, but I've been curious about how him realizing his most powerful attacked only grazed Shigaraki will play out.

I thought by not being "the number 1 the way he wanted," you meant his original idea of it from the beginning of the series--the "win no matter what" mentality without a thought for saving anybody. I see now you meant something different.

It sounds like you were asking if Katsuki will ever face the possibility that he may never surpass Izuku or be able to reach Izuku's level when it comes to firepower, that Katsuki may be in Endeavor's situation (not with Endeavor's mindset though) where he constantly sees how wide the gap between them is and must reconcile with that, that Katsuki may have to settle on a "number one" where he surpasses Izuku not with his own strength but only with help from others (i.e. teamwork).

To which I must say, uh, western fans, we gotta talk.

Anon, you may not be guilty of harboring the idea I'm about to challenge, but I see this one particular sentiment all over the place in the English-speaking fandom, and I really need to make something clear to everyone:

Horikoshi has never stated there is an upper limit on any character's power growth potential--NOT EVEN IZUKU'S.

Don't get confused by the "100% One For All" thing. That's a measure of how much of One For All Izuku is USING. It's meant to compare with how much power All Might could use at 100%--but Izuku's real 100% will be different. One For All didn't just get more powerful by being passed on. Each user before Izuku, including notably Shinomori, cultivated and improved the power. Izuku will do so too. His current 100% is not his end-all-be-all 100% over the course of his life. Izuku can train and work hard and grow and make One For All stronger, too.

And Izuku isn't the only one who can do this. Anyone, Katuski included, can improve their quirk. They don't have some set 100% limit they can't increase with enough effort.

To which you might say: okay, but realistically, there is SOME upper limit to that, right?

But actually...no. This is manga/anime, not real life. And shounen manga is particularly notorious for its focus on effort and improvement through hard work. This is a time-honored tradition of the genre dating all the way back to Son Goku of Dragonball (and probably even further back too). The upper limits of Goku's power growth become so absolutely ludicrous as his series carries on and needs him to grow stronger--SO HE JUST GETS STRONGER. That's like the EPITOME of what he is: someone who wants to get stronger so he works to get stronger and, lo and behold, he gets stronger!

And lest we forget, Horikoshi has named Goku as one of his ideals of a "hero," as one of the characters from whom All Might (and by extension Katsuki) takes inspiration.

You know how each generation of quirks has greater potential than the last? This is a direct parallel of One For All's evolution. It showcases that ALL quirks have the ability to evolve into something powerful just like One For All did; it's just a matter of what the quirk user does with it. And each generation can cultivate their quirk and pass it along to get even stronger too. If you want to be a real stickler about how maybe only CERTAIN generations of quirks could surpass One For All, sure, fine, whatever (actually not fine but I'll deal with this later*). We don't know which generation of quirk users Katsuki falls into, and there's a real chance he doesn't know either. But he was born in the same generation as Izuku, so there's no reason his quirk can't be of a ninth generation too. So, he has every reason to believe he could become just as strong as Izuku. He always believed he could surpass All Might, after all.

*Okay let's deal with this little nugget now. Does the ordinal generation of Katsuki's quirk really matter? Not really. Izuku's power was cultivated by many as a theme, but he acknowledges his is a strength made from others'. That doesn't make One For All inherently the best quirk ever, just that it was able to become so strong BECAUSE of others. If the others had done nothing with it, it wouldn't have become so powerful. MHA acknowledges there are other important and good ways of improving one's power: through hard work and effort. It's not that one form of cultivation is absolutely better than the other, just that they both have their uses--and that BOTH TOGETHER would be the best route to improve one's power. This ties into how Japan traditionally views talent and intelligence as products of hard work and improvement in contrast to how the west traditionally views these things as inherent and set at birth. If you're unaware, the Japanese word for "quirk," kosei, translates to "individuality/personality." Individuality/personality is also one of those traits a person has that can be seen as inherent or cultivated--but really it's a product of BOTH. The question of nature versus nurture, as always, is answered with "well actually, both nature and nurture play a part."

(If you want to go off on a tangent with this, go read whatever is the latest version of @siflshonen's Katsuki Bakugou powerpoint presentation on their blog at the time you are reading this.)

Now, I told you all that to tell you this:

Katsuki should never have to face the idea that he will never be able to be number 1 because it's simply not true.

Katsuki has every potential to surpass Izuku. If Izuku were to be satisfied with his quirk's growth and call it quits, Katsuki's quirk's growth would eventually outshine his GUARANTEED. It's because Katsuki is that kind of character, and this is demonstrated in spades throughout the entire manga. Gosh, remember when Izuku said he was only using 8% of OFA in Deku vs Kacchan, Part 2? Remember how the fandom assumed he would dwarf everyone else in comparison as he progressed further down the line?

And remember how Katsuki "grit his teeth to keep from falling behind"?

Everyone's always going on about how Izuku's power will someday eclipse everyone else's, but he's had that monstrous OFA power with him all along since he got it. He just has to improve his BODY to match OFA's power. Has no one really put any thought to how absolutely BATSHIT it is that Katsuki kept up with him? After Katsuki's growth had stalled for so long?

Remember, Izuku's raw power surpassed Katsuki's in DvK2. So by the time of the Paranormal Liberation War, Katsuki developed his quirk to match OFA at 30% in the same amount of time it took Izuku just to develop his body to handle that much OFA. If we're gonna get into the western versions of power-scaling where we care about natural limits...

THE HEIGHTS OF KATSUKI'S "NATURAL" LIMITS ARE EMPIRICALLY ASTRONOMICALLY INSANE.

So, I come back to something you said:

I kind of thought his visceral reaction to failing to truly damage Shigaraki, and him embracing the damage his awakening was doing to himself to kind of imitate Deku and the power he achieved with his self-sacrificial mindset, kinda supported that.

...and to something I said:

But if you mean he'll reconcile with how his firepower compares to TomurAFO's, I'd say, uh, keep an eye out, because already he's had a quirk upgrade since he tried his Howitzer Cluster on TomurAFO. It's very likely that is no longer the upper limit of his capabilities. And that's just assuming he hasn't achieved any other power ups yet/won't get another one soon.

Katsuki's Howitzer Impact Cluster vs TomurAFO was a single snapshot in time. Katsuki has already had a quirk upgrade since then, and as you so aptly pointed out, he's had a sort of philosophical/meta upgrade too as he emulated Izuku. I doubt these will be the last improvements he experiences in his life. He was always held back from surpassing Izuku by the story because he was missing such a huge part of being a hero: saving people. But that's been resolved now. He and Izuku will be rivals who challenge each other to be better for the rest of their lives, and I doubt either one of them will ever truly pull away from the other in terms of raw potential (at least not for long). Katsuki may have instances of self-doubt, of course. He even may at some point acknowledge Izuku as his superior. But I don't think that's a reason for him to ever lose hope or give up. I think there's plenty of reason for anyone to believe it's possible for him to surpass Izuku someday. After all, All Might was considered the best hero of his age not because of his strength but because of his spirit.

And Katsuki's sure got a shitton of spirit.

#anon ask #ask pika #my hero academia manga spoilers #final showdown spoilers #katsuki bakugou #meta #pika's objectively correct power-scaling opinions

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shkika · 7 months

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Got any Headcanon backstory of how each iterator was named? Like, how did No Significant Harassment get his name? How did Five Pebbles get his name? Etc, etc. I'm curious what you think!

OHH what a fun ask to make up stuff on actually. Sure I have some headcanons. Iterator names are so so fun, because there's a lot you can do with them.

Different local groups could have themes perhaps on their names. Or perhaps their names are phrases or sayings or derive from them. I will go with each colony having their individual meaning for the iterator name.

Sliver of Straw- I've talked about her name extensively here! (x) Please check it out, because I LOVE her name. Basically means needle in a haystack + shortening it to SOS is genius. Just the best.

Looks To The Moon- I don't know if this is the most original take, but I do think her name has a lot of meaning especially if you take into account that she's one of the first or at least an extremely old iterator. I compare it to the landing on the Moon in a way even if it sounds silly. This impossible to reach place is now something well withing reach. Her name is to represent looking at opportunity at the impossible and striving to achieve it. Which can connect to.. well answering the impossible ascension question.

Five Pebbles- This is such a hard one for me. But since the game makes such strong parallels between those two. Making them opposites and such it makes sense to see that in their names. While Looks to the Moon's name is grand and aiming for high achievements. Five Pebbles' name could perhaps be about the smaller mundane things. Finding the solution in a little nook or cranny somewhere close to you. A place where you'd least expect it.

One name is to aim hight and strive for the impossible. The other is about staying low and finding the answer in the small things in life. Which is hilarious if you look at their actual characters. With FP making the bold dangerous decisions and experiments and LTTM vibing like a much more grounded character than him. I love those two.

No Significant Harassment- People find his name really weird which is amusing, because it's really not! To me at least. It can very simply mean "No real harm done". Which I think is probably the intention and it suits his funny guy personality quite a lot. In a way his name could mean peace! A fun hc I discussed with @creeket is that perhaps before NSH was built the colony was divided into four factions/houses that hated each other. The iterator was a reason for them to unite and work on something together which is what the four connected diamonds on his forehead represent.

Seven Red Suns- Okay this is one of the names I struggle the most with. My headcanons about SRS which I've mentioned before is that their colony is very religious and made them as an actual god, treating him as an actual all knowing god much muuch more than the other iterators are treated to the point Seven Red Suns has actual political power (which they really don't want to have). So I think their name is supposed to express how grand and impressive they are. Seven as in complete, perfect. Red is a royal, regal color and of course Suns further cementing their godhood. It makes me think of how the sun is often personified or given a deity to represent it. It can be a cruel leader that dries the land, but also give life and light.

Of course there's many ways to take it in completely different ways. Red stars if I'm not mistaken are the coldest.

Chasing Wind- I also really really like this iterator name. I like to imagine it as either one of two things or both. Chasing after something that is right in front of you yet just barely out of grasp. Like y'know the wind! Or your head is Chasing wind. Having an abundance of thoughts or ideas. Your imagination and creativity running wild and free like the wind!

Unparalleled Innocence- It's so on the nose haha. There is no buts or anything that is a direct opposite to her name in my headcanons. She's a very well meaning innocent person. She was the last iterator to be ever made and lacks a lot more context than the other. She was based of the concept of a child. Which of course children are known for their innocence and unique approach to the world.

#ask #anonymous #rain world #rainworld #lore rambles #kiki rambles #this was a lot of fun #i hope its an enjoyable read as well!#it took me a while bahah #ah #as for grey wind?#she doesnt count :)#in my version of the story #thats not a name given by the ancients #she gave that to herself.

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lightandfellowship · 2 months

Text

KHDR Re:Write - Giving Urd A More Prominent Character Arc

The tl;dr:

Urd’s initial motivation: To explore the outside worlds and learn more about them.

Urd’s struggle: She realizes that when their mission ends, she will go back to her boring, normal life in Scala, once again forbidden to leave. This in conjunction with feelings of loneliness make her consider running away after their mission is complete.

Urd’s conclusion: The freedom to explore the worlds is still a motivating factor, but she realizes that protecting the worlds and sharing her experiences with her friends is her true desire, compelling her to stay in Scala and continue her training. Her loneliness can not be cured so easily, but her friends will help her work through it.

Below the read more is a rough outline of how I would implement this character arc into the story. Be forewarned that it's a fairly long and text-heavy post.

Four notes before we begin:

Rather than this being a full-fledged rewrite where I get to go ham and do whatever I want, instead my goal is to try and demonstrate how the game in its PRE-EXISTING state could have given Urd a more clear and satisfying character arc via fairly minor changes to the dialog, characters, and story. I want to see if this could have been possible without having to expend too much extra time and resources, since it seems like a lack of time/resources/budget is why her story got cut in the first place. So I won’t be doing anything drastic like creating entirely new episodes or anything like that. Same worlds. Same number of episodes. Same sequence of events. Same overarching plot.

Ideally, I would have liked to convey certain details about these characters and their story via secret reports/diary entries. Specifically, the sorts of details that would slow the pace down or feel a little too direct/clunky if addressed within the story itself. However, because of the self-imposed restriction I talked about in point 1 (i.e. no drastic alterations to the game or additions that would require extensive effort to implement), I won't be utilizing such a format, and so I will sometimes have the characters speak a bit more openly/directly about their feelings/thoughts than I otherwise would've liked.

Because I have a lot to say, I won't be providing summaries of the episodes I'm discussing as I explain my story changes. A fairly solid recollection of the game's events is...perhaps not required, but certainly helpful for understanding what I'm talking about and how I arrived at my choices.

I don't claim to know better than the writers or even be an experienced writer myself, this is just how I personally would approach giving Urd a more prominent character arc, because I think we can all at least agree that Urd didn't get enough focus in this game. If Urd's story hadn't been cut (presumably), I have no doubt that Tomoco Kanemaki would have come up with something better than what I'm proposing here.

But anyway, without further ado:

Urd's Motivation and Personality

During the flashback where the underclassmen explain their reasons for wanting to become Keyblade Masters, Urd says that it’s because she wants to explore the outside worlds and learn more about them. However, I feel that KHDR could do a better job of depicting this motivation throughout the game. Were it not for Urd directly stating her motivation in this scene, I don't think you could have ever reasonably guessed that this was her motivation based solely on her dialog and actions throughout the rest of the game.

She says her dream is to see the outside worlds for herself, and yet she rarely ever shows any particular interest in the Disney worlds that she does visit, or at least she’s no more interested than the rest of her friends are, which is to say: barely. It's a common gag/occurence throughout the game that the underclassmen are either disinterested or unsettled by the worlds and their inhabitants, and for whatever reason Urd is included in that. Sure, she’s on an important mission, but where’s the curiosity? Where’s the desire to learn more about the worlds? Shouldn’t that motivation bleed into her actions and dialog even a little bit? Even if she’s trying to reign herself back for the sake of the mission?

I think having Urd be just as indifferent/detached from the worlds as her friends is a misstep, personally. So in this rewrite, I am adjusting her personality a bit, in contrast to Hermod who doesn't really require any personality changes in order to have his arc make sense (to be discussed in his rewrite post). In short: I want her to be more excited and inquisitive in each world. I want her to be enamored by all the strange sights and sounds. I want her to get lost in thought as she analyzes some new find, her friends having to snap her back to reality and remind her of their mission. When the rest of the characters are awkwardly trying to ignore some oddity that's demanding their attention, I want Urd to be one of the few who actually shows genuine interest.

Like I mentioned, I know the characters are on an important mission and aren’t supposed to get sidetracked from their primary goal, but like, Vor and Eraqus were allowed to be curious and easily distracted by stuff, so I don't see why Urd couldn't as well, at least a little bit. I also think this personality change will provide more variety among the underclassmen, specifically in how they interact with the outside worlds.

Anyway, for the sake of not making this post any longer than it needs to be, I’m not going to list every dialog tweak that needs to occur in order to accomodate this personality change, just the most notable ones I can think of.

One last thing: it’s under-explored, but the game seems to suggest that Urd might be lonely. When remarking on how close Eraqus and Xehanort are, she says that she wishes she had a relationship like that herself. The implication seemingly being that she doesn’t feel like she has any best friends to share a special bond with. I think this desire for a friendship like Xehanort and Eraqus' may be further evidenced by the fact that she tends to tease Eraqus the most and is pretty friendly with him in a way that she isn't with the others, which makes me think that she's indeed jealous (in a nice way) of the relationship Xehanort has with Eraqus, and thus attempts to mimic their dynamic with Eraqus.

To me, Urd being lonely is too interesting of an emotional angle not to expand upon, even if the writers didn’t intend for her one-off comment to mean anything deeper. And I think her struggling with feelings of loneliness will synergize well with what I have in mind for her story.

Episodes 1-4: Establishing Urd's Character

The first dialog tweak: when Odin informs the class that they’re being sent on a mission to the outside worlds, in addition to Eraqus and Bragi expressing excitement at the news, I want Urd to be excited, too. She can still have her “Don’t sound so excited about it.” line, but maybe after she says that she makes her :3c face because she can’t hide her true feelings. Eraqus can reply with something like “Speak for yourself, Urd! Getting to see the outside worlds is a dream come true for you!”. Hermod and Eraqus can then have their usual lines of H: “Hey, this is serious! People are missing, you know!” and E: “Right. Sorry.”

As cool as the party member specific dialogs in Episode 3 can be, I’m dropping the mechanic where Episodes 1-3 let you choose your party member for the cutscenes. IMO, it's just bad for the story, because you can never focus on just one particular character and properly illustrate their unique personality; everyone's dialog has to be juuust generic enough to be easily swappable. Instead, in my rewrite, Urd is your assigned party member for Episode 1; perhaps she's even the one who requested to team up with Xehanort and Eraqus.

Not much happens in Episode 1 admittedly (it's mostly an exposition dump and premise setup), but in the very least it needs to establish and emphasize her love for exploration and learning. I think this can be easily achieved with the pre-existing Agrabah scenes. For example: when the party arrives to the outskirts of Agrabah and is attacked by Heartless, have Urd be disappointed that their first trip to the outside world was soured by their presence. When the party enters the abandoned city proper, have Urd express further disappointment that there’s no residents to interact with. Things like that. But obviously still have her be serious about their mission and the missing upperclassmen; she shouldn't seem selfish in her interests.

So Episode 1 is just kinda whatever, but It’s in Episode 2 that I definitely want her desire to learn and explore be in full force (she’s your primary party member for this episode as well. Which also synergizes with my Hermod rewrite—stay tuned for that, eventually). Everything in Wonderland is so strange and different and fascinating to her. The other characters find the world confusing and off-putting, but Urd finds it charming and unique. This does admittedly require Episode 2 to have some extra cutscenes/events since in the base game the only thing that really happens in this episode is the trial, and I think it’s still essential for Vor to be the party member in Episode 3 (where most of the Wonderland hijinks happen) since Vor doesn’t get much screentime in the second half of the game.

Two changes I would suggest: rather than the party waiting around indefinitely for the other underclassmen to show up to their meeting spot, and having the Cheshire Cat and Card Soldiers come to them, instead they get worried and decide to leave to go look for their friends, while running into these characters along the way. Then, take the tea party scene from Episode 3 and put it in Episode 2 instead, before the trial happens. You could even use this scene to foreshadow the trial by making it so that the White Rabbit fretting over his broken watch is because he doesn’t know what time it is and he fears that he’s going to be late for the trial. This will require some dialog tweaks in Episode 3 because the characters have an important discussion there that involves the Mad Hatter and March Hare, but it's nothing too hard to work around; maybe they just visit the tea party a second time, maybe they just bring up their interaction with them from Episode 2, or maybe they only talk about the Tweedles instead. There are multiple routes you could take to accomodate this change.

And rather than the Cheshire Cat directly telling the party that their friends are locked up, and the Card Soldiers mentioning the trial, instead I want the whereabouts of the other underclassmen to be more of a mystery that the party has to solve, with Urd being the one picking up on most of the clues just by being her inquisitive and observant self. Eraqus says it himself in some optional dialog that Urd has "always been good at figuring things out".

So ultimately, it’s Urd who realizes that the “trial” mentioned by the White Rabbit (because in this rewrite its the rabbit who mentions it instead of the soldiers), and the other “trespassers” mentioned by the Card Soldiers, are both in reference to their missing friends. (And maybe the Cheshire Cat gives the party a legit riddle too that they solve together, rather than being fairly straightforward in his hint like he is in the base game). Thus Urd paying attention and finding inherent worth in the strange and nonsensical world of Wonderland is what saves the day, her natural curiosity and collected knowledge about the world and its residents coming in clutch. This way, her motivations and personality can also be directly integrated into the plot rather than just being a character side story, and she gets the opportunity to shine, too.

And to tie in to the loneliness angle, I think some of the other underclassmen should be a little confused by Urd’s enthusiasm for the worlds they visit. Not in a mean or insulting or putting her down kind of way (they are friends!), but just a little at a loss for how to react when she expects them to understand her feelings and her point of view. The plot doesn’t need to highlight this too directly, just have Urd’s classmates being confused/unsure of something Urd says or shows them and then have Urd looking a little let down at their lukewarm reactions. Much like the underclassmen unintentionally leaving Vor out of stuff and underestimating her, I want this to be kinda subtle and under-the-radar. This would be mostly meant as set up for her arc later.

All that being said, I imagine Urd's loneliness isn't just because her friends don't always Get Her on a deeper level, it's also because she's not really open about her true feelings a lot of the time. Her official bio states that she's relied upon by the others, so perhaps she's too scared of burdening her friends with her own issues. However, relationships are a two-way street, and she's partially preventing herself from forming that close bond she desires because she isn't really letting herself lean on her friends when she needs them.

Episode 5: The Problem/Conclusion

So, to summarize, Episodes 1-2 need to establish her love for exploration and learning (and also give some brief glimpses at her loneliness) since she’s not present much in Episodes 3-4. Episode 5 is when her side story needs to officially complete. A rather quick arc, admittedly, but I think that’s what would work best in the framework of what the game gives us; the base game seems to suggest that her arc was supposed to end in this episode, anyway.

Events start to unfold when Urd realizes that once their mission is over, things will go back to normal and she will no longer be able to explore the outside worlds until she becomes a Keyblade Master. Something that might not occur for YEARS; heck, something that might not occur AT ALL if she fails her exam or if Scala's rules change. Thus, she starts to question whether she even wants to return home to Scala. What if, after their mission was over, she ran away? What if she got to explore to her heart’s content? She can’t imagine returning to her boring, normal life now that she’s gotten a taste of freedom. And maybe she can discover a way to cure her loneliness by finding fulfillment elsewhere? Perhaps it was Vor leaving in the previous episode that makes Urd realize that leaving is even an option.

Thus, in this rewrite, in Episode 5 when Lumiere offers Urd an invitation to stay in the castle, she actually seriously considers it. Of course Hermod and Xehanort are not happy to hear this, especially after what happened with Vor, and thus try to convince her to reconsider, but Urd is conflicted and doesn’t know what to do. She explains her concerns about being stuck in Scala forever, but is understandably reluctant to talk about how Eraqus and Xehanort’s strong bond has only reminded her of the closeness she desires and yet lacks. She loves her friends, but she doesn’t feel like she has a best friend who understands her on a deeper level, and she’s too scared of potentially hurting her friends’ feelings to admit this, so she keeps it to herself.

Xehanort doesn’t say it out loud, but he understands exactly the feeling of being stuck somewhere against your will and desiring connection and fulfillment in the outside worlds. He tells Urd that she should follow her heart on this. Hermod is taken aback and anguished at the situation, but doesn’t know what he can say to make Urd change her mind. They decide to just shelf the conversation for later so that they can focus on their mission of finding the culprits who stole the rose.

Vala witnesses this argument and decides to use what she's learned about Urd to her advantage (much like how Vidar witnessed Vor's conversation with the Mirror and then used that to his advantage). So when Vala finally approaches Urd, rather than trying to order Urd around (which didn’t make much sense as a tactic to begin with; that approach would have worked far better on Hermod, if you ask me) instead Vala tries to convince Urd that she can have the freedom she wants if she joins Vidar’s crew. She can explore to her heart’s content, with the benefit of having comrades at her side to keep her safe on her journey rather than having to run away and travel alone.

Vala, perhaps through her ambigious "vision" abilities, also correctly guesses about Urd's loneliness and tries to appeal to Urd’s desire to be understood by claiming that she and Urd are very much the same. They are both level-headed, analytical individuals who crave knowledge, and sometimes people are just too blind in their pre-existing beliefs to understand their (Urd + Vala's) "vision" of the world. However, Urd is unsure. She still doesn’t understand what Vidar is trying to accomplish, and as much as she wants to run away and find meaning elsewhere, if securing her freedom means having to harm the worlds alongside the upperclassmen, then she doesn’t want to do it. Plus, the thought of traveling the worlds with the upperclassmen rather than with her friends doesn’t sit right with her, despite everything.

Much like in the base game, Xehanort eavesdrops on this conversation, but this time Hermod has tagged along as well. In the base game, Xehanort alone eavesdropping on Urd and Vala doesn't really lead to much in the story as far as I can tell, because Urd reveals her conversation with Vala in the very next episode. I think this might be a dropped plot thread where Xehanort was supposed to sit on this secret information for a while longer before acting on it somehow, but in any case, it's no longer necessary for my rewrite, thus Hermod is now here as well. Perhaps Hermod initially tries to approach Urd right away, but Xehanort pulls him back and convinces him to stay in the shadows in the hopes that Vala will reveal something important about Vidar's plans.

As they eavesdrop on the conversation, they finally learn of Urd’s secret loneliness, and see that Vala might successfully persuade Urd to leave them just like Vidar did with Vor. Hermod simply can't let this happen, and so against Xehanort's wishes he bursts into the room, interrupting Urd and Vala’s conversation to grab Urd’s hands and tell her how much she means to him and their friends. He doesn’t invalidate her feelings, but apologies for making her feel so lonely. He never meant to make her feel like she was different or weird for her interests; he may not always understand her, but he thinks she’s amazing and brilliant. And he’s willing to help her in any way he can and support her in whatever she decides to do. Perhaps he and Xehanort even bring up how her interest in the worlds was essential to saving their friends in Episode 2, to show her that she's valuable and appreciated.

Hermod's impassioned and sincere speech along with her own misgivings about Vala's offer help Urd realize two important things. One, that she enjoys exploring the worlds so much precisely because she gets to share that experience with her friends; it wouldn’t be the same without them. Yes, maybe there’s still this feeling of loneliness inside of her, and maybe she still wishes that her friends and her were more on the same page about certain things, but sharing a laugh, fighting by their side, and just getting to spend time with them are still precious experiences for her, and not to mention, her loneliness would be so much worse if she didn’t have her friends by her side at all. It’s not perfect, but she still loves them dearly, and she knows they love her back. And who knows, maybe they’ll be able to help her work through her feelings now that the cat's out the bag.

The second thing she realizes, is that exploring and learning about the worlds and its people, though a big part of her motivation, is ultimately secondary to wanting to protect the worlds and its people. Which is what being a Keyblade Master is all about, really; a goal that can only be achieved by staying in Scala and continuing her training. And a goal that would certainly be jeopardized by assisting the upperclassmen.

I imagine Urd directly talking about at least some of her thought process here when she refuses Vala's offer and explains to her why, but the rest should probably just be implied. In any case, these two realizations make her change her mind about running away. As she says to Lumiere later:

Her home is with her friends in Scala, and she has the important responsibility of protecting the worlds she holds so dear.

And when Urd says “[The Beast’s] wish will come true, I know it.” she’s implicitly including herself in this statement. She knows she’ll gain her freedom one day and form the bonds she's looking for, she just has to be patient and believe in herself. Additionally, I want this line to now invite comparisons between the Beast and Urd: the Beast, lonely, trapped inside his castle, wishing for a genuine connection, ignorant of how he is surrounded by servants who love him unconditionally; and Urd, stuck in her little world of Scala, wanting to find fulfillment in the worlds outside, feeling distant from her friends despite them loving her deeply. Oh, and, perhaps Urd telling the servants to help keep the Beast's spirits up could parallel how Urd is now going to allow herself to rely on her friends for emotional support.

Finally, to make her untimely demise a bit more of a gut punch, I think it’d be fitting if Urd got to have some dying words. Maybe something like “But I never...got to...” Got to what? Become a Keyblade Master? See all her friends one last time? Explore all the worlds? Who knows, she doesn’t get to finish. That’s for your imagination to decide.

And yeah, that's my pitch. Thanks for reading this far. If you have any feedback, ideas, or criticisms, feel free to add on.

#khdr #kingdom hearts dark road #kh urd #kingdom hearts #rambling about dim path #ch tag: ur #khdr spoilers

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