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deepwoundsandfadedscars · 2 years

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I just want to be clear this is a no whumper situation, it’s hard to explain but the cabin is a sort of supernatural situation, bigger on the inside than the outside and they were lost inside for nearly a week, he was not being held captive by any one person. This isn't a long term captivity setting.

Also for the record, the two primary characters in this story have not been nor are currently involved with each other, their friendship is strictly platonic. I’m sure some people in the fandom do ship them, this fic was written with a platonic friendship in mind.

And if someone familiar with the podcast stumbles upon this, don’t mind me 😇 this was me being like “Yeah he coulda been more fucked up from that” and started writing, and then realized I’d misremembered the scene because it had been about 2 years since I listened to it last. Just making it more whumpy and then expanding from there~!

Tagging @randomlifeunit!!

~~~~

Watching them bring Nic out of the cabin is an image that will stick with me forever, no matter how much I want to forget. He looked awful. His face and clothes were streaked with blood, what little colour of his flesh I could see was pale, alabaster in the afternoon sun. His brown hair was a mess, half plastered to his head and half standing nearly on end with a mixture of dried blood and mud. He seemed completely unable to focus on his surroundings, confused and blinking warily around the clearing. For a moment his eyes settled on me and I held my breath, hoping for a flicker of recognition. Instead it seemed like he looked right through me, as though I wasn't even there.

He took slow steps away from the cabin with an officer on either side of him, their hands gripping just above his elbows as they guided him towards one of their trucks. I could hear the sirens of an ambulance making its way down the goat trail winding through the forest.

I took a step forward and called out to him. "Nic?"

His head turned towards my voice ever so slightly, but his blue eyes remained unfocused and unseeing. Before I could say anything more, they turned white as they rolled back in his head and the officers exclaimed as every muscle in his body spasmed and clenched. His head snapped back and his legs collapsed under him, the officers holding him doing their best to slowly guide him to the ground.

"Nic! Oh my god, Nic can you hear me?" I dropped to my knees next to his head, and one of the officers put his hand out to me to keep me back, but I was too scared to touch him anyways. His head bashed against the grass and the sounds that tore from his throat in a strangled cry made my stomach clench.

I heard the ambulance trundle into the clearing behind me, voices calling out to them and moments later there was a flurry of activity as the paramedics swarmed around us. The officer that had tried to keep me back now had his hands on my shoulders, trying to pull me back to give them space. I did as they asked, begrudgingly, but tried to stay as close as possible.

Despite his convulsions, one of the paramedics was able to hold his arm still enough to get an intravenous started. From where I kneeled I could see how dehydrated he was, so it took a couple of tries. They got fluids flowing and a needle injected a medication that I didn't see the name of into the port of the IV line.

Another minute passed before the seizure ended and he finally slumped against the ground. I realized I’d been holding my breath for most of it and I gasped in oxygen.

"Nic?" His name felt like it was ripped from my throat, it hurt so much to see him like this.

"Ma'am, do you know him?" One of the paramedics asked. I wiped my fingers under my eyes, trying to get rid of the tears pooling at the corners.

"Yes, he's my coworker and friend. Uh, his name's Nic. Nic Silver.”

“Does he have a history of seizures?”

I wracked my brain, trying to remember, but nothing came up. I feel like that would be something I would have remembered if he’d ever mentioned before. “No, not that I know of, but I’ve known him for a while and he’s never mentioned it.”

“Okay.” The medic shone his penlight in Nic’s eyes, calling his name and speaking almost conversationally with him as they checked him over, talking through what they were doing, asking him if he could open his eyes or squeeze their fingers if he could hear them. There was no response to any of it.

One of them pulled his bloody shirt up and revealed bruises and several deep gashes across his chest, some crusted over but others bleeding anew with the removal of the shirt. They expertly cleaned and packed the wounds in no time before the head paramedic said, “get ready to transport.”

In a flurry of activity they suddenly had Nic on a backboard and then transferred to the gurney and into the ambulance. The paramedic told me what hospital they were heading for before jumping back into the driver seat and taking off back down the windy road out of the forest and suddenly I was surrounded by the rest of the PRA team. I’d almost forgotten they were even with me on this search and immediately the interns babbled with questions, wanting to know if Nic was okay or if the medics had said anything about his condition.

I had just thrown up my hands to quiet the onslaught of questions when two men in black suits pushed through the group and I could see that look in their eyes like they were about to demand information from me.

This day was about to get even longer.

~~~

It was well after dark by the time I was leaving the police station that the black suits had sequestered an office in to question me and my team about what we knew of Nic and the other three who’d been with him in the cabin. The interns hadn’t read Nic’s journal that I’ve been reading for you so the only information they had was a timeline of when they last saw Nic or heard from him, their stories were easily corroborated and they were sent home before me.

They had a lot more questions for me, but I won’t get into it right now. I’m sure what you actually want to hear about is how Nic is doing.

I got to the hospital around 11:30 that night and prepared myself to plead with the nurses to let me see him. Thankfully with it being such a small hospital, they didn’t so much have designated daytime visiting hours but rather night time quiet hours and they allowed me in if I promised to not disturb the peace and keep any conversation to a reasonable level. I saw a couple more of the black suits milling around, watching anyone walking through the halls suspiciously and keeping a close eye on the rooms that I presumed were occupied by the members of Nic’s group. I could hear a woman wailing from a room at the very far end of the ward where two officers stood guard outside her closed door.

One officer sat outside Nic’s room who asked me who I was and how I knew Nic, writing down everything before letting me enter.

I stepped into the room and gently closed the door behind me.

The room was dim, the only light coming from the lamp set into the wall above the head of his bed. It cast shadows across Nic’s face, making him look even more gaunt than usual. His face has always had a sort of gaunt look to it, but six days of walking and only living off berries and mushrooms like he had mentioned in his journal had only made it worse. And that presumed they had still been able to find sustenance for the latter part of their journey since the last entry I read was from day four. With how often he spends doing research late into the night it’s not unusual to see dark bags around his eyes, but the shadows around his eyes were even deeper now and his left temple sported a dark purple bruise.

I approached the bed as close as I dared. He looked… better than when he walked out of the cabin, I suppose. Someone had cleaned him up, he had been changed into a hospital gown instead of the bloody and muddy clothes he’d been found in and his skin wiped clean. His hair had been rinsed out and some of his thick curls were still damp where they poked out over top of a bandage wrapped around his head. He seemed to be sleeping, or fully unconscious, I couldn’t really say. He looked peaceful though.

The heart monitor beeped quietly and steadily and I pulled the chair from the corner of the room up next to the bed and sat down, settling in for as long as the staff would allow me to stay. A nurse came in every half hour and we would chat while she checked on Nic. Her name was Nancy and she couldn’t tell me much without the doctor there, but she did say that Nic hadn’t woken up since he had been brought in. A couple times through out the night she pulled the blanket down to his waist and opened the front of his gown a bit to check that he wasn’t bleeding through any bandages and I got a look at the bruises that mottled his torso. There was hardly an unblemished spot on him.

“Can I touch him?” I finally asked her around two in the morning.

“Oh! Of course dear,” Nancy said. She sounded surprised that I even needed to ask, which now I know it sounded strange that I even had to ask, but I think I needed that reassurance. That if I touched him I wasn’t going to hurt him any more, or if I touched him I would break the illusion and I would wake up to realize we hadn’t found him at all, that this body in the bed wasn’t him.

She seemed to read the conflict on me face and she came around to the side of the bed I was sat and took my hand. With her other hand she gently lifted Nic’s hand from where it rested on top of the blanket and guided my hand under his.

As soon as our hands touched I broke into tears. He was so cold, I couldn’t help it. I could hear the heart monitor still beeping steadily on, but it was hardly a reassurance in that moment. I know I said it out loud at one point, how cold he was, and Nancy directed my hands to his wrist, placing the tips of my fingers into the pulse point and pressing ever so gently. I concentrated on that, the small gentle thrum against my fingers, something more tangible than the little peaks on a monitor. I didn’t even notice that Nancy had slipped out of the room until she returned with a warmed blanket, draping it over Nic and tucking it around his shoulders so it covered everything but his head, even getting my arms under it so I could stay holding onto his hand. She gave me a small smile when I whispered a thank you before carrying on with her rounds.

I must have fallen asleep at some point after that. It was almost five AM when I woke up, the horizon outside starting to lighten with pre-dawn light. At first I didn’t know what had woken me up, Nancy wasn’t in the room and the door was shut, the hallway outside quiet as far as I could tell.

And then the fingers resting in my hand flexed a bit and I looked up at his face to find him looking back at me through half lidded eyes. The side of his mouth twitched up into a smirk and I felt my eyes watering again.

“Hey,” he whispered, “Long time no see.”

“Hey yourself,” I sobbed back. It was a relief to see him awake and able to recognize me, to see that stupid little smirk and hear his voice again. I cried more than I should’ve, but I finally got myself together and was able to call Nancy in, who got him to drink a little bit of water and asked some questions.

He didn’t remember anything that had happened, couldn’t say where he’d been or for how long. At the time, the last thing he could remember was going to the book shop to wait for someone to show up, it wasn’t until later that he was able to tell me who he was waiting for and who it was that showed up instead. But that’s something for him to tell you about himself.

He was understandably really tired still and fell asleep mid-sentence a few minutes after Nancy left again, so I sat holding his hand and watched as the sun came up. My phone dinged as people in the PRA group chat decided it was finally a reasonable hour to start requesting an update on Nic, or if I was still at the police station or was I at home. I realized maybe I should have said something last night about where I was.

I typed out a really short update, letting the team know where I was, that Nic had woken up and was able to have a coherent conversation for a few minutes and that he was sleeping peacefully at the moment. There were many replies of relief and several volunteers to go sit with him so I could go home and sleep for a few hours, which I accepted but told them to give me a couple more hours with him.

For now I just wanted to sit and keep reassuring myself that this was real, Nic was going to be okay and not let him out of my sight for just a little while more.

#here's a thing I wrote #Tanis #I don’t normally write in first person so this is unusual #but it fits the style of the podcast so it felt most natural when I started writing.#whump fic #seizures #hospital #worry #worried team #I had started writing another seizure starting as she was typing the message to the team but didn't know where to go from there #maybe if I get a better idea I'll continue this but no promises for now

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ravxens · 1 year

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Blah blah blah, filling up this bit again. I should stop being lazy and make like a pinterest board or something. Anyways, here’s my final child. He’s exactly what this gif suggests he is.

BASIC INFORMATION

NAME: Liam O’Connor

NICKNAMES: None

BIRTHDAY: November 16th

AGE: 21

HOMETOWN: Dublin, Ireland

BIRTHPLACE: Dublin, Ireland

RELIGION: Catholic

ETHNICITY: Irish

NATIONALITY: Irish

EDUCATION/MAJOR: Sociology and Psychology (minor)

JOB/EXTRACURRICULARS: N/A

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

SOCIAL CLASS: Upper-Middle

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

HEIGHT: 6′2

EYES: Green

HAIR: Brown

BUILD: Slender

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: N/A

NOTABLE FEATURES: Eyes, hair

PHYSICAL DISABILITIES: N/A

ALLERGIES: None, but he lies about being allergic to ketchup because people judge him if he just says he doesn’t like it. When asked how he’s not allergic to other tomato-based sauces (man eats his weight in pizza), his response is usually “Ketchup has a particular chemical compound that just makes me arse swell up and me eyes pop out, honestly, it’s like bein’ fucked by Freddie Kruger, don’t wish it on me worst enemy.”

PERSONALITY & BEHAVIOR

HOBBIES: Painting, photography, smoking weed 24/7 (he will do it in his dorms too sorry), playing video-games, playing the piano, skateboarding, pretending to play sports and then making his team lose. He’s an avid reader which most find surprising because he comes off as a complete moron. Listening to podcasts while cooking. Cooking (not great at it but he has munchies a lot).

LIKES: Talking shit all day long, hanging around new people and making them laugh, leaving his assignments until last minute and then panicking to get it done and then getting it done and saying ‘it would have been an A if I had more time’

DISLIKES: Judgmental assholes, people who don’t understand sarcasm, rules upon rules upon rules, his father, particularly hot weather, people who get all touchy-feely when they’re drunk

QUIRKS: Picking on scabs

POSITIVE TRAITS: Extroverted, receptive/accepting, humorous

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Unable to be serious ever, insensitive, stubborn

SHARE 5 FUN FACTS ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER:

Liam was born and raised in Dublin. He is an only child to a very conservative mother who at some point consulted a priest on getting the boy an exorcism. The priest denied her request saying her son was likely just dropped on his head as a child and will eventually ‘grow out’ of his personality.

His mother comes from a rather wealthy family and is a business woman, taking over the family business in something Liam never cared to inquire more about. He just knows they got money, so he doesn’t give a shit to make some on his own. His mom also eventually learnt to let him do his own thing and just gave him a debit card and called it a day.

Growing up Liam always sought out attention from strangers and just random people, places and experiences. He was almost never home, hating to be around his mom and her shitty boyfriends who all wanted to teach him ‘structure’ and whatever else. His social circle was always big but he never really had any ‘close knit’ friends or nothing like that. It was always more about ‘who’s around today?’ and go from there. This is why he has many interests in general.

Essex was a random choice. He saw it online, his mom was pushing to have him go to college, he applied for the sociology course because it seemed fine and easy to get into. His mom is paying for the whole experience and was all too happy he chose to go to the other side of the world.

Actually really loves the idea of American University experience. The drinking, the whoring, the whole thing. Seems cool, totally his vibe. The weed is good too.

WHERE DOES YOUR CHARACTER LIVE (please pick one):

Dorms

#tslocg:intro

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subpar-ghoulfriend · 3 years

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Gamer boy

Yandere!Shigaraki x reader

NO MINORS

You caught the eye of an obsessive gamer. He's convinced you're perfect for him. So why are you ignoring him?

tw: yandere themes, stalking, kidnapping, noncon, alcohol use, degradation, flash photography

You worked at the local gaming cafe. It was a pretty chill job most of the time. The adults who came in didn't care to socialize or cause problems and the school kids would only try to run a muck for a short while until they got entrapped by whatever they were playing. You sat at the help desk, renting out games, consoles, and selling sugary drinks. Easy as pie. Like any cafe, you had regular customers.

Once a week a wild-haired-sloucher would slink up to your desk to rent out a computer mouse and then head to the same computer every time - number 001. After an hour or so he would come up to buy an energy drink.

Of course you didn't know that he came here because Kurogiri would force him out of his cave once a week.

Your first mistake was on his third visit. When he came in you had a computer mouse and his favorite energy drink sitting out for him. The drink was on the house, you smiled. To you, this was a friendly gesture to make sure your reliable customers would keep coming back. To him, this was an offering of your submission. The second sign you gave was asking him if he was going to attend the opening of a new gaming store. He wasn't, obviously, but you wanted him to go, didn't you?

He started keeping tabs on you. To make sure you were worthy, he told himself. He was impressed to find that you actually had a useful quirk. You had a group of friends that lived in your apartment complex. He found it a bit pathetic that you spent so much time with them. But it must be hard for you to not be with him. You must be so lonely when he wasn't around.

Then he began to sneak in to your room, whether you were there or not. Occasionally he would sort through your drawers while you were in the shower; or play whatever game he chose to keep on his phone that week while you slept. When you were away he would take a more thorough inventory. He went through the movies and games piled in your living room. Carefully skimmed through the books on your nightstand. Rummaged through your cabinets and fridge.

Shigaraki was at war with himself on what his next move should be. A piece of him - however small - wanted to go about things like a normal person. But that left too much room for rejection. He was biding his time, trying to develop some form of plan. Until you forced him into action.

It happened during one of the nights he devoted to watching over you. Your friends had finally convinced you to go out with them. Allowing them to play dress up, they put you something too short and too tight for Shigaraki's comfort. They were going to drag you to a bar in that? You were practically begging for men to proposition you. Why did you even own something like that? You knew you belonged to him. Anyone aside from him shouldn't see that amount of your body. The anger was starting to creep over him, his skin becoming too tight until he was forced to seek relief by digging into his neck.

Things only went down hill from there. While you were having a great time, completely unaware of your stalker's presence, Shigaraki sulked angrily along the edge of the club you had been pulled into. You were drunk, although no where near as drunk as your companions and happily in the middle of the dance floor. As you faced your friend, a man wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you tightly against him by the hips. You didn't mind at first, until you realized the man was a complete stranger and not another person you knew. Your shrugged him off and the oaf moved on towards his next prey. It took everything Shigaraki had in him not to end the man's life, along with everyone else in the damn room. But he managed. And you kept dancing, drawing in guys like flies to honey. None of them caught your eye, of course not, even when intoxicated you knew who you belonged to. Obviously, you were using these NEETs to get under Shigaraki's skin. Taunting him for not keeping you in check.

One of the girls you came with had wandered off with some "handsome" stranger and you were the only one with enough wherewithal to go looking for her. You listened to podcasts, Don't let your friends go off alone ESPECIALLY when intoxicated, it was a true crime commandment.

With no luck in the club you ventured outside, breaking the commandment yourself. You weaved around the building, holding on to the wall to keep yourself from stumbling. In the back of the building you ran into a hooded figure.

"Have you seen my friend?"

The figure, Shigaraki, tilted his head. He had two options, take you in this back alley and risk someone hearing you scream, or begin a game of cat and mouse. You just looked so dazed and fuckable.

"Your friends? I'm not sure but I saw two people head that way," He lied and pointed away from the club. "Do you need help looking for them."

You scrunched your nose, genuinely (and drunkenly) debating the idea. Finally you shook your head, "No thanks, stranger danger."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not a stranger," he smirked. Finally you realized who the person in front of you was.

With a gasp you giggled, "Gamer boy!"

"Shigaraki," he reminded you, shifting back and forth uncomfortably trying to ease the growing swell in his pants. Why did you have to be so cute?

"Hm, okay then but no funny business."

He smirked as he lead you away from your friends. After a few blocks you were ready to give up, you tend to be a tired drunk and just wanted to go home to your bed. Shigaraki was understanding, probably too understanding, and willing to walk you back to your place. You thanked him, ready to bid him farewell at your door, but he followed you in, convincing your drunk brain that you two should have a drink before he left. You curled yourself into your couch while you listened to your guest.

"Thanks for walking," you yawned, "with me. You're so nice."

Gently the villain lifted you off your feet, "Someone's tired. Let's get you in to bed."

You nodded. Unable to process the impending danger. Until you realized that he was joining you on your bed, starting to tug at your outfit. "Shigi, what are you doing."

"I'm giving you what you want," he said in between nips to your neck and shoulders. "You've been misbehaving all night. Dressing and acting like a slut. Practically offering your body to any undeserving male. If you want to be a whore, then you can be my whore."

A hand slid beneath cotton of your clothes.

He teased your slick flesh, "See how quickly your body reacts to me?"

Your head was spinning, not really processing what he was saying. But you felt good and you wanted to keep feeling good. His unruly hair tickled your nose. You giggled. He latched his lips around your breast, teasing your nipples. One with his tongue, the other with his thumb.

The heat between your legs was becoming unbearable.

"What are you going to do to me?"

He lift his eyes to look up at you, "Such a forgetful thing. I'm gonna pound into your little pussy until you forget that any one besides me exists."

You whined in confusion. Your memory fuzzy on what led up to this moment. Had you brought him home?

He carefully continued to tease your sensitive body. Biting at your thighs and pressing against your soaked panties.

...

"Tell me who you belong to

...

"I'm never letting you get out of bed. I gotta make sure I keep my desperate whore in her place."

...

"Are you begging for my cum? Such a greedy little bitch."

...

"Spread your legs, let me see how pretty you look when you're stuffed with my cum." *flash* "so pretty. You wanna see how god I take care of you?"

...

"Make sure you keep behaving once we get you home. If you misbehave I'll have to hurt another one of your friends."

#yandere x reader #yandere bnha #yandere shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #yandere mha #Smut

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 3 years

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Trust Fund Prick - Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: Ransom can’t just let you move on without saying something

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader, Surprise! x Reader

Word Count: 994

Warnings: Ransom being a prick, Language, angst.

Masterlist

You were sat at your desk at work, smiling to yourself unable to focus on your work.

“Stop checking your social media’s and get back to work” you co-worker smirks looking up from her own phone.

You snort with laughter shaking your head at her “at least I look like I could be doing work, unlike someone” you say giving her a pointed look.

She sticks her tongue out at you, throwing her phone back onto her desk and looking at her computer. A few moments passed before she spoke again.

“So how many likes did your Instagram post get?” She asks.

You chuckle to yourself “far more than usual, even people I haven’t seen in years liked it” you tell her.

“Well, you landed a pretty good guy, I bet half of them are jealous” she smirks “I know I am”

“I’ll tell him that” you laugh.

You ended up staying late that night. The sun well and truly set, the only people remaining in the office being you and the cleaners. You sighed to yourself staring at your computer screen, unable to focus. Wanting just to go home and cosy up with your boyfriend.

So that’s what you did. You abandoned your work and made your way out of the office. Saying goodbye to the cleaners as you went.

As you walked to your car your phone started ringing. When you pulled it from your bag you expected it to be your boyfriend asking when you’d be home. You definitely weren’t expecting this person to call you.

You hesitated for a moment. You shouldn’t pick up, heck you should have blocked this number. But instead of letting it go to voicemail and ignoring it, you picked up.

“What do you want Ransom?” You sigh continuing to walk back to your car.

“Well hello to you too kitten” Ransom drawls out, a slight slur in his voice.

“Have you been drinking?” You ask him.

“Why would you care?” He huffs.

“I don’t, just what do you want I have important things to do” you sigh leaning up against your car once you reached it.

“What like your new boring ass boyfriend?” Ransom scoffs.

“How do you know about him?” You ask since you definitely did block Ransom on social media.

“I have my ways, but anyway I wanted to pass on my condolences” Ransom says.

“What are you on about Ransom?” You sigh pinching the bridge of your nose regretting picking up now.

“To your boyfriend, for ending up with your sorry ass” Ransom says, you could hear his smirk through the phone.

“Fuck you Ransom!” You spit.

“You already did kitten, multiple times remember? Or has that dull boyfriend of yours made you brain dead” Ransom chuckles down the phone with faux sympathy.

“He’s twice the man you were” you retort.

“Oh really?” Ransom scoffs.

“Yes, because unlike you, he was able to keep me” you state hanging up the phone as Ransom swore down it.

You took a deep breath getting your emotions in check. Looking down at your phone, at your lock-screen of you and your boyfriend. Without a second though you blocked Ransoms number, cutting off that last string that was attached to him.

On your drive home you tried to forget about the call but ended up stewing the entire way home. Not even your favourite playlist or podcast could distract you enough. Your day which had started so well was almost completely ruined.

Almost.

As when you got home, the warm comforting arms of your boyfriend wrapped around you. You melted into his embrace burying your head in his chest. Wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Hey is everything okay?” Andy asks rubbing your back soothingly.

“My ex called me” you sigh looking up at him.

Andy arched a brow “what the trust fund entitled prick?” Andy asks making you snort slightly a small smile playing at your lips.

“Yup, that’s the one” you say nodding your head, stepping out of his embrace and moving to sit on the couch.

“What did that asshole want?” Andy says as he walked over hands on his hips.

“Nothing really, he was drunk and just being a prick following us going public with our relationship on social media” you say shaking your head.

Andy frowns slightly “what did he say?” He asks.

“It’s nothing” you tell him waving it off.

“It’s clearly not sweetheart, whatever it is you can tell me” Andy presses softly.

You take a deep breath before repeating what Ransom said. As you did so you could see Andy get visibly worked up.

“The fucking asshole! What right has he even got to- I swear to god if I ever see that fucker” Andy growls beginning to pace his fists clenching.

“How did he even know? I thought you deleted him off social media” Andy asks.

“I did, his cousin Meg must still follow me or something and saw it and told him to get a rise out of him” You say shrugging your shoulders.

“God that family is fucked up” Andy scoffs shaking his head.

He then sighs his face softening as he moves to sit beside you. He wraps his arm around you pulling you into his embrace, kissing the top of your head.

“Look what that asshole said isn’t true, I’m not stuck with you, if anything you’re stuck with me” Andy says making you laugh weakly.

“He’s just a jealous prick, trying to fuck something up because that’s the only thing he’s good at. But I’m not gonna let that happen because I love you okay, so, so much” Andy says cupping your cheek and getting you to look at him.

You smile as you look into his bright blue eyes, once that were warm and full of love. Unlike the cold, frozen eyes of Ransom.

“I love you too” you smile reaching up and kissing him. The trust fund prick completely forgotten.

Masterlist

PLEASE LIKE FOLLOW AND REBLOG

#Ransom Drysdale #ransom x reader #ransom x you #knives out #chris evans #fanfic #x reader #andy barber #andy barber x y/n

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dykesprentiss · 4 years

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ok so. i know a lot of this has probably been said before, but i wanted to put my two cents in. very rambly and disorganized because i am just like that.

i think everyone in this fandom needs to examine the way they interract with male vs female characters. why is it easier for you to focus on and create content for male characters that have appeared in 2 episodes maximum, then it is for the women that are in the main cast? why do you gravitate towards ships between two male characters who have never met (specifically jonah and like. his harem of old british men. usually based on one single line of dialogue) then the actual, canon wlw relationships?

like dont get me wrong, when lonely eyes first started cropping up it was funny! i enjoyed it, i enjoyed the multiple divorce jokes, because it was a small fandom in joke that made fun of some old bastards. and now its the second most popular ship in the fandom. now its so popular, people think its canon before they start listening. why are you unable to muster that same kind of enthusiasm for any of the female characters? gertrude and mary have very similar appeal to lonely eyes, and yet its a fringe ship that nobody ever talks about. gertrude and agnes have very significant moments and mentions in the podcast, and yet the only people i see talking about them are wlw.

or we could talk about michael and helen! helen who, as of this moment, has become a key player in the storyline. helen who yeeted michael out of existence, who took over the power of the distortion by her own choice, and with her own strength. and so often i see her relegated to "vodka aunt that coos over jonmartin" is that a bad take on her? of course not! but having her only purpose be to comment on the male characters rubs me the wrong way.

lets talk about elias and mary. elias gets praise, and love, and devotion, regardless of the horrible things he does. the entire fandom has the reputation of eliasfuckers now because everyone goes so crazy for him. mary is just as evil, has just as sexy a voice (i assume lol cause tbh? eel eyes does not do it for me and never will), and people just. hate her. full stop. why is that?

it seems like manuela has been. completely forgotten. i Never see anyone talk about her. she has just as much appeal as the male avatars, so why are you so uninterested in her? sasha and tim have the same amount of importance, and both have died, but there is So much more focus on tim. why.

daisy/basira and melanie/georgie are incredibly well developed relationships, their stories are as beautiful and tragic and intimate as jonmartin, but the f/f and m/m fic ratio on ao3 is abysmal. because it seems to me that the only people writing about them are wlw.

which happens.....a lot. het relationships and gay relationships are for everyone, but lesbian ships? thats just for gay women. everyone goes head over heels for mlm movies, regardless of sexuality, but wlw movies never receive the same kind of treatment. why.

this isn't even touching on the. blatant and disgusting fetishising of mlm. elias is evil because hes gay and skanky. tim is bi so he must sleep around. tim and martin are both mlm in the same vicinity of each other so they must have had a friends with benefits relationship. jon/elias and peter/martin have significant age differences and power disparities, so they must have an incredibly fucked up sexual relationship. jon is ace, but yall just fully ignore that so you can write horny fic of him. (and im going to be completely honest, if you get legitimate joy from writing manipulative r*pe fic involving these characters, Especially involving an ace character, ( edit: i apologize for my wording here, i didnt intend to compare trauma between ace and non ace ppl. my point is that jon seems to be the main target in these fics, and that they seem to be a direct response to his asexuality. fic like this is bad regardless of who is targetted). than that is a big problem. you arent "exploring dark topics in a meaningful way" youre writing fucked up porn for your own sick enjoyment. get angry at me all u want lmao but i stand by that)

i could go on about this forever, but what im really asking is for people to look inward and ask yourselves why you are so against connecting and interracting with female characters? no one is saying you cant like the men, but if theyre the only ones you care about? thats a problem. there are more women in tma then there are men, but they still feel like the minority because of the way the fandom acts. this isnt just a tma problem either! you can put as many rounded out female characters as you want into your content, and every time without fail they will be pushed to the side in favor of the men.

and dont come at me with "oh if you want content of the women you should make it" like we fucking are. the issue is that wlw are the only ones doing it. just take a second and think. are you ignoring the female characters in favor of the men? why? why is that your first instinct? why do you not feel the need to go against that instinct?

#the magnus archives #tma #i used to have so much more love for the male characters too but now im just tired lol #long post #ok to rb #rape mention tw

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years

Text

Brave Girl (J.JK x Reader) ☁️💜🎀🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (ft. Med student!Namjoon)

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Good Girl!AU

Warnings: Heavy angst, traffic accident, injury, hospital, Jungkook is panicking, MC gets hurt, Koo is just lost and hates hospitals :(, Namjoon being the hero he was born to be, fluffy and dramatic smut, overstimulation, mild DDLG themes, protected sex because we wrap it up in this household smh

Summary: you were supposed to be home at 6 to help Jungkook devour the feast that is the freshly baked pizza he’d made to welcome you back from your trip to your parents, yet when the clock strikes 9 you’re still not home. Just when Jungkook is about to call you since you didn’t react to his texts, he receives a call from you; and he swore his heart stopped beating. Loosing you had never been a thought in his head until now, but he might just gotten closer to this reality than he ever imagined being. And he hated it.

Good Girl || Sweet Girl || Smart Girl || Brave Girl || Pretty Girl

"Alright, do we have everything now?" Jungkook asked, helping you place your pastel pink travel bag into his car, careful not to scratch all of the sparkling and colorful stickers on it. They looked a bit worn already, but you always felt a bit upset if there was another scratch to a prized posession such as your sticker-collection- yet when Jungkook told you not to put any more on your bag, you began to pout as well. You asked with a simple nod, already excited to meet your parents again after a long time apart. Jungkook offered to drive you to the bus station, not being able to bring you there entirely because he, quote unquote, 'didn't feel ready yet'. Many would've felt offended by that, but you knew not to read too much into it when it came to him- there were a lot of things for him that were still new, and his love was strong enough for you not to question it. You were both growing comfortable at your own pace, and that was enough for now.

Your parents had understood as well, even though your father had been a little more skeptic than the rest of your family; but he'd always been a little overprotective, so it didn't surprise you at all. While you were driving home, knees against the seat in front of you, you rummaged through your small backpack, taking out a small pack of gummi bears Jungkook had packed inside. He'd been so careful with everything, insisting on buying you this specific backpack because 'it's so soft, you can use it as a pillow inside the bus so you sleep better'. Maybe you were slowly making him soft as well? You were glad however that he had packed your headache medication in as well, long rides sadly having this effect on you sometimes.

Ever since you were a kid, you've always felt safe within public transport. You've been taking the bus and train to school for years, never truly thinking about the danger it could hold. Even now, with the pouring rain outside, you felt calm. Something that would change soon.

For now however, you just noticed how the jacket of the young man next to you slowly slipped off of his lap. He was asleep, you at least thought so, but you couldn't help but reach for the jacket before it could truly fall down onto the slightly muddy floor, your own shoes slightly at fault since it was quite muddy outside before you came in and sat down. "Ah, thanks-" He suddenly said, making your eyes widen at noticing how he only head headphones in. Maybe he hadn't been asleep after all?

"No problem" You said, putting your feet underneath your butt after having taken off your shoes. Your boyfriends' advice had proven to be quite nice after all, putting on comfortable loungewear such as your soft sweatpants and a large white shirt of Jungkooks collection (he had packed it in actually) were slowly proving to be way better than your typical attire. The guy next to you- Namjoon you'd found out on your first ride, having been seated next to him as well- looked quite casual as well. Instead of his more formal clothing he'd worn the first time you had talked to him he had switched to simply jeans and a loose sweater, something that made him seem a lot younger. "Listening to a podcast again?" You casually asked him, and he smiled, taking out one of his headphones.

"No, just music this time. That whole trip kind of drained me if I'm being honest." He explained, crossing his legs before conversing further. "What about you? Had fun with your family?" He said, genuinely interested it seemed. It was rare to find someone as honest as him. At first, you had been a bit careful, knowing that men usually had intentions that differed from what they were actually saying, but Namjoon had been just as friendly as before when you had told him about Jungkook. He just said that he seemed like a nice guy, nothing more to it, and still talked to you just the same.

You nodded your head at his question. "I was kind of sad when I had to leave again, but I also can't wait to come back home!" Excitedly you wiggled around a little, before you found a good position in your seat that didn't make your legs sleep in from being bend so much Namjoon smiled at you.

"I bet. I can't wait to fall into my own bed again as well." He said, before the bus swayed a bit, making you hold onto your belongings to keep them from falling down. Namjoon leaned into the middle a bit, to look at the front window and the driver. "Jesus, he's been driving like this for a few minutes now." He mumbled, making you a bit nervous. He was a very observant person from what you'd gathered until now, your first interaction had been him asking you about your headache even though you were sure it hadn't been too noticable. He was a med student however, top of his class he'd told you, so he probably had a third eye for things like that. "Hopefully they'll change drivers soon. He seems tired." He said, and gave you a reassuring smile. "It's gonna be fine-" He said, before the bus swayed again, this time however, pushing you against the front seat from the force. Seconds later the direction changed drastically, windows shattered, and the only thing you felt when you were able to gather your thoughts again was how cold it was.

The wet ground was slowly seeping into your clothes, the weird feeling of muddy grass underneath your hands as you pulled yourself into a sitting position foreign. One of the first things you were noticing was the incredibly high pitched ringing in your ears, sounds muffled as if someone was holding their hands over them. Things were blurry, lights passing by, and something was moving in front of you. For some reason however, you were only having one thought. Jungkook. He'd know what to do. But where was your phone?

You slowly got up, yelping in pain when your knee gave out and made you fall back down again, scratching the palms of your hands open on some random branches and.. glass? Suddenly you remembered the bus, Namjoon talking to you, and then- it was as if someone skipped a video you haven't seen before, an entire fragment missing completely. You crawled out of the bushes and onto the pavement when you spotted your wet and dirty backpack, your things and several unknown items of other passengers scattered everywhere on the street. And there, just a small distance from you was you phone- the hello kitty charm ripped off and probably lost forever. The screen was an absolute mess, yet it was still working when you reached it, unlocking it with your passcode because your fingerprint scanner was a definite goner for sure. Your headache was killing you at this point, your nose running from the cold, and your mouth had a metallic and bitter taste. It started to ring. One time. Two times. A voice.

"Creepy, I was just about to text you princess. Are you close to the station yet?" He asked, you could hear the TV faintly in the background, then a little movement, his earring clattering against his plastic case he had around his phone, something that still didn't help him with his curse of breaking his screen in record time. "Hey, you there?" He said chuckling, when you eventually answered him. "Hm?" He said, suddenly furrowing his brows invisibly for you on the other side of town, ceasing his movements and instead getting up to grab the remote, silencing the TV. He could hear faint talking on your side, yet it didn't seem like casual chatter, but frantic.. almost as if someone was panicking in the background.

"I said uhm-" You started, swallowing the weird taste before looking around, noticing no movement, but someone began to shout a name, another one softly wheeping, noises increasing with every passing minute. You could faintly spot headlights behind the bus, someone driving past had noticed, and people suddenly stood at the sides. But your vision hadn't cleared yet, so maybe you just couldn't see. "I think- I think we had an accident 'Koo, I-" You said, suddenly chocking a little on the fluid in your throat, coughing to get things under control and your voice back. The mention of an accident, the way you spoke, and the cliche noise of you coughing made him get up immediately, frantically running to his jacket, reaching for his car keys. You always told him how funny it was to you how he always told everyone how organized he was, yet always loosing his car keys. Right now he wished you would make fun of him, he wished you would just say sike and reveal your joke, yet deep down he knew you would never joke about something like this.

“It’s okay baby, you’re gonna be okay, where are you?” He stresses, trying yet failing to keep his own demeanor calm over the phone. You answer him that you don’t know, and he just feels the confusion radiating off of you. Something was terribly wrong, he could feel it deep inside his veins by the way you seemed to be unable to catch an actual thought. “Are you hurt anywhere?” He asks, even though he fears the answer you might give him.

“I..don’t know? My head hurts.. I- Jungkook I think I’m bleeding, what do I do?” You stress, and feel your own panic rising in your throat, making your eyes water and nose burn. You wished you could just tell Jungkook where the hell you were but you didn’t know, streets completely strange to your eyes, shifting around like a fever dream, as if you’d never seen them before. “Kookie, ‘m scared.. I wanna sleep-“ you began to mumble, less and less conscious, your head beginning to rest on the cold ground, the bus now beginning to shift out of focus. There we’re a few people walking around and you wanted to wave, to tell them you’re here, but one of them who you recognized faintly as the guy who’d been sitting next to you during the ride noticed you anyways.

Jungkook started to panic on the other end of the line, desperately trying to pin your phones location. “No no no baby, you’re so brave, you’re such a brave girl, don’t sleep in on me right now okay?” He pleaded, growing more and more anxious the less you answered him. “Baby? Don’t stop talking to me now please.!” He said, trying to get an answer out of you. But the only thing he could hear was the soft white noise, no trace of your voice whatsoever. “Baby? Please-“ he said, eyes watering out of frustration as he noticed the sudden commotion outside, cars suddenly driving out of his nearest police station, sirens loud and clear. “Please, y/n, talk, say anything!” He begged, voice choked with unshed tears, throat closing up.

“Hello?” A stranger answered.

“Who are you? What happened to y/n? Is she okay? I-“ he tried to rush his questions as if that’d get him the answers faster.

“She’s- uh- I don’t know, the bus just suddenly lost control and she- I think she’s still breathing but uhm- look, we’re at, uh-“ Jungkook wasn’t listening after he’d gotten the information he so desperately craved. He knew where you were. He’d get to you. He needed to get to you. And for the first time ever, Jungkook actually started to pray.

He finally found his car keys, ripping the door open to close it with a loud bang behind him, TV running but long forgotten. His stubborn car door didn't open instantly, making him almost growl in anger at it, eyes watering again when he remembered how you always told him to just get it fixed instead of buying a new one. You always had this idea of things having a soul anyways, so you always told him he needed to be nice to his car, or it would be upset. Right now he was not fit to drive. He did it anyways.

He groaned at every red light, hating how he couldn't just run them over because your absolutely stupid voice kept ringing in his ear to drive safely, he hated it right now, so so much, he could've screamed at nothing right now at how enraged he was. Why didn't he just fucking jump over his own shadow and drive you to your parents? None of this would be a thing if he would just finally man up instead of cowering all the time, simply believing that his time with you was endless. He knew it wasn't. He knew one day you two would pass. But that was supposed to be when you both were old and wrinkly, when you both had kids and grandkids, when both of you had enough stupid and disgustingly sweet stories to be able to make them gag at how he would still call you his most beautiful girl. This wasn't happening. He was going to make sure of it.

He reached the destination a little too far away, cars already stopping traffic, people on the side, watching, and he felt agitated again. He decided to simply turn his steering wheel, half-hazardly parking his car almost in the bushes next to the road, before opening the door with his key and phone in hand, closing his car door way too harsh as he could hear something crack, but his legs were already making him run at the fastest pace he had ever before. His hair and clothes, the black zip hoodie he had thrown over his grey shirt were growing damp from the mild rain coming down, yet he didn't care. He had his hood up, before it slipped down, his hands pushing past people, the need to insult them for staring and taking pictures instead of actually helping strong inside his veins, yet he simply portrayed his distaste at his not so gentle shoving to get past them.

Somehow he had apparently arrived before police or the ambulance had, because there was no one there yet. "Y/N!" He yelled, his voice frantic and almost unrecognizable, even to his own ears. He could spot people laying around, some helping others, and some simply waiting for help as he searched for your figure among them. He saw some of your stuff, the travel bag you had, now wet and scratched, your backpack, thrown on the street and some small items he could recognize as yours such as the formerly white bunny jacket he had bought you before you went on this trip. "Y/N!" He yelled again, and got someones attention a bit off the side near the woodside next to the road. "Oh no-" He whispered under his breath when he could see the guy leaning a bit over you, your head on the ground below, soft socks a darker shade than usual from the moisture they had picked up by now. You were laying on your side, the young man pushing a flannel shirt against your hip. He ran straight towards you, reaching out to grab you, just to have the stranger grab his hands instead, pushing at his chest. "What the fuck-?!" He exclaimed, ready to burst.

"We don't know how serious her injuries are at the moment. If you move her you could make the damage worse." He said, serious. "It's better to leave her like this, and wait for the ambulance." He said, unable to make the younger ones angry and frustrated face calm down, but he listened anyways, knowing deep down that he was right. "Kim Namjoon by the way, Medical student- trust me, I know what I'm doing okay?" He refrained from telling the younger one that you would be okay, having sworn to himself when he started as a med student to never give out false hope. Jungkook nodded, tears finally falling as he swallowed hard, simply running his hand over your hair, trying to give you reassurance- or maybe he tried to reassure himself that you were still there. Maybe even both.

When the ambulance arrived, you slowly gained a little more consciousness again, hand grabbing at nothing. "..'Koo?" You said, unsure if he was really there or if the smell of his bodywash on the shirt you were making was playing tricks on you. He gasped, leaning down, his other hand running over your bare arm softly as to warm you up.

"I'm here, I'm here baby, you're okay." He said, this time saying these words to reassure himself purely. Namjoon noticed you shivering after Jungkook did, and he instantly took off his jacket, even though it was thin, simply to cover you up. Namjoon yelled for the ambulance to notice them, and both of the guys breathed a sigh of relief when they were running over towards you three.

However, now Jungkook had to face another fear, apart from still possibly loosing you. He hated hospitals. Not in the quirky kind of 'ugh I hate the smell of disinfectant' kind of way, the kind of 'I rather cast my broken wrist with duct tape and wooden icecream sticks just to not have to go near this place' kind of way. When he was asked if he would like to ride with you his terrified eyes looked at Namjoon, the answer he gave an unsure, yet clear nod. He had to be strong right now. You needed him right now, more than ever.

Inside the ambulance, he didn't let go of your hand. You had a hard time answering questions, so Jungkook had to step in now. He kept his eyes on your face, trying to blend out the equipment around you two to not get riled up. Someone had to be there a hundred percent. The nurse noticed pretty quickly, laying a hand on his shoulder to hopefully calm him down. "She's stable right now, okay? We'll wheel her in as soon as we reach the hospital, someone will ask you for her information since we couldn't find her ID or anything on the scene, alright?" He asked, and he nodded, clearing his throat before he resumed watching you breathe. He would've never guessed how happy he would feel just to see such a small thing from you.

A hot cup nudged his hands that were over his head, and he slowly looked up, surprised to see Taehyung of all people in front of him, his newly red hair in complete dissarray as well as his clothes. He looked like Jungkook felt if he was being honest. "Tae?" He asked, voice rough while taking the cup from his friend. His friend simply shrugged, before He sat down next to him, eyes red. "What-" He started, but Taehyung leaned back, speaking quitely, oddly calm, considering his usually loud personality.

"I-" He started, before he seemed to think a bit about how to phrase his next words. "Someone I know was on the same bus." He said. "I heard you talk to the nurse at the counter." He explained when Jungkooks brows furrowed in confusion. "They've managed to stabalize her, but she'll need surgery tonight." He said, and Jungkook wanted to ask who the person was- yet he refrained from doing so. Him and Taehyung were close, sure, but exactly that was what made him stay quiet about it. He knew when it was okay to ask, and when to just shut up. And right now, he simply nodded at him.

"So we're both gonna have a sleepover here?" He asked grimly, pathetically trying to lift the mood. Taehyung just nodded.

When you woke up, it wasn't like it was usually displayed in movies or cheesy novels. It wasn't a slow, gentle breeze from your window, or the way your boyfriend spoke next to you. No, it was actually absolutely silent, except the constant beeping next to you. You actually woke up way faster than you hoped for, your eyes opening like you've just got ripped out of a dream where you fall downstairs or something alike. You heard Jungkook groan sleepily, before he eventually moved his head a little, turning so you could see how exhausted he looked. His eyelashes looked damp, tiny hairs bound together into little groups as he sniffled, head on your hand, open palm holding his cheek as if he needed to feel you even in his dreams. The sight calmed you down.

The change of heartbeat and pulse made the machine next to you switch sounds, and soon you heard the door open, a friendly nurse walking in, smile on her face as her gaze found Jungkook still in the same position as hours before, unbeknownst to you. "How are you feeling, miss?" She softly said, quiet as to not wake the young man who had been switching between crying, watching, or sleeping next to you for the past days. You swallowed, mouth dry, and nodded towards the empty coffee cups next to you on the small bedside table. "I'll get you some water okay? Welcome back miss. I'll just check your vitals for a second." She said, and you nodded at that. Checking the machines and you, she walked out, leaving the door open so you could hear a bit of what was going on in the hallways. Footsteps and sometimes the tune of someones phone going off, random words you were too tired still to understand, and an elevator. Jungkook stirred next to you, opening his eyes after taking a deep breath, yawning before his eyes found yours.

It took him amusingly a couple of seconds before he shot up, immediately coughing from having inhaled his own saliva. You laughed at that, flinching a bit when it made your body ache, before taking him in. He looked horrible, hair a mess, eyes red and skin a bit pale, yet he smiled brighter than he did back when you bought him the new destiny 2 game for his playstation as a surprise. His eyes glistened, suddenly getting a sparkle to them before his lip started to quiver. He dropped his head on your shoulder, silently crying, but this time, he cried from relief. From happiness. From just how much he loved the world right now for giving him more time with you, for giving him a chance to be the embarrassing father and naggy grandpa he always wanted to be someday. Your arm bend and your hand ran through his hair, not minding the long unkempt locks one bit.

The nurse came back in, smiling brightly with a tall doctor in tow, who had a friendly face as well. "Good to have you back miss. How are we feeling?" He said, trying not to grin at Jungkook, who had yelled at the man several times when he'd tried to tell him to go home and rest. You were oblivious to this obviously. Jungkook raised his head a little, using his flannel sleeve to dry his tears, clearing his throat to at least try to look like he got his shit together.

"Uhm, I feel like I had to take my fitnessgram pacer test again, plus a bit more muscle pain in my hip?" You said, making the man chuckle.

"That's completely understandable considering you flew quite a distance miss. We were quite surprised that you were fine breathing on your own, considering everything. You're quite lucky; but we're gonna keep you under surveillance until friday. Your bodyguard can take you home after 12 whenever he likes." He said with a smirk in Jungkook's direction, the one spoken of growing a bit red on the tips of his ears. The doctor leaves after asking you general questions such as, if you knew the current year, your address, and your personal information such as your birthday.

The nurse left the cup of water and a straw on the small table. "I'll let you both catch up. Please make sure she drinks the whole cup, but only a couple of sips at a time alright?" She said to your boyfriend, who nodded, having calmed down a little by now. He moved, his hand a bit shaky as he ripped the top of the papercover of the straw off, before taking the plastic drinking help out of its minimalistic packaging. He put it inside the cup after bending it a bit, before he moved to you, helping you with outmost care to sit up a little. You winced a bit when you tried to move too fast, and Jungkooks face got a little more serious at this. You began to pout at him.

"What?" He said, voice still a bit rough from the lack of using- and the simultaneous shouting everytime he'd opened his mouth these days. He sighed. "Come on, you heard the nurse- you gotta drink." He said, but you stubbornly moved your head to the side, sideeying him. His brow raised in a questioning matter, before he noticed your posture. You had your arms in front of you in a hugging manner, and he suddenly realized how his behaviour must've looked for you. "I'm sorry princess I just.." He said, putting the cup down and running a hand through his hair. "I just.. I was so terrified when I saw you there-" He said, having to swallow hard again so he didn't end up crying again. God, what was it with him again? "Why didn't you call an ambulance? Why did you call me instead?" He asked, a bit of whine to it. You shrugged, deflating a bit in your position leaned up against the pillows.

"You were.. dunno, the first one I thought of." You explained. In Hindsight it had been a bit dumb, why did you call him as if he could magically appear in that second to make everything better, but somehow your brain made that story into a real possibility. "You always make everything better, and you know.. you always know what to do so.." You said, and Jungkook breathed out in a sight.

He leaned closer to you, tattooed hand brushing away some of your hair to place a kiss to your forehead. "Oh baby.." He simply said, resting his against your head for a second, before his thumb brushed over your cheek. "I'm driving you anywhere you need to be from now on." He said, and you nodded with a smile. "Alright. Now come on, drink something." he spoke before picking up the cup, helping you with the straw, taking it away from you after a couple of sips, making you whine. "I know doll, but we don't wanna overdo it alright?" He said. You looked at him with a smile, and he happily returned it.

"Jungkook I can do that-" You said, before he silenced you with a look.

"I'm sorry, as cute as you look walking around like a newborn babydeer, I really like to keep you from falling down again, thank you very much." He said, accusingly pointing to the small bandage on your knee from having stumbled on your way into the kitchen yesterday. Your visible wounds were healing well, but you still had a bit of nerve damage from your nasty fall, which made your legs feel like they're constantly in a state between sleeping in and waking up, minus the pins and needles. They moved, yeah, you could feel them, yes, but it felt like they were wrapped in plastic and someone messed with the controls. Jungkook found it a bit adorable, but he rather not have you give him a shock again from almost hitting the kitchen tiles. Slowly, he came back with a glass of water, making you smile and thank him. He'd currently taken time off from work, having explained to his boss that he had to nurse you for a bit until you could be home by yourself. His boss had been pretty understanding, agreeing to him taking his vacation earlier and with short notice.

One thing you noticed however, was how careful Jungkook was around you. Now, that itself wasn't a bad thing, since right now you're a bit more fragile then usually so, but he was careful in a different way. Ever since you both left the hospital on friday, he stopped giving you goodnight kisses. He rarely hugged you, only ever if you initiated it, and he refused to be close to you during the night, making up excuses like 'I'm scared I'll roll you over during the night babygirl.' That was utter bullshit, because he'd never been worried about that in the past. He's a heavy sleeper and barely moves when he sleeps, so why would it be an issue now?

That was when the goddamn thoughts came back to you. Maybe he realized how close he'd gotten to you and didn't want that anymore? Maybe he wanted to go back to his old way of living, without any strings attached to anyone?

That night, you decided to speak up. Jungkook and you were sitting on the bed, you criss crossed, and him with his back towards you, feet on the carpeted floor. "You can, uhm.. you know, drive me back to the hospital tomorrow so I can get checked back in." You quietly said. He instantly turned around, his phone no longer worth his attention as his brows furrowed.

"Why? Are you okay? Did the stitches open up again?" He said, a bit of panic making his words hurry on their way out of his mouth. You shook your head.

"No, but I don't wanna, you know. You don't like me saying I'm a burden so I won't say it, but yeah. I get it, you know? Its okay, really-" You said, head lowering until you stared your lap. You heard and felt him move, his hand softly on your back.

"What're you saying princess? Why the fuck would you think I don't want you anymore?" He knew your innuendos by now, and he didn't like that you implied a breakup in your sentence one bit. "Baby I'm gonna take care of you now and everyday you need me to, you know that." He said, confused.

You looked at his throat, unable to shift your gaze any higher up, in fear of what his eyes would tell you. "But, you know.. if we're good, why.. why 'm I not getting any kisses anymore? No hugs? No nothing? " You said, starting to pick at your fingers. Maybe you were just making it worse for him. Maybe he'd just tried to figure out how to tell you in a good way, and you just made it so much harder for him to do so. However, the hand on your back left, just so he could take your body into his arms. "I'ts okay, you know-" You started again, and he hushed you.

"None of that, please don't talk like that, please don't." He said, almost breathless as if he was scared to say the words out loud. "Getting told I could loose you for good was terrifying enough already, thank you very much." He said, a dry laugh escaping him, humor nowhere to be seen in it. Typically he would relish in the feeling of his broader and stronger frame compared to you, he would smile at the mere size difference of your hands or the way he could easily pick you up and carry you anywhere he wanted to. But right now it only reminded him how fragile you were, how careful he had to be not to hurt you. He felt helpless, and it was a feeling he decided he'd hate until he died. "I just- I'm scared I'll hurt you." He said, quietly, hoping that maybe you won't hear. But you did.

Holding his face in your hands you were reminded again just how inexperienced he was in this entire thing as well. You always thought he could lead the way without problems, that he knew everything and could teach you what you wanted to know. Yet maybe you both could learn from one another, more so than just you from him. "You won't." You said, and you stubbornly kissed him as he tried to protest, pecking his lips with a newfound courage you didn't knew you had until then. He tried again, just to get another kiss. This went on for a bit, until he deepened the gesture a bit, hand finding its way into your hair, before he pulled away.

"Don't rile me up baby." He groaned, running a hand through his hair. He hated how much you could get under his skin right now, covering his lower half under the blanket you both shared almost shamefully. You kissed him again, making him laugh, finally this time for real. "Stop, I'm serious. You're still healing, or did you forget?" He said, and you whined.

"But you can be gentle! My stitches are coming out on Monday anyways, I'll be fine!" You said, and he had to chuckle at you, his mind being torn from side to side. He didn't know if he could, but the way you trusted him made him wan't to at least try. With a little hesitance he dived in again, making you smile against his lips.

He made you lie down again, slowly, crawling over your form, unhurried, as if you both got all the time of the world. And you had, he knew you had. When you whined, he simply grinned at you. "No no Baby, let's just be close, okay?" He said, voice low and soft, making you melt underneath him. For the first time ever, as cheesy as it sounden, it wasn't about reaching your highs anymore for him. He was a believer that good sex had to finish with as much pleasure as possible for him, yet that had entirely began to shift when he'd met you. Suddenly things weren't about him anymore, suddenly he started to become less and less self-centered; but this time nothing mattered at all. It wasn't about reaching your goal and claiming your prize in form of an orgasm, it wasn't about pure pleasure and satisfaction. No, this time it was about feeling as close to you as he could, he needed to feel every inch of you simply to reassure himself that you were still here, real, and with him.

He reached for the first drawer of the bedside table, your kisses on his chest and biceps making his heart race. Slipping the condom on with your help, not because he needed it but because you wanted to, he made himself at home inside you, mind slowing down with every move he made, his thoughts and body being reminded that you were okay, you were fine, you were still here with him, you didn't leave. Maybe he should be scared of how dependend he'd become on you, how you had sneaked your way past all his walls and made yourself at home inside his soul. Maybe he should be afraid or worried how he couldn't escape you anymore, how he couldn't take a fast exit out of the situation you both had made. But right now, none of that mattered.

Your mind was fuzzy, no thought able to be caught properly, and you let yourself slip even further, giving your entire being into his posession. This was just about being close, and you felt protected and safe with him, his pace slow and unhurried, gentle, and his hands reaching for yours, intertwining your fingers in a soft gesture. It showed just how much he was actually hurting, how much the entire situation had affected him; this was so unlike him that it made you feel proud of yourself to be able to witness it at all. He was laying himself bare in every way for you, and you didn't dare threw salt on his exposed flesh.

He didn't notice if he or you had come at all, continuing to move, yet never picking up his pace. When he watched your blissful face underneath him, his eyes stung again, tears knocking at the back of them, and he gently placed his head on your shoulder, kissing every part of your skin he could reach there, gasping and breathing hard. Never in his wildest dreams he would've thought that this would be the situation he would found pleasure in, yet it happened in that moment, and god, he felt like he couldn't stop. He felt like he could torture himself like this forever if it meant he could show you how utterly terrified he had been of loosing you, how terrified he still was deep down, and how terrified he would always be. He needed you like oxygen at this point, and it scared him shitless, yet even that was something he accepted with open arms and a smile in exchange for your affection. He was whipped for you, deep down bound to you by iron shackles, but he would never ask for a change whatsoever.

The night ended with both of you exhausted yet happy, tangled together under wrinkled sheets and a blanket thrown over your forms.

"I absolutely love you." You said, eyes wide and sparkling at the amount of junkfood your boyfriend carried inside the living room, coat still a bit wet from the rain outside. He brought a wave of cool and fresh air with him, making you shiver for a bit before your hand dived into the first paper bag, the crinkling sound ever so present. He laughed, throwing his coat over the side of the couch before he sat down next to you.

"You only love me for food, how tragic." He said, playfully sighing at it, watching you pout at him. "sorry baby, 'm joking." ruffling your hair he snatched a fry from the small bag you had in your hands, making you whine, but laugh at the same time.

Straightening your back you tried to look taller than him, making him chuckle. "I see this as a reward for not crying today!" You said proudly, and he smiled, nodding. You had gotten your final stitches removed, and even though it was still terrifying for both of you, Jungkook had finally faced his fear and came with you to your appointment, although he had still been heavily uncomfortable, rushing you both out as fast as possible. He was proud however, because even though you had every reason to, you didn't cry- simply squeezing his hand a bit, but nothing too much.

"I know, I know." He said, rummaging through the second large brown bag to fish himself a burger. "That's because you're the bravest girl ever-" He said, yelping when you snatched the food from him. "And also the most daring it seems, you gotta share baby!" He said playfully accusing, reaching for it just for you to hold it further away. "Good girls share, come on, I deserve a reward too you brat!" His hands reached for the item of his desire, making him raise his brows at you. Kissing your slightly greasy and salty lips, he laughed when you made a whiny sound at him. "Come on, this shit was expensive, let's eat."

"I've never seen you cry so much."

"Shut up."

"It was cute though-"

"Oh I'm about to be really fucking cute, get over here young lady!"

Taglist: @sweetenedcooky @ggukkieland @btsismybias22 @darkgvk @daddypkj @flowerprincess24 @crazylittlemay @zeharilisharaban

#bts #bts imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts reactions

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gayestnerdsinfiction · 3 years

Text

bury your heart

cw: brain cancer and all its associated symptoms

read part two here

----

“Okay, here’s one,” Edward said. “When is a person like a piece of wood?”

“Hm,” Jonathan murmured absently, fingers running through Edward’s hair. He resisted the urge to make the first dirty joke that came to mind. “When they’re a ruler?”

“Good guess,” he murmured. He reached up to catch Jonathan’s long nose between his forefinger and thumb. “But, no. When they’re bored,” he revealed, grinning loosely.

Jonathan pulled away, swatting Edward’s hand out of his face. “Yes, Edward, I’m aware you’re bored. I’m not sure what you expect me to do about that.”

“Entertain me.”

“Entertain yourself,” he retorted. “Read a book.” Edward made a face at that, somewhere between annoyance and embarrassment. Realizing his mistake, Jonathan added, “Or listen to one of your stupid podcasts.”

“I keep telling you, the conspiracy theory podcast is not stupid and if you actually listened to it, you’d see that it’s very educational.”

“I’m beginning to understand why you flunked out of school if that’s what you consider educational,” Jonathan muttered. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out, a small reminder lighting up the screen. Meds. He disentangled his fingers from Edward’s hair and slid out of bed, making his way into the bathroom.

“I didn’t flunk out,” Edward called after him. “I dropped out. There’s a difference. They didn’t fire me, I quit.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes but he didn’t respond, instead choosing to focus on rummaging around in the medicine cabinet. He took out his own medications—Lexapro, Clozapine, Zoloft—and then Edward’s. Promethazine for the nausea, Lorazepam for the seizures, Tramadol and Hydrocodone for the pain. And those were just the morning set. Jonathan tucked his pills into his cheek, dipping his head under the faucet to gulp them down with a mouthful of water. Then he brought Edward’s medication into the bedroom for him.

It had been a few weeks of this routine. Bringing Edward his meds in the mornings, again in the evenings. Smoothing his hair away from his clammy face as he vomited, knuckles going white from gripping the edge of the toilet. Watching him struggle to remember things, complete simple tasks.

Jonathan had seen some pretty awful things in his life. Gruesome deaths and life threatening infections and overdoses and people clawing their own skin off during toxin induced hallucinations. He had seen all of those things and yet this was still hard to watch. Maybe harder than anything else. The only thing keeping him from spiraling entirely out of control were the few painkillers he was able to sneak from Edward’s prescription. It took the edge off, kept him from thinking too hard about the fact that his friend was slowly dying in his home, his bed.

“Here’s another,” Edward said, swallowing his pills dry. He was at least in good spirits today, chattering away almost like his usual self. “We’re five little items of an everyday sort; you’ll find us all in ‘a tennis court’.”

“Vowels. That’s an easy one.” Jonathan sat back down on the bed and Edward wasted no time before depositing his head in Jonathan’s lap.

“Well, excuse me for not being at the top of my game,” he replied sarcastically. “The cancer makes it hard to think, you know.”

He tried to muster some kind of joke in response but nothing came to mind. He didn’t mind when Edward made light of his own illness, but for Jonathan to do the same felt incredibly inappropriate. Because it wasn’t funny, not to him.

“Maybe we could go somewhere today,” Edward suggested hesitantly, interrupting Jonathan’s thoughts. “I’m tired of being cooped up in here.”

“Might I remind you that the reason you’ve been cooped up in here is because you’re too sick to stand half the time?”

“But I feel alright today,” he insisted. He sat up, getting out of bed with a labored groan to demonstrate. “See?” he said cheerfully, spreading his arms. The gesture just made it even more apparent how thin he’d gotten, how wobbly his stance was. “I’m standing. I might even take a few steps, really go for it, y’know?”

“I don’t know, you don’t want to go too crazy,” Jonathan said dryly. “You might hurt yourself.”

Edward crawled back onto the bed, kneeling beside Jonathan. The dark circles marring his pale, sallow skin were deep but his emerald eyes were bright, eager. “We could go play chess in the park,” he proposed. “That’d be alright, wouldn’t it? I could sit down, get some air. Get some sun, God, I could really use a bit of sun, look at the state of my skin.” He peered up at Jonathan. “What do you think?”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. Later, though. I have things that need doing before I can go out.”

Edward grinned, his upturned nose bumping against Jonathan’s cheek as his balance wavered slightly. Quickly, as if to cover the slip, he pressed a kiss to the same spot. “Can I sit with you while you work?” he asked.

Jonathan frowned. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. The chemicals—”

“I’ll wear a mask,” he interrupted. “Please?”

“Edward…” He sighed. “I don’t think huffing a bunch of toxic fumes is advisable if you want to still be feeling alright by the time we go out.”

Edward pouted, pulling away. “How about a riddle?” he asked, sounding thoroughly glum. He tucked his legs up against his chest. “When is a person like a piece of wood?”

Jonathan’s jaw tensed. “When they’re bored,” he answered, watching Edward’s reaction closely.

Edward just sighed, resting his head on one of his knees. “Gold star for Jonathan,” he said with a dejected twirl of his finger, unable to conceal the bitterness in his voice.

He swallowed. So Edward hadn’t realized. “You know you used that riddle before,” he said carefully.

His eyes darted over to Jonathan. “Really? When?”

“Just a few minutes ago.”

“Oh.” The silence between them was thick, heavy. “So you cheated,” Edward joked humorlessly.

“I guess I did.” Jonathan draped a long arm across Edward’s narrow shoulders. “Maybe I can… I suppose there are things I can work on outside of the lab. If you insist on having my company for the day.”

“I don’t want to trouble you,” he mumbled.

“It’s no trouble.” He gave Edward’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It’s easier to let you watch me work than to come up with some other way to occupy your attention.”

He felt Edward smiling as he nuzzled against Jonathan’s neck. “I do require constant enrichment, after all.”

“Yes,” he murmured, “like a zoo animal.”

The comment earned him a swift smack on the leg from Edward. “Bastard,” he grumbled. “I have a terminal illness and this is how you talk to me? How would you feel if those were your last words to me, would you be satisfied with that?”

A lump rose in Jonathan’s throat. “No, I wouldn’t,” he said tightly. “And that’s not funny.”

“I think it is.”

He shot Edward an icy look. “I don’t.”

Edward balked, lowering his gaze as he relaxed against Jonathan’s chest. “Got to have fun somehow,” he muttered.

“Well I’m sorry it’s not fun for me to be reminded of your impending death,” Jonathan said tersely. “I suppose that is where our senses of humor differ.” He felt a flutter of something unpleasant in his chest and he forced it back down, forced his attention away from it. Jonathan started to get up from the bed, started to go to the bathroom to snag a couple painkillers. But before he could even make it off the mattress Edward’s fist had closed around the hem of his shirt and he was pulling Jonathan back towards him.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not,” he repeated. “I’m…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. He was frustrated with Edward for being so glib about his own mortality and he was disappointed in himself for not being able to do more and he was downright terrified of what would happen when Edward was actually, permanently dead. “I’m worried,” he finished lamely.

Edward’s grip tightened around his shirt. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Jonathan pried Edward’s fist away from the handful of fabric, lacing their fingers together. “I don’t know how to stop.”

#scriddler #scarecrow #riddler #jonathan crane #edward nygma #batman #dc #fic #my fic #writing #my writing #cancer cw #i believe...... there will be a part two of this

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sneezyminniejo · 3 years

Text

All in the Timing

This was requested on AO3

Felix gets injured during practice

TW injury

The members of the Mayfly dance unit were gathered in KQ Entertainment's practice room eating the ice cream Peniel ordered. They were also beginning discussions on what they wanted to do for their performance.

"I think it would be awesome if Peniel hyung is like commanding a bunch of dogs on leashes." Minho said. The others were quick to agree.

There was a whole host of conversation on the choreo, when San chimed in "What if one of us jumps off a platform and lands in another's arms." Everyone started to murmur in excitement at the thought of the stunt and immediately began planning out the details.

After some deliberation, it was decided that Felix would be the one to jump, while Wooyoung would catch him. The nine members then began discussing the logistics of the jump.

They decided that Wooyoung would be braced by four or five dancers, while Felix would get a running start before jumping into the older man's arms. It was also decided that four dancers would prop Felix up until he could practice on the actual set.

The practices at the studio had been going swimmingly. There was one moment where Wooyoung nearly dropped Felix, but no one got hurt. It just caused the duo to be more determined to practice the jump.

After another long day of practice, the five Ateez members invited the other four over to their dorm for dinner. Peniel declined, as he needed to get back to his own apartment for some rest before recording his podcast. Minho and Jeongin also declined, having already made plans with some of their friends. Minho merely told Felix to be back at the dorm by a reasonable hour and left it at that.

When the six men arrived at the Ateez dorm, they all got comfortable on the couch as they discussed what to have for dinner. Seonghwa insisted on making something and eventually got Felix to choose what. Seonghwa then moved to the kitchen to begin making dinner.

As Seonghwa was preparing dinner the other two Ateez members returned home and were equally ecstatic that Felix was joining them for dinner. “I know Minho hyung said that you should get back to your own dorm at a reasonable time, but you guys were also talking about how your first schedule is coming here for practice, so why don’t you just sleep over? It’ll save you the headache of travelling.” Jongho had said at one point. Soon after the others were humming in agreement about how it made more logical sense to just stay over.

Felix pondered for a minute. “I would need to borrow some clothes, but as long as I text Chan-hyung, I should be able to stay the night with no problems.” He quickly texted Chan and Minho just in case Chan was too absorbed in his own work and quickly got a thumbs up emoji in response from both of them.

“Hyung says I can stay the night, but I’m going to need to borrow somebody’s clothes for the night, and tomorrow.” Everyone was excited and the others were quick to figure out who’s clothes Felix could borrow and the sleeping arrangements for the night before they continued to eat their dinner.

At some point after dinner, Hongjoong and Seonghwa had decided to go to their rooms. Hongjoong to get some writing done, and Seonghwa wanted to continue reading a book he was in the middle of. That left the 99 liners and the 00 liners in the living room.

The six men were sitting in the living room chatting and the five members of Mayfly’s dance unit started to tell Jongho about the jump they had planned for their choreography.

“I almost dropped him last time Jongie. I feel like we need more practice, but we need four people to hold me up and four more to prom Felix up since we don’t have the platform yet.” Wooyoung pouted slightly as he was complaining to his dongsaeng. Jongho was listening intently to his hyung then got an idea.

“Hyungs, we have enough people to practice the jump right here.” The others stared at him a moment, then San motioned for him to continue. “ We could all hold up Wooyoungie hyung, and Felix could run off the couch.” The first person to move was Felix, who immediately jumped on the couch and started making power stances. The others moved some things out of the way then worked together to figure out how to properly brace Wooyoung.

One the 99 liners and Jongho were confident in having Wooyoung properly braced, Wooyoung gave Felix the go ahead to run off the couch and jump into his arms. Felix made sure he was on the opposite end of the couch from where he was going to jump, then he started running.

When Felix jumped off the armrest of the couch, his foot slipped, making it so he didn’t have a firm stance when he leapt into the air. Since Felix didn’t have a firm stance when he jumped, he was also unable to properly land in Wooyoung’s arms.

It almost happened in slow motion. Felix felt his ankle twinge weirdly when he jumped, and again when it accidentally hit Yunho’s side. Wooyoung is holding onto Felix’ shirt as if his life depended on it. However because Felix didn’t land properly, Wooyoung didn’t have a proper grip on the younger, practically taking off Felix’ shirt in the process.

Wooyoung quickly got out of the grasp of the others, and they all went to assess both Yunho and Felix. Yunho wasn’t very hurt. Felix hadn’t kicked very hard at all. It was more of his foot digging into his side a little as he fell than it was a kick. Felix on the other hand was sitting on the ground holding foot up to his chest.

“Felix-ah, are you hurt?” San asked, somewhat rhetorically since the younger was cradling one of his feet. Felix nodded as tears began to emerge from his eyes. “I think I twisted my ankle.” Yeosang quickly ran to the kitchen to get some ice, while San and Jongho helped Felix stand up. As soon as Felix tried to put some weight on his foot, he hissed in pain and brought his foot back into the air as he was helped to the couch. Meanwhile Wooyoung went to go get Hongjoong and Seonghwa, so they could be informed that their guest was injured.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa were quick to leave their rooms to see what the damage was. Seonghwa took a look at Felix’ ankle and agreed that it was most likely sprained. Wooyoung was messaging Minho to tell him Felix was injured, while Hongjoong was doing the same thing with Chan.

Hongjoong and Wooyoung both assured Chan and Minho respectively that Felix had ice on his ankle and that they had bandages to wrap it up in later. The two Ateez members sighed as they put down their phones and went to help out.

Wooyoung went to the bathroom to get the bottle of paracetamol and a glass of water. When he returned to the living room, he handed the medicine to the younger and began propping his foot up on the throw pillows that had been thrown to the floor when they practiced their stunt.

“So all Wooyoung told us was that Felix had injured his ankle. He didn’t tell us how. Would anyone care to enlighten us?” Seonghwa asked the group, giving them a very stern look, daring them to lie to him. Felix was the one to confess. “We were practicing the stunt for our Mayfly performance. I got the timing wrong when I jumped off the couch.” Seonghwa just about face palmed upon hearing what happened. Instead he sighed exasperatedly and sat down next to the younger.

“We need to keep your foot elevated tonight, and you probably shouldn’t put any weight on it for the next few days.” Seongwha paused and gave everyone a stern look before continuing, “That means no practicing the choreo or the stunt for Felix.” The others were quick to nod their heads in understanding. Satisfied, Seonghwa turned on the tv and told the others to get ready for bed. Hongjoong had just returned from their storage closet holding a pair of crutches from the last time one of them had injured their leg.

“Here Felix, this way you can get around our dorm without having to put any weight on your foot and no one will have to carry you.” Felix thanked the older, glad that he wouldn’t have to be carried around until he got back to his own dorm. It wasn’t long after that the others returned to the living room. They watched tv for a little while before deciding that it was time for bed. The members of the dance unit were all thinking similar things, ‘dance practice will be interesting tomorrow.’

The following day Felix, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, and Wooyoung guiltily waited for the others to arrive. Minho and Jeongin were the first to enter the room. Both members went over to Felix to see how his ankle was. “Hyung, I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt as much today as it did yesterday, and I can move my ankle just fine. It primarily hurts if I try to put weight on it.” Felix demonstrated by rotating his ankle, showing zero discomfort. Minho sighed in relief, as that meant it wasn’t a severe injury.

A few minutes later, a completely oblivious Peniel entered the practice room. Peniel felt the tension as soon as he walked in. “What’s with all the tension? I could cut it with a knife.” Peniel joked before he zeroed in on Felix’ propped up ankle with a set of crutches at his side.

“What happened to Felix?” Peniel asked Minho. Minho shrugged, “Ask him, he slept over with Ateez last night and we got a message from Hongjoong and Wooyoung saying he got hurt and he probably wouldn’t be able to practice for a few days. Peniel looked at Felix, Concern etched on his face.

Felix Sheepishly looked down at his hands as he answered. “Funny you should mention practice. We decided to practice the jump last night at the dorm and my timing was a bit off. When I jumped off the couch, my foot slipped and Wooyoung wasn’t able to catch me.”

“Felix, did you learn nothing from the monkey’s who jumped on the bed?” Peniel asked. Felix chuckled a little at Peniel’s joke. “Nice one, but in my defence, I was jumping off a couch doing a stunt, not jumping on a bed with no regards to my surroundings.” Felix then high fived Peniel, glad that the older wasn’t mad at him. The others were a bit confused at what the two native English speakers were talking about, but decided not to question it in favor of practicing.

The day of the Kingdom performance, Felix’ ankle was almost completely healed. Throughout all the preparation Felix and Wooyoung decided that they were going to do the stunt, even though they hadn’t had as much practice as they would have liked. Felix had been dancing just fine throughout the entirety of the performance, but when it came time for his stunt, he had become nervous and hoped he wouldn’t re-injure his ankle.

As Felix was running across the platform, he hoped with all his might that he would get the timing correct and land safely in Wooyoung’s arms. Unknowingly to Felix, Chan had been watching worriedly in the SKZ waiting room and had actually worriedly said Felix’ name out loud in concern when it came time for the jump. To his, and everyone else’s relief, Felix landed squarely in Wooyoung’s arms. The members of the other three groups didn’t know that Felix did the stunt on an injured ankle and were even more impressed when they found out.

After Mayfly was done with all of their performances, Eunkwang bought ice cream for everyone.

#hurt/comfort #stray kids #ateez #btob #kingdom legendary war #sickfic

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alexandenigtscreations · 3 years

Link

Chapters: ½ Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Teen and up Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Additional Tags: Poisoning, Poison, Heist gone wrong, Peter Nureyev has ADHD, Rita defiantly has ADHD, Nonbinary Juno Steel, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, TPP, Junoverse | Juno Steel Universe Summary:

After Nureyev get’s poisoned on a mission, he’s determined to see it to it’s completion. He and Juno make quite the team after all. Had many thoughts after reading @kaiserkorresponds 's fic ---> [The Celestial's Kiss https://archiveofourown.org/works/31409258 ]. Which apparently has been spinning round and round my head. I do love a good poisioning <3</p>

Chapter 1:

It should have been obvious from the moment the drink hit his lips. The sour bitterness that the burn of poor quality alcohol failed to mask. It should have been obvious. But focused as he was on keeping a straight face; Nureyev found himself swallowing the vial fluid before he could begin to think better of it. He paused, eyes flicking down to the odd shimmer he’d mistaken for ice melt.

That- wasn’t ideal-

He filed deeper thoughts on the subject away in favor of assessing for further threats. The facility crawled with them, from the myriad of security cameras to their flamboyantly garbed host. They were watching a little too closely, a little too carefully. A smile playing across their garish lips.

Nureyev sat back, glancing over at his goddess. A vision in the scarlet A-cut dress. There was a slit running up his thigh, revealing quite a bit of leg and a hint of a holster.

Juno’s own drink, served neat, bore the same tell-tale signs of tampering. The Detective swirled it about his glass, clearly about to throw it back in his usual no nonsense fashion.

That would not due.

With all the coolness Nureyev could muster, he placed a gentle hand over Juno’s cup. His Detective tensed, sending a soft, questioning gaze his way.

“Not very hospitable, spiking a Lady’s drink.”

“What?” Juno pulled back, guard up.

Nureyev’s fingers curled around the glass, taking a moment to weigh his options. He had half a mind to fling it’s contents into the eyes of Jody, the large thuggish man directly across the table. He might even have time to incapacitate Mx. Balsa and get Juno to cover him before reinforcements came. They might even make it out in one piece-

It was tempting, but ultimately would get them nowhere.

They were on a job, after all. If there was any chance of salvaging the situation, that should be their first option. One little computer virus, how hard could it be to plant?

He took the glasses and poured their contents on the floor, the ice shattered on impact.

Mx. Balsa smiled. “Very good Mr. Tillerson. It seems you passed our test.”

“A test. We came to have a civilized discussion, Mx. Balsa.” Nureyev said pointedly, he could still feel the burn of the alcohol in his throat “Not play childish games.”

Mx. Balsa shrugged their narrow shoulders “Childish or no, it’s effective. We don’t let just anyone play with us. I’m sure you understand.”

“Understand?” Juno bristled, “Understand my boot! You try to pull something like that-”

Juno came up short when Nureyev squeezed his thigh; nodding his head graciously, “Naturally. Now are there any other- tests- we should be made aware of or are we free to get down to business.”

Was he imagining it? Or was his stomach already souring?

File it away-

“Down to business!” Juno blurted, “They offered us a spiked cocktail and you want to get back to business?” he sat back, crossing arms over his chest “I say no way. The only people that I know of who spike drinks are scoundrels and cheats. How are we supposed to take them at their word?” At some point the moral outrage in his voice changed into a conversational tone.

Nureyev could have kissed him, if it weren’t for their cover- “My colleague has a point. You’ve tested us, it seems only fair that we should test you.” he gave his best smile, “Perhaps a sample of your information for our technicians to verify.”

“I hardly believe that to be necessary-” said Mx. Balsa. Nureyev knew that they were the sort of person that relied heavily on their reputation. But deals weren’t made on reputation alone.

“Oh? But I do. Unless you are unable to deliver what we discussed?” Nureyev stared into their pale eyes. They didn’t flinch. He waited a beat, then two and still nothing. He stood with a heavy sigh “I believe our business here has concluded then. Mr. Micah.” He offered a hand to Juno, who accepted it.

“Sure Tillerson.”

The pair made to leave. Jody, Mx. Balsa’s companion moved to intercept. Which was effective both for the fact he was so broad of shoulder as to eclipse the door behind him and so tall that even Nureyev felt as though he had to peer up into his face.

Instinctively, Nureyev moved in front of Juno. It was ridiculous, a man that large simply should not be allowed.

“Like I said, there is no need to leave.” Mx. Balsa’s tone did not change, but there was a weight to it now, a tension.

“And why should we stay?” Juno crossed his arms defiantly over his chest.

They surveyed him for a moment. “If it’s information you want, it’s information you will have.” They slid a chip into their comms and made a fuss of downloading a sample. It chirped upon completion and they offered it up with a flourish. “Please, a sample, if you will.”

Nureyev’s eyes flicked from the chip to their host and back. He smiled, accepting it in a cocky, gracious manor that was felt exclusively by his alias.

“Very well, I’ll have our team verify this information. If you would excuse me.” Jody made an intercept but this time Mx. Balsa intervened. A small shake of their head, jewels shimmering in the light. That was a relief. With a nod to Juno, Nureyev slipped out the doors and made a beeline towards the restroom even as he sent the data to Rita.

As much as he wanted to run, he didn’t. He kept his gate easy and posture confident. That changed as soon as he was in the privacy of the privy.

Nureyev bolted to a stall, shoving two fingers down his throat. He gagged and wretched till his eyes watered, jaw cramped and his skull pounded. Bowing lower with each convulsion, clinging to the hope he’d retch up the vial cocktail.

It wasn’t working.

He reached deeper, spayed his fingers further, feeling the bite of his sharp teeth in his hand, nails scraping on the inside of his throat-

Historically, he’d viewed being ill at will as a necessary evil of his trade. A skill, as it were.

One he’d never mastered.

It had landed him in the hospital on an occasion or two.

Try as he might, the only thing he succeeded in doing was ruining his makeup. He gave up, of course he did, there wasn’t a point in driving himself into exhaustion. Yet alone displaying that weakness for the world to see.

There was nothing for it. He would just have to bide his time until they returned to the Carte Blanche.

In all probability, he had time. Brahmese people were particularly resilient to a variety of toxins. Not by some evolutionary fluke, but by design. The planet had always been hostile to its human inhabitants. In all its infinite wisdom, the government, rather than deal with the expensive venture of cleaning the pollutants from living zones, had instead chosen to subsidize gene editing. That was before the war though.

Mag had been so relieved to find Nureyev had inherited the genetic coding. ‘First rule of thieving Pete’ he’d laughed ‘take any advantage you can get!’

Advantage- Nureyev snorted, more like a double edged sword. While it afforded him some protection, it also marked him as distinctly Brahmese.

File it away-

The thought of the Carte Blanche again, of Vespa Ilkay. She was the last person he wanted alerted to the genetic quirk.

File that away too while you’re at it-

Nureyev turned his attention to the vanity. He’d made quite the mess of himself. Lipstick and eyeliner smeared, ropes of various… secretions clinging to his nose and mouth, eyes red and puffy. He frowned at the fine dusting of red circling the tender flesh behind the spectacles. Petechiae- apparently he’d burst a few blood vessels.

Great, just great. All the work he’d put into Tillerson’s visage for naught- file it away.

All the same, he allowed himself a moment of discontent as he began the process of cooling the swelling, washing away the evidence and rework his appearance.

The door swung open, and scarlet filled his periphery.

“God Damnit , there you are- Tillerson-” bless him, they’d practiced using their aliases for a week before the job and Juno was still uncomfortable with them.

“Mr. Micah.” Nureyev returned, blending the concealer under his eyes.

“You were gone for a while-” Juno didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. Nureyev could tell when his Detective was worried. He was fidgeting head to toe, poor thing.

“I decided to visit the powder room while waiting on our team to analyze the data.” he glanced at his comms “The information appeared to check out- And- oh my they seemed to have attempted to sneak in a trojan horse. Rita assures it isn’t a problem but-”

Juno plainly wasn’t listening. He was looking him over with that sharp eye, stepping into his space. “You okay babe?” he breathed, reaching out to smooth a hair back into place and cupping his cheek “your eyes are red.”

Nureyev jumped in surprise. Had Juno even bothered to check for surveillance devices or- People slept with their co-workers all the time, he and Juno were no exception to that rule, but what if they were seen? Found out? Their cover blown! What if-

But no- he trusted the Detective.

He cleared his head gently kissing the lady’s palm. He considered for a moment telling Juno about the poison, but what came out of his mouth instead was “Just some minor irritation, love.” He stepped away, Mr. Tillerson sliding back into place. “I suppose we should return to our hosts.”

“Yeah-"he flashed an uncertain smile. Just don’t go disappearing on me again. Thought they were going to eat me alive or something-”

“We can not have that now, can we?” He returned the smile, trying to exude his usual confidence despite the weakness in his legs. They would have to wrap this up quickly, if the dizziness was anything to go by. Plant the virus and leave.

“You were gone for quite a while Mr. Tillerson.” greeted their host.

“Merely conversing with my associate.” he shrugged, “And you’re in luck, Mx. Balsa. Your information appears to be- genuine.” Nureyev planted a firm hand on the table, as much for balance as it was to return the chip.

“Of course it is, we went through great pains to ensure it to be so.”

“Indeed. I’m sure the origin story would be most interesting but we have a matter to settle. The price.”

They had discussed this before. Mx. Balsa wouldn’t deal with those who didn’t have something interesting to offer. It had taken Buddy and Rita time to figure out their tastes, and even more to fabricate a program. A hacking bot. It wasn’t real of course, the only thing that made it halfway convincing at all was Rita piloting the thing remotely.

“Yes, the price-” they drawled. Nureyev did not take kindly to that tone. “The price just went up.”

Nureyev’s eyebrows crept upwards while Juno bolted upright “Hey now! We agreed to the terms before this even-”

“Micah, please”

“No! So far they’ve tried to poison us and hid a goodie in their sample intel. Now they want more . Hell, they should be paying us for this-”

“Mr. Micah, please. I merely desire to know what it is you hope to accomplish with the information. And to get a taste for your program’s capabilities as you have of my intel.”

Nureyev pretended to consider it, placing a hand on Juno’s knee and tapping out a message, before saying “These appear to be fair terms, however, what I’m wondering is if there are any more hidden fees.”

To say Mx. Balsa was slippery, was an understatement. Nureyev had seen people like them before, knowledge brokers, able to root out and twist any grain of truth to their heart’s desire. This was not someone he wanted to be investigated by. Juno would be a veritable beacon. Public employees were so easy to track-

Mx. Balsa took their time in testing the program. Rita informed them when she’d gotten the virus set up in their system, it didn’t take her long at all. Now they just had to play the wait game. They fained interest in the intel, made up a story to satiate their curiosity and asked enough questions to avoid suspicion. All the while Nureyev could feel his health take a steady trend downwards.

Once or twice he thought they shot him a knowing look as his attention began to wonder, or that Jody was leaning in a little too closely. He tugged at his collar absently, the sweat plastering his shirt to him under the corset. It was hard to gauge if the pressure of the boning was having a positive or negative effect on the nausea. If they knew he’d been poisoned, what would they do? Would they try to revoke their deal? Detain them? Hurt them? Hurt Juno?

He could not let that happen, would not.

Juno squeezed his thigh, startling him out of his thoughts. Mx. Balsa was pushing a new chip towards them, the one with the information they’d spent the better part of a day mulling over. It was encased in a silver embossed box, flashy and probably manufactured to ensure no one could scan its contents.

Nureyev took out his comms once more and clicked it into place. It was all there, Rita checked for them. Thank the stars it wasn’t another test. After all, it would be suspicious if they left with only half the intel.

“I believe that concludes our business.” he smiled, rising gratefully to his feet.

“We’ve kept you so long, won’t you stay for dinner?”

“Dinner my ass.” Juno grumbled for only Nureyev’s ears.

“Didn’t quite catch that-” Mx. Balsa frowned.

“Ohh Sorry, we’ll pass, don’t feel like dying today.” Juno smiled, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Ahh, Pity.”

Nureyev’s laugh was cut short from a stabbing pain in his abdomen. He started again, swaying, hand pressed to his stomach. Certain he’d find blood.

“Everything okay there Mr. Tillerson?”

Glancing down revealed only the pristine pearl embroidery of the corset. No blade, no blood, he was…. fine-

He released his death grip on the chair, quickly filing away that sensation best he could. Their mission was nearly done after all, no need for theatrics now.

“Perfectly.” He smiled wider, displaying sharp teeth. “We’ll show ourselves out.”

Jody made a big show of opening the doors for them so that the muscled chords of his biceps were on full display. They’d just managed to step before slamming it shut at their backs.

The smile Nureyev had been wearing, dissolved into a grimace. He set a brisk, if uneven, pace to the exit.

“Hey- Ran-” Juno groaned “Tillerson! Wait up!” Juno clacked to his side.

“Apologies Micah, I merely-ah!” he stumbled over his feet, Juno caught him in his strong arms.

“Hey- are-are you alright?”

His head was still spinning and there was that question again. He had no desire to deal with it at present. “I-”

“The truth this time.” Juno pressed, ever the persistent Lady.

“Just a tad under the weather-” he admitted.

“Babe, why didn’t you say something-”

“Something I drank. It’s fine love.”

Bone deep tiredness pulled him down. He wanted nothing more than to surrender himself to the arms of his goddess. It would be safe there, warm.

Juno looked like he was going to ask more questions but was interrupted.

A shrill cry tore through the hall. It sounded like Mx. Balsa.

“What the hell?” Juno craned his neck to look. "You don’t think they found it yet?“

"Let’s- not check.” Nureyev entwined his arm with Juno’s, setting up a brisk pace towards the doors. Relying on the Detective as one might a crutch.

There was a wash of hurried footsteps, people shouting, blasters charging- the only thing that made sense was security-

“I believe we’ve overstayed our welcome Detective!” Nureyev said.

“Ya Think!” Juno yelled back, voice cracking from the force of it. Even so- he withdrew a fist full of blaster from the dress slit.

But Nureyev wasn’t focusing on Juno, wasn’t focusing on the escape. Jody was barreling on through the guards, weapon raised and charging and trained on-

“Micah!” He slammed into Juno just as the bolt whizzed past striking another employee. They rotated so that he could serve as Juno’s shield while giving him time to line up a shot. It might have worked too if he’d been a little quicker-

The next thing he knew he was violently ripped from the Detective. A strong, bulky arm wrapped about his throat, crushing it.

Jody-

It had to be, few could make Nureyev’s toes leave the ground. His chest quaked with strain of forcing air in and out of his constricted windpipe. He kicked for purchase, skiving off the panic by attempting to worm his forearm up through the choke hold; the other diving into a pocket for a blade.

“Tillerson!” Juno shouted.

“Important to you isn’t he.” Their voice was surprisingly soft and high for their bulk.

Juno fired two shots beyond them, he must have hit his mark because there was the sound of something hitting the floor.

Jody jerked back, causing stars to burst in front of Nureyev’s vision. Fear clouded his mind, making him claw at the bodyguard. Even so he blindly groped for the familiar curvature of a handle-

“No more of that-” they warned “Or I will be forced to-” but what they’d be forced to do was lost.

Nureyev found a knife amongst the stashed trinkets and baubles, he had just enough wherewithal to mouth ‘ ready- ’ before manically plunging the blade into the brute’s thigh.

They howled, dropping Nureyev. Juno sent a stunner straight to their chest as soon as his partner was clear. The lady darted forwards, catching the thief under arm and hauling farther along the passage. Nureyev, for his part, gulped down air and forced his sluggish legs to take his weight.

They had no choice but to run. Nureyev readied fresh blades, easier to locate now his brain had a proper supply of oxygen. Pressed for time as they were, he couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t recovering like he ought to.

They rounded a corner and “Damn it” Juno hissed, taking in the thick ring of guards round a door “There’s too many-”

Manny there were. But they also appeared green, scared. Nureyev didn’t need three decades of experience reading people to know they could be intimidated.

“Perhaps-” he puffed, flashing a wiry smile. "Let’s see what they are made of.“ It was all the warning he gave before sprinting towards the group.

It was a foolish plan, a desperate one. There were screams and shouts as Nureyev’s blades flashed. He had to give them a little credit, they held ranks far longer than he’d imagined them capable. That all changed with the first spray of blood. Typically he’d aim to wound in Juno’s presence; but with the way his hands shook he was taking any opening that presented itself.

Distantly he could hear the bite of Juno’s words as he called out and could feel his presence joining at his side. The two of them versus the small army of guards. He allowed himself to get caught up in the simple rhythm of the moment.

For the first time since the mission started, Nureyev’s mind cleared. All there was was the ache of his breath, the burn in his limbs and the death defying dance with Juno Steel.

They shot and sliced their way to an opening; clawed a path to the hall, the entrance way and the street beyond and-

Sweet escape-

This - this moment right here, was what Nureyev lived for.

The dizzying rush of the night air spurred the pair on until all sounds of pursuit faded. Despite his long legs and penchant for running, Juno easily kept pace. He could feel it now, the sickness worrying away at him from the inside. He didn’t know how much more he could take before his legs would give out or lungs burst. Still he pushed harder, dug deeper, counting his steps to drown out the complaints of the body.

At long last they stumbled into an ally way; a narrow thing that reeked of misuse.

"Okay- What the Hell!” Juno rounded on Nureyev, eye flashing in the dim light of the dome.

Nureyev swallowed, hardly able to keep his focus on the Detective. The light cardio had left him feeling queasy and weak. Wrong. He supposed poison on an empty stomach would do that to you. Not to mention how tender his throat was after Jody’s mistreatment.

He put a hand to his clammy forehead, swaying a little.

“I thought I was the reckless one,” he lectured “the one that went off half co- babe? Nureyev?!!!”

He’d doubled over, retching earnestly this time. Just as before, there was nothing to bring up- The cruel dry heaves cramped his core and set his eyes watering, legs folding under the crushing weight of it.

“Babe, heyheyhey, hey~ I got you-” strong arms wrapped around him, propping him up, “I’ve got you.” Small circles worked into his back as they waited for it to end.

“S-sorry-” he gasped between convulsions. They didn’t have time for this, they didn’t have time for any of this. Yet here he was endangering Juno with his own ineptitude. “I’m- ss-”

“Ugh-uh, no, you’re not doing that.” Juno cut him off. “Hell, when you said you weren’t feeling good-” Nureyev made to apologize again, but Juno gave a warning “hun”

He slumped against the brickwork, trembling and breathing heavily.

“Done?”

Nureyev gave a non committal hum. It was all he trusted himself to manage.

All the same, a moment was afforded to him to clean up with a moist towelette. Again his makeup was ruined, but he was far from caring. The important thing at present was to leave this city behind.

Juno seemed to be thinking along the same vein. “Think you can stand? Or should I contact Jet?”

“No need for that love.” Nureyev smiled weakly, nausea churning within “Just give me a hand.”

The Detective obliged, neatly entangled their fingers and pulled him along using his comms to navigate. He was mighty grateful for the assistance, between the stomach ache and the weight in his limbs, he was having difficulty remaining upright.

Nureyev eyed the nooks and crannies of the back streets. Had he been alone he’d likely of spent the night curled up in one of those charming locations. Cold and cramped, but out of sight. He sighed, surrendering himself to the guidance of his goddess.

“Hello Ruby.” Nureyev greeted wirily. It chirped in response alerting Jet to their presence. The door swung open of the Ruby’s own volition and the pair slid in. “Jet-”

“Ransom.” Jet acknowledged.

“Hey big guy.”

“Are either of you injured?” he asked, glancing back in the rearview mirror. “I ask because of the blood.”

“Don’t think so. Had to get a little rough on the getaway.” Juno explained glancing down at his gore streaked dress and coat. “Honestly, if we could move out, that would be great. I don’t really fancy meeting up with those nut jobs again.”

Nureyev hummed in agreement. Doing his level best to keep his expression neutral and his breathing measured. He must look a mess judging by the way Jet kept eyeing him.

Turbulence made him gasp as pain blossomed in his abdomen. His composure slipping and rearranging like water. He slouched lower, trying to get some relief-

Juno was talking with Jet, or talking at him more like. Nureyev stopped listening after the first few moments, lulled instead by his Lady’s warm voice and the way it crackled at the edges when he became impassioned. He was just so tired-

Before he knew it, the thief was leaning on the Detective’s shoulder, sinking into his side, bloodshot eyes fluttering shut. Normally he’d be loathed to sleep at the end of a job like some worn out child. But he couldn’t fight anymore.

22 notes · View notes

damienthepious · 3 years

Text

[a small gentle shout] happee lizz kis tues

could stay right here

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Rilla, Sir Damien (but only asleep)

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, Early Relationship, Sleep, Literal Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, (yes two in a row. SUE ME.), Kissing, Singing, Banter

Summary: He isn't used to sharing a bed, just yet.

Notes: this was. supposed to be like... six hundred words, maybe? (sigh). enjoyy????? I hope? I don't know why i'm suddenly obsessed with Early Relationship One-Shots, but!!! apparently I am??? Heck. Title from the song Cement and Sunshine by Morningsiders!

Arum jerks awake as the bed shifts, a flash of panic gripping his lungs and squeezing-

Attack, he thinks, and then, won't let anyone hurt them. How- who-

Amaryllis.

She makes some small noise, presses her hands against his collarbone on either side, firm and sturdy, and he manages to suck in a breath that does not feel so strangled.

"Sorry," she says, her voice a breathy whisper by his ear as her hands keep him anchored, her thumbs rubbing soothing arcs against his scales. "Sorry, sorry- didn't mean to-"

Arum remembers. Remembers Damien curled against his left arms. He remains an unbothered, unconscious weight as Arum becomes aware of him again, and he remembers Amaryllis waving them off to bed before returning to her pile of five or six books and her recorder, an unmoveable fountain of determination, remembers awkwardly managing to ask- to ask that she join them, when she at last reached a stopping point, remembers her small, fond, knowing smile-

"It- it's- it's alright," he manages in a hiss, lifting one of his hands to curl around her wrist. "I'm alright. I-"

She leans back in the dark, beginning to draw away, and the panic moves, squeezing his heart instead. He grips her wrist more tightly, still careful of his claws despite his muddled awareness.

"Wait," he whispers, and the only reason he does not lean up to follow her is because he refuses to risk waking Damien beside him. "Don't- don't leave, I-"

She stills, and though he knows it is too dark for her vision she looks towards his voice, blinking against the black. She rests her weight on him again, her palms warm on his chest.

"I'm not leaving," she says, very gently. "It's alright, I promise. Let me just grab the blanket, that's all."

Arum has the sense that he should bristle at that, at her gentleness, her comforting tone, but his heart hasn't slowed yet, and his relief is too large to deny. He makes a noise, hopefully enough of an affirmative for her to interpret, and then he releases her wrist so she can lean back and gather the sheets from where he and Damien must have kicked them in their sleep.

She tugs them up over her shoulder and settles against his side with a small sigh, arranging the cloth to cover him as well, and then she leaves one hand over his heart, brushing slowly up and down.

He tries to slow himself down, to settle, to match his breaths to the motion of her hand, and after a few heartbeats it starts to come more easily.

"I'm sorry," Amaryllis says again, her voice a careful whisper. "I didn't mean to surprise you."

His chest rumbles quietly, a helpless almost-growl, and then he cautiously curls his arm around her, pulling her just the littlest bit closer. "I didn't mean to surprise you," he echoes, low and uncertain. "Jolting awake like that."

"You aren't used to this," she says. "It's okay."

"Used to-" he cuts off, frowning, trying to focus on not letting his rattling growl grow loud enough to wake Damien as well.

"This," she says, her palm pressing down on his scales. "This," she repeats, and then she presses her lips so, so gently to the scales at the crook of his neck.

Arum freezes for half a second, and then his body relaxes all at once, as if she has cast a spell over him with her kiss alone.

She isn't wrong, of course. It had been difficult enough for him to slip into slumber in the first place. Damien had positioned himself draped along Arum's side with a sigh and a kiss and Arum had laid utterly, exquisitely still until the poet drifted to unconsciousness, and then for what felt like rather a long time afterward. When sleep did find him, it must have been a rather fragile thing, considering how easily and violently it broke at Amaryllis' entrance.

"I... I suppose..."

"I mean, I get it. It took me a long time to get used to sharing a bed with Damien, actually," she says, her tone mild, and Arum blinks, glancing down at her musing expression.

"Why?" He frowns, unable to imagine a time- unable to imagine the pair of them at all separate, at all misaligned. They fit together so easily, without any apparent effort, enough so that at times he can hardly believe there was a time he did not know how intertwined they are.

"Because I was too used to sleeping on my own?" Her mouth curls, almost wry, as she traces nonsense shapes on his scales with the tip of her pointer finger. "I spent a long time alone in my hut, and even when I found people to fool around with I didn't usually spend the night. And I'm a really light sleeper in the first place, so it was a big change for me." She shifts slightly, readjusting the arc of his arms curled around her. "He rolled over onto me once, like, the third night we spent together, and I woke both of us up socking him in the nose."

Arum snorts, then holds his breath to keep from cackling a proper laugh. He gulps in a breath after a moment, feeling Amaryllis smiling against his shoulder, and he controls his voice carefully low as he responds. "A rather rude awakening for the poor knight, Amaryllis."

"I know," she rolls her eyes. "I felt awful about it, but- you know Damien. He apologized almost as many times as I did. Dummy."

Arum's heart does something unhelpful and twisting beneath the warmth of Amaryllis' palm, and he buries some rather embarrassing thoughts about the spun-sugar sweetness of their poet before he shakes his head.

"Completely absurd," he mumbles, and then, because he knows Amaryllis cannot see him do so, he tilts his head enough to press his snout gently to Damien's curls. Not quite a kiss by their human measures, but... he feels warmer, regardless, when Damien shifts almost imperceptibly closer at the contact.

"What I mean is..." she tilts her head, kissing his jaw this time. "It's alright. It's alright if it takes a while for you to adjust to things, or- or if you decide eventually that you'd rather not share a bed at all, for actually sleeping. That's fine too, that's an answer that's on the table."

"Don't be foolish," Arum grumbles, resisting the urge to tighten his grip. She's as close as she could possibly be, he reasons. The instinct to pull her closer regardless is nonsense. "I want- I would much rather-"

"I just want you to know that you don't have to do anything just because you feel like you should, that's all."

Arum presses his lips together, torn between gratefulness and indignation, and then he sighs. "I appreciate the... the effort towards clarity. It is not that I don't want the both of you here, beside me, though. I only... I cannot seem to... I am rather vividly aware of you. It is difficult to find rest, while my mind... lingers upon you."

"Ah," she breathes something like a laugh. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"I want you here," he says, trying to round off any ambiguity on that subject, and her breath flutters with another subtle laugh. "Clearly I managed sleep eventually. I'll do so again, I'm certain."

"Well," she says, her voice tilting breathier, richer, more warm with sleep, "if you're certain. Saints know I'm too tired to get antsy about it anyway."

With each moment, her weight settles more heavily against him, a more-than-welcome echo of the pressure of Damien's body on his other side, and he feels heavier as well as her breathing begins to slow. She'll drag him down into slumber with her, he thinks muzzily, and he can't suppress a subtle purr as her fingers continue to trace light, tingling lines on the scales above his heart.

"Just want you to be comfortable," she murmurs, and then she closes her eyes, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. "You don't get enough sleep. And yeah, yeah, I'm a hypocrite, before you even say anything."

He cuts off his retort before it begins, chuckling low, and he must truly be half asleep again already, because his next words come before he can think better of them, and he is halfway through his next murmuring sentence before he realizes that he is speaking.

"I can't understand how much you both... how..."

Amaryllis waits, drawing her fingers over his scales slowly, slowly, her eyes closed, but eventually when he fails to continue she makes a humming, questioning noise against his shoulder.

Arum swallows, shoring up his nerve since he has already begun to speak- he may as well say this now, while Damien sleeps soundly in his arms and Amaryllis cannot see whatever look is on his face.

"I cannot understand... how much trust you place in me. To... to sleep like this. It feels so... you are so vulnerable, Damien out of his armor, and you- it is so hard to- to understand- to reconcile that- that vulnerability and- to settle my own mind, while you both lie helpless and sleeping beside me. I want to pr- I can't- I cannot shake my awareness of your breathing, your heartbeats, and-"

Her hand stills above his heart; he wonders dizzily if she can feel the way it beats, faster with each passing word. He feels ridiculous- of course he does, he can hardly unravel his own thoughts while they still tangle, only half drawn into his waking mind, and he cannot even say if any of this coalesces into something that makes sense.

She turns in the darkness, unseeing, aiming her face towards his own, and then she trails her hand up from his chest, up his throat until she finds his jaw, the curve of his cheek, and then she turns his face towards her own. Ridiculous, he thinks fondly, since she still, obviously, cannot see him, but then she- she angles his head, presses a kiss against his mouth, and then she tilts both of their heads until their foreheads press together.

"You... you're saying you can't fall asleep because you're worried- you're worried about us? About- making sure we're safe."

"I don't-" Arum swallows roughly, nervously, his breath clicking at the base of his throat. "I don't know. I don't know what- what worries me, truly. I know- here in the Keep I know- obviously we are safe, but-"

Amaryllis kisses him again, gentle and warm in the dark, a tender press of lips against scales until his heart slows. She tips their foreheads together again, bites her lip, exhales a long sigh, and then she smiles so, so terribly softly with her palm caressing his cheek.

"And here I was worrying that you couldn't sleep because you weren't used to being so vulnerable," she whispers, and Arum resists the urge to flare his frill in embarrassment. "You- Saints. I- fuck, I could say so many different things right now, but I feel like every single one would embarrass you. I-"

Arum clamps his mouth shut, shrugs very gently with the shoulder beneath Amaryllis, and then he risks nuzzling forward again, gratified when she graces him with another kiss. "Save it for the morning, then," he murmurs. "You can embarrass me plenty when Damien is awake to make that precious wide-eyed expression about it."

Amaryllis shakes with silent laughter against him for a moment, kisses him one more time, and then resettles at his side with a warm, contented sigh.

"Do you think you'll be able to sleep again?" she whispers, her breath tickling at the crook of his neck. "I'd hate to think that I..."

"I'm certain that I'll manage, Amaryllis."

"I can... I could sing for you. If you want me to."

Arum glances towards her, a little surprised by the hesitant note in her voice, the hint of something like shyness. "You..." he pauses, swallows, thinks better of simply announcing how utterly enthralling he is by her voice in song. "That would not wake our little knight, you don't think?" he hedges instead.

"I can sing quietly," she complains, her lips drawing together into something like a pout, her nose wrinkling almost too adorably to stand. "And besides, our little knight sleeps like a fucking rock, anyway." She curls closer towards him, nuzzling her nose into his neck, beside his frill with a sleepy growl. "Do you want a lullaby or not?

"Well..." Arum trails off, taking a moment to force the breathlessness out of his own voice. "Well. If my choices while in bed with you are a song or a punch in the nose, I certainly won't complain about the former-"

She gasps, scowls in mock offense and swats at his side as he bites back the urge to chuckle, and then she settles her hand over his heart again, pressing down.

"Oh you just wait, you complete brat-"

"Are you going to sing or not, little doctor?"

"Hush," she growls, pressing her face into his neck. "Hush up and I will. Absolute brat."

Arum breathes another laugh, helpless against it, and then he settles, and after a moment her fingers start drumming a little pattern against his scales. With the rhythm of his heart, he realizes, and then a moment later she begins to sing, soft and husky and mostly breath, close against his neck.

He doesn't expect it to work, truly. She is so present, they both are, his awareness of their heat and their proximity such a vivid tether in his mind, impossible to ignore. Her song, her voice- everything about her is ethereal, stunning, gorgeous, of course, but he does not expect that even that could draw him down, pinned between their fragile resting bodies.

In the morning, though, he will not even remember the second verse.

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #aaaaaaaaaaaaa

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cloudyskywars · 3 years

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The Magnus Archives, Season 2

Hello again. I’ve now finished listening to Season 2 of TMA and have lost my mind. @reese-haleth can confirm. After Season 1 I wrote my “statement” regarding my thoughts on the season. I’ve done it again, even though no one asked lol. Listen, I just love this podcast a lot, okay? Enjoy my 2,000 word report on Season 2 of The Magnus Archives.

Statement below the cut.

Continued statement of CloudySkyWars and her experiences listening to the second season of The Magnus Archives. Statement originally given 28th April, 2021.

I… don’t really know where to begin. It has now been a full day since I finished Season 2, and I still don’t quite know what to think. So many things were revealed in the season finale, and throughout the season in general. I don’t quite know what to do with all the new information I have now. In rereading my previous statement, I was right to be nervous for Jon. I didn’t think it was possible, but his situation got worse.

Let’s start with an easier- well, not easier- but more approachable topic I suppose? Sasha is gone. I think I’ve known that from the end of last season, when her voice changed abruptly and no one seemed to notice. Her scream as she was eaten, or taken, or whatever it was, was terrible. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected her to come back from something like that. Still, it hurts me to know that she’s truly gone.

We now know more about the being that took Sasha. I’m still not sure what it is called exactly, but for now I shall refer to it as the Not Being. It has apparently been around for ages; hundreds, possibly thousands of years. As it said itself, it wears the person that it chooses as its victim. It transforms into them, for lack of better word, except it changes its appearance, yet somehow tricks everyone into believing that that is how the person has always appeared. Well, almost everyone. It is odd how there always appear to be one or two people that the being cannot fool. In the case of Graham, it was his neighbor across the street. In the case of Sasha, it was Melanie, the ghost hunter. As Gerturde Robinson said, it is strange that a being that has the power to assume someone’s identity and change pictures and hundreds of people’s memories somehow misses just a few people that remember who the person was at first. I do not know for sure, but perhaps those that it cannot fool are somehow protected by another one of the Beings.

That’s another difficult topic. The Beings. I don’t know exactly what to call them yet. Jon has slowly been putting the pieces together, and with the statement of the now late Jurgen Leitner, the pieces form an almost complete puzzle. From my understanding, there are 10 Beings so far that we are aware of at this time.

Here is my understanding of the Beings so far. I don’t know how correct any of this is, but I know I still have much to learn.

Being 1: Darkness. The form of darkness incarnate, responsible for the founding of the cult The People’s Church of the Divine Host. It can dim lights, and also affect the water when it is near. The head of the cult in the 1990s was one Maxwell Reiner.

Being 2: Michael, aka The Spiral. It lies. This Being appears to be a master of deception and trickery, and has no regard to others except to watch them in its tortured games. I will discuss Michael further, but right now we know the appearance it chooses to take at this time: a tall man with curly blonde hair and bulbous, swollen hands.

Being 3: Meat. I do not know much about this being at this time. It appears to be vicious, and quite literally thirsts for blood and meat.

Being 4: Fire. Again, my knowledge on this particular being is limited. I believe it to be closely tied to Agnes Montague, and perhaps be an enemy of the Not.

Being 5: Not. As I stated before, this being takes the identity of its victim and warps it, manipulating almost everyone’s minds to forget the original form of the person ever existed. It always seems to miss a few though. Its one weakness seems to be the wooden table that Jon has now destroyed. Jon was under the impression that the Not got its power from the table, but the opposite was true. The table was binding it, and for a bit it seemed as though the Not had almost unlimited power, taunting Jon in the tunnels. But I’m getting ahead of myself. The Not can trick photos and people’s minds, but appears to be unable to alter voice recordings of the victim as long as it is recorded on magnetic tape. This is how Jon realized that Sasha was indeed Not Sasha, as he found the tapes from Season 1 where her voice was recorded. It also seems to be unable to alter polaroid photos.

Being 6: Abyss. We don’t know much about this one yet, either. It takes the form of some abyss or another, whether it be the sky or the deep blue ocean. I am not ashamed to say that this Being is one of the scariest for me.

Being 7: Giant- I feel this is a poor descriptor for this being, but it is the best I can come up with at the moment. It is exactly as it sounds; a giant. So far we have primarily seen it manifest as a giant hand. Perhaps that would be a better name for it. Hand.

Being 8: Thin- This is, I fear, not an accurate description of this Being. It is described as being tall and thin, with limbs like knives. Not much is known about him at the moment, however we believe that his “brother” of sorts was the werewolf creature from a previous statement.

Being 9: The End- The Being of death and disease. I strongly suspect that this is the being responsible for Jane Prentiss, as well as John Amehurst, who has shown up multiple times so far in the series.

Being 10: Eye, aka the Beholder- This Being is in control of The Magnus Institute, and ‘owns’ all those who work there. The Eye watches people, as its name suggests. It also apparently protects those it owns from the other beings, and the protections are strongest in The Institute itself.

I hope that the Darkness has mostly gone away, for now. Basira claims that Maxwell Reiner, the head of The People’s Church of the Divine Host, is now dead. Hopefully this means that the Darkness will have less influence over this world for the time being. At least until it can find another host.

And that’s another thing. Basira. We were just introduced to the character this season, and already I am very attached to her. It disappoints me that she has left the police force and will no longer be able to help Jon, but I do not believe we have seen the last of her. Her leaving the police opens the door for her to help Jon more in the future, especially now that he is on the run for murder. I will… discuss that more deeply later. Basira’s introduction also caused us to meet Daisy, who I quite like at the moment, but I feel that will change quickly as she is the one investigating Leitner’s murder and will most likely be leading the manhunt for Jon. For the moment though, she is in my good graces.

Daisy’s first statement talked about her first encounter with a paranormal experience. It dealt with the coffin from the statement of Joshua Gillespe. The moving company, Breekon and Hope, is not gone. I don’t think it ever will be. I do not yet know which Being they are associated with, if any, but they have caused problems in the past and I have cause to believe they will continue to cause problems in the future.

Now for the difficult part: Jon. He is in quite the predicament right now, and I am scared to see what will happen to him. He is on the run for murder, because Elias Bouchard brutally murdered Jurgen Leitner and has now framed Jon for it. Elias had me fooled. I thought he cared about Jon, about all of them. But he is clearly dedicated to the Eye, and anything that threatens the Beholder and what it watches, holds, and owns- Elias will stop at nothing to protect it. I do not know if Elias is a paranormal being himself or is simply an instrument of the Eye.

I desperately hope that Jon will be alright. I think, (though I could be wrong), that he will reach out to Basira and ask for her help. Season 2 has developed outside characters more so than Season 1, and I believe it is so that Jon has connections that he can reach out to. With Basira leaving the police force, it opens the possibility that he can go to her for help. The same is true with Melanie. She and Jon have something that could almost be considered a friendship, though most of their conversations end in a verbal sparring match or fight. Nonetheless, Melanie was heading to India, and Jon was aware of that. Perhaps he will go to her for assistance, or maybe he will wise up and realize that Martin actually cares about him and ask him for help. We shall see.

Gerturde Robinson is another character we have learned more about this season. She is hardly the absent minded old woman we were led to believe she was. In the beginning, Jon complained about her lack of organization in the Archives, but now I think there was a reason for it. She put the pieces together, and was murdered for it. She was trying to separate the pieces, to make it safe for whoever took her place, as well as attempting to fool Elias into thinking she didn’t know what was going on. She failed at that, as he discovered her knowledge and murdered her in the tunnels beneath the Archives. It was also revealed that she was working with Jurgen Leitner.

Leitner has been mentioned since the beginning, though we heard from him for the first and last time in the final two episodes of Season 2. Contrary to my assumptions, he was not making his books evil, simply trying to harness the power they already possessed. I am thankful that he saved Jon from the Not Being, as Jon would have surely died had Leitner not interfered. He is very knowledgeable in paranormal matters, and did his best to explain it to Jon. However he was murdered by Elias before he had a chance to explain all he wished to. Leitner claims that the books are the Beings in their purest form, and I am certain we have not seen the last of the books from Leitner’s extensive library.

Martin and Tim surely think that Jon murdered Leitner. I hope that Martin at least will continue to have faith in Jon, and that he will possibly find the supplemental tapes that Jon had been recording and realize what was actually happening. Only time will tell, though.

Another Being that we learned more about this season was Michael. He was first introduced to us by Sasha (the real one), back in season 1. At the time, it was portrayed as either a passive or helpful Being, showing Sasha how to kill the worms that came from the thing once known as Jane Prentiss, but this season has proved that not to be the case. Michael has trapped people multiple times, (notably Helen Richardson), and has since shown more aggression than before. It stabbed Jon, who then proceeded to lie about his wound because he didn’t trust his coworkers. To its credit, in the second to last episode of Season 2, Michael helps Jon get a head start from the Not Being after Jon accidentally sets it free. However it then proceeds to trap Martin and Tim in one of its corridor labyrinths for days in some sort of sick game for its enjoyment, and comments that it may also kill them. Luckily it either failed or changed its mind. Time will tell whether or not the Being that calls itself Michael will be more of a friend or foe.

I suppose that’s it, really. There are surely many things that I have forgotten, but I have done the best I can to document my thoughts and my knowledge of The Magnus Archives at this time. I don’t know all that is going on, I don’t know how things will be resolved. I don’t even know if the mystery will be fully solved. But I desperately hope that things will be explained, that we will receive answers, and that the mystery will be solved. It has to be. I don’t know what I’ll do if it’s not.

Statement ends.

#if you read all the way to the end i love you #that was a lot #i just have a lot of thoughts about this podcast #tma #the magnus archives #TMA spoilers #the magnus archives spoilers #TMA season 2 #cloudy listens to TMA #my statement #i just want jon to be HAPPY is that too much to ask #time will tell

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iffeelscouldkill · 3 years

Text

this is the place that they pull you to

A/N: I would say “my hand slipped” but this actually took me like a week to write xD

This is a post-season 2 episode 1 fic, so, here be spoilers! Basically I was talking to @dragonsthough101 about how I was expecting more emotional fallout on McCabe’s end from all of the conflict and tensions in episode 1 and the putdowns from Arkady, and while I’m sure we will get that in the podcast, it also occurred to me that I could... write that :D and thus *flourishes hands*

Title is taken from Wires by Savlonic, because I was listening to it and I realised it’s actually a very good song for RJ, both under the Regime and after. And now I earworm myself whenever I work on this fic xD

---

Once the door to RJ’s room on the Iris II has slid shut behind them and the red ‘lock’ light has engaged, they let out a shaky breath.

Then, only then, do they allow their lower lip to tremble.

RJ shuffles over to the bed – more like a cot really, but that’s long-haul space travel for you – and drops down onto it. Park’s words from earlier are looping inside their head. “I hope you’re right. But honestly, in this moment, McCabe? I’m glad we don’t have to find out.”

RJ lets out another shaky breath that’s closer to a sob, and blinks back the tears that are forming in their eyes. It doesn’t completely work, and a couple escape and track down their cheeks. RJ smears them away with the palm of their hand. “Get a grip, McCabe,” they mutter angrily to themself. Sure, they might be alone in their room right now, but they know better than to feel like it’s safe to relax or let go. Someone could be by any minute to check on them, or there might be a situation that requires all crew members to come to the mess hall, or the cockpit, and then how will RJ explain their red eyes and wrung-out demeanour?

It’s not safe to let their guard down. It hasn’t been for weeks. Even around Park, the one person on this vessel RJ knows they can trust, RJ feels – off-kilter, like they’re lagging a step behind everything. RJ is still trying to get used to not addressing him as “Agent”, to figure out what they can and can’t say now, to navigate their new relationship. As friends – but are they friends? Does Park even like RJ, outside of the context of them working together under the Republic?

It seems uncharitable to think, and RJ and Park had always had a good relationship as colleagues – they hadn’t been close, and Park had seemed pretty inscrutable to RJ at first, but then they’d got used to his way of working and communicating. Figured out how to make him crack a smile. Drawn some praise from him, even, and realised that underneath everything he was a caring person, and a good boss.

But RJ had also thought – been sure – that Park was loyal to the Republic, so how well did they really know him? Know this Park? And Park has been treating them… warily, especially these past few days. Not coldly or poorly, but a little bit at arm’s length. Like he isn’t sure what they might do. Like he doesn’t trust them, even though RJ trusts Park totally – to the point where they were willing to throw over their whole career, everything they’d worked so hard for, and follow him onto the Iris II.

Granted, they also hadn’t had a lot of other options at that time, but RJ still isn’t sure they would have made the same decision if Park hadn’t been there.

And yet here they both are, and Park is already a fixture in the cockpit, watching the controls when Tripat- when Sana or Krejjh needs a break, having apparently built up some experience as a co-pilot for long-haul transports after serving in the military (yet another thing that RJ didn’t know about him). And he’s comfortable enough with the crew to be on bantering terms with them, to suggest plans involving decommissioned government satellites. Whereas RJ…

“Cram it, McCabe!”

RJ’s lip trembles again, this time in earnest. And RJ would like to pretend that these are angry tears, or frustrated or indignant tears, but they’re really not. RJ wants to be angry, to stand their ground and fire back and give as good as they get and somehow manage to verbally earn the others’ respect; to be seen as a person instead of a suspect or a liability. But they’ve struck the wrong chord every time. RJ is sick of the awkward tension every time they’re in the room; sick of Arkady’s prickly snappishness and Sana’s increasingly weary peacemaking; sick of the unspoken communication between the crew that they can’t parse.

It doesn’t help to realise that the crew must have got practiced at that during the weeks they spent evading the IGR’s scrutiny before they made landing on New Jupiter. At least Park could say he hadn’t been there by that point. But McCabe had, headphones on, straining to parse something from every off-handed comment, every loaded silence.

Park wasn’t there because he was being tortured in Zone Z, McCabe thinks, and abruptly feels sick. Sick at the thought, and sick of themself for – not thinking, for even considering for a split second that Park might be somehow better off. After being imprisoned, cut off from his friends and family, tortured and maimed by a government he’d spent years of his life serving.

The same government that he believes RJ was thinking of selling them out to.

This realisation steals the breath from RJ’s lungs with a whoosh, and all of a sudden they don’t feel sick, or indignant, or hurt – they just feel cold.

RJ hadn’t been able to explain to Park in the moment exactly what they’d been thinking by withholding the information about the Fowleys being bugged and monitored (because of course they were). When the ‘offer’ from Jay Fowley had first come through, the crew hadn’t been desperate enough to seriously consider it, and by the time they were… well, they’d been on the verge of figuring things out anyway. And RJ had been feeling angry, and vindictive, and not in the mood to volunteer anything that would aid the crew; not when doing that had got them into this mess in the first place.

And maybe in the back of their mind, a voice had been whispering that they should keep their options open. It’s a voice that gets louder in the dark, when RJ is lying awake on their bunk, unable to sleep for replaying those moments in the corridor, the way that it felt like the ground was falling out from under them as Goodman denounced them and Park as defectors. It gets louder whenever RJ clashes with Arkady, whenever they catch uncertain glances from the other crew members, whenever RJ wanders the corridors of this godforsaken claustrophobic ship and realises that this is it now. This is their whole life.

But they never thought about how that might look to Park. It’s like in RJ’s head there are somehow two Republics: the one that would be capable of doing such horrible things to Park – to any person, much less one who hadn’t been demonstrably proven guilty – and the one that RJ had dedicated their career to serving, that they had believed was just and good and right.

RJ wants to find him and apologise, to try and explain, to share some of the fears and secret thoughts that have been curdling on the back of their tongue these past weeks.

But Park told them to get some rest, and RJ has enough awareness to realise that there’s a much higher chance of the conversation turning out well if they sleep a while first. So, reluctantly, RJ toes off their shoes and shrugs off their vest, and wriggles underneath the taut blanket attached to the bunk.

Either they’ve reached some kind of peace with themself or they’re more exhausted than they realised, because sleep overtakes them in minutes.

---

RJ is woken by a knocking at the door: light and tentative at first, and then firmer and louder. As always, it takes a moment for their brain to catch up with their surroundings: the hard bunk beneath them, followed by the bare walls of their room, still unadorned (RJ wasn’t exactly carrying any personal belongings when they fled CUI Headquarters, and the ship hadn’t made any stops since. Not that RJ knows what they would put in their room anyway. There hadn’t been much to leave behind on New Jupiter). RJ sits up and rubs an arm across their eyes, then goes to answer the door.

It’s Violet. RJ clamps down on the reflexive urge to say something like, ‘Did you draw the short straw?’, or maybe, ‘Did they send you to manage me?’ Violet doesn’t look like she’s here under duress, and to RJ’s memory, she’s not a particularly good actor.

“Hi,” they say instead.

“Hi,” Violet replies with a little smile. There’s always a weird dissonance – though RJ would never, ever bring this up – that comes from hearing the voices of the Rumor crew come out of the mouths of actual people instead of a recording. “How did you sleep?”

“Uh…” RJ thinks back, and is surprised to find that the answer is ‘well’. They actually feel… slightly refreshed. “Fine.” Belatedly, they tack on, “Thank you.”

“That’s good to hear.” Violet smiles again. She’s never been unfriendly to RJ, but these past several days, she’s seemed more on edge, more prone to sarcastic retorts, less willing to make peace between them and Patel- Arkady. RJ had believed that her patience was slowly fraying, that like the rest of the crew, she was only willing to put up with the new additions to the ship for a certain amount of time and that she’d stop pretending before long. But now, taking in Violet’s looser posture, the way some of the lines around her eyes and mouth have eased, RJ realises it had never had anything to do with them. Violet had been worried about the supplies. About her… medical emergency.

Speaking of supplies… “Did Park tell you what we wanted to add to the list?” RJ asks, figuring they’d better add a bit of verisimilitude to the excuse that Park had used to speak to RJ alone.

Violet’s smile widens. “He did. I definitely agree about replenishing our coffee supplies – though, I don’t know what kind of quality you’re used to, because I should warn you that the black market kind – the affordable black market kind, anyway – is pretty bad. We get non-freeze-dried coffee whenever we can, but out here…” Violet shrugs as if to say, ‘Beggars can’t be choosers’.

RJ manages to suppress a wince at the term “black market”. This is your life, now, RJ, they remind themself for the thousandth time. “That’s okay. The stuff in the IGR breakrooms was basically dreck. I can drink pretty much anything.” RJ is no coffee lover, but they drink it for the caffeine. Pretty much everyone in the Republic has a caffeine addiction or develops one at some point – no way to get through eighteen-hour shifts without it.

Violet chuckles a little. “It was always the same at my lab internships. I guess bad breakroom coffee is pretty universal.”

RJ recognises that she’s trying to bond with them by referencing shared experiences of working for the Republic. It’s not the first time she’s done it. But RJ still has trouble seeing their circumstances as equivalent.

Violet is – had been – a scientist, not an Agent; not one of the IGR’s most loyal, tasked with the defence of the Republic. She’d never had access to classified briefings; hadn’t dedicated her life to tracking down and apprehending insurgent forces. And given that the Rumor crew had deceived her into entering the cryo chamber, she could argue that she’d been duped – and had only co-operated in order to save her own life. Well, the argument would hold water up until Elion, anyway.

It wasn’t the same.

The silence hangs for a few moments, before RJ prompts her, “Did you want to… ask me something?”

“Sorry, yes – I came to tell you that dinner’s ready and uh, we’re about to eat in the mess hall if you’d like to join us.” Violet smiles again, with a touch of nervousness this time. No doubt she’s expecting a caustic brush-off.

“Is it veggie stew?” RJ can’t help asking, with a slight nose wrinkle. They’re expecting a rebuke from Violet, some kind of warning about being grateful for what they have, but instead she laughs.

“Unfortunately. On the bright side, though, it’s only for a couple more days and then we’ll be able to have actual flavourings again.”

RJ almost smiles, and is surprised when they catch themself. And – they were going to decline, make an excuse about continuing their nap, because they’re still feeling off-kilter and they doubt that Arkady will be thrilled to be spending time in close quarters with them so soon, but – they think about Park’s talk with them in the hallway. About how they’ve spent the past few weeks dodging any kind of connection with the rest of the crew, anything that will put them past, in RJ’s mind, the point of no return – and where exactly that’s got them.

“Sure,” says RJ. “Just let me, uh…”

They put a hand up to their hair, realising that it must be sticking up in all directions after their nap. Short hair is gratifyingly easy to take care of, but it sure does have interesting ideas about gravity.

“I have a comb you can borrow, if you need it?” Violet offers.

“It’s fine,” RJ declines automatically. “Park-”

They catch themself, wondering why it feels like such a concession to accept even this tiny piece of help from someone other than Park. They think about their bare room, empty of any personal possessions.

“I’m okay right now,” they say slowly. “But… is it too late to add something to the shopping list?”

Violet blinks, clearly surprised, and then smiles brightly. “Not at all.”

---

Five minutes later, hair tamed and clothes straightened, RJ makes their way towards the mess hall, which adjoins the kitchen. They haven’t spent much time in here so far – there’d been a couple of communal dinners at first, which quickly gave way to the reality of shifts ending at disparate times and the need to simply grab food however and whenever people could, something RJ had been grateful for.

Once, on their way to the kitchen, they’d walked in on Violet and Arkady having what looked like a picnic at the table in the centre of the room, just the two of them. That had been awkward for everyone. Since then, RJ has taken to finding their food and snacks at times when they know most of the crew are otherwise occupied.

Everyone else is already there and making more noise than you would think a group of six people could generate. Brian is in the kitchen, ladling bland servings of stew into the uniform polypropylene bowls that they’d found stacked inside the cupboards. Krejjh stands next to him, loudly enthusing about the virtues of the stew to anyone within earshot. Violet and Sana are waiting to be served, while Arkady – who has just been handed a full bowl by Brian – rolls her eyes and makes sarcastic comments as she carries it through to the mess hall. There, Park is sitting in one of the bolted-down chairs, watching the whole scene with a slightly raised eyebrow and waiting, if RJ had to guess, for the general hubbub to die down before he goes to get his food.

RJ pads over and slides into the chair on the same side as Park’s good eye. Park turns his head slightly, giving them a quick once-over, almost too brief to catch. “Hi,” he says quietly. “How was your nap?”

RJ hesitates over what to say. “It helped,” they reply. “Park, can we… talk? After dinner?”

The tiniest of frowns creases Park’s forehead. “Sure,” he says. “Everything all right?”

RJ nods, drumming their fingers on the tabletop and meeting Violet’s gaze as she comes over to sit next to Arkady, giving RJ a friendly smile. They don’t quite return it, but… it’s not as unwelcome as it would have been, before.

“Yeah,” they say to Park. “It’s fine.”

#TSCOSI #The Strange Case of Starship Iris #TSCOSI spoilers #RJ McCabe #Jin Seon Park #Violet Liu #Starship Iris Season 2 #ficlet #did I write *another* fic about RJ adjusting to life on the Iris II without a hint of irony?#yes yes I did #but I swear I haven't forgotten about the original! Chapter 5 is coming!#I have not abandoned it even though I am apparently writing two coda ficlets for every episode that comes out #also I need to write fic for TSCOSI week *sweats*#and I just signed up for the Podcast Big Bang #this is fine #anyway it was interesting exploring the differences between this RJ and the RJ I characterise in Adjusting #because obviously they're very different and I hope that came across #but in both iterations I do think Violet would be the one to reach out first #because despite what McCabe thinks she *can* relate #I did ponder having Sana be the one to come to RJ's room and I think she would also do that #but I'm just here banging my little Violet & RJ friendship drum #I feel like Arkady came off a little badly in this but it's just RJ's perspective #they obviously don't get along right now but I am confident they will be best frenemies later #and have badass team-ups in the field

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