#James Spence | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vxnillite · 1 year

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OC OT3 drabble

"Hundreds of years ago, they fell in love, like we did"

a little action x reincarnation au (with a twist) brought to you by Timeless by Taylor Swift because i assigned that song to my partner's OC pair from Avatar (idk if Coda has a tumblr but i will update this with his username if he does)

anywho, meant to be just PragerSpence but my poly heart yearned for just a tiny bit of ot3 (JaPragerSpence) in some form :) i love them dearly and i regret not writing them until now

Phoebe Spence ©️ Coda (@/so.oty on ig)

Prager and Ja ©️ Avatar (not claiming them, tho Coda assigned first names for them and i used them here)

Disclaimer: The Na'vi is called "hostiles" by Prager here. No, I do not believe that they should literally be described with such prejudiced language. I only used it in the parts where it appears because those parts are written from the perspective of an RDA soldier who would, more likely than not, hold such beliefs against the Na'vi. I don't condone using derogatory words such as 'hostiles' to call the Na'vi like the RDA does in the movie. Personally, I don't see them that way either, and I wrote those parts simply to fit Prager's perspective.

Mercs and soldiers ran down the hall towards the hangar, all geared up and ready to head out to battle at a moment's notice. Their heavy footsteps were like thunder to Prager, who was marching off in the opposite direction.

Ever since Quaritch declared all-out war with the natives, something was boiling deep inside Prager's stomach. It made him queasy, almost lightheaded if he really focused on it. Only something very specific would alleviate the feeling. Prager was walking—running now—to where he knew this something would be.

His gut had been telling him something bad was going to happen. That something was going to happen to her.

More soldiers were piling out of the armoury when he arrived, but he pushed through the crowd, invigorated more so when he sighted the familiar, bright red ponytail he'd been looking for for the past 20 minutes. Prager grabbed the person's arm and whipped her around to face him.

"Oh, geez, Prager, it's just you. What are you doin' here," Spence asked, rightfully confused, "You're supposed to be gearin' up in your AMP!"

Unable to ignore that twisted feeling in his stomach, Prager let the urgency in her voice fly over his head. He answered, "I need to tell you something, Spence."

His grip on her arm was tight. Spence had noticed that much. Normally, she wouldn't take so lightly of Prager acting out of protocol, but the storm brewing in his eyes gave him away. Spence put a reassuring hand on Prager's, and she mustered up a smile, one warm enough despite the circumstances.

"You can tell me after we come back, alright?"

"Please, it's important," he asserted, "I don't think—"

"We'll have time for it over cold beer and dinner." She gave him three pats on the hand. "Now, come on. They need all hands on deck for this one."

There was no getting through with her, he figured. With a sigh, Prager let go of her arm and nodded.

"Alright," he said.

He turned back towards the exit, but Spence grabbed his arm, just like he did, and gave it a squeeze. When he looked back at her, Prager saw her smiling up at him, bright blue eyes and rosy cheeks blurring out everything else in sight.

"I'm curious still, y'know," she said tautly, as if her tongue was itching to say something else. It was—unbeknownst to him. But she never pressed on, just added, "So, don't die on me, 'kay?"

Prager managed a smile even though his stomach just did a flip. "Copy that."

————————

Prager waited alongside the ground troops, anticipating the natives to come in droves while still tuning in intently to their squad's radio. He communicated almost religiously to his corporal up until the enemy arrived.

The ground troops rained bullets on the few waves of hostiles that charged in on horseback. Prager had to pretend like he wasn't at all fazed as people at either side of him were getting shot down with those pesky arrows. But for every RDA merc that went down, three or four natives fell to the ground. Prager was not about to become complacent though. He kept the trigger, rearing his guns wherever he saw blue coming in from the foliage, from behind the trees.

The natives weren't getting anywhere near them, it seemed. A technologically-powered barrage against their medieval, solo target weapons? It was just common sense.

Against the muted thunder of raining bullets, his comms suddenly crackled. A single, desperate voice came through.

"James—!"

Then Spence's line went dead.

Prager's hand flew to his neck. He pressed down hard on the tiny, metal button, and called out in a single, ragged breath.

"Phoebe!"

But he could not wait for a response. Beside him, Lyle ordered a charge. The ground troops charged.

Prager was a seasoned soldier. He's fought in war zones, and kept his focus sharp as a needle while he did. But the scene before him now was suddenly a blur. A bloody, chaotic blur bombarded by choppers dropping bombs on the battlefield. Meanwhile, his aim was just running wild. He was still hitting the enemy, but those were just blind shots.

Spence called out to him. Her voice screamed his name. Prager wanted nothing more than to turn back, look for where she was. People can survive helicopter crashes, right?

But if she didn't survive…

Prager grounded himself as best as he could, and the battlefield came into crisp focus. In front of him, the enemy was retreating, fleeing deeper into the forest in swathes of blue. These people… Hostiles… They killed Spence and everyone in that chopper with her, along with many of his brothers and sisters at arms.

Prager flexed his fingers, then tightened them. The mechanical arms that mirrored his own were now tightly holding the machine gun in its hands.

Make them pay.

A new wave of shots was fired, one fuelled by white hot rage unparalleled in Prager's entire life. Not when his father hit his mom, not when his brother bailed out on them, not when his mom so flimsily excused the bruises that never afforded young James a good night's rest.

The fight was no longer about the war between the RDA and some alien race. Not for Prager, at least.

When the last of the natives had either fled or dropped dead, finally, Prager stopped. His entire body trembled with aftershocks of his anger that was yet to die down—it was only just simmering for now.

Behind him, the rest of the ground troops had stopped, too. Lyle said something about keeping an eye out for a second wave. The ground started shaking, then more and more so with every passing second.

Prager looked up. All he saw was a swirl of greens, blues, and purples. It was coming right at him.

————————

A spike of pain covering his entire chest woke James up into a state of shock and panic. He sat up and looked at his hands. Gone were the bizarre, metal things that ran up to his fingers, and all he found was a thin coat of cold sweat. The rest of his body was covered in it, too.

A shrill ringing startled James even more. He whipped to his bedside table and frantically grabbed the phone. The lit up screen read an unusual date.

8:30 AM — August 1, 2052

James opted to turn the alarm off. He only had two seconds to get his wits about him when a groan came from beside him. The sheets that laid and bunched up on the base of his stomach and carried onto an unidentified lump next to him rustled slowly. Then, James saw the red hair.

"Phoebe?"

James watched as an arm stretched out from under the sheets, then pushed it off to reveal his stunning c—fiancée.

"Babe, what's gotten you so startled," she yawned adorably, "Had a nightmare?"

A good 5 seconds after that was spent by Prager just staring at Phoebe. It was just enough time for her to gather her wits about her.

"Is there som—"

James cut her off with a hug, which was more like a squeeze, to be specific. The sick feeling in his stomach, the tight knot in his chest, the constant pulsing in his head… it all faded within seconds as he sank into her embrace and Phoebe pulled him in deeper.

"God, Jamie, you're so shaken up…"

James found his voice soon enough. "Just a nightmare, ma chérie," he answered as he wrapped his arms tighter around her. A huge breath of relief escapes him.

"Well, it sounds like it was awful," she said while rubbing his back. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Instead of answering, James threw at her his own question. "Phoebe, what do you think dreams are?"

Phoebe's hands stopped moving, and they just laid still on the broad of his back. Without pulling away, James knew she had the most adorable pout on her lips. She always did that when she was thinking, no matter how deep in thought she was.

"Well, I read the other day that dreams are, like, snippets of another life. Past or future." Hints of interest lightly laced her tone. She continued, "It's a pretty cool idea. Cooler than dreams just being recycled shit of our everyday life because I've had some weird ass dreams."

James hummed. Then he pulled away. His hands slid down to Phoebe's, and he held them gently.

"Indulge me, then, chérie," he said, brushing his thumbs over her knuckles. He looked into her eyes. "If any of our past and future lives were to intertwine, would we still be together?"

Phoebe's lips cracked into the brightest, warmest smile. She cradled his cheek in one hand, and James leaned in.

With the voice of a gentle spring breeze, she answered, "As long as we keep meeting, I'd pick you in every lifetime, Jamie."

Then she kissed him softly, smiling into his lips. James kissed her back, smiling just the same.

"And I wouldn't waste a second to tell you how much I love you."

Just as James was about to say something to that, the door flew wide open.

"Enough sappy shit, you two," Alexander boomed as he stood in the doorway with nothing but an apron and a proud smirk on his face, "Breakfast is served!"

Phoebe bloomed anew. She pecked James on the lips and raced out the door, but not before sparing her other fiancé an identical kiss.

Both men look on to where Phoebe had run off to. Alexander laughed to himself, then turned to James.

"C'mon, handsome," he grinned, "I made your favourite this time."

James felt like a big warm blanket was just tossed over him. His heart was bathing in that tenderness, and it showed in his smile. He got out of bed, unbothered that he was only in his boxers, and came over to give his fiancé a soft forehead kiss.

"You were twitching a lot in your sleep," Alexander said. "Everything okay?"

James nodded. "Just a little nightmare. I've already forgotten about it."

That was true. For a moment, James truly tried to rack his brain to retrieve any sliver of memory. Yet, there was nothing. Dreams were fleeting, the memory of them even more so. If this one was meant to be forgotten, then James would let it be.

But for just a fraction of a second, he thought to ask his fiancé if the word 'Pandora' meant anything to him.

"Alright, then." Alexander squeezed James' arm reassuringly. "And I've forgotten something, too."

James pushed his initial question to the back of his mind. "Ah, and what might that be," he asked, "Mon chouchou?"

"Extra flour. So if Phoebe finishes your parfaits, we're having boring, buttered toast for breakfast."

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