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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

Text

Book Drop Boy (Twice x Reader)

✧ pairing: library student worker!Twice x afab!student!Reader

✧ word count: 9.9k

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, maladaptive daydreaming (twice), twice is chaotic af, commits library related crimes, use of the term sweetheart a few times, smut, vaginal fingering/sex, doggy style, afab terms, no pronouns for reader, gratuitous swearing this is potentially the softest thing I've ever written, like she's pretty tame idk what Twice does to me

✧ summary: In which Twice learns that sometimes dreams do come true, except those dreams are just the maladaptive fantasies of a broke library receptionist and, while sexy, also involve more fraud than he expected.

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, this is set in the same universe as my shiggy college piece, but you don't need to have read that. There are some fun little easter eggs though if you have tho. This is like the most tame thing I've ever written and it's way longer than it was meant to be but oh well. Anyway, Twice deserves some love. Enjoy <3

Logically, Jin was aware you probably had no idea who the fuck he was.

But that really didn’t have any effect on the wildly intricate fantasy life he had created for the two of you during his long shifts behind the library reception desk. That, in fact, was the only reason he hadn’t up and quit just to save himself the embarrassment of another loud outburst in the middle of the most silent place on campus.

What was truly more shocking was the fact that none of those said outburst had gotten his ass kicked straight out the door.

But he held out.

If only for you.

Late nights or lazy afternoons you were always in the campus library—studying he assumed or…

'Studying,' because a lot of the time he noticed you’d show up with a drink from the cafe a few blocks down, set out a line of colored pens and not touch a single one of them for hours, content to stare blankly at the chipped desktop. And even that Jin was more than happy to watch.

He did a lot of watching.

Mostly because he wasn’t permitted to leave the desk unattended unless there were piling up returned books which needed to be replaced quickly.

So instead, he pretended to be busy scrolling through something on his old as hell monitor—which was conveniently set up directly across from the comfy chair/desk combo you always managed to grab—and he indulged in day dreams where you’d bring him a coffee from the cafe when you came in and set it on his desk, maybe kiss him on the cheek, maybe loiter by his workstation and play with his hair and—

Yeah.

It was a lot.

But you were always in that chair, always working or pretending to work and you never seemed to notice the uninterrupted hours of staring Jin did, so what was the harm?

If you never knew, you’d never get creeped out—cause it was creepy, he knew that, oh fuckin' boy did he know it was real goddamn weird.

He just couldn’t seem to give it up. Especially when the conditions presented perfectly for some good uninterrupted, totally not stalker-y at all, fantasizing.

Sometimes he thought you might have some mundane superpower that let you always snatch that perfect seat right across from his computer, and made it so the library was just cool enough that he’d get to watch you shrug on that cute extra sweatshirt you always brought. So he could catch a glimpse of some skin—in a totally normal and not invasive way—when your arms went over your head. So he could imagine it was his ratty old sweaters you were wearing just so you could smell him on you and god he really wanted to get close enough to smell you—was that too weird? No. Yes? No.

Not at all.

But the best part, the part that really convinced him on those awful days when he really just could not be bothered to drag himself out of bed and walk the couple blocks to campus just to sit in awful silence alone, in his head alone with the fucking thoughts that made him want to rip his hair out—

What made it worth it was those times every few weeks when your classes would get new assigned readings. Because then you’d have to check out new textbooks, since you were one of those geniuses that had figured out the library kept a ton of those books in stock. Of course you were, cause you were fucking perfect.

And when you had to check out new books, you had to come to reception.

Jin got to watch as your lovely figure moved through the stacks like you were ballroom dancing along the halls of faded, sea-green shelves, almost floating over the linoleum trying to find just the right volume in the right addition before anyone else beat you to it.

It was one of the most gorgeous things he’d ever seen.

Spinner would call him a fucking simp if he ever dared to uttered any of that out loud, but it didn’t matter.

If it was you, he’d simp for fucking life.

And then, you’d walk that fucking glorious ass over to his desk and plop the books down, smiling—cause you were polite like that, so fucking perfect he couldn’t hardly believe it sometimes—and asking how his day was while he checked you out in every sense of the phrase.

In a completely platonic and not freaky way.

So Jin kept coming to work, to that god awful job he really hated and which hated him just as vehemently. He clocked in every day and waited patiently like a fucking puppy counting the hours till its workaholic owner arrived home, ears perking up when you walked through the door and flashed your ID to the attendant.

If only for that.

He’d put up with his boss’ complaints and the weird stares he got when the thoughts just wouldn’t stay in his head anymore and he had to start talking to himself to fill the silence.

If only for that.

Those few hours when he could lose himself in the fake inner life where you were waiting for him when his shift let out, waiting to gather him, tired and understimulated, into your arms. Where you’d sneak into the back room with him just to chat and lace your fingers with his and maybe sit that fucking wonderful ass up on the tables so he could stand in between your thighs and you’d pull him down to—

Yeah.

That was enough.

***

It wasn’t until Tuesday when he had to come in again that week, and he already knew it was gonna suck balls.

Friday he’d gotten another round of complaints from some stuck up fucking business students—it was always the fucking business majors with those silver spoons so far up their asses—snitching to his boss that he’s been ‘disruptive’ and ‘disturbing’ during his last shift.

“Not my fucking fault,” he muttered under his breath, kicking a rock along the side walk he’d picked up two blocks before. “Yes it is. No it’s not!”

Jin groaned and tugged at his hair, wishing he’d brought a Tylenol or something to curb the headache that was already sticking it’s ugly ass claws into his temples. He really, really heavily contemplated just ditching, calling in sick or some shit. Technically he was a student worker, so they had to work with his DRS accommodation and he was actually having a bad fucking time.

But one of his friends had already texted to ask if he’d try and reserve them that sweet ass study room on the third floor and Jin wasn’t really looking to disappoint anyone else this week. Besides, it was fun to abuse his minuscule power. Fun to go corrupt for once. Fight the system and all that.

He liked to think you’d be proud of him for it, based on the kinds of texts you checked out at least.

So, he dragged his sad ass back to the looming library looking far too much like a prison than was necessary and clocked in. Actually, the first thing he did was check the chair—your chair and nobody else’s chair, he might actually make a fucking scene if somebody ever did steal it—and his face visibly fell when you were not occupying it.

It was a bit early, Jin supposed as he paused briefly when he noticed the can of Monster and rando vending machine chips sitting next to it by the reception computer. The sticky note slapped to the top read 'For your troubles' in familiar handwriting and that pulled a bit of a smile from him as he quickly rearranged the scheduling of study room sign ups so the fancy third floor room would be free for the rest of the night.

Then Jin sat, staring at the study room schedules for a moment, feeling his eyes softly glaze over until a hand slapped down on the raised lip of the reception desk.

“Hey bro,” Spinner greeted him with a wild smile and a flurry of bright pink hair.

Jin had to blink a few extra times to get his vision to clear. When it did he saw, horrifyingly, that he’d been staring at the fucking blank screen for two hours without moving.

Why was it that his head was either deadly quiet, devoid of even a single errant thought or so loud as fucking shit at all times that he couldn’t physically keep the thoughts in?

“Hey, dude, what’s up?” Jin asked, running a hand through his unruly hair.

“Aren’t you supposed to like shush me or something?”

Spinner chuckled a bit at his own god awful joke and Jin couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed, too glad for the company.

“I mean,” he shrugged, popping the can of Monster and ignoring the dirty looks he got for the sound. “I would if I was, uh, good at my job.”

“Which I’ve heard you definitely are not,” Spinner wrapped his fingers over the lip of the desk and leaned back on his heels, swaying side to side idly.

“You’re just figuring that out now?”

Jin didn’t bother watching while Spinner nearly tripped over himself fidgeting as he spun to stand at the little gate that corralled Jin inside like livestock. He was too busy glancing over to check you hadn’t slipped in while his brain had taken a trip to the astral plane without him.

“No, I been knew, but my sources tell me you’ve gone off the rails my friend,” long legs stepped over the wooden partition until the only friend he had who was quite possibly more annoying than Jin himself was sat on the counter next to his computer. “Finally been radicalized have you?”

Jin huffed and sipped his Monster, “Guess it fuckin’ took me long enough.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Spinner was messing about with the stacks of multicolored sticky notes littered across the desk before glancing up to wink at Jin. “So what can I get you to do for me in exchange for free food?”

“Now I really am gonna fucking shush you,” Jin smashed his finger against Spinners grin only to get a hand covered in spit for his trouble.

“Right, right,” Spinner held his hands up in defeat, “can’t have you cheating on your sweetheart.”

“Not my—yes I’m in a committed fictional relationship thank you very much—ugh!”

Jin could feel the heads shooting up from laptop screens and textbooks to stick daggers in his back with their angry stares. Spinner at least had the good sense to look a little fucking guilty for egging him on.

“Sorry bro, I had to shoot my shot ya know?” a hand disappeared into the mop of bubblegum locks in apology.

“It’s fine…” Jin trailed off, mumbling and blushing more than a little profusely as he turned to check the book drop box. “Not like I’m ever gonna fuckin’ shoot mine anyway.”

“Oh we are not gonna have that kinda of shit discussion,” Spinner’s hand shot out and grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, spinning Jin in his chair. “On god bro, we’re gonna get you a date one of these days.”

Jin didn’t dignify that kind of lie with a response.

Spinner once again, had the good sense to not push the envelope any farther.

“And in the meantime, you can come to the League meeting tonight!”

“Your gaming club thing?”

“Yeah, it’s Smash night and we need to fill a space sooooo…”

Jin knew Spinner and his roommate—the same friend who he’d gone study room rogue for—had started a gaming club their freshman year. Spinner had been trying to strong arm him into attending ever since. To, as he put it, ‘socialize,’ and ‘make new friends.’ All things which Jin was patently horrible at and avoided like the plague.

Needless to say, he’d refused every time.

It wasn’t just the whole being alone with like two people he kinda knew in a room full of strangers. Games themselves were just a lot for him. The flashing colors and the loud noises made his head—which was already so fucking full all the time and he really needed to keep any extra scrap of space for extra random facts he picked up about you and your future married life together—get a bit misaligned.

They just weren’t his jam most of the time.

“I’m good, thanks for the offer though,” Jin twisted out of Spinner’s grasp and craned his head to check your seat again.

Still empty.

He sighed.

Spinner continued to ramble and Jin continued to only half listen. It wasn’t as pleasant to day dream when you weren’t there for the added visual aesthetic. And he was trying to not be a dick and ignore the one friend he had managed to keep around over the years. But it was hard when his mind had a mind of its own.

Wow.

Meta.

“Jin?”

The voice—deep and dark in such a dramatically ominous way it might have been funny if it didn’t belong to his permanently disgruntled supervisor—interrupted his already derailing train of thought.

“Oh, uh, hello sir,” Jin stuttered, turning to find Kurogiri leaning against the reception desk with one arm, turning only slightly to accommodate Spinner’s form bolting over the gate and out the library doors.

He did manage to throw a fading, “See ya later, bro” over his shoulder before he disappeared around the corner.

Yeah thanks for the warning, bro.

“Aren’t you supposed to be reshelving the books from the drop box?” Kurogiri sighed, perpetually disappointed in a way that had Jin’s face burning and shame bubbling up in his throat.

He hated this job. He was objectively terrible at it, and so usually he wouldn’t give that much of a shit at not doing it well. Kurogiri just had some type of vibe—like daddy but not in the sexy way Spinner always joked about—that made it really, really upsetting to let him down.

Father figure? Yeah that's what it was called.

“Right, yeah um, sorry,” Jin nodded quickly and leapt from his chair, only mildly bruising his knee on the desk as he reached to empty the book drop.

Another incorporeal sigh was the only acknowledgement he received as he loaded the cart with wheels louder than Jin on a particularly bad day and rolled the pile of books back to the stacks. He paused once more, just before the sea green shelving units swallowed him up, to sneak another futile peak at your chair. But it still sat empty—empty and lonely with no you and cold without your body pressed against the worn upholstery.

Jin felt a chill too, a slow tingling thing that worked its way up from the base of his spine. It drove him deeper into the walls of books, away from the empty spaces.

It was harder to look.

Harder to be reminded of what he did not have.

Of what he’d never have cause he was too much of a goddamn pussy to ever just fucking talk to you—

But then what if he did? What if he did talk to you? What would happen then?

Those were the types of questions he tried to avoid when crafting your intricate, fictional lives together. Precisely because they were the easiest to answer.

You’d realize within the first five minutes or so of conversation—if Jin could even make it that far without embarrassing himself—that he was just a generic brand weirdo that all your pretty, normal, aesthetically pleasing friends would warn you to stay away from and because you were also pretty and normal and not a fucking idiot, you’d have the common sense to listen.

He’d lose you in the blink of an eye.

Your chair would sit cold and empty forever and the imaginary garden he’d been planting for you to come imaginarily home too would wilt and die like all the other happy thoughts in his head.

It was quite the conundrum and one Jin was not keen to solve soon.

Not that things ever really went his way. Cause problems could only be avoided for so long before all that time spent ignoring them came back to bite him full on the ass.

Which, apparently, came this time in the form of what had to be quiet, muffled sobbing drifting in between the shelves from the back hallway.

It was dark here in this section of the building—free of most windows so as not to cause any sunning damage to the books—and Jin had seen more than enough horror movies to know that it was a horrendous idea to follow the ominous crying sounds coming from the bowls of this old as fuck building. But even as he made up his mind to ignore it, the hand currently working one of the returns back into its proper place dropped the book to his cart as his feet slowly turned to face the corridor.

He looked around skeptically for a second, not entirely certain his poor brain hadn’t simply malfunctioned again, as it was wont to do, and fabricated the sound entirely. But as he peaked out from between the stacks, and down the dimly lit hall, he heard it again.

Echoey and soft in the wide, empty space it—was definitely coming from the hall and it was definitely a person.

Jin caught himself moving without ever meaning too, the books laying forgotten as he crept towards the source of the noise and paused just before leaving the stacks entirely. This hall was full of small alcoves built into the centuries old walls and led to the lesser used storage portions of the library that only the janitorial staff and the university librarians ever entered. He really didn’t want to stumble across someone from the special collections department bawling over a damaged or lost manuscript.

But his wayward feet pushed him forward, too sympathetic for his own good. He found himself shuffling down the abandoned hall, peering into each small dip in the walls to find the source of his distraction.

And when he did, Jin was—for once in his life—thankful for his lack of self-preservation instincts.

And cursed his blatant lack in interpersonal skills.

Because it was you.

You curled with your knees to your chest and your head in your hands, shoulders shaking, as you cried into your palms.

The universe had handed him maybe the only golden opportunity he would ever get on right on a platter.

But Jin didn’t have a fucking clue what do with it.

And there certainly wasn’t much time to formulate a game plan as his nervous breathing and sudden intake of breath upon discovering his imaginary lover sniffling right in front of him, had certainly alerted you to his presence.

Your head shot up in an instant, knocking dully against the stone wall with a thud.

“Shit,” you cursed and hands flying up to cover the area as Jin jumped on the spot at your outburst.

“Are you okay?” he asked lamely as you glanced over at him, eyes red and wet and so fucking sad oh fucking god, widening as you realized you’d been caught.

“Huh? Ye—oh uh, yes,” your words came out jumbled, legs unfolding quickly to push yourself off the bench and hands wiping furiously at your eyes. “I’m fine, sorry.”

“You sure about that?”

Jin cringed visibly and frowned at the way you deflated under his stare. God the first fucking time he actually talks to you and he already made an ass of himself.

Spinner’s roommate was such a liar, it really fucking sucked to be right sometimes.

“I mean,” you crumpled back down onto the ledge and Jin took a careful step closer, “no, but yes. Like I’m definitely having a breakdown in the back of the fucking library but I don’t wanna, uh, bother you with that. So, yeah I’m good.”

“You can bother me,” he replied way too fucking quickly.

But he couldn’t really be embarrassed about it. Your voice was just so captivating, and you weren’t talking to him in that raised pitch anymore like you usually did—the way everyone does when they’re trying to be surface level and polite. No this was your voice how you sounded when you were relaxing with your friends or making breakfast in the morning or talking to yourself in the shower (he liked to think you did that, or sang maybe as you worked the soap into your skin, one of the two but he always imagined you filled silences with how fucking pretty you were).

“No, really. That would be weird, right?”

Jin grimaced as you fixed him with a watery yet suspicious stare.

Yeah it was weird.

Everything he did concerning you was weird, objectively. He was definitely being over-familiar and too eager, especially considering you didn’t fucking know him.

But he knew you.

Jin felt like he’d known you for all months he’d spent pretending to be by your side.

And you were crying and he had to do something.

“I mean, yeah I guess,” he mumbled, taking a risk and plopped down on the opposite end of the alcove and resting his head on the wall. “But not any weirder than having a breakdown in the employees only section of the library building on a Tuesday.”

You kept staring blankly for a few moments before the most miraculous thing happened.

Jin had to physically stop his jaw from hitting the floor when the quiet giggle bubbled up from your chest and spilled out into the hall, warm enough to melt even the freezing linoleum floor.

“Yeah, you’ve got a point,” your voice cracked a bit as a few more tears slid like pearls down your cheeks.

“My name’s Jin,” he said, shocked stupid both by your laugh and the apparent success of his comforting methods.

“Oh, hi, well I guess I don’t have to call you book drop boy anymore,” you rubbed at your face again and tucked your legs back into your chest, though it looked a bit more relaxed this time.

Not so trying-desperately-to-fade-out-of-existence.

“You called me that?” Jin asked, brain still functioning at half capacity, only shocked at the fact that he existed as a concept in your head enough to have a name and realizing a bit too late how accusatory he must have sounded. “Shit, I mean it’s totally fine I just didn’t think you, uh, well I mean, like, knew about me I guess?”

You finally smiled and his brain power cut out another fourth at being personally graced by the expression this close up.

“Yeah, you always check me out—fuck sorry not that you check me out, just you scan my books and I just called you ‘book drop boy’ in my head cause I never got a chance to ask for your name but I have it now so that’s cool….”

Your head dropped back down to your knees as you groaned and Jin suddenly felt a lot less nervous than he had a few seconds ago.

You were weird too.

For so long you’d existed on this pedestal thousands of feet in the air, and now you were stepping down from the heavens and onto earth. Not in a bad way! Just, Jin had never really stopped to think that you might be a person too.

Well.

No, he knew you were a person, just he never thought you might get flustered and ramble and be nervous in front of him.

Cause he was a fucking train wreck—the bar was so goddamn low.

It was almost as comforting as your smile.

“Oh, yeah sorry I’m not the best at customer service if you couldn’t tell,” he sighed and ran a hand through his wild hair.

You looked back up with a wry grin, “I don’t know, I’d say you’re going above and beyond right now.”

And you were funny.

He was gonna fucking combust.

“Ha, yeah, I try,” he trailed off for a moment before glancing back at your curled in your corner, fuck he could just imagine sitting behind you, your head on his chest while you—”So uh, did you wanna talk about it or…?”

“Uh, yeah,” you picked idly at the grouting of the stone and mumbled, “I guess it’s not so weird if we’re on a first-name basis.

And that was how Jin discovered that you’d been hiding in the back of the library bawling your eyes out for hours—since even before his shift started. Apparently you’d gotten here extra early, even skipped a class, to snag some super specific required text for your final thesis and right before you got to the shelf some jackass swooped in, effectively hit and running with the only copy of that book on campus.

The book in questions was one of the newer additions that had special added footnotes you needed for your paper and was a whopping 500 fucking dollars to rent from every other place online. You couldn’t afford it, and honestly what fucking student could? But you needed it to complete the paper or you’d fail and Jin very much understood the need for a good breakdown after a catastrophe like that.

“Damn, that’s uh, fucking awful,” he frowned on your behalf as your head hit the wall a second time in frustration.

“Yeah so, I’m like royally fucked either way. Now I just gotta decide which hole I’m taking it in I guess,” you groaned.

Jin’s eyebrows raised at your choice of words but they were apt, he supposed. People really do get comfortable with each other pretty quick when bonding over shared institutional rage.

“Well,” he began, wringing his hands nervously at what he was about to suggest. “You might be in luck cause I’ve recently decided to abuse my library powers for good and I maybe, possibly, could try and see if there’s some strings I can pull?”

You perked up a bit, looking at him incredulously.

Jin felt comfortably full under your stare.

“Seriously?”

The word was soft and it bounced off the walls just as much as it did the inside of his skull.

Swapping study rooms to help a friend out was one thing. But falsifying checkout dates for someone he barely knew—had essentially married in his maladaptive fantasies—could get him fired.

He hated this job but he needed it.

Were you worth the risk?

Of course, he found himself thinking without hesitation.

You were everything.

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, any lingering uncertainty washing away at the way you looked at him through your lashes. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”

“Are you always this nice?”

Jin didn’t answer right away. He was too caught up in how you’d leaned forward on your hands across the bench, peering like he was some exotic animal or a stray cat in the parking lot—all soft wonderment with fingers curling like they ached to grab hold and rescue him from this parchment scented monotony.

“Not always…”

“Should I feel special then?”

If his face wasn’t red before, it was now. Red and blistering under the summer campfire heat that radiated off you—woodsy and warm and so painfully familiar like an old friend’s hand.

“...I guess you—fucking definitely, ” he quite nearly shouted the last bit, startled by his own volume and already mortified at the outburst but then you chuckled again from beside him.

He turned to see you standing and offering a hand which he gladly too if only to feel the weight of your palm against his.

“Well, you’ll have to let me pay you back then.”

“Oh, no you don’t actually—”

You held a hand up and the words turned to ash on his tongue in an instant, mouth glued shut by your gesture.

“Coffee on me or something, there’s a nice cafe a few blocks from here,” you dropped your hand and your eyes were clear now, no sign of the previous afternoon sobbing alone in the hallway. Jin felt a surge in his chest knowing he was the one who did that. “You gotta pass off the contraband anyway, and I don’t think it would be that great of an idea to do it here.”

God you were fucking perfect.

“Can’t argue with that.”

***

Jin was sweating profusely as he snuck past the library attendant, totally inconspicuous and not not all looking like he was doing a single thing wrong in the slightest.

Yeah they definitely didn’t suspect a thing.

The process of fraud was actually a lot less complicated of an undertaking that Jin had expected. All he had to do was search up the book, find the student that had stolen the success of his sweetheart’s educational career and flag his account. They’d get an automated message about the flag, instructing them to return any borrowed items or they’d be forced to pay fines while the account was examined.

Technically he needed administrator credentials to report student accounts, but luckily Kurogiri had his login info written on a sticky note hidden on the back of the monitor. All in all it was a pretty easy job.

The whole thing had taken only a matter of days, in which time you had returned to the library only twice—the first to get confirmation on the success of Jin’s newest descent into low level crime which had set his heart thundering in his chest as you bent conspiratorially over his desk, your face just inches from his.

The second time, Jin had horrifically been absent from his desk, however he was met with possibly the most wonderful sight of his life upon returning from the labyrinth of shelves.

On one of the hundreds of post-it note pads that littered the library reception area, there were scribbles that he was sure hadn’t been there before. He almost tossed it, but upon closer inspection, you’d written your number there and signed just below it. In the cutest fucking handwriting he’d ever seen—cute not for any stylistic reason, but it simply felt that way just by virtue of it being yours—was written the digits and “-for book drop boy”

The noise he made reading that turned more than a dozen heads and almost got him fired there on the spot before any of his indiscretions were even discovered, but he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

So, nerve wrackingly, Jin texted you as he nearly sprinted home from his shift after that piece of shit asshole who made you cry had trudged angrily in and dropped off his ‘stolen’ book.

— HEY IT’S JIN!

— from the library

— shit sorry that wasn’t meant to be in caps

— n e way….

— I’ve intercepted the ~package~ so whenever you’re ready for the hand off, I’m good

Most perfect fucking human being to…

Oh my god thank you so much!!!—

Is tomorrow at like 5ish good for you?—

Also send me your order—

so we don’t have to do that awkward waiting in line for drinks bit—

Holy fuck you multi-texted too! Spinner would roll over in his fucking grave, he hated when Jin did that. But there was always so much to say and he could never think of it all at the same time. Plus, you wanted to save him from that god awful silence where you both stand in line next but he can’t talk cause he has keep repeating his order in his head over and over or he’ll blank when he gets to the register so it’s just this painful weird glancing back and forth—

Ugh, maybe all the shit about manifestation that girl who always loaned him exacto knives in his sculpting class always talked about was real.

Cause there was no way you weren’t just heaven-sent, handcrafted especially for him and all his general brand of weird.

The hours which usually flew by without Jin’s notice dragged all that night. He was so full of excess energy that made his hand shake and his thoughts race, not sure what to do with themselves now that they didn’t need to fantasize about you.

He decided to use all that extra motivation to vacuum the kitchen at 4:30 in the morning, much to his roommates' chagrin. She liked to get a nice solid eight hours every night and constantly reminded Jin of this, trying to sell him on that sleepy time tea before bed, though he really hated the smell of camomile.

Magne may lose out on some of her beauty sleep—not that she needed it and Jin would tell her that constantly, even if he did have some patently horrible judgment most of the time so he wasn’t really the best at offering reassurance—but the kitchen would be clean when she woke up so win-win really.

When she did wake up—wandering out of her room looking effortlessly put together in a way Jin could never hope to emulate—she sat at the table, sipping her tea and appraising him worriedly.

Jin was still in his jeans from the day before, hair spiking in every direction but down, and chewing his nails nervously despite losing most of them to the hour or two of early morning floor scrubbing.

“Babe,” she shook her head slowly, “take a breath.”

“Yeah okay,” he sighed and inhaled deeply, letting himself slide off the couch cushions and to the newly sparkling floors on the exhale.

“There, now wanna share what the hell is going on?”

He glanced up at her from the hardwood and groaned as she looked back down, brows furrowed over her glasses.

“Huhh, okay. So that absolute work of art from the library is meeting me for coffee later cause I have trade over this book I sort of stole, it’s a long story, and I don’t know if it’s a date—it sounds like a date, cause that’s where people go for dates and shit—but it might just be to pay me back for stealing the book. And if it is I’ve only ever been on that one date before which was with fucking Spinner like two years ago so—”

Magne held up a hand to quiet Jin before the speed of his words tied his tongue in physical knots. She looked contemplative, taking another soft sip of tea and nodding her head for a moment getting up to crouch on the floor by his head.

“You think too much for your own good, but never about the right things,” she mumbled, smoothing some of the hair from his face. “Does it really matter if this is a date or not?”

Jin blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she chuckled in that way people do when kids ask them obvious questions—kindly, appreciative of the curiosity, “either way you cut it, you’ll be spending time with this person you like, yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed and sat up to face her as she stood.

“A date is just hanging out with a special name anyway,” Magne’s hands were firm but gentle as she hoisted Jin off the floor and onto his feet. “You’ll be fine.”

His shoulders slumped both in mild relief and dejection that he’d waisted so much precious time he could have been preparing possible topics of conversation or strategies to ask you out for real date on worrying over how this first time would go.

How did Magne always fucking know all this stuff?

Other people were such a mystery to him.

To be fair, though, Jin was a mystery to himself most of the time as well.

“Thanks, sorry for not saying anything about it earlier,” he sniffed as she smiled and pinched his cheek way fucking harder than necessary.

“It’s alright, I’m only a little insulted you waited until now to tell me about this massive crush you’ve developed.”

“Yeah it’s got its own gravitational pull at this point.”

Magne laughed at that and Jin felt the room lighten.

“I do expect details when you get back though,” she said pointedly, finishing her tea wandering back to her room to grab her bag. “Spinner asked me, very begrudgingly might I add, to fill in at another of his club tournament things tonight so I’ll be out late.”

“Really? I didn’t think you liked that stuff.”

Jin shuffled over to her doorway and peaked into the neat little space. Magne was rummaging through the meticulously organized closet and frowning as she answered.

“I do, Spinner just doesn’t agree with my battle strategies,” she huffed. “My alignment is far too ‘chaotic’ and ‘recklessly violent’ for his tastes apparently.”

“Oh, yeah that makes sense,” Jin laughed this time just envisioning the two of them stuck on a team. “Well have fun with that.”

“Yeah well,” she brushed by him into the hall, keys jangling as she went and calling over her shoulder. “Text me how it goes, and wear that new button up you got last week, it looks good on you!”

***

Much to Jin’s surprise and delight, Magne was right.

He was fine.

Fine was a bit subjective—as he was most certainly still highkey panicking on main as he got out of his last class and walked the short few blocks to the cafe on campus—but regardless he was perfectly okay.

Of course that all went right out the fucking window in the split second between him walking in and you already staring at the door as he entered. Your eyes widened just a bit and this smile broke out slowly across your cheeks when you waved him over and it was like suddenly every single creepy as hell day dream had just become reality.

It was a little overwhelming to say the least.

His heart may have actually stopped in his chest for a bit and he did contemplate the possibility that Kurogiri might have actually discovered his little plot, murdered him in cold blood and stuffed his body in the records room. This might all just be the afterlife, but that would mean that Jin had gone to some kind of heaven which didn’t really add up with his current tract record.

But it was fine.

Because you were really fucking easy to talk to.

Like, really fucking easy.

It was sorta strange actually, how you seemed to know all this shit he was into before he even really mentioned it.

After you traded off the goods, you both sat in the big comfy couches upstairs in the loft and you listened to him info dump, inevitably getting lost down innumerable unrelated tangents. You managed to keep up well enough though and not question the winding conversation.

“Damn,” he said, sipping at the last dregs left behind in his cup. “How do you know about all this stuff?”

“Uh,” you paused then, looking maybe just a bit sheepishly into your own drink. “I may or may not have spent a considerable amount of time eavesdropping into your conversations while you’re on shift.”

He saw flashes at that moment—dial up sounds going off between his ears.

Jin.exe has stopped working.

“...What?”

You grimaced and hid your face in your hands for a moment, “I know it sounds really creepy, my friends just sorta made a, um, game out of it? They tease me a lot about going to study at the library just cause of the cute guy that works there, so we all kinda stalk you a little bit just—wow this is sounding exponentially worse and worse every second.”

He gaped a bit despite himself as you cringed visibly and Jin tried to discreetly pinch his thigh to make sure this really wasn’t some sort of cruel, cruel fever dream.

“You think I’m cute…?”

He blinked once and your eyes shot up to meet his, a pained, half smile caught between your teeth. “I mean, yeah. I kinda thought I was being a bit obvious, sorry.”

“What no, holy fuck,” he spluttered, face on fire and legs bouncing restlessly against the couch across from you. “Don’t apologize, I have a, uh, staring habit too I guess.”

“I know,” you rubbed at the back of your neck and Jin didn’t think it was possible for you to be anymore endearing. “I’ve noticed, that’s like the whole reason I insisted on buying you a drink.”

“So wait is this a date?”

Jin wished almost immediately that he hadn’t asked, because Magne was right, it super didn’t matter but fucking shit on a stick he really wanted it to be a date!!!!

“Yeah,” you nodded. “If you’d like that.”

“Yes!—ah, I mean, uh yeah mhm,” Jin choked on his spit with enthusiasm, but it did earn him a concerned shoulder pat so he’d take the win.

It also afforded him the opportunity to walk you home after hours chatting until the streets were lit by burnt orange lamps and the cafe was closing. You didn’t live all that far from him actually and when you stopped to point out your door, the two of you were overcome by that telltale, charged silence.

Filled with potential.

Like a gas stove waiting for a spark to go up in flames.

It was you that struck the match.

“So, um, I promise I don’t just, uh, do this with everyone but, do you wanna maybe come inside,” you let your hand trail down his arm and slip into his palm, “I don’t feel like you’ve been properly compensated for saving my ass.”

Jin’s mouth was watering at the thought. He nodded slowly, eyes like saucers as you pulled him up your steps and through the door which shut promptly behind him.

Your place was nice in the sense that it fit you. He wasn’t really paying all that much attention to his surroundings as you locked the door and squeezed his hand in yours, leading him towards the end of the entrance hall.

When he stepped through to your bedroom, you toed off your shoes and he did the same, staring nervously and waiting for you to show him what exactly you meant by ‘further compensation.’

It was exactly what he’d hoped.

You approached him, still in the doorway, and stepped close so your chests brushed together. It was soft, the way you looked at him, sort of fuzzy around the edges while your hands trailed down his arms to place his palms at your waist.

It wasn’t like Jin hadn’t done this before—he totally had and definitely remembered all of it and wasn’t shit faced at all nope—but it hadn’t really mattered before. He knew in theory that he should take the lead, be a gentleman and make the first move and holy fucking god he was dying over there with the desire to finally live out his months and months of fantasies

But what if he did it wrong?

What if he ruined it now when he was so close to the finish line?

He’d never fucking forgive himself for it, and he could goddamn hear Magne in his head.

“You think too much for your own good.”

And he did, and he was right now, cause the room was only dimly lit by the street light streaming in through the window and you were reaching out to loop your arms behind his neck.

Should he lean down now?

Tilt left or right?

What if he clacked your teeth together?

What if—

Your lips were soft and hot against his, rubbing at the stubble on his chin before pressing close in that precious, puzzle-piece way human bodies fit together. He didn’t do much thinking after that.

His hands were too busy digging into the flesh of your hips separated by way to many fucking layers of fabric, and he couldn’t quite stop himself from indulging just a bit. Jin sucked gently at your lower lip, knees going weak at the glorious fucking sound you made in the back of your throat as he licked over the taught skin and tugged it between his teeth.

He could feel you smiling into his mouth, sharing breath and raking your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. Jin groaned and you—fucking cheeky little bastard—slipped your tongue right past his lips and licked at the back of his fucking teeth like a popsicle in July.

Your hands in his hair hard tugged and his breath was coming faster, lips gliding against yours as the room turned to steam around him.

Through the haze he clung to the few remaining seconds of clarity.

Jin pulled away for one painful second to mumble against your lips.��You meant have sex, right?”

“Yeah,” your voice was barely more than a whisper, but you nodded frantically and rolled your hips against his.

“Ohh fuck, ‘kay good, thank god.”

For once Jin had nothing more to add.

And you weren't exactly willing to give him back his tongue long enough for any interruptions anyway.

***

“Holy fucking shit, look at you,” Jin gasped into your ear.

Both of your clothes had been discarded long ago, and he had your bare back to his chest while he sat propped against the headboard with your legs hooked on either side of his knees. It didn’t afford him the best view, but he got your head resting on his shoulder and pretty moans spilling right into his ear.

He didn’t need to see your pussy anyway.

The slick pouring out of your pretty fucking hole and coating his fingers as he pumped two of them into you was more than enough. His other hand wandered in the lovely expanse of space between your chest and your waist, running softly over the skin and pausing to pinch and roll your nipples just to hear you whine.

His cock was so fucking hard, trapped between your ass and his stomach, twitching every time you thrust your hips to meet the movement of his wrist.

“Jin, fuck please-”

You used his name every time you begged him for more and it was really going to his head.

“You’re so goddamn perfect, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he groaned and sunk his fingers deeper into your soaking cunt while his mouth dropped to your neck and sucked hard to mark you lovely skin.

He licked at the indents of his teeth, tasting your sweat on his tongue that tangled with yours again as your hand reached for his cheek and pulled him in. It was less of a kiss and more of a sloppy forming of your mouths that left you connected by a silvery string of spit that flashed in the low light. Jin sighed at the sight, rutting his hips against the cleft of your ass.

Your thighs twitched where they were spread and your hips lifted off the mattress to meet the languid thrusts of his fingers that curled up on every push in to hear the hitch in your breath.

He took pity on you and brought his other hand down to rub circles on your clit, listening for the telltale whimpers and the way your nails dug into his arm to find the perfect rhythm.

“I don’t really—mm, there fuck—feel like I’m paying you back right now,” you mumbled nipping your own trail of stepping stone bruises onto his throat as he picked up the pace and held steady on that sweet bundle of nerves.

“Are you fucking serious?”

He didn’t really mean to full on growl at you then, but just the thought that you’d really believe he wasn’t about to fucking drown in ecstasy just from watching you get off—just from touching, speaking, being in anyway acknowledged by you at all. Jin nudged your head to the side and bit down harshly into the crook of your neck, shuddering as you moaned and arched against his chest.

In any other scenario, he could never really find the right balance between too many words and not enough. The sheer volume of thoughts and interjections that raced like cars reaching the end of rush hour traffic made the formulation of any coherent conversation impossible, but now—

Now with your body so pliant in his hands, so willing and sweet and wanting him.

Wanting him.

What a concept.

He needed you to understand, to know how fucking over the moon, sunshine bright you had him burning.

And for once, he finally had the words to do it.

After all, he’d had months to prepare.

It was surprisingly easy to change your positions, to pull away from you for just a moment so he could roll and cage you on your hands and knees under him, ass in the air nestled against his cock.

“You really don’t think I’m getting anything out of this?” he groaned into you ear, rocking his length against you both for emphasis and because it felt so fucking good.

“Ah, well ya know,” your voice was so wrecked he was desperate to find out how much it would take for you to lose it entirely. “When you put it like that—mmh—I just feel bad you’re doing all the work. ”

You had this cheeky fucking grin on your face when you rocked forward so back so his cock slipped down to your dripping lips. The heat of your cunt was mesmerizing and it took a fuck ton of self control Jin was unaware he possessed to not ram straight into you right then.

“Yeah cause I’ve wanted to for fucking months goddamn it’s driving me insane.”

“What?”

Now that he’d started, Jin couldn’t find it in himself to stop. His hands dug hard into your hips, rocking so the tip of his dick caught your clit and you shivered below him, hot skin sliding with the motion of your bodies.

“It’s all I think about whenever I see you,” he was shaking when his hand reached down to grip himself, spreading your folds and soaking his length in your slick. “When you come in to work I just fucking lose myself thinking about how bad I want you to be mine, my pretty fucking thing to bring me coffee while I work and let me fuck you in the backroom.”

You whimpered under him, face pressed into the mattress as he draped himself over you, chest to back with his breath ghosting over your ear.

“Literal hours I just sit there at that awful fucking job and I only keep coming cause of you, cause I can watch you sit all cute in your chair and watch the way your cheeks squish up when you put your face in your hands and imagine they’re my hands and I’m about to spit in your fucking mouth so you remember who you belong too.”

“I—” you were nearly choking on the drool that soaked through your sheets as Jin lined himself up with your pretty little hole, pressing just the tip into your heat. “I didn’t think you ever—nggh, shit—noticed much about me.”

The corners of his eyes burned as sweat dripped down his forehead, he had to hold back a sob as he sheathed another inch into those perfect walls.

“Notice you? You’re all I fucking think about,” he pressed his lips softly against your shoulder, hands running from your chest to your sides as you took his cock and every word that slipped from his lips without complaint. “I could take such good care of you. I just fucking know it, just please, let me take care of you?”

“Fuck Jin,” your voice was closer to a sob than anything else but he needs you screaming. “You don’t really have to convince me—”

His patience had run out long ago, not even willing to let you finish before he’d sunk in to the hilt, spearing you on his cock with one final thrust. You ass was flush with his hips and his balls hung heavy and tight against the back of your thighs. The strangled little cry that worked its way out of your throat had gooseflesh erupting across his arms where he held you to him.

Jin couldn’t really be sure—it wasn’t like his brain was all that functional on a day to day basis and it most certainly was not now—but your walls clenching around him and that addictive warm, wet feeling milking his cock was on a whole other level than any fuck he’d ever had before.

There was something about the curve of your back against his chest, and the way you seemed to suck him in, drawing his length back in just seconds after he’d pulled out. Some about the feeling of your chest in his hands, of the sweat on your skin that he licked off in a long strip up your spine. Like you really were made for him. As though all those months spent in dream land, concocting your pretend lives together had spilled over into reality, molding you into the perfect shape to take him deep and hard and cry while you came on his cock just like he knew you were meant to.

“Oh, fuck yeah, gonna make you feel so good, I promise,” he mumbled, forehead pressed to the nape of your neck as his hips drew back and he sunk into you over and over again.

He needed you to moan louder, needed your neighbors on the other side of every wall to hear what he did to you, how he fucked you dumb on his cock and made you drunk with the pleasure of it—slutty and perfect and better than any fantasy he could ever concoct.

The room was filled completely with the wet slap of your bodies—his balls tightening up just at the squelch of you taking him—leaving only enough space for your cries and his grunting, no room left for any bitter doubt to creep in and ruin the sweetness in the air.

He could feel the surge growing in his stomach, the tensing in his thighs as his hips stuttered, but he needed you to cum first. Wanted to tip over the edge to the feeling of you spasming around him, so he let a hand slip from your hip to your folds. Jin only paused for a moment to run a finger around your stretched hole, feeling himself plunging into you, before drifting back up to your swollen clit and working the sensitive bud.

The mattress creaked and rocked along as Jin increased his pace, shifting his hips until his tip knocked against something that had your hands fisting in the sheets and your tongue lolling out in between cries of his name.

You didn’t give him much a warning, not that he minded really. Just a muffled shout with your head smashed into the pillows and the tightening of your walls surrounding him before he felt your whole body wracked with tremors so hard he had to wrap both arms around your middle and hold you while he rammed into you.

Jin wasn’t really keeping track of the filth that was pouring from his lips as he brought himself closer to release. A lot of encouragement, that you were taking him so well, cumming so pretty for him, mixed with a lot of thanks—for letting him have this, have you, for not casting him aside like everyone else always inevitably did.

He did have the clarity to drag one arm up and link your fingers together, pressing hard into the bed while blood pounded in his ears and his hips stuttered in their relentless rhythm. When Jin did finally cum, it was a strangely silent affair, all the words and sound that usually roared inside him dying on his lips as his cock spilled milky release deep inside you and your walls fluttered at the fullness.

And then it was as though every muscle in his body changed physical states.

Boneless, he collapsed onto you with a little huff. You didn’t even complain, just squeezed his hand tighter in yours and hummed at the weight of him.

“Well I think that was a, um,” you panted while he nuzzled his face deeper into your neck, “pretty equivalent exchange yeah?”

“I don’t know,” Jin kissed and nipped at the sweet skin of your shoulder, “I think you might have over paid a bit.”

You laughed, the joyous movement of your chest jostled him from your back and had his soft cock slipping from you in a gush of combined release. “I doubt that very much, I didn’t know I’d be getting to take your fucking load as part of the deal.”

“Shit,” he felt his heart seize in his chest, raising up on his elbows to look down as you turned to him. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

Your hand came up to stroke his cheek, clammy but welcome. He sat up enough so you could lay on your back and pull him back down to your chest amidst the sweat and cum slicked sheets.

“Don’t worry about it, I would have asked you to anyway,” you kissed the baby frizz at his hairline and if Jin hadn’t already melted into a puddle, then he certainly was now. “If I’d been able to talk at all.”

“Ha, yeah….”

A short silence descended in your dark bedroom. The noise of cars and the occasional shout filtered in through the window, but there was no other sound than your evening breaths. Jin tried not to ruin the peace while he had it.

It was such a rare commodity.

But he couldn’t say he mourned the quiet when you finally spoke.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you asked in that soft way he always envisioned you would.

Soft so he’d know it was just a courtesy.

That you didn’t want him to leave.

“Uh, yeah, yes I would,” he stumbled over the words a bit, trying not to sound too eager but wanting you to know he would work a thousands shifts at the reception desk if it meant you held him for just a second longer.

“Good,” you sighed.

He felt you scoot down the bed and flopped onto his back so you could settle your head on his chest and drape an arm across his stomach. After another few minutes he felt you go limp at his side, soft and relaxed as you slipped away into dreams.

But though his muscles ached and his eyes felt heavy, Jin resisted the call to sleep.

He didn’t need to now.

You were here, in the flesh, and he could study you intently while his eyes were open.

No need for his brain to conjure up scattered images of you.

Because he had you now, tucked safely under his arm for him to keep and hold and fuck and love the way he wanted.

So there was no more need for sleep.

And no need for dreams.

#twice x reader #twice x you #jin bubaigawara x reader #bee writes #bnha fanfiction #college au #library!twice x student!reader #twice mha #bee.writes

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graffitibible · 3 years

Text

There's nowhere to go save for on the roof, and even then you can still hear the distant buzz of your crew's voices through the thin, weatherbeaten paneling. It's the closest to a break from them that you can get. You're distracted, but not so distracted that you don't hear the sound of someone else mounting the roof.

"This seat taken?" says Pony, cocking one thick eyebrow.

Sigh, shake your head, and scoot over to allow them room to settle down beside you. They do so, legs stretched out in front of them so that they almost dangle off the edge. Almost, but not quite. Pony's not one of your crew so they're significantly more tolerable company just now. Anything is a welcome break from the stifling inescapability of the same four people you must share your life and your space with, without any deviation.

"They're still giving you shit for that," says Pony, shaking their head ruefully. "Unbelievable."

"That ain't the problem," you say shortly.

"No?" says Pony. "Shame."

And without any fanfare whatsoever, they pop off their left leg.

You stare for a long moment while Pony detaches their leg at the knee and lays the apparent prosthetic that constitutes their shin, foot, and ankle across their lap. It occurs to you only then that you've never seen their legs bared to the elements like this. They favor lurid patterns like polka dots and stripes, clothing their legs in all manner of eye-searing leggings. Even if they didn't douse themself in a clusterfuck of clashing colors you're not sure you would have noticed the discrepancy between where their leg ends and where the prosthetic begins. It's skinned in tinted bio-mesh, and on first glance it looks startlingly real. Suspect that if you were to touch it, it'd feel more or less like touching human skin. The place where it attaches is molded to fit against the scarred stump that ends their leg at the knee.

"That's city tech," you say slow. There's no question that it's city tech. Sure, plenty of people in the Zones have all sorts of prosthetics they've had to jerry-rig together from whatever's on hand, but those tend to be, by necessity, fairly obvious. This one here is undeniably high-grade.

"Mmmm," says Show Pony, pulling the sound out lazily without looking at you. "Less tough to get your hands on than you'd think."

"On city tech?" You're unable to keep the skepticism out of your tone.

"If you know Tommy Chow Mein then you know every sleeper cell in the city," says Pony, matter-of-fact, "and if Tommy can't get you quality city goods then a sleeper cell definitely can. For the right price."

"Sleeper cell." Frown, feeling out the shape of the word in your memory. You've heard the term before you think, but the specifics escape you.

"How else do you think we get news from what's going on behind Bat City walls?" Pony asks, tilting their head slightly to smirk at you in a way that doesn't quite reach their eyes. They do this with the same effortless quality that they slide into everything else. "City folk gotta make their own kinda noise."

You've never thought overmuch about the kinds of people who must do their fighting from within the city. It's not something that's frequently discussed within the Zones, in part because...you imagine it must not be a very tenable existence. For however harsh and unyielding the conditions of the desert are, to try and make one's way within Better Living's shadow sounds...worse.

"Must know some of them pretty well, to score somethin' like that." Nod at the prosthetic as the Pony opens a discrete set of paneling laid into it. Beneath the exterior, the internal mechanisms are a convoluted snarl of alloyed metal, pins and holders and circuitry. The part of you bored half to death with your extended stay aches to touch the machinery, just to have something new to bury your hands in. You don't, of course. That's part of someone's body. It's not yours to simply lay your hands on whenever you like.

"Just gotta know people in the right places," says Pony. They wink at you. Ignore this. There's a watchful undercurrent to their playful, almost flirtatious approach to damn near everything and you know better than to take it at face value.

If you didn't know them as well as you do, you'd think that they're doing this to cheer you up or keep you company or some equally pointless endeavor. You know them better than that; they wouldn't care and even if they did they know your crew well enough to understand the behavior that drove you to the roof as ordinary.

The entire thing strikes you as more than a little suspicious.

"I don't need your pity,” you snap abruptly, apropos of nothing and a bit more forcefully than is perhaps warranted, considering how even-handed the conversation has been thus far. But it's usually best to be on the defensive with the Pony.

Show Pony snorts, nonplussed.

"You really are Party Poison's little brother, aren't you?" they mutter. "No, dipshit, I'm up here because you're good with tech and you know how to keep your mouth shut, unlike Ghoul."

Process this.

"Oh.”

"Anyway,” says Pony with a sort of determined casualness, "this thing won't latch in properly and hasn't been for the past week. I can't get a good angle on it. You feel like figuring this out for me?"

You don't think there's anything you can say that makes your now disproportionately rude preemptive retort any easier to bear, so just nod.

"Careful with this shit, Kid," says Show Pony, though they say it without any real incense. "Hard to get replacement parts these days. Don't break anything."

"Don't tempt me," you say with your tongue between your teeth, and again Show Pony smirks at you. They smile the same way Poison does, uneven and askew, and this time it pulls something answering out of you.

#danger days #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #tlotfk #killjoys #kobra kid #show pony #*mine #*snippet #my kobra has legitimately like ZERO chemistry with cherri cola but SO MUCH good chemistry w show pony #kobra kid and show pony have so much potential for disability solidarity #u can bet thats part of why pony went to him #i couldnt resist planting a little worldbuilding too cause i think abt...city folk a lot #and i cannot Wait to dive into sleeper cells. god.#theres SO MUCH i want to do there

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shoichee · 4 years

Note

hi ! <3 I Absolutely luv your scenarios!:) Can I request for the pregnant s/o scenario with Midorima & Murasakibara ? :o Thank you :D

HELLO <333 wahhh tysm for reading, and i hope you’re still around lurking here to see this, my anon <33 also, i did write these in headcanon formats but please PLEASE let me know if you wanted scenarios and i’ll whip up scenarios :>

Pregnant S/O with Midorima, Murasakibara

Note: I am also writing this hc under the premise that the S/O has been dating with them for quite some time and is practically settled with them

Part 1 here

Midorima Shintarou

How He Found Out

i would believe for him to always, always use protection whenever he ends up having sex with you, and make sure you’re on birth control to prevent such an occurence

for a pregnancy to even happen, these conditions need to happen: 1.) he needs to be 100% sure that the two of you will be together for a very, VERY long time enough to not freak out about contraceptives or at least toy with the idea of not use any in the back of his mind and 2.) you somehow riled him up so much that he let it slide once/twice and go condom-free (whether you were on birth control or not that’s up to you, but he’d assume you were)

well, it turns out that during one of those rare moments of unprotected sex, you got pregnant, and now here you are with a positive stick in your hand squinting at it and scratching your head that you were either incredibly lucky or unlucky to get pregnant out of those few times you two went raw

how were you gonna tell him? well, he was a traditional man, so you simply set up a small, cute surprise for him when he gets back home

y’know, balloons in the living room and a little wrapped gift on the cleared table… it would send the message across… you think

hours passed and you were on the sofa twiddling your thumbs like a preschooler on timeout LOL and you didn’t want to go anywhere in case Midorima comes home early

your instincts were right because an hour later, he comes home utterly exhausted, immediately thinking about being roundabout in asking to snuggle with you

but then he freezes when his shoe stepped and POPPED one of the balloons you scattered around prior, and it scared him SHITLESS

he almost dropped his lucky claypot. almost.

“(y/n), what is going on?!”

he thinks it’s one of your antics and pranks as usual, and he immediately sighs exasperatedly at the thought of cleaning the mess up

“Seriously, I can never leave you alone in this house, nanodayo…” and as he shuffles through the floor, trying to avoid the rest of the clutter you caused, he notices you sitting primly on the couch (and giving him a poorly-concealed smile)

“Shintaro! I didn’t know you’d come home so soon~”

“Well, everyone was being annoying as usual, and most of the work has been done for today. I might as well come home to spend the rest of the day with you… obviously.”

you were so obvious, your eyes flitting back to the gift on the table and back to him, and Midorima doesn’t know whether to roll his eyes or laugh

“I’m assuming this is all for me,” he sighed, trying to hide his smile. “I don’t recall any special occasion for today, though.”

oh, your face just grew the biggest shit-eating grin at his words

“Is that so?~” you feigned with a sing-song voice

at your insistence on him opening the present right now, he swiftly pulls the ribbon apart and opens the box to see your positive test

MIDORIMA.EXE has stopped working

“W-W-W-What is that?!”

“A pregnancy test.”

“Whose?!”

“... Mine?”

“Wait, how?! With who??”

“Uh…” You stared at him incredulously. “You?”

MIDORIMA.EXE is failing to reboot

you were pointing at yourself and Midorima to further try to get the POINT ACROSS to this poor man who’s trying to process this OFBEJDIWHRIE

but you stopped your hand motions when you see the purest smile slowly growing on Midorima’s normally stoic face

YOU.EXE has stopped working

he brings you into a tight embrace and for a while you two hug in silence, enjoying each other’s company

“So uh, I’m pregnant,” you said, your words slightly muffled by his shirt

“Yes, I am quite well aware now,” he replied dryly, but his eyes are quite affectionate

“I hope you realize that this is a huge responsibility, (y/n).”

“Hey! I know that it’s a big deal! Come on, who do you take me for?”

“... Right.”

During Pregnancy

the first thing he does was take you to the doctor’s just to find out when you were going to deliver

“What? Why?” you asked him

“I must know our child’s horoscope sign as soon as possible,” he said seriously. “We have to make sure they’re born with no misfortunes attached to them.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

MIDORIMA PLEASE-

okay, but he’d also ask the doctor diligently on what you should be doing and what he should be doing to ensure a successful delivery

Midorima is deadass budget-version doctor at home

it’s that one meme where you go:

“Hey mom can we have a doctor?”

Mom: “We already have a doctor at home.”

Doctor at home: Midorima Shintarou

JOKES aside, he really is knowledgeable on this entire ordeal, which is a blessing and a curse

you could always come to him to rely on him when you’re unsure of something or for him to deal with your moodiness

but at the same time, you can’t get away with snacking on abhorrent things because he’d SNATCH them off your hands and scold you for being irresponsible LOLOL

you could NEVER sneak off unhealthy food because he’s ALWAYS somehow there to catch you or he eventually finds out later and still give you an earful

you still try to do it again anyways

then there’s that side of Midorima where he’d stuff the entire house with bundles of lucky items because he insists on buying two lucky items for you and the kid every day during your pregnancy… all so you can “maximize” your chances of having a successful delivery

you’re sobBING, it’s so CUTE BUT SO DUMB

did I mention that he’s already started on building the nursery and decorating it in ALL sorts of lucky charms and adorable plushies under the guise of “being safe and making the room lucky”

he rarely lets you step out of the house, but if you have to, he’ll always make the time for you so he can accompany you and just glower at anyone who looks at you the wrong way

surprisingly, he’s a lot more lenient on the PDA during your pregnancy: LOTS of hand-holding, chaste kisses on your head/forehead and maybe cheeks, and he does often hug you from the side to protect you

if you bring it up to him though, he’ll deny it to the VERY end and insists that he only does it so you don’t get moody and snap at random strangers passing by, and then it’ll be a hassle to deal with them

yeah right, Midorima

Murasakibara Atsushi

How He Found Out

when you first found out, you decided to hide it from him until you can figure out how to go about your pregnancy

1.) he didn’t seem like the type who can handle kids, let alone even like them

2.) you’re worried about how he’d react considering that he has a “devil-may-care” attitude and has quite a languid view on most things, even to this day

you underestimated Murasakibara though because when you first initially excused yourself to the restroom the first few times, he assumed that you were having too many sweets and barred you from consuming them until you got better

but you didn’t… in fact, you looked even sicker as the days progressed

that was when Murasakibara got suspicious and started paying attention to you and your behavior

when he gets serious, he’s incredibly sharp and intuitive

even still, he doesn’t know if he should confront you or wait until you tell him, because you’ve always been the “big pants” in the relationship, for lack of better terms

so he waits and observes, but he still acts just as normally as any other day, and you, on the other hand, thought you were able to successfully hide this from him

still, when you keep up this sneaky behavior around him, he slowly doubts himself about if he did anything wrong, if he forgot anything important, or if you’re doubting this relationship ???

but he’s not going to admit it to you, so he’s going to casually call Himuro and voice his concerns in such a roundabout way

Himuro immediately understands what he’s trying to ask and simply tells him to talk it out with you

ofc, Murasakibara just huffs and complains about it being so troublesome, but Himuro, smiles, knowing him better that he was going to do it despite his verbal complaints

when asking you if he did anything “wrong” and such, you immediately shake your head and deny it all to ease his worries, and you tell him that it wasn’t anything like what he imagined

at your words, Murasakibara was relieved but at the same time, if these weren’t the problems, why were you acting so strange?

like when you kept oversleeping, kept rushing to the bathroom early mornings, or when you even turned down his offer of going to the grocery store, bakery, and the confectionery store together multiple times simply because you said that you didn’t have the energy

he finally confronted after a few weeks of dodging on your end, draping his entire body over you from behind and placing his chin on top of your head

“Chibi-chin…” he mumbled. “You’ve been acting really weird for the past few weeks. Talk to me.”

you only sighed as you turn around and embrace Murasakibara, and then separated from him to put distance between the two of you as you make eye contact with him

you resigned yourself to tell him the truth because he was going to find it sooner or later, considering that you’ve developed a small bump… so far, you’ve passed off your stomach size as a “food baby” and “gaining weight, I guess,” but you knew you couldn’t use that excuse forever

but before you can utter out a single word, dizziness hits you like a truck, making you completely lose balance before you legit fainted on the spot

poor Murasakibara expresses one of his rare moments of absolute distress as he lunged forward to catch you before you fell to the floor

he’s dialing Himuro because he has no idea what to do and he’s absolutely PANICKING and thinking of the worst-case scenarios of what happened to you

Murasakibara was READY TO CALL THE AMBULANCE AND EVERYTHING but Himuro managed to calm him down enough to reason that it’s better to bring you by car

after all, Himuro had an inkling of an idea of what happened to you, but like a little shit, he’s not gonna tell Murasakibara because seeing him so openly expressive like that was a guilty pleasure for him

POOR MURASAKIBARA

he’s constantly holding you in the car like his life is on the line, and Himuro is just driving and looking straight ahead mentally cackling and wondering how he’s gonna escape his wrath if Murasakibara ever finds out that he knew but didn’t tell him

imagine a distraught giant busting through the doors carrying an unconscious you with a model-like guy trailing behind and pushing the giant to the side to try to coherently talk to the disoriented receptionists

what a life

the doctor merely just says that you fainted and it wasn’t serious, and Murasakibara doesn’t believe them ONE BIT

but he notices Himuro walking over to the doctor’s ear and whispering something, before they had an “ah-ha!” moment, and then right on cue, they had you moved to a different room for testing

poor giant is so agitated, constantly shaking his leg on the floor while he’s sitting in the waiting room, jeez HIMURO PLEASE GIVE HIM A BREAK

“Congratulations! She’s pregnant!”

“Huh.”

“Aren’t you her special someone?”

“Indeed, Atsushi is!” Himuro answers for him with a wink

Murasakibara needs to p r o c e s s this

after a while, you groggily stroll out the room like nothing happened, but still you had a frown on your face because you didn’t want Murasakibara to find out about your pregnancy this way

the car ride home was so AWKWARDLY SILENT

when you both get home, he gets SO PETTY AND CHILDISH AND HUFFS AWAY AND REFUSES TO TALK TO YOU

you try to coax him with kisses, hugs, and tickles, but he’s not budging one bit

even snacks didn’t move him… even though he did eye them for a bit before he turned away

“Atsushiiii,” you whined. “Talk to meeee, I’m sorry.” and there you go pouting and trying to squish his cheeks to get him to give up

he looks at you with an uncharacteristically serious look when he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me, Chibi-chin?”

and here you are, reluctantly explaining your reasons, and Murasakibara is just frowning because he’s thinking about how he needs to get his shit together so you don’t ever think that you can’t rely on him again

lots of wholesome cuddling to make it all up to him

“So… Chibi-chin.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m… gonna be a dad?”

“Yeah.”

and he gives you the brightest smile he’s had since the game against the Jabberwocks, except it was much more intimate and sweeter

During Pregnancy

does Murasakibara have any idea on how to deal with pregnancy? no, but to be fair, most people aren’t prepared anyways

he keeps forgetting that he can’t just give you sweets and snacks willy-nilly anymore because that’d be horrible for the you and the child

but he’s always giving them to you out of habit LOL, but of course, usually you turn his snacks down and remind him that you can’t eat them anymore

except when you have ungodly cravings and just accept his offerings without a complaint

and then Murasakibara feels like something feels off before he realizes you’re tearing off the packaging and ready to shove the entire biscuit into your mouth—

from that point on, he’s a lot more diligent in keeping the processed foods away from you

whenever Himuro stops by to help you out, Murasakibara REFUSES to forget what he did before and he glares daggers at him with every chance he gets, and both you and Himuro ignore him and are having your own conversations about the child AND MURASAKIBARA JUST SULKS IN THE CORNER ALL ANGRY—

he’s so petty and he’s so pouty, and honestly he is the one that becomes clingy during your pregnancy

whenever you shop for baby essentials to prepare, he’s always tailing after you like a lost puppy and trying to learn and understand the baby basics(????), while also doubling as your bodyguard

I mean, who would want to mess with you while there’s a purple titan RIGHT there?

still, you get a huge kick when you see people’s shocked expressions at seeing this gigantic man in the baby sections/aisles following around

you noticed, especially during your later trimesters, that he’s even gentler in how he handles and touches you, and it’s super cute that he’s so conscious about his size and strength around you

your heart is LITERALLY melting

you don’t think he even realizes that himself

but still, Murasakibara has to literally grit his teeth to stop himself from glaring/snapping back at you when your mood swings get really bad

how much do you want to bet that Murasakibara makes you buy extra baby food just to try it?

he’d probably even make you taste test it with him

he says it’s so the baby can eat the best brands out there and doesn’t have to eat the shitty food, but you think that he’s just eating it for fun and you tell him not to spoil the baby so early like that

he leaves the decorations and actual planning up to you though, even though he’ll be right behind you as you do it… he just finds it tiring and too complex sometimes

if you send him on grocery errands and things like that, he’d actually get up and do it without a complaint

if it was all for you and his child’s sake, he’ll do anything… after all, it’s the least he can do to be a dependable father

#knb #knb fic #knb fics #knb headcanons #kuroko no basket #midorima x reader #midorima shintarou #midorima shintaro #midorima shintarou x reader #murasakibara atsushi #murasakibara #murasakibara x reader #murasakibara atsushi x reader #pregnancy headcanon #knb scenarios #anon

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captainmarvels · 4 years

Text

wicked games [25]

Summary: Time is frozen in place as shit hits the fan. Can this be undone? Or is it too late?

Pairing: CEO!Tom Holland x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1837

Warnings: Swearing and infidelity; blackmail

Author’s Note: A NEW UPDATE!!!!! Sorry for the long wait but I hope this chapter is worth it! This chapter is also mainly from Harrison’s POV so I hope you enjoy! also: @rocketman-s is the alpha in this bitch

wicked games masterlist

The setting sun showered the living room in orange and pink hues. An empty wine glass sat alone on the coffee table, condensation dripping down the sides.

“What is taking them so long?”

You were pacing back and forth in front of the TV, your footfalls thudding quietly against the hardwood floors. Mary was sitting on the couch, face in her hands.

“It does not take this long to get back from-”

“Patience, love. We’ll hear the elevator any second now, I’m sure-”

As if she had manifested the sound herself, the elevator bell announcing an arrival rang out through the silent apartment.

You ran to the foyer, where you greeted with an all-too familiar smile.

“Darling,” Tom whispered as you ran into his arms, tears already streaming down your cheeks.

“I… It wasn’t me, I swear.” You managed to get out between the sobs racking your body. Your knees gave out as your emotions rolled over you, and Tom held onto you tightly as you both fell to the ground.

“Shh, I know, love, I know…” His hands ran up and down your back, his touch drawing you back as you tried to control your breathing.

“Tom…” Harrison’s trembling voice echoed around you.

Tom helped you to your feet, his hands never leaving you as he turned to look at his best friend.

The look they shared sent a shiver down your spine.

“You said you had some explaining to do. Well?” Tom’s grip was tight on your waist, the grimace on his face showing no remorse.

“Why don’t we make ourselves more comfortable before Haz’s confession, hm?” Mary was leaning against the wall, her gaze never straying from Tom as the three of you made your way to the living room. Tom let go as he paused in front of Mary. You could barely make what he said to her.

“Thank you. For being here when I couldn’t.” Mary simply shook her head, giving him a pat on the arm before she passed the threshold.

“Ready to confess to your sins, Osterfield?”

You followed her as she sat down on the couch, but Tom maintained his distance, opting to stand behind you as he glared at Harrison.

“Haz,” You said. “What’s going on?”

Harrison wringed his hands, his gaze falling from Tom to the floor as he steadied his breathing.

“I want… to preface this by saying, I didn’t think anything would come of it, I really didn’t.”

“Spit it out, already.” Tom said, venom lacing his words.

“Dom knows about you two. I… it slipped out a few weeks ago, but I never meant for anything to happen because of it, you have to believe me. I was convinced he had already figured it somehow and if he already knew, what was the harm in confirming it, right?” Sweat was beading up across Harrison’s forehead, his lips quivering as he met your gaze.

You didn’t know what to think.

But you knew how he’d react.

“Tom,” You whipped your head back, your hands grabbing his before he could move. The fury clouding his eyes was not a good sign.

“Tom…” You whispered, your eyes threatening to well up. “Look at me.”

“Fucking…” He took a deep breath, his eyes falling to meet yours as his jaw clenched. “How could… how could you do this? You…”

“Please,” Harrison whined. “You know me, mate. You know I wouldn’t do this if it weren’t…”

“That doesn’t make this hurt any less, Harrison. We promised him. Promised.”

Mary’s voice did not waver as she stared at her friend. But doubt clouded her gaze as she spoke.

“Nothing trumps that. And you know that better than anyone.”

“I know, Mary. But I can…” Harrison dropped his gaze to the floor once more, his hands fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket.

Tom’s hands were still in yours, and you refused to let him go, even when you heard Harrison walk away without another word.

“Don’t. Tom, please…” You cupped his face, his gaze protesting yours as you both heard the elevator doors open.

“I can’t... “ Tom whispered, a tear gracing his eyelashes.

I can’t do this.

-------

Harrison’s fingers thrummed against the steering wheel, his breathing shallow as he drove past the painstakingly familiar iron-wrought gates. His phone screen was lit up, texts from you and Mary filling up his notifications as he made his way down the winding driveway. Once he pulled up to the main door, he turned the engine off and ran an anxious hand through his hair.

I can fix this.

That’s what Harrison had wanted to say to Tom. But he couldn’t get the damn words off his tongue.

I can fix this.

He would regret betraying Tom like this forever, but he knew he had to do this. It was long overdue.

The front door swung open as Harrison made his way up the stone steps, his hands growing clamier with every second.

“Such an odd time for a visit. Didn’t think to call ahead, Osterfield?” Dom’s voice made Harrison wince as the door shut behind him.

“Figured you would try and avoid me if I did. Best to be prepared,” He retorted, his voice wavering under pressure.

“And to what do I owe… the pleasure of your company?” Dom sneered, chuckling under his breath as Harrison began to fidget with his hands.

“You can’t keep doing this.”

Dom’s gaze flitted up, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Keep doing what, exactly? Use your words, Harrison.”

“You can’t keep fucking with Tom. You’ve done more than enough damage, as it is.”

“And who do you think you are to tell me what to do, hm? You think you can come into MY home and tell me-”

Pulling out his phone, Harrison stopped Dom right in his tracks as he flashed the screen at him.

“You seem to forget who receives all the company emails, and can see every staff member’s activity. These look familiar to you, sir?”

Harrison swiped through his email screenshots, a look of horror crossing over Dom’s features as he realized what he was looking at.

“How did-”

“It seems this… woman forgot to send these emails to your personal account, sir. There are quite a few… inappropriate messages and, well… certainly some not safe for work photographs attached as well, it appears.” Harrison pulled the phone out of Dom’s grasp as he met the man’s aggressive stare. “I wonder what Nikki would have to say about this…”

Dom was seething, and Harrison had never felt as powerful as he did in that moment.

“Very clever, Osterfield. Looks like you have picked up a thing or two from your time working with me.”

Listen to me, Dom. You and I both know what this will do to your marriage if Nikki finds out. But I can make it all disappear… if you do as I say.”

Dom moved to speak, but Harrison glared at him.

“I am still speaking. Tom is more than worthy of this company, and that shouldn’t even be something up for debate because he has proved himself over and over again, only for you to be a complete arse who took advantage of his emotionally unstable son with addiction issues. You could’ve helped him, but instead you used him, as if he were nothing more than a pawn in your game.” Harrison could feel the pent up anger starting to spill over as he continued.

“The boy needed to learn a lesson, Harrison. You’re not a father - you don’t know it’s like to see your child amount to nothing when you have given them everything! I needed to know he would take the situation seriously -”

“You are no father to him, Dom. You have been abusing and using Tom for years, and you want to claim that as parenting? All that you have put him through made him the way he is, but he is better now. Better than I’ve ever fucking seen him.”

“Don’t talk to me about my children-”

“Shut up, for Christ’s sake. I don’t need to hear your pathetic excuses. You already know what I have on you. Make sure the case is dropped and your ‘testimony’ is wiped from the record. And while we’re at it, I’m going to need you to rewrite the terms of Tom’s trust.”

Dom paled at Harrison’s words; sweat slowly rolling down his forehead as he stammered on his words.

“What about Tom’s trust?”

“Write yourself out of the terms. Terminate all conditions of the trust, and remove the company from the living trust’s properties. Tom wants the trust commandeered under his name. He is not a child, Dominic. And I will not allow you to continue ruining his life. You are done controlling him.”

“Those conditions are a fail-safe, and you know it just as well as I that Tom is not fit for CEO.”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we get there. But, I believe in him. Besides - Tom has the full support of the board behind him,”

“The board knows?” Dom’s eyes widened at the news. “I haven’t spoken to them-”

Harrison smiled. “They were briefed on the situation this afternoon, behind closed doors. It’s in the by-laws, Dom. Should an interim CEO be declared without board approval, the board can deliberate and either support the interim, or have the replaced individual return, under their own conditions. You have no say on that. The twins were removed from company premises just after I arrived here, I believe” Harrison checked his watch, noting the hour before meeting Dom’s gaze of disbelief.

“You son of a-”

“Save the pleasantries for later. The board wants to meet with you first thing tomorrow morning; they are concerned about the actions taken behind their backs. I would be more careful, if I were you.”

Harrison began to head for the door.

“And if I don’t follow through?”

Harrison paused, a shadow crossing over his features as he turned.

“If the trust’s attorneys do not hear from you in 24 hours, they are prepared to have you served and due in court before the end of the week. I wouldn’t want to delay any of your ventures for… personal reasons. Besides,” Harrison continued as he grasped the front door’s handle.

“I have some mail for Nikki that’s scheduled to arrive in the morning if I don’t receive confirmation from the attorneys and police.”

“She knew this was coming.”

Harrison paused. “Who?” He asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“The girl. I tried to convince her into signing the document herself… for his sake. She refused, but I knew she wouldn’t breathe a word of what happened to either of you. Don’t forget; Tom isn’t the only one involved in this, boy. You can’t protect them both.” Harrison’s grip on the door handle tightened, his knuckles turning stark white as he shook his head. A small, dark chuckle escaped him.

“I look forward to hearing from you. Have a nice night, Dominic.”

-----

tags:

@cherrynat @anytimebitches @jobean12-blog @emotchalla @illletitgrow @cloverrover @justaveryobsessedfangirl @ssweet-empowerment @killmongerdreams @spideytrxsh @eyestheyseeyou @aussie-mantle @spidergirlwanab @i-think-i-am-adorable @amanda51015-blog @princessskylarsblog @whoneedsalifeanyhowxx @chinalois @darkerthanspace @slighttinsomniac @curlytomholland @wanderlustomaha @hollandazing @mendes-marvel @wowspideyholland @shelivesin-daydreams @tellurfriends

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland series #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader fanfic #wicked games #ceo!tom holland #dom!tom holland

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crispyjenkins · 4 years

Note

Me again, hope you don’t mind... anyways could you do Cody and Obi wan First Meeting out of Cody’s POV and he slowly realizes that this isn’t you usual Jedi general but that Obi-Wan Kenobi is not only beautiful but also 1. Incredibly good at words 2. Actually cares about the Vode 3. For that reason dislikes fighting and casualties and actually shows his compassion to the Vode 4. Is an absolute badass and 5. Absolutely insane

(Obi-Wan defying the troopers' expectations is the reason i'm alive, and the vode being intimidated by this scary magic man only to find out he's a reckless dumbass who cares more about them than actually winning the war is just. yes. not actually sure how it happened in canon, my brain is being mean, but canon is nebulous and i do what i want.

so here's Cody being surprised by Obi-Wan's endless love for absolutely everybody, and obi being surprised that Cody is surprised.)

Cody is running on six hours of sleep in two days following General Rret So’s reassignment, and he isn’t even close to being finished cleaning up that... disaster. They’ve got a new batch of shinies to paint and name, bodies to bury, a new general to meet, and to be honest, Cody doesn’t have all too high hopes for their next one. It’s already kriffing clear that none of the Jedi have proper military training, and while Cody isn’t one for gossip, he’s also heard rumors that Kenobi hasn’t been in the field since Geonosis. And they want him to lead an attack battalion.

But when Cody arrives in the hangar of their current outpost to make sure it’s in shape before Kenobi arrives, there’s a Jedi near the center of the room, sitting on the floor. Or sitting... a few inches above the floor, only one hand gently touching the durasteel below him, and Cody halts just inside the door.

It doesn’t take much to guess his identity, what with the Jedi robe mostly pooled on the floor, whose edges drift in lazy swirls. The man has his eyes closed, several small stones levitating in equally lazy spins around him, but the casual show of power doesn’t put Cody on edge the way their Nautolan general had; the air around Rret felt like static when he meditated, but General Kenobi effuses warmth and calm, his expression as thoughtful as it is peaceful.

Cody skeptically takes in the armor under Kenobi’s robe, modified clone armour; General Rret never touched anything not sent directly from the Temple. And Kenobi is... smaller than Cody had expected of the famed Negotiator that had helped lead at the Battle of Geonosis, more lithe, more compact. His hair is longer than regulation (not that that has ever stopped Tup), just enough to pull back, with an endearing curl that’s escaped the elastic floating at his temple.

Cody was created for problem solving, for analyzing patterns and information where his rank-and-file brothers could not, but all these little details just leave him confused.

The stones gently and slowly settle back onto the ground, followed by the general as he inhales a deep breath, and that aura of tranquility does not leave when he opens his eyes.

And then he smiles at Cody.

Cody snaps a salute, nerves jumping despite the general’s expression, and tries to raise his mental shields like Jango had taught them to. “General, sir,” he greets, keeping his gaze just below Kenobi’s eyes, which unfortunately has him pinned on his lips.

“Commander Cody,” he returns warmly in High Coruscanti, rising in a fluid motion and holding out a hand. Cody stares at it for a moment before he realises General Kenobi means to shake his hand, and he almost thinks it’s a trap, but he hesitantly reaches out all the same. That smile grows as Kenobi then moves to grip Cody’s forearm like any proper Mando, tapping his other fist to the center of his chest. “It’s good to finally meet you, Commander: I’ve been assured that we will work quite well together.”

Reeling, Cody almost forgets to respond. “Sir?”

“I’ve heard nothing but compliments from your men, and from other battalions; Captain Rex in particular speaks very highly of you.”

Does he know Cody was almost court martialed for arguing with General Rret? Does he know about the multiple complaints submitted by the Nautolan for insubordination?

The way Kenobi’s eyes crinkle at the corners doesn’t assure him that he had. “I like to get my information from multiple sources,” Kenobi explains, finally releasing Cody to tuck his arms behind his back almost at parade rest. “You’re here a bit early, aren’t you? Excellent, that gives us some time to chat before your men arrive.”

It’s enough that General Kenobi went out of his way to learn his name, and then use it, leaving Cody absolutely helpless as Kenobi launches in questions about the cleanup from Rret’s departure.

Kenobi growls like a stampeding reek as their next assault goes to kriffing shit. No sooner had Kenobi managed to greet Ghost Company, that the call to arms had blared through the outpost, a droid battalion approaching from the South. Which was something Rret had apparently anticipated but not felt the need to tell anyone, including the High Generals.

And Kenobi had loaded up with the rest of them, speaking quickly with the pilot, and surely his general wasn’t planning on— on actually fighting with them?

But he had indeed leapt from the transport into the dense forest right alongside him, and Cody had realised, kriff, he has to try and keep this crazy Jedi alive long enough for him to ask what the kriff he’s thinking.

And then things just keep going wrong, from misinformation about droid numbers, to being cornered in a ravine, to Cody having to step over a Shiny that hadn’t even been named yet. Kenobi whirls through the droids with his lightsaber, but the B1s seem to just keep coming, and Cody has almost resigned himself to dying here, because Rret would never let them change the plan this far in—

“Commander!” Kenobi shouts, shoving a B2 droid off his ‘saber. “Full retreat! Evac is inbound, get your men to the top of the ridge!”

“Sir?”

Appearing at Cody’s side and handing him a fresh blaster, Kenobi’s serene expression is traded for troubled rage, but it’s by some miracle not aimed at the vode. “We’re not winning here today,” Kenobi says, jerking his chin towards the ridge as he tugs Cody behind a boulder. “We need to regroup, your medic is already overrun.”

Which doesn’t quite compute. It’s not as if they haven’t lost entire squads in similar conditions, what does Kenobi hope to achieve by—

“I’ll hold them off,” he says, making Cody choke on his spit. “As long as I can.”

“General!” By the Force, he can’t honestly think that Cody will let him stay behind, that Cody will leave him here.

“That’s an order, I’m not losing any more men today,” Kenobi says firmly. He checks around the boulder before spinning back to Cody. “I was told you were by the book, that you were a stellar soldier with his brothers’ best interest at heart. Are you going to make me a fool for believing that?”

“General, I don’t think—”

“I’ve given you an order, Commander. Retreat. I will meet you back at the outpost.”

Swallowing down the urge to throw up, Cody nods and salutes, and prays to whatever deity listening that he’ll wake up tomorrow with absolutely no memory of today.

Kenobi gives him a small smile, before reigniting his ‘saber and rushing back into the battle.

Cody is just beginning to wonder if they’re going to have to get another new general when Kenobi shows up in the last search party before they call it off for the night, stepping off the transport with several more injured brothers that hadn’t made it back with the first two evacs. A squad of shinies runs up to get the stretches to the medbay that is indeed overrun, but Cody doesn’t worr— can’t worry about that right now, marching up to Kenobi with a comm disk.

“Sir, welcome back,” he greets, taking quick stock of the minor grazes on Kenobi’s face, how limp his hair has turned, but he otherwise seems fine, which is a miracle in it of itself. “High General Mundi—”

“Later,” Kenobi cuts him off, not unkindly, but with an air of unspeakable exhaustion. “Master Rret So restationed your secondary medics, yes?”

“Yes, sir, but what—?”

Kenobi nods once and starts to follow the shinies, Cody matching pace with him even as he’s sure he’s broadcasting his confusion into the Force. Kenobi offers him a tiny smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Your brothers aren’t going to last the night if I don’t go help Wupi, and you’re horrendously undermanned as it is.”

Another name casually thrown out, as if General Rret hadn’t even bothered to learn their numbers, and if Cody wasn’t already a whirlwind of emotions, he might have some feelings about that. Later. Everything later.

A thought occurs to him. “Sir, General Rret said they were needed elsewhere. The secondary medics.”

They arrive at the medbay that is in utter chaos, too small to house so many vode, already filled from their last skirmish and now completely overflowing. Kenobi looks around almost as if he’s going to cry, before he clenches his jaw and turns to Cody.

“General Rret was mistaken. I hailed the 501st from the transport, they’ll be here tomorrow afternoon, but until then, it’s my duty to keep your men alive. Can you help me do that, Cody?”

Cody simply nods, wondering if he had been concussed during the battle. “Yes, sir. What do you need.”

“I need every sheet you can spare, and the emergency medkits from all the transports. I need you to hold off General Mundi until morning, I know he’s expecting a long conversation. And please, tell him in no uncertain terms that I plan to have very harsh words with his former padawan as soon as the 501st arrive.” Kenobi takes a deep breath, seeming to draw energy in from everywhere, and then puts a hand on the side of Cody’s neck for the briefest moment. Almost like static shock, Cody flinches, but suddenly doesn’t feel so exhausted, and he blinks down at Kenobi.

“That should hold you over until morning, I trust you to handle the rest of the outpost?” He raises a single brow, but kriff if Cody is going to tell him no.

“Yes, sir.” He salutes, feeling a green warmth brushing against his mind that certainly was not there before, but belongs there all the same.

That warmth stays with him long after the 501st arrives with aid, and Cody intends to hold onto it for as long as his cannon-fodder life allows.

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mellometal · 3 years

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Do we have ANOTHER Dhar Mann video to rip apart today? Yes, we do.

This one is a real specimen...a real treat, if you will. I'm gonna have a field day with this. Today, we'll be talking about how to actually treat disabled people! Specifically physically disabled people! This is something I have a bit of a specialty in, since I do work with disabled people for a living.

This is a VERY recent video, by the way. When I watched this, it made my blood boil seeing how this disabled woman was being treated. Reading some of the comments people were making took everything in me to not scream at them through my phone. Why? I had the shadow of a doubt that they were probably very young and have never been around disabled people before...even though they very well probably have, but didn't realize it.

Before I begin, there's A LOT of ableism that I'm going to talk about. If that triggers you or makes you uncomfortable in any way, feel free to scroll past this and consume content that sparks joy.

To sum up the video, a disabled woman was getting out of her truck in the parking lot, intending to do some grocery shopping. An able-bodied woman (Karen) comes up to this woman to ask her a whole bunch of questions, try to help her unload things out of her truck (when she didn't need any help in the first place), and "tried to relate" by saying that she was in a wheelchair for two weeks in high school. Please don't do that.

Karen touched this woman's wheelchair without her consent and attempted to push her when she never asked for any help.

NEVER touch a disabled person, their wheelchair, walker, motor scooter, cane, etc. (medical equipment, essentially), without their consent. Unless the disabled person cannot move around on their own, they give you their consent, you're their caretaker, family members, or a professional who works with disabled people, don't touch them or their equipment. Even then, it never hurts to ask them first, especially if you're a new caretaker or a new professional in their home and they don't know you very well. If they tell you "no" and/or the person/people with them say "no", it means "no" and you need to leave them alone. If they tell you that they don't need your help, to leave them alone, or anything else along those lines, those phrases also mean "no". If they say they need help or they ask for help, of course, help them.

(ETA: Wheelchairs, walkers, motor scooters, canes, etc., are part of the physically disabled person. These things are how they move around. I meant this in the, "Don't touch THEM." kind of sense. Just thought I'd clarify real quick.)

Karen then pulled out her phone to take a picture with the disabled woman, despite her saying she didn't want to have pictures being taken of her. Karen POSTED IT ON HER SOCIAL MEDIA. The disabled woman says to Karen to leave her alone, stop worrying about her, and that she doesn't need any help.

In the store, the disabled woman is just getting some groceries...like anyone else would. She gets her reaching tool out to grab an item off the top shelf behind Karen, who makes a tasteless joke about how she should give her a speeding ticket. The disabled woman makes a remark that her legs may not work, but her eyes do. She grabs a bottle of blue cheese dressing off the top shelf with her reaching tool, which Karen grabs for her without asking.

Karen crouches down to talk to the disabled woman, which makes the woman understandably uncomfortable. The woman tries to put her groceries on the counter to pay for them, which Karen butts in YET AGAIN. The woman is obviously fed up at this point, rightfully so. Karen then offers to pay for this woman's groceries, which wasn't necessary whatsoever. Why? Because she "felt bad" for her and has the assumption that disabled people "don't have a lot of money". She also asked the disabled woman what happened for her to be in a wheelchair, which is something that I've only heard of CHILDREN asking. (That's none of your business, by the way. It's up to that person to tell you.)

Listen, disabled people don't need to be pitied. They're disabled. It is what it is. Being disabled isn't a disease, so please stop treating it like it is. As far as disabled people not having a lot of money, that's not exactly true for every aspect of life. They're not allowed to have any more than $2,000 in assets each month along with their benefits. They do have money, and the amount all depends on the person. You cannot just bunch up all disabled people's income as the same. Some disabled people don't have SSI. If they get married, their income gets even lower or they lose benefits completely, which is extremely fucked up and makes them more vulnerable to being exploited, abused, and controlled. Marriage equality STILL doesn't exist because disabled people are STILL not being treated as equals in marriages. Some places only pay disabled employees like $3.34 an hour or something crazy like that (that's how much Goodwill pays disabled employees, by the way). The working conditions for disabled people NEED to change. Give them a livable wage. You CANNOT live off of $3.34 an hour. Make companies give necessary, legal accommodations to disabled people. They have a right to their assets and to keep them, regardless of whether they get married or not. Why would you reduce that or take that away from them? Do you even know what their benefits go towards? THEM BEING ABLE TO LIVE, IN LAYMAN'S TERMS. All in all, help make the world a better place for disabled people. (Edited for new information.)

She pulls out her phone AGAIN to take pictures with the disabled woman, who puts her hand up to the phone and says she doesn't want to have pictures being taken of her. Karen then says that she's "just trying to spread awareness"....disabled people aren't a disease. They're not a danger to you. All disabled people ask for is to be accepted, treated like everyone else, and to have accommodations readily available for them. People are already aware of the existence of disabled people.

The disabled woman is clearly very fed up and wants to get back to her truck and go to wherever she needs to be, Karen goes out to confront her "for being rude", and the disabled woman confronts Karen for being extremely rude to her and stomping all over her boundaries. This woman was VERY polite too. Actually, WAY too polite. A lot of people in the comments section seemed to misunderstand her justified anger and wrote it off as her being a bitch. If you were a disabled person who's completely independent, you had some stranger randomly come up to you to ask twenty questions, they were constantly harassing you, touching you without your consent, shoving their phone or camera in your face to take pictures of you even when you told them you weren't okay with that, belittled you, and boiled you down to your disability, YOU'D BE PISSED TOO.

This woman tells Karen to not assume that disabled people all are completely helpless and can't do anything for themselves, that she's more than her disability, and to respect people. Karen apologizes (finally) and briefly explains that she thought she was trying to do a good deed. The woman says that she knows people have good intentions, but they again, shouldn't assume that all disabled people need their help. Especially when they don't ask for it. Plot twist: she owns her own company and is rich! (There are/have been rich disabled people; however, I can only name a few off the top of my head.)

Only then does Karen FINALLY decide to delete the picture she posted of this woman that she took without her consent. And it ends there.

(Context: The disabled woman told Karen that she didn't need her to push her....and yet Karen tries to anyway.)

This isn't okay. Karen should have left this woman alone after she told Karen to do so.

Taking pictures of people, despite them telling you that they don't want to take pictures, and posting them on social media without their consent for clout! What's that called again? Hmmmm....I know! EXPLOITATION! And being an extremely disrespectful sack of shit.

Again....if they say "no" or anything else along those lines, IT MEANS NO.

Onto my response. Again, like usual, it's a long response.

This is pretty much what I've said earlier...but like, seriously. If you want to help disabled people, THAT'S GREAT! You can try getting a job at a place that helps disabled people! You can volunteer!

Just....don't be like Karen in this video. Enough said. I don't think I need to elaborate further on that.

#mello speaks #dhar mann #dhar mann talk #dhar mann is a piece of human garbage #please stop supporting dhar mann #tw ableism #dhar mann will live to regret his decision to make these fucked up cringe videos #dhar mann will live to regret his decision uwu #tw dhar mann

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phantomato · 3 years

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Uber

Nottmort (Tom Riddle/Nott Sr.), Modern Muggle AU, ~2k words

Thanks to @yletylyf for kicking around this idea! Tom drives an Uber in the Bay Area. Thoros & co need a ride.

—

Abraxas and Orion are bickering over luggage in the background when your Uber pulls up. Black, of course, so it’s a Mercedes that will smell a little too much like leather cleaner when you get in, but none of you have ever ridden in an UberX or, god forbid, an Uber Pool, and you’re not about to start.

Your colleagues—never forget, you are not friends, no matter how much time you spend with them—slide into the back seat before you can even begin to help load bags into the trunk. You’re left alone with the driver, and though he offers to help, you haven’t let yourself sink that low as to make this man pile all of your shit in his car while you sit around and watch. And anyway, it feels like the polite thing to do. More than Abraxas or Orion, you’ve been raised to be polite.

So you fold yourself into the front passenger seat, too kind to push the seat all the way back and give yourself the leg room you need even if Orion, behind you, is just 5’8 to your 6’3, and smile at the driver as he confirms your destination.

He’s pretty. You’ve been in a lot of Ubers and you’ve never seen a driver this pretty. Is that classist?, you wonder to yourself, remembering something you read in Vox the other day. Probably. Nevertheless, you’re taken by the curve of his mouth, the sweep of his dark hair, and you throw a smirk over your shoulder at Abraxas who you know must have also noticed.

“Traffic to SFO will be busy,” he says regretfully, and you roll your eyes. Orion refuses to take the early morning flights, unwilling to wake at 3 AM, and you’re always stuck with these long, miserable Uber rides down from the city to the airport. “And Terminal 2—right in the middle of it. There’s construction around those doors, if you haven’t been there—”

“We know,” Orion butts in rudely, shutting up your driver for the few minutes it takes to get out of your neighborhood.

You use those few minutes to swipe through your phone. Email—nothing important. Messages—you clear the notifications. Your Instagram is alight with people reposting the same infographic about voting rights and you make a mental note to kick some money to that non-profit that’s been all over Twitter lately. You close out apps and end up back at Uber, watching your car’s laggy progress through the San Francisco streets. Your driver’s name is Tom, the app informs you. It’s a nice name.

You clear the side streets and Tom offers amenities. “If you want any water, there are bottles in the cooler between the seats,” he calls back to Abraxas and Orion, “and mints in the cup holder. You can adjust the air conditioning if you like, and there’s a charging cable attached to the back of my seat if you need it. Would you like to choose any music?”

“No,” Abraxas says, and whether he means the music or the entire spiel doesn’t really matter, given his withering tone. You look back at him, trying to convey ‘Be nice’ with just your eyebrows, but Abraxas is fussing with his hair and ignoring you.

Tom’s one of the chipper ones, it turns out, because he takes the rejection in stride and shifts to the dreaded personal conversation. “What do you all do for a living?”

“Ah, we invest in companies, mostly start-ups,” you say, trying to avoid—

“Venture capitalists!” Tom guesses, and he’s right but you hate the term and its connotations. So what if you are all white men whose family money has bankrolled tech speculation? It’s what anyone with half a brain would do. You donate, you read the liberal news—at least, you think that’s true for all of you, though Orion was friends with that Republican mayoral candidate and Abraxas’ father sponsors that conservative think-tank and…

Ah, fuck. “Yeah, pretty much,” you agree, hating yourself.

Behind you, Orion digs his AirPods out of his pocket. You hear the snap of the magnetic lid as he closes himself off to the world. Abraxas is slouching, the hem of his third-favorite cashmere cardigan catching on the seat behind him, and you realize that you’re alone in this conversation.

Well, fuck it. If those two pricks are going to make you call the Uber, deal with the reimbursement paperwork, and sit in the front seat, you’re going to talk to the driver and make this car conversation as painful as possible for them.

As if reading your thoughts, Tom does the one thing that guarantees a terrible ride: he pitches his app idea.

“You know, I’m also a software developer,” he says, which is at least more promising than when someone isn’t, “and if I had the kind of funding that companies like yours provide, I would absolutely make this app.” He proceeds to describe something completely inane, the type of exclusive, niche social networking app that hasn’t had legs since before the Trump presidency and you would be content to let him drone on, to let Abraxas keep melting into his own seat and to let Orion channel his anger through a knee driven into the back of yours, but—

But for all that Tom’s idea is stupid, he has the energy of the best pitches you see. His energy is infectious. His eyes light up, he gestures with one hand, and when he stops to take a drink (one of those water bottles with a built-in straw, which you associate with joggers and your lamest employees but which does very different things to you when it’s Tom’s mouth wrapped around the top) you’re transfixed by the wet sheen over his chapped lips.

And so, yes, maybe it’s mostly lust, and maybe this is a sign that you need to download Grindr again, even if only to jerk off to the dick pics you’ll get, but you start to actually talk to him.

“There’s no future in niche social networks,” you say, halting Tom in his tracks. “There will always be new ones, don’t misunderstand me, but the broader landscape is saturated by the top names, and they’ll buy out their competitors if they need to. Perhaps you can topple Tumblr, but that’s not a path to profit. If you want to impact the social market, you need to pinpoint the novel interaction model that you want to offer and make yourself buyable.”

“Buyable,” Tom repeats, like he’s never been interrupted before. He probably hasn’t. The first rule of Ubering around the Bay Area or the Valley is to never engage the app pitches, and Orion has started kicking your seat for your transgression.

“Yes,” you enunciate. “You want to be bought out and brought in at a high level. The giant that eats you may or may not use your idea, but you’ll make a comfortable sum as a consolation prize.” You’ve helped companies through this before. You’re flying out to New York this week in part because one of your investments is considering purchase offers and you want to strategize in-person. The founder is dallying, sending emails about independence and integrity, and Orion will bully him into selling while you and Abraxas negotiate the best terms for the contract.

You can feel Tom’s eyes on you. Abraxas might be calling “Thoros…” from the back seat, and Orion might be attempting to annihilate you with his gaze alone, but you’re smiling at that handsome face behind the wheel and hoping for an accident on the 101.

Unfortunately, you make it through San Bruno without running into more than the usual level of traffic, and Tom’s pulling up to your terminal much sooner than you would like. Abraxas and Orion jump out of the car with uncharacteristic speed when it stops, Orion even moving to stand by the trunk in readiness to take his bags. You delay.

“Do you have a business card?” you ask, when it’s clear Tom’s waiting on you.

He fumbles to pull a wallet from his jeans. You can’t quite get a view of his ass as he does, but that doesn’t stop you from looking.

His card is bent at the corner, printed cheaply, and probably from his last job. You’re pretty sure that company doesn’t exist anymore. Tom taps the phone number. “I can be reached here,” he says smoothly, but his professionalism cracks when he adds, “by call or by… text.”

You know what sort of texts you’d like to receive from him.

Pulling out your own card case, you hand him your card. “Text me,” you say, your voice just this side of appropriate, “any time.”

Tom visibly swallows and jumps out of the car. You take your time getting up, and if your cashmere sweater—Margaret Howell, not that Elder Statesman piece of shit Abraxas is wearing—ends up in the footwell of Tom’s passenger seat, well, you’ll be back in SF next week, won’t you?

“Thanks for the ride, Tom,” you tell him as you take the handle of your luggage, letting your fingers brush his. “I enjoyed our conversation.”

“Yeah,” he nods, and you don’t care that Abraxas is snorting behind you, he’s been judging you this whole trip and he lost out on a hot guy’s number as a result. “It was…”

“Thoros,” you interrupt him before he can ramble and psych himself out. “My name is Thoros, and I really would like to hear from you.”

Tom looks at you then, and you see him pull together the same sureness that drew you into his initial pitch. “I’ll text you about the app.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you say, meaning it.

—

Bonus:

“You know,” Abraxas drawls as you sit in the United club lounge, gesturing lazily with his overpriced airport Fiji water, “if you tip him too much it’s like you’re paying him for sex.”

Orion looks up from his phone then, removing one earbud for the first time since he put them in. “I’ve paid more for sex with less attractive men.”

“Welcome back,” you say, “I didn’t realize you had paid any attention.”

“Someone would need to not have eyes in order to miss how hot that Uber driver was,” he bites back, returning to his phone.

“Well, I’m tipping him extra anyway,” you announce, confirming Tom’s five-star rating. Should you write a review? Is that too much?

Abraxas, with a grumble, declares, “I’m telling Alecto not to approve this expense.”

—

Bonus bonus:

Your phone buzzes at the end of dinner, the celebratory affair to close the sale which someone had insisted must be at Lilia, even though Abraxas doesn’t eat carbs and you would have preferred to grab a slice at Scarr’s rather than haul out to Williamsburg, anyway.

It’s Tom. Of course it’s Tom—you’ve been texting all week, and between a few late-night flirtations and one very bald statement of interest, you’ve got a date set for when you’re back home. You’re going to Mensho Tokyo, since he lives in the Tenderloin and you live… vaguely around the Tenderloin, at least, you tell people you live there when you want to seem cooler, and Tom is the type of guy that makes you excited to stand in line for hours to get seats. You’re already thinking about whether you might put your arm around him while you’re waiting, and you unlock your phone to see what he’s saying now.

It’s a picture message.

A picture of Tom, wearing your Howell sweater and no pants and oh god oh fuck—

“Was that Uber driver’s dick?” Abraxas whispers, next to you, and you curse your luck. “Remind me to call the next Uber, Jesus Christ.”

#tom riddle #nott sr #nottmort #muggle au

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thereddeadredeemed · 3 years

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An Ironwood meta that just randomly popped into my head.

So I’ve been skimming over a lot of the observations on RWBY from @bionic-jedi and aside from the glurge of absolutely adorable Nuts ‘n Dolts stuff (Which I appreciate, I ship it now), the part that really got my attention was all the shit going down around Ironwood. I don’t watch the show anymore, not that I hated it or anything I just sorta lost interest in the show itself, decided it ultimately wasn’t really for me and mainly just enjoy it through fanart and shipping now, but from what I gathered from bionic-jedi’s Let’s Watch Ironwood sounds absolutely fascinating in all the ways that I don’t think was intentional by the CRWBY but is still pretty awesome that it’s there.

Forgive me if I get the details wrong since I haven’t kept up with the show and all my info is coming second hand from @bionic-jedi, but from I could gather Ironwood comes across as a man who:

- Is an experienced veteran fighter who individually is very badass with a proven tactical record on the battlefield

- Has the natural charisma to instill genuine loyalty and belief in his cause into his subordinates (To paraphrase Mass Effect 3 for a bit, you can pay a man to fight, you can pay him to charge up a hill, but no amount of money in the world will ever convince a man to believe in you), and does possess a genuine care for the troops under his command

- Will nonetheless still engage in abusive behavior if a subordinate is not performing in a way he believes is proper for their duty (Yeah I would consider forcibly hacking a sapient being to count as that)

- Carries around a very cool badass revolver as a signature weapon

- While brilliant tactically, possess horrible long term strategic assessment skills that if allowed to be acted upon could have/did end in disaster

You know what that sounds like? Ironwood is almost a perfect RWBY equivalent for George R. Patton (with maybe a bit of Bernard Montgomery thrown in).

Like, I think that the CRWBY may have accidentally written a scenario that asks “What if Patton was the Supreme Commander of the Western Front instead of Eisenhower?” And the results are an absolute clusterfuck unfolding in real time, but I feel I gotta clarify this.

Patton is one of America’s most celebrated and respected generals, and for good reason. Dude was a badass with a keen sense of armor tactics and mobile warfare that proved repeatedly that he could beat the Germans at their own game. His personal bravery could also never be called into question, having proven his mettle in direct combat during both the Hunt for Pancho Villa and WW1, as well as putting his own life in danger being very close to the front lines numerous times during WW2, one time even riding a tank into a German-occupied village to inspire his men. He also did genuinely care for the lives of his men, only ever seen openly weeping when mourning for the lives of his fallen soldiers, treating his wounded troops with the highest respect, and properly giving praise when they did a good job.

For all of Ironwood’s faults, his own mettle is certainly not into question given he suffered such grievous injuries that half his body is now cybernetics, and the man for sure knows how to fight and fight well, so that’s one similarity with Patton. He has also inspired real loyalty in Winter and the Ace Operatives, and in turn he does seem to actually care for them, and he had no real reason to give Yang a new prosthetic arm (and rather quickly fast tracking her an incredibly advanced one at that), so he’s not completely heartless or devoid of empathy.

However, Patton was a man focused on the tactical short term in lieu of long term strategic planning, and possessed with some horrendous character flaws that bit him in the ass on several occasions. One of them being the, even by the standards of the 40′s, deplorable manner in which he treated soldiers wracked with what we in the modern day would diagnose as PTSD. The man flat out did not believe PTSD was a real thing, thinking of it as cowardice and...you know what? I’m just gonna let the Wikipedia quotes say it all, I bolded some choice quotes for convenience:

Private Charles H. Kuhl, of L Company, U.S. 26th Infantry Regiment, reported to an aid station of C Company, 1st Medical Battalion, on 2 August 1943. Kuhl, who had been in the U.S. Army for eight months, had been attached to the 1st Infantry Division since 2 June 1943. He was diagnosed with "exhaustion," a diagnosis he had been given three times since the start of the campaign. From the aid station, he was evacuated to a medical company and given sodium amytal. Notes in his medical chart indicated "psychoneurosis anxiety state, moderately severe (soldier has been twice before in hospital within ten days. He can't take it at the front, evidently. He is repeatedly returned.)" Kuhl was transferred from the aid station to the 15th Evacuation Hospital near Nicosia for further evaluation.

Patton arrived at the hospital the same day, accompanied by a number of medical officers, as part of his tour of the U.S. II Corps troops. He spoke to some patients in the hospital, commending the physically wounded. He then approached Kuhl, who did not appear to be physically injured. Kuhl was sitting slouched on a stool midway through a tent ward filled with injured soldiers. When Patton asked Kuhl where he was hurt, Kuhl reportedly shrugged and replied that he was "nervous" rather than wounded, adding, "I guess I can't take it." Patton "immediately flared up,” slapped Kuhl across the chin with his gloves, then grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the tent entrance. He shoved him out of the tent with a kick to his backside. Yelling "Don't admit this son of a bitch," Patton demanded that Kuhl be sent back to the front, adding, "You hear me, you gutless bastard? You're going back to the front."

Corpsmen picked up Kuhl and brought him to a ward tent, where it was discovered he had a temperature of 102.2 °F (39.0 °C); and was later diagnosed with malarial parasites. Speaking later of the incident, Kuhl noted "at the time it happened, [Patton] was pretty well worn out ... I think he was suffering a little battle fatigue himself." Kuhl wrote to his parents about the incident, but asked them to "just forget about it." That night, Patton recorded the incident in his diary: "[I met] the only errant coward I have ever seen in this Army. Companies should deal with such men, and if they shirk their duty, they should be tried for cowardice and shot."

Private Paul G. Bennett, 21, of C Battery, U.S. 17th Field Artillery Regiment, was a four-year veteran of the U.S. Army, and had served in the division since March 1943. Records show he had no medical history until 6 August 1943, when a friend was wounded in combat. According to a report, he "could not sleep and was nervous." Bennett was brought to the 93rd Evacuation Hospital. In addition to having a fever, he exhibited symptoms of dehydration, including fatigue, confusion, and listlessness. His request to return to his unit was turned down by medical officers. A medical officer describing Bennett's condition

And yet another incident like this:

The shells going over him bothered him. The next day he was worried about his buddy and became more nervous. He was sent down to the rear echelon by a battery aid man and there the medical aid man gave him some tranquilizers that made him sleep, but still he was nervous and disturbed. On the next day the medical officer ordered him to be evacuated, although the boy begged not to be evacuated because he did not want to leave his unit.

On 10 August, Patton entered the receiving tent of the hospital, speaking to the injured there. Patton approached Bennett, who was huddled and shivering, and asked what the trouble was. "It's my nerves," Bennett responded. "I can't stand the shelling anymore." Patton reportedly became enraged at him, slapping him across the face. He began yelling: "Your nerves, hell, you are just a goddamned coward. Shut up that goddamned crying. I won't have these brave men who have been shot at seeing this yellow bastard sitting here crying." Patton then reportedly slapped Bennett again, knocking his helmet liner off, and ordered the receiving officer, Major Charles B. Etter, not to admit him. Patton then threatened Bennett, "You're going back to the front lines and you may get shot and killed, but you're going to fight. If you don't, I'll stand you up against a wall and have a firing squad kill you on purpose. In fact, I ought to shoot you myself, you goddamned whimpering coward." Upon saying this, Patton pulled out his pistol threateningly, prompting the hospital's commander, Colonel Donald E. Currier, to physically separate the two. Patton left the tent, yelling to medical officers to send Bennett back to the front lines.

As he toured the remainder of the hospital, Patton continued discussing Bennett's condition with Currier. Patton stated, "I can't help it, it makes my blood boil to think of a yellow bastard being babied," and "I won't have those cowardly bastards hanging around our hospitals. We'll probably have to shoot them some time anyway, or we'll raise a breed of morons."

There were serious cries for Patton to get sacked after theses incidents, his reputation and job only saved because Eisenhower knew his tactical command abilities were simply too valuable to give up and so was only temporarily relieved of duty instead. Point I’m trying to make here is that while Patton could definitely hold sympathy and understanding for his men, it was contingent on them acting in a way he believed was properly honoring their duty. If they erred from his ideals of a how a proper soldier behaved, he could lapse into some seriously abusive behavior disturbingly quickly.

I can’t be the only one that sees some parallels between this and Ironwood hacking Penny am I? A man who cares for his troops but as soon as Penny acted in a way he deemed to be out of line, immediately sought to violate her autonomy and rights as a sapient being to force her back into line and back into his ideals of how a proper soldier should behave. Perhaps he wasn’t as violently physically aggressive about it as Patton, but arguably what Ironwood did was ethically much worse than slapping the shit out of and threatening people.

Patton also wasn’t the type to worry about the long term consequences of his actions. Before he died in a car accident shortly after WW2 he was unceremoniously sacked from his job after making one too many aggressive comments towards the Soviet Union, potentially nudging towards a potential Operation Unthinkable, and carelessly allowing former Nazis back into political power. Both of these were unthinkably horrible for obvious reasons.

There is one key difference between Patton and Ironwood however. Eisenhower was keenly aware of Patton’s potential shortcomings and he was kept on a leash and out of the highest levers of power, thus preventing him from ever being in a position where his worst traits would allow him to truly fuck up. Ironwood however I feel got Peter Principle’d hardcore and was promoted way above his level of competence (Always a risk for men who gain a reputation as “fightin’ generals”, see: John Bell Hood), where his positive qualities of personal physical bravery, combat skill and tactical leadership is wasted and his worst qualities of hyper-focus on short sighted tactical victories over long term strategic goals, paranoia and distrust leading to an excessive need for control, and moral cowardice are allowed to flourish.

And we see the consequences of it. He may have started with solid pragmatic ideas, but his insanely one-track minded obsession with short term strategic goals like making sure he has control over the Winter Maiden is costing him big long term strategically by burning bridges with potentially valuable allies and isolating himself and his command. Valuable time and resources that could have been spent coordinating forces against Salem wasted on various shenanigans involving Penny, RWBY and JN_R. Especially devastating given that Atlas is the only industrialized military power worth a damn in this world and isn’t reliant on mostly independent and unorganized Hunters and Huntresses (individually skilled but too few in number and takes far too long to train each one to reliably stop a Grimm invasion), and he’s just wasting the resources of the world power best able to hold the line against the Grimm.

Next part is a bit of a non-sequitur and really long so I put it in between the dotted lines if y’all ain’t interested and want to skip on over to the relevant Ironwood parts.

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Getting a feel for the strategic situation in Atlas, I get a strong sense that what Atlas needs more than anything else right now is a Dwight D. Eisenhower. Eisenhower the the exact man needed to lead the Western allies, and I can’t see anyone else doing as realistically as good a job as he did, this is a hill I’ll die on. It wouldn’t look like it at first, the man had never once commanded a unit in battle (a fact that made many of his “actually seen combat” rivals bitter), and his softer, more easy going disposition would seem at odds with the alpha-male take charge image cultivated by men like Patton and Montgomery that would be stereotypically expected of a general, much less a Supreme Commander.

However, that calm exterior hid a man with a sharp eye on the necessary strategic goals needed for victory, expert resource and personnel management skills, the humility to listen to his subordinates and admit his own mistakes, and most importantly, both the smooth negotiating skills and the iron will necessary to deal with larger than life figures.

The western allies were made up of many different nations and factions and filled to the brim with what I would call (to put it lightly) strong personalities. This was an organization that involved:

- Franklin D. Roosevelt

- Winston Churchill

- Charles De Gaulle

- Bernard Montgomery

- The aforementioned Patton

- Occasional dealings with Stalin even

All of them larger than life personalities, all of them strong willed and possessed of their own ideas of how to win the war as well as their own political/personal motives, and all of them vying for dominance in the strategic decision making of the Western Allies. It was like herding a clowder of cats, but all the cats had frggin tanks and bombs. Eisenhower actually managed to cut through the bullshit and resist all the arm twisting and actually got all the different countries, armies and leaders together to act upon a united plan. He did this while still being able to control his subordinates worst impulses and (mostly) was able to resist the shitty plans put up and embrace the good ones (for the most part, Montgomery did manage to convince him to approve of Operation Market Garden, and it was the last major German victory of the war mostly due to Monty’s mishandling). Tactical battle ability was largely irrelevant for Eisenhower’s role, and his ability to see the big picture clearly and being able to maneuver through the internal politics meant everything to his success as a Supreme Commander.

If Eisenhower or an Eisenhower-esque figure was in charge of Atlas during this latest season, you’d probably get a drastically different turn of events. An Eisenhower would not be so quick to drastic action as Ironwood was. An Eisenhower would probably sit down with their subordinates, hear out all their arguments for why or why shouldn’t a specific action be taken, then calmly consider their actions. An Eisenhower would probably then say “Working with an enemy agent to hack into the Winter Maiden is a dumb idea” and proceed to create plans on how to coordinate all available forces in Remnant to best fend off Salem.

Atlas as a whole doesn’t really strike me as the type of organization that would raise an Eisenhower though. Militaries are always offshoots of the cultures that create them, and I don’t believe it to be a coincidence that a Supreme Commander like Eisenhower would be American. The country was literally founded on democratic ideals and it was enshrined very early into its history that the military would always be subordinate to the civilian government. This precedent makes it necessary that anyone that rises high enough in the military must be able to respect a strong civilian presence and be able to work with both internal and external politics. Any general that rises high enough must be half-general half-politician by necessity (there’s a reason why former military often do have successful political careers after retiring from service, including the aforementioned Eisenhower who eventually became the 34th President of the United States).

Atlas just doesn’t strike me as having that same sort of cultural framework. If anything the Atlas military strikes me as having a cultural framework closer to WW2 Germany where tactical efficiency and high tech weaponry/tools is prized above all else, often at the cost of long term strategic goal setting. Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan never set realistic goals for themselves and predictably got steamrolled eventually. Occasionally you’ll get an online thread asking “What if Germany/Japan had smart top leadership during WW2?” But that’s a trick question. A WW2 Germany/Japan with sensible leadership...just isn’t WW2 Germany/Japan at all, it was intrinsic to the identity and character of those nations in that time period. Similarly, I just don’t see an Atlas military that sees a potential Eisenhower in their ranks and thinks to promote them to High Command as opposed to just shuffling them off as an aide to some random officer and never consider them for higher promotion. An organization that prizes short term tactical victory over long term strategic goals just isn’t the type of organization to do that.

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Thing is though, I think just from what I gathered, Ironwood just shot up to be my favorite RWBY character because of how frigging fascinatingly horrible he is. He’s not an entirely awful person (at least not at first), but his own paranoia and fear combined with his habit of confusing short term tactical advantage with long term strategic goals leads him down the path of utterly despicable actions while convincing himself that it’s all for the greater good. All while being an idiot and wasting the legitimate game-changer resources of having an actual army when everyone else is still dicking around with hunters and huntresses as their only defense.

Smart money is he’s gonna die, it seems to be where he’s heading. If CRWBY’s writing staff has some serious cajones however, it’d be really cool if they pulled a Catra on him and see how low they can make him sink before making him hit rock bottom, realize his mistakes and force him to work hard for a redemption arc. I dunno, maybe I’m giving him too much slack but I actually do feel for him a little bit. The dude was clearly an alright guy that had the world fall down on him and just wasn’t suited for the massive responsibility that circumstances forced on his shoulders. He’s still a soldier that genuinely wants to protect Atlas, he’s just too short sighted to see how his actions just aren’t what Atlas is gonna need in the long term. Maybe a harsh talking to by Glinda would do him some good (I still ship IronWitch don’t @ me). I dunno, I just think that a redemption arc would be a lot harder to write than just killing him off, and thus would be that much more satisfying to see it pulled off right like what Noelle Stevenson did with Catra’s character in She-Ra.

#RWBY #bionic-jedi #ironwood #rwby meta #long post #george r. patton #dwight d. eisenhower

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macklives · 4 years

Text

hi. so..... its been a while huh? feels kinda weird making a message on here, after what??? a month of not posting at fucking all??

and idk how to say that im sorry for taking so long, especially with kallie kinda sticking with me pretty much the whole time i was away. so we both kinda went AFK on everybody. and by god, this has also been the longest gap between updates. so yeah... i feel you all are owed an explanation.

id like to give a short summary of what went down in my life recently. not so much as an excuse for my disappearance, but bearing in mind, i can't just come back suddenly without a notice as to why it took so long, and then start discussing homestuck theories as if nothing happened, that would be ...weird and off putting. im known as one to talk a lot in a post, so i think its expected. buckle up kiddos, this may be a long one, which you dont have to necessarily read, but im simply putting it out there for you all in case any of you may have been worried or confused.

ALSO, keep in mind im alright with sharing this information because i needed some time to get over it in order to accept it, and being able to say this stuff means im pretty much ready to move on and go back to what it was like before (which for someone who has trouble focussing, can get quite fucking hard). so here's the last few months in a nutshell:

i got my wisdom teeth pulled so i was both in pain and numb for a week and a half after being drugged up with, idk, the IV they use to knock you tf out and that needle to numb your teeth?? and having those bad boys outta my mouth so that was a fun time. fuck that shit.

uhhh on the more upsetting side of things, a friend of mine recently passed away, but i took some time to recover from that. i didnt want to bum everybody out by liveblogging while in that state, nor did i feel like it was right to make jokes at that time (for obvious reasons) so i took some time off. and while i do still care for that person, after a while you have to come to terms that your life can't evolve around grief, and you have to move on eventually. its been a month and im doing way better than i was in the first week. so you dont have to worry really.. i even heard about the messages friends wrote on discord and let me tell you that i appreciate every response, i love all of them, i love all of you guys, but if any of you worry about me as of today, just know im doing perfectly fine and thats behind me now. so yeah, thats the worst of the news..

on less distressing matters, i changed up my job! i used to be a waitress at a restaurant to get that not so mucho money cash flowing, and now i got a full time placement as an intern (sort of full-time. full-time with student conditions). which in hindsight, to some may not sound like its any helpful, but considering im in my final year of college and i have to explore new places to get experience, id rather go where its needed so i reach that specific goal in mind. and you have to start somewhere, so this is where ill start heading. though i do still have to graduate which will take a lot of stress out of me eventually but it hasnt yet caught up lol... yikes to when that fuse blows in the future.

and finally, the most frustrating part of the month, idk who it was specifically, the company or the landlord, but eh details arent that important, anyways, the landlord and/or its agency messed up with our rental situation and lost a lot of our info so i had to spend a lot of time trying to get that back while also filling out tax returns bc those were finally put out. so yeah, we kinda just have to wait for a notice, though i personally think everything will be fine. we’re considering moving out eventually, but thats probably gonna have to wait a bit longer. while we’re still angry, the landlord respected that it was out of line and apologised while making it up to us, so that was fair enough.

so YEAH, you can pretty much say its been one hell of a fucking month, and i had barely any time to liveblog let alone be in contact with friends that i kinda missed so fucking much????... i basically didnt want to bring anybody down with me (emotionally or mentally), so i decided to at least give you all a warning that i wouldnt be on for a while, hence the last update a few weeks prior, and to take a break for myself to figure out my situation, to rest, and to try and get healthier despite that wisdom fuck week, which nobody warned me wisdom teeth removals were ABSOLUTE HELL

but... im glad to be back, im not sure ill get back into the rhythm of how things used to be, meaning, posting almost every day....that would have to wait a bit unfortunately. however, i think it would be best if i made a sort of schedule for myself. maybe a liveblog twice a week, starting the next. it would help out a lot. i hope to start off with that at least, and not push myself too hard for hours anymore nor the stress of needing to post daily. i loved it, dont get me wrong, but sometimes it took a lot out of me since i know it takes a lot of my time. that being said, i will be on discord, maybe tomorrow? and probably be more active on there from now on, since everything is sorta cleared in my life and there's no more hectic commotion 24/7. the only thing at this rate stopping me from being active is having family over in the next couple weeks. but otherwise, yeah, its good to be back and im again sorry for my absence once more.

yours,

mackenzie <33

#i didnt really read over this so if it has any grammatical errors thats on ME luvs #but damn #look at that novel #LOOK AT IT #'im back sorry i was gone bad shit happened' could have sufficed #fuck u mackenzie #thats right fuck u #this is what i get for holding off humour for one god fucking post #i realized that was a trend a while ago #if im making a joke its short and simple #sometimes a two word post legit #but those damn analogies? those fucking update posts??????#if im being serious i make a new rendition of the bible or some fucking shit #gaaah #avert your eyes children avert them pls #for my sanity smh #making sorta formal notes about MYSELF is not my forte #like tf do i say? yolo?

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

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Okay! It’s related to addiction, hope it doesn’t bother you: Tony Stark is out from rehab, trying to start his life from zero after losing almost everything bc of his addiction. He had been in rehab for quite a long time, so going back to society is being kinda difficult. He can feel the stigma people have of him and so Tony feels lonely, until he meets Peter, a healthy kind man. Tony is afraid of falling for him and f*ck everything up as he has done before.

Spend My Days Locked In A Haze

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Word Count: 4.5k Notes: So, this one has been sitting in the box for a little while because I wanted to approach it with educated respect. I did a lot of research. A lot. I hope this is what you were looking for, nonnie! Thanks for dropping the prompt my way <3 Warnings: Description of drug use (Tony struggles with a cocaine addiction), mentions of ADD, and therapy. Summary:

Tony’s brain doesn’t shut off and he struggles to manage it - so, he doesn’t. Instead, he develops a habit that is not the best for his body or his mind. A discovery during rehab helps a little, but the ultimate cure for restlessness is the adorable Peter Parker and food tours around the city.

do the thing - send in all the prompts.

It started out small, like most things that have the ability to magnify always do.

After getting back from the desert, Tony couldn’t get his brain to turn off. Not only did he have a foreign object in his chest, he endured months of living in a cave with very little to eat and the inevitable happenstance of death clinging to his back like a needy child. Aside from the suit plans he wanted to refine and make into a working suit that could function with his now upgrading arc reactor, Tony didn’t have much of anything else going on.

It all got a little worse when he figured out that Obadiah was the one behind his kidnapping and hoped-for death. It stung a little, to be one of the smartest people in the world and miss something that after looking back, should have been seen from a mile away. How could a man that thought he ruled the world ever give up the throne without a fight? It didn’t make any sense to forget that Tony was one of the best fighters out there – but, he’d forgive the man his mistake when he got to see him behind bars.

The need to finish the suit became pinnacle and with that, long nights and even longer gaps of time between sleeping and letting his body rest. His mind didn’t ever seem to get tired, however – it ran on a loop for hours on end. Whenever he thought he might get to a stopping point, the next thought came flying across the forefront of his mind. It was great for his work, but not so great for his body and mental health.

After the 20th reminder from Jarvis about being awake for 80 hours straight, Tony forced himself from the lab and into the confines of his bedroom. It made his heart race, just thinking about sleep – yet, the second his head hit the pillow, he was out. His body’s need and the inability to shut it off pulled him under. The racing of his mind, however, did not go down with him.

Less than 4 hours later, Tony jumped awake, his entire body covered in sweat. He woke up patting at his chest, uselessly making sure he wasn’t connected to a car battery that with just one misfire, could take his life. Before he could contemplate getting back to sleep, his mind moved on to the adjustments he needed to make to the suit – the idea of rest was now gone for at least another 80 hours.

It got to be a little much – after the final interaction with Obie, Tony lost a little bit of steam. It was one thing, to go and go for hours on end when there was something to go for. Yet, it was something completely different, to be both restless and completely overwhelmed with a brain that didn’t want to power down. Sleep didn’t come and when it did, it was broken and interrupted by nightmares that drove him back to the lab or the kitchen or anywhere else other than the big empty bed that wanted to suck him in and keep him in the dark.

He remembered a brief stint in college when he was younger and going through the exact same thing. Tony knew that Bishop wasn’t dealing drugs anymore, but there were many people throughout the city that were. It didn’t take but a few well-placed calls to secure an in-person delivery of the China White that could at least take away the need to sleep. When his brain wanted to run a million miles a minute, who was he to deny it?

The first few bumps lasted him for a long time – his tolerance for the stuff was nowhere near what it’d been in his younger years. He wasn’t sure how the arc reactor effected the processing of it, either. Every time he leaned over to do a line, he might be one step closer to blowing his heart up. In a way, the risk seemed like the most appealing part of the whole thing. Living on the edge at least gave him something to live for.

Between upgrades for the Iron Man suit and the transition from weapons manufacturer to clean and sustainable energy, Tony didn’t have time to slow down, especially when it came to sleep – that took up too many brain bytes and didn’t contribute to the madness he continued to pump out month after month. As the days passed, Tony found himself getting more entrenched in the need for the drug that kept him both wired and level – it felt good to go and go and go without having to stop. Stopping was for the weak.

Despite the cavalier attitude, Tony started to notice some physical symptoms of the upper being in his system all the time. Since introduction of the arc reactor, Tony didn’t feel much in terms of his heart or the cardiorespiratory process that went down between the heart and the lungs. The higher his doses, however, the more uncomfortable his pulse became – the throbbing in his veins seemingly thicker and thicker as the days went by.

Of course, when the shit hit the fan, Tony was making one of his rare public appearances. It meant a lot to him to change the company’s perspective, but not a lot to the people actually affiliated with Stark Industries. After the business with Obadiah, it seemed pertinent to keep himself under the radar – which was well in good because he wasn’t in any condition to be in front of people. Yet, Pepper talked him into the barest of glimpses at the next press conference.

That particular day, Tony attempted to sleep the night before and felt a little strung out from the experience. It was weird – to be so aversive to sleep. In an attempt to wash his mind from the dreams that plagued him, Tony snorted an extra line before leaving his penthouse and getting into the swing of being a businessman again. It seemed like, especially since coming back to reality, that persona didn’t fit him – rules and restrictions and propriety weren’t really his thing; he was about to make that incredibly apparent.

Though he didn’t have any talking expectations, Pepper wanted him up front in the limelight – which was nice for about two seconds. Then, the sweating started; the brightness of the lights brought every bit of moisture within him to the surface. And when that happened, his heart rate picked up – how it got any higher than it already was, Tony didn’t know. Reaching up to loosen his tie, Tony shuffled from one foot to the other over and over again; he hoped the restless movement would cure the general weightless feeling that did not feel glorious like the high usually did.

Hitting the ground was not expected and try as he might, he couldn’t push off from Happy to get away long enough to do it in the relative peace of an empty hallway, not in front of cameras and many, many people that were watching the live broadcast. He was still conscious when Happy ran over to him, his big hands grabbing Tony’s arms tightly. They made eye contact before he finally slipped away, the horrified look on his face just seconds before forever engrained in his mind.

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The worst part of overdosing didn’t come from the progressive removal of Tony from the board, or the headlines that spoke of the scandal – no, the worst part came when Pepper dropped him off in front of an in-patient rehab clinic. The intense amount of the drug in his system had him seizing and coding out a couple of times on his way to the hospital, followed by several days off waking up with excruciating pain everywhere, chills, a fever, nausea – all of the fun things that came from detoxing from a chronically used drug.

When he’d been cognizant enough to actually have a conversation, Pepper told him about the board’s decision to remove him from his position – he shakily signed the papers that would make her the acting CEO. She told him that pending a stint in rehab, they’d reconsider – but they both knew that was total bull shit. Getting out of rehab meant coming back to a haunted penthouse and no company in sight. Despite that, Tony agreed; he was only 45 – dying was the last thing he wanted for himself.

It was grueling to begin with – Tony was still on the edge of his detox and felt more irate than ever before. His chest ached from whatever happened to his heart during the course of seizing and having severe palpitations. To top everything off, his mind was still running on overdrive and there wasn’t a bit of relief in sight – they wouldn’t even let him exercise yet, his heart wasn’t ready for it.

About a week into his stay, Tony started attending the group and individual therapy sessions. He didn’t like to talk to people when he felt normal, so small attempts to open up were made during his group time – it took him 3 weeks of sessions before he even felt comfortable enough to introduce himself; everyone knew Tony Stark – but nobody really “knew” him.

The individual sessions were a totally different bag, however – the small female therapist sat in a big chair behind her desk, the width of it dwarfing her even more than her stature already did. If he had any ground to stand on, he’d laugh at the irony of it. Tony didn’t, though – the rock bottom he was laying on at the moment felt worse than the desert, and he’d been there against his will.

She looked at him a lot – Dr. Martin’s eyes were hazel and a little on the beady side – every time her eyes moved, Tony could feel her scrutinizing him. They didn’t talk for 2 solid sessions; the quiet would have been much more appreciated if she didn’t keep running her eyes over him, but beggars really couldn’t be choosers.

It was clear during his 3rd session that he wasn’t going to get away with keeping his mouth shut. Her posture was different when he walked in and her usual file was nowhere to be found. Sitting down, Tony took in a deep breath to prepare himself – it felt like a sweet kind of torture, waiting for the questions to come his way.

“I’ve spent the past couple of weeks trying to connect your file to you and I can’t – so I thought coming right to the source would be a good place to start. Can you tell me a little bit about yourself? Your likes, interests, habits – “

Instead of balking at her, Tony settled back in the chair, his hands knitting behind his head – the position meant to give off ease. “Uh – what don’t you know from the papers? I like to build things with my hands and solve puzzles that other people can’t. I’m interested in not dying because of the habit that I have. I want my brain to shut off for a while, which is what led to the shitty habit to begin with.” Scratching his head, he shrugged, the words more than he’d said to anyone in years.

Dr. Martin tilted her head, her eyes a little brighter than just a moment before. The inquisitive part of her on the scent of something. “You want your brain to shut off. Can you elaborate on that?”

Looking at her, Tony quirked a brow – he’d never been asked to describe the chaos in his head before. It took him a minute to categorize his thoughts, the multitude of details that needed to be included sorting themselves out. “It’s like having a million files open at one time. I get to the end of one train of thought and immediately hop to another. Or I’ll be right in the middle of one and be on the opposite side of the room the very next second. There’s no focus. I fixate on my work and the things I like – everything else, it’s a restless toss-up.”

Tony recognized the light bulb going off in her head when it happened – there were more than enough eureka moments in his lifetime to know exactly what that looked like. Getting up, Dr. Martin went over to her stack of files and dug around until she found Tony’s. “It says that you have a long history with restlessness and an inability to sleep. There’s obviously some traumatic origin to some of the most recent feelings, but have you always experienced things like that?”

In the end, Tony went through a long line of tests to determine whether ADD contributed to all of the issues he experienced outside of the drugs. He met with Dr. Martin and told her his long history of times just like the most recent one – times of long stretches without sleep because a project consumed him, and then even longer times of disorientation because he couldn’t connect to anything. Tony didn’t know what a diagnosis would bring him, other than more stigma, but the prospect of an answer wasn’t the worst thing to be offered, either.

Upon being diagnosed, a certain sort of feeling washed over him. Not contentment, but something that might be like it. On top of the drug counseling and group sessions, Tony had a couple more therapist added to his repertoire. Instead of going through the 90-day program, Tony stuck around and did 180-days instead. Before he left, he wanted to make sure that he could put both feet on the ground and stand up on his own. There were too many ways to get access to the thing that could very easily be his downfall – having self-assurance felt absolutely necessary.

The nerves about the situation manifested in the fact that he’d have way too much time on his hands when he got back into his real life. Without SI, there weren’t a lot of things going on for him. Idle hands were never a good thing for him before – the necessity for a distraction allowed him to fixate and neglect any semblance of a routine. If he could just keep his shit together, maybe the bits of his life could be fit back together.

Happy picked him up with a soft smile on his face at the end of Tony’s stay. He brought the Audi and got out of the driver’s side when he saw Tony walking toward him. When he didn’t hop back in, Tony shot him a grateful smile and sunk into the custom seat he installed himself. The purr of the car during the drive was enough to drown out his anxiety and stop any sort of conversation from happening. One thing Tony always appreciated about Happy was the fact that he didn’t push. Tony needed to be around people that didn’t push.

Parking in the garage, Tony pulled the keys from the car and turned towards Happy – the only person who stuck with him through the 6 months he’d been taking care of himself. “Thanks, Hap. You being here today was really important to me,” Tony said, his eyes flitting from side to side to avoid having to see the look on Happy’s face. He learned that being honest was the best policy, but it didn’t stop it from feeling a little weird. Talking about his feelings wasn’t the easiest thing in the world.

“Glad you’re back, Tony. It’s been too quiet around here.”

----

The process of getting back into society was harder than he figured it would be. Though he went away for a while, the world did not forget the tragic picture of him passed out on the ground, the later news of his overdose painting the picture more fully and discoloring how the public saw him even more. As he predicted, the SI board didn’t have any intention of letting him come back any time soon – the idea that his company stood in the hands of someone else for an undetermined amount of time made him want to punch something; but it was his own fault, the consequences were his to deal with.

In place of working, Tony developed a routine throughout the day that took up his time and allowed him to stay organized and far away from the listless feeling that could so easily take him over. Every morning, he got up at 8 to eat a breakfast that he cooked himself. It took a couple of weeks to master the art of making eggs, but he managed, regardless. After breakfast, he hit the gym in his building and ran out his troubles on the treadmill until he couldn’t feel his legs anymore.

In desperation during his first few days at home, Tony asked Jarvis for good food places around the city to try – ever since, he’d been slowly going down the list. Some of the places were upscale and took lots of money to have a high quality cup of coffee, and some were mom and pop places that cooked love into every bite. In all of his years of being in the city, Tony hadn’t thought to explore the local eateries and highly regretted it – there were so many things he missed out on.

During his food trips, Tony got to see different parts of the city – some that he didn’t know existed before walking through them. One particular adventure led him to a part of Brooklyn that looked newer, despite the older neighborhoods surrounding it. Jarvis told him about a brunch place that was rumored to make the best waffles. The walk there was interesting and filled with many mural covered walls that were incredible. Stopping to take pictures of a couple of them, Tony walked right into the line for Snooze without really meaning to.

The toe of his foot hit the back of the man’s shoe in front of him in his haste to stop before barreling into him completely. Sucking in a breath, Tony let himself be grateful for his fast reflexes before he looked up to apologize to the person he almost took out. Brown eyes that met his were filled with amusement and focused solely on him. “I’m so sorry. I saw a Storm Trooper mural a block over and got caught up looking at the picture I took of it,” Tony babbled. “I got here before I realized.”

A soft smile also belonged to the man with eyes that carried a shine to them, the man’s teeth white and adding to the intensity of his grin. “That’s okay. I stopped and looked at that mural for a bit, too. If you go down a couple of blocks, there’s a Boba Fett one.” The man looked over his shoulder to make sure the line wasn’t moving before turning towards Tony completely. “Are you a big Star Wars fan?”

By the time they got up to the door, Tony found out that the man, who he came to know as Peter, worked as a freelance CPA and jogged around the neighborhood not far from here. He followed the smells to Snooze, his trip there totally unplanned, unlike Tony’s. They talked about the newest trilogy additions to the Skywalker story and decided that Ben Skywalker shouldn’t have died after all. The hostess looked at the two of them and didn’t think to ask if they were together or separate, she simply led them to a small table. And neither man stopped her.

One brunched turned into coffee on the Upper East Side, and then Chicago style pizza in Queens. Peter seemed to enjoy the different food adventures that they went on – the man jumping on every chance that he could to join Tony. Many times, their meet ups to get food turned into walks around the closest park or trips through museums and art galleries. In his life, Peter was the only person that didn’t judge him. He didn’t have the knowledge to do so, but something told him Peter probably wouldn’t, regardless.

In spending all of that time together, Tony inevitably started finding himself falling for the charismatic Peter Parker who talked with his mouth full and could put away an entire pizza all by himself. Tony came to know that Peter was left-handed and enjoyed ketchup on his hamburgers but not mustard. CPAs that made their own business hours got to work whenever they wanted and on off days, they played squash and read to kids at the Brooklyn Public Library. For every bad quality that Tony had, Peter countered it with something so positive, it became more obvious that he was way too good for him.

Baggage like his was hard for him to carry – he couldn’t imagine placing that on someone else’s shoulders, especially someone as good and kind as Peter Parker.

A desperate attempt to save Peter and his goodness from the inevitable way that Tony fucked everything up, he took a couple of steps back from their friendship. Instead of meeting Peter almost every day, he limited himself to once a week and tried to keep it as friendly as possible. A hard feat, it seemed, after 3 weeks of Peter looking at him curiously. More than anything, Tony wanted to run his hand across Peter’s cheek to flatten out the slight frown, but he held back – one touch would send him down a rabbit hole he more than likely shouldn’t explore.

Their latest get together felt a little strained, Tony could feel it from the second he walked up. Peter wasn’t nearly as friendly as usual and left before Tony could even suggest walking to the ice cream place he scoped out on his way to the restaurant. He tried not to feel disappointed – his attempts to create some distance between them were working. The sucky feelings that came along with them, however – they were not.

The very next day, Tony was surprised by the sound of his elevator opening a little after 7PM. There were only 3 people that knew the access code to his elevator and 2 of them were currently out of town getting ready for the Stark Expo. Thinking about that made his skin prickle, so he pushed the thought aside and made it over to the doors. He knew Peter would be there, but the sight of him standing in the foyer of his house hit a little different. The last time he was here, they were excitedly heading out to try Cronuts & Co – smiles on their faces.

Now, Peter looked at him with a mix of hurt and confusion. Tony matched him – after their time together last night, he was surprised that Peter wanted anything to do with him at all.

“Sorry to just show up, Tony. I just – what happened? I need to know. Things were going great. Then an alien overtook you and you left the building. I’m – scared. If nothing else, you’re my friend and the 180 is a little concerning.” The admittance caused the man to stop talking, the red on his cheeks spreading quickly, the color going all the way down his neck and probably further. “Did I do something? I’m sorry if I did – just please, tell me what’s going on.”

Tony took a step back, every word hitting him square in the chest. So wrapped up in his own shit, he didn’t even see the panicked look in Peter’s eyes – the one that was staring back at him so heavily now. Pulling in a deep breath, Tony bucked up, a new sort of determination settling within him. “There’s a lot that you don’t know. Too much for the foyer of my apartment. Come in, I’ll get you a drink.”

Five minutes of reprieve Tony got while he poured them a couple of small shots of bourbon felt like enough time to collect himself. Disclosing the most intimate details of his situation wasn’t how he figured he’d spend the night, but it seemed right – to finally get the pressure off his chest. Tony slugged his drink back, then took a seat on the couch next to Peter.

“I’m sure you know the basics about me. I think the picture of me fainting at that press conference is a meme,” Tony uttered, an uncomfortable chuckle leaving his lips. “I got a little lost after I got back from the desert. I have a thing – where I fixate and get restless and have trouble focusing and after I got things squared away with Obadiah Stane, I just sort of lost the way completely. I fucked up a perfectly good opportunity to make the company my own, Pete. I fucked up so much in my life and the last thing – the absolute last fucking thing I want to do is fuck anything up with you – especially you, Pete.”

He watched Peter suck back the booze in his glass – the bob of the Adam’s apple in his throat almost distracting enough to ignore the anxiety rolling through him. Long fingers pressed the glass into the coffee table, then those very same fingers were grabbing his hand. “You don’t owe me your past, Tony. I knew who you were when I met you. I liked the way you looked so lost the first time we met. You have a great personality and a kind of thirst for life that I’m really excited about.” His fingers tangled with Tony’s, the man using his leverage to pull him closer. “I don’t care how you got here, Tony.”

It was a little overwhelming, hearing Peter speak so candidly. Almost everyone else in his life wrote him off – how a random person could have such faith in him blew him away. There wasn’t a lot of sense in it, but in his journey over the last year, Tony realized most things didn’t.

A soft hand on his face brought him out of his thoughts, the smile Tony came to adore present on Peter’s face when he looked up. “How about we just take it a step at a time? Might be good for the both of us,” Peter suggested, his thumb running over Tony’s cheek as he spoke.

Leaning in, Tony let his lips press against Peter’s lightly, the ghost of a kiss enough for the moment. He gave Peter’s hand a squeeze and gulped in a breath, a genuine smile slipping across his face.

“Sounds okay to me, Pete.”

#starker #ironspider #ask prompt #bobbie writes #nonnie #anonymous #spend my days locked in a haze

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

Gifted Hands

Part 1

Request: That surgeon Jensen story was so amazing. Bless the anon who requested that & bless you for writing it😂 reading that I had idea, if you could write another Jensen story, maybe it could be the reader having a major surgery and she is scared so Jensen being her surgeon prepping her from like a month? He stays with her while anaesthesia and then takes care of her? Oh oh, you can maybe add some funny, embarrassing moments, like catheter? That sounded weird but it would make an interesting story😂

Warnings: None really in this one. Medical terms, Jensen being adorable, Jensen in scrubs, (Yes that’s a warning damn it!) I think a little language?

Pairing: Surgeon!Jensen x Reader, OFC Mckayla x Reader

Word Count: 1986

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!

*****MASTERLIST****

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Sitting in the cold sterile room of the smell of lysol, bleach, and other strong cleansers assaulted your nose.

Pulling your jacket that you were wearing tighter around you, you looked around the room at the different medical posters and charts that littered the walls of the small cubical type room, trying to move your body as little as possible, because the crinkling sound of the paper underneath you made your skin crawl.

You hated hospitals, and if it wasn’t for the fact that the pain and discomfort in your hip had gotten just about unbearable you wouldn’t even be here right now.

You don’t really even remember when it started, but you do remember when it got to the point where you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

You were standing in your living room like you do every day, working on your latest painting before you had to get ready to go downtown for the art exhibit show tonight, when it started as a low ache way deep down in your hip, then worked its way down your leg. Then before you knew it every step was painful, and now here you are. Sitting alone on a cold hospital gurney/bed thing, waiting on the x ray results.

You don’t know how you could have possibly hurt yourself. Your job didn’t exactly require a whole lot of physical activities. You painted, you stood a lot, you walked around in heels, which was honestly the most dangerous part of the job.

You didn’t go to the gym all the time, you didn’t run a marathon, you didn’t do anything to cause this, so why were you here? Was the universe just against you or something?

It probably wouldn’t be so bad if you had someone here to help you, someone in town you could call on to stay here with you and keep you company.

Alas though you didn’t have a soul. You were a loner by nature, and you really had no family left after your mom passed away several years ago. So that means it’s just you. You are all you have to count on.

You were seriously about to go and ask the nurse sitting out at the desk in front of the room you were sitting at if they had lost your results, because it felt like it was taking forever when a you heard a knocking sound on the door before it opened.

“Hello Miss Y/L/N sorry to have kept you waiting, I’m Mckayla, the physicians assistant on call for tonight. You shook the woman’s hand and made a failed attempt to smile back at her, but you were just ready to get the hell away from here. So your anxiety made it kind of hard to put on a show as good as you wanted to.

“How are you feeling? Did the medication they have you when you took your x rays help with the pain level?” She asked you, looking over your charts.

You nodded your head when she looked up at you for your answer.

“Some, but honestly it’s still there in the background always. Just more bearable.” You told her and she nodded at you for a moment.

“Well from what I can tell from you x ray results, you have what is called Hip Dysplasia.” She said matter of factly the way medical people tended to do, like you where just supposed to know what the fuck they were talking about, like everyone had taken the same damn classes they had, and that’s why we sit in these God forsaken places and wait for them to come in and tell us shit that makes no sense what so ever, and expect us to know what the hell they’re talking about.

Before you could asked her to dumb that down for you, another man in scrubs entered your room. Holding a clipboard and what looked like a copy of your x ray.

This man was absolutely the most beautiful man that you had ever laid eyes on.

Perfect bowed legs that went all the way up and made a tight little ass of themselves. That seemed to show itself off insultingly perfectly in those dark blue scrubs he was wearing. A thin waist, that turned into a thick chest and shoulders. Going up to make a perfect God-like face on an absolutly lickable neck and jawline. What skin you could see was scattered with freckles. His eyes the most piercing green you’d ever seen. His perfect pink lips pressed tightly together. Brow furrowed in concentration as he looked over the paperwork in front of him. The man was sin on legs. You were certain he was probably illegal in some states to be that damn gorgeous.

“What my coworker here means to say is. Your hip socket doesn't fully cover the ball portion of the upper thigh bone.”

He flipped on the light on the x-ray projector and threw up your x-ray. Pointing at your hip joint with the back of his pin.

“It’s something people are born with, but don’t even know they have it until they’re adults. It makes it really easy for your hip to pop completely out of socket, and therefore causing you a great deal of pain. Your hips are currently out of place. That’s the result of the pain you feel.”

Blinking to clear your head from the green eyes that were holding you captive. You cleared your throat and asked him what most people would be more worried about than how fucking hot your the man is.

“Well how do we fix it?” You asked him, and he smiles at you softly. Making your heart flutter in your chest.

“Well the only cure for it is surgery to correct the condition. I could pop your hip back in place, and send you home, but you’d be right back here in a month or less with the same problem.”

Coming over the gurney you were sitting on he feels around on your hip bone gently, and you repress the shudder that wants to so desperately rip through your body at his touch.

“My name is Jensen by the way, I’m the head surgeon here, I’ll be the one performing the operation.” He said. Giving you another warm smile before removing his hands from you, taking notes on his little clipboard.

“Wait, wait, I can’t have surgery! I have NO ONE to help me at home, I live alone. How bad is this surgery? Is it like a day surgery? Will I wake up and be fine to take care of myself?”

Jensen places a reassuring hand on your knee and your momentarily distracted form you minor panic attack at the thought of surgery.

“Mckayla why don’t you give me a minute here with Miss…”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n, and I’ll fill her in on her options and recovery time, all that stuff.” Jensen said. Looking over his shoulder at Mckayla. She nods at him and leaves the room. Jensen waiting until she shuts the door before talking to you again.

“Listen I don’t want you to panic, but this is a pretty major surgery. The cut is pretty invasive, just about a two or three inch cut right above the groin, and a cut about the same size right above the buttox. It does take quite a bit of recovering though. It’s about a five to seven day stay in the hospital post op, and it takes about three to six weeks to get to where you are moving around pretty good again. You will have to do some physical therapy too. So you don’t have ANYONE that can help you?” Jensen said. His hand is still resting on your knee.

Shaking your head you didn’t speak at first, you didn’t want to cry in front of him, but you were feeling a little overwhelmed by the information he just gave you. How were you going to live alone, and recover from this? This was impossible.

“I don’t have anyone. I live alone, and I don’t have any family or friends I can really call.. I don’t know how I’m going to do this.”

Jensen looked you over, his face calm. His features seemed almost… Sad…

“Well the preop takes about a month to get you ready for. I’m going to reset your hip the best I can today, but we’re going to have to have you come in and i’m going to have to take regular x rays, so that I can monitor how your hip is moving now, and determine from there what it’s going to take me to fix it.” Jensen took a deep breath, looking around the room for a moment like he was lost in thought before looking back at you.

“Do me a favor sweetheart, do the surgery, don’t worry about the recovery and all that, let me do the surgery, and we’ll figure out the rest as it comes. I don’t want to see you in pain, when I can fix it. Okay?”

“Jensen I don’t think you understand I have no one at all to help me, this is going to put me down for a long time… I don’t know what to do…”

Putting your head in your hands you took a deep breath, willing yourself not to start bawling like a big baby.

“Y/n.” Jensen’s deep voice was gentle when it spoke to you again. “Listen to me. If I have to I’ll take care of you until you get back on your feet. Okay? I’m not going to let you be left alone in this recovery.”

Looking up at him you were a little confused by what you heard.

“Jensen you can’t stop your whole life to take care of me for three to six weeks. I’m a complete stranger! We don’t even know each other!”

“Y/n, stop worrying. I know asking you to trust me is a lot, but I want to do this, please let me do this.”

You looked at him confused for a moment.

“How do I know I can trust you, why do you want to do this?”

Jensen smiled at you again softly. “Sweetheart you can trust me I promise. I’m not going to take you somewhere and murder you ro something… There’s just something about you… I don’t know… I can’t put my finger on it, but I want to help you, so please, will you let me help you?”

Taking a deep breath you nod your head finally. Deciding you had no choice but to trust this gorgeous stranger that was quickly becoming your very own little guardian angel apparently.

“Okay, Okay, Fine. I’ll do it, but on one condition.” You tell him and he takes his hands away from leg and leans on the gurney closer to you than was probably medically professional, but you didn’t mind at all. I mean this man was breathtaking..

“What’s that?” He asked. A smirk gracing those beautiful pink lips that you wanted more than anything to kiss right now.

“Can you knock me out before you pop my hip back in place, because I’ve heard that really hurts.” You tell him. Fear crossing your face before you could control it.

“Sweetheart, while we’ve been talking I’ve been slowly working your hip back into place. You didn’t even notice it, but I popped it back in place a few minutes ago..” He said. A proud smirk still on his face. His eyes searching yours.

You looked down at your hip, then back up at him. Jensen had a full on chester cat grin now. Laughing at you under his breath.

“But… How did you…”

Holding up his hands in front of you for you to see before falling back into a full body laugh that you could very easily fall in love with.

“I’m a surgeon. Gifted hands sweetheat.”

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Read Part 2 here!!

Gifted Hands Pt. 2

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0

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that-one-girl-behind-you · 4 years

Text

Illicio 9/?

Part 8

"What's up with that?" She asks after so long has gone by that Jon is starting to think he's safe. He lets out an exhalation that hopefully doesn't sound as exhausted as he is with this whole matter.

Jon is, regardless of what Tim -or Georgie, or even Gerry himself- used to say, not completely hopeless at reading people. Only mostly. He's not entirely blind as to how the mood has shifted in his interactions with the man in question.

"Nothing." Jon says, then adds sullenly. "I don't know."

Daisy squeezes his hand. "Martin?"

"I don't know." Jon turns his head away to avoid Daisy's gaze. "I- Daisy, I think there's bigger things to worry about."

"It's good to- I'm trying to think of the little things too." Daisy shrugs. "It feels like having a purpose."

On the days after the Buried, Daisy gets to know the world again. Or more accurately, the Institute, and the people in it. The difference is mind-blowing, now that the Hunt is only a background presence in her mind instead of the driving force behind her thoughts.

"You look... better," she tells Melanie one evening. It's not really a visible change, but she remembers Melanie from before the Unknowing, always bristling with a rage so barely restrained it used to set Daisy on edge too. Back then her thoughts had been mostly focused on how to take Melanie down if it came to a fight, and she has the feeling the same can be said of Melanie. Just two rabid dogs sizing the other up and waiting for the tension to crack.

"I guess I am," Melanie frowns down at the computer screen, and when Daisy leans over she can see she's taking a quiz of some sort. Probably not the approved use of Institute equipment, but she doesn't seem to care. "Did Jon tell you about the bullet?"

"He mentioned it," Daisy shrugs. A lot of things were said in the depths of the coffin, trying to bring the other some measure of comfort.

"Gerry says they got it off me just in time. Apparently I was a bad accident away from becoming a full avatar." Melanie gives her a careful look out the corner of her eye. "I'm guessing that's why you look..."

"Like shit?" Daisy asks with a dry smile, and after a moment Melanie smiles back.

"I was trying to look for a better term."

"Sugar-coating doesn't suit you."

"Can't say I have much practice." Melanie goes back to her quiz, and Daisy goes back to thinking.

Her condition is hardly surprising, considering everything; the Hunt has been pulling at her from the moment she climbed out the coffin after Jon, but she's done her best to ignore the call of the blood. Daisy's very aware that this is abstinence without recovery, and that her reticence to join in with the Hunt's other hounds is her choosing a slow but certain death.

But she's herself again, and finding out who that is feels like a goal worth dying for.

"Why are you an onion?" Daisy frowns at the computer screen showing the results of Melanie's quiz.

"I was always going to be an onion," Melanie shrugs, "I just wanted to know what kind."

Daisy's thinking about the right way to answer to that statement, when Melanie's phone pings in her pocket. She watches her pull it out, and her face softens at whatever it is she just received.

"I have to go. You should- I think he's recording, but you can probably go in if you're quiet." Melanie points at Jon's door. Even the way she refers to him is different, vaguely distasteful apathy instead of the tense hostility Daisy remembers from before the Unknowing, which is a relief.

The irony of the situation doesn't escape Daisy, how she walked into the coffin with half a mind to kill Jonathan Sims, and walked out ready to kill for Jonathan Sims.

"I can be alone for a while. It's alright." The call of the blood is easier to ignore when she's in someone else's company, but Daisy's not- she's noticed how Basira looks at her, the tired tension of her lips when Daisy follows her around the Institute and she has to pretend it doesn't bother her. Daisy's broken, but she will not be a burden. Not to anyone, but most of all not to Basira.

"Okay, then. Want anything from outside?" Melanie asks as she shoves an arm through her jacket's sleeve.

"I- some chips, if you could get them. Or any food that doesn't come packaged, really."

Melanie briefly nods an acknowledgment as she leaves, and she closes the door behind her before Daisy can ask her to leave it open.

It's okay. It's just a room, just a door. There's plenty of space to breathe and to move. If she focuses, she can feel Jon's presence in his office; he's okay too. They're- they made it out.

Daisy opens her eyes, unsure when she closed them, and finds that the walls have started closing in. She tries to ignore them by clicking back on Melanie's onion quiz, surely that will distract her right? The room is unchanged, she's- it's safe out here, safer than outside for sure, where she'd no doubt find a trail and be compelled to chase it, to run until her legs hurt and she can smell the panicked exhaustion her victim's perspiration, until they cannot keep from her any longer and she's forced to claim the prize and move on to the next-

"You alright there?" When the man's voice pulls her away from her mind, Daisy realizes she's closed her eyes again. Her fists are clenched tightly on the desk, and when she forces them open she finds a matching set of angry red crescent moons on her palms. "You're growling."

She looks up; the man is standing before the desk, looking warily down at her and he smells of lavender and Jon, which helps her push away the last traces of the blood.

"I'm okay." She mumbles, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to release her hunch over the desk, leaning back against her chair. She's heard a lot about this man lately; Basira calls him by his surname, like the ones she doesn't trust, but Melanie calls him Gerry with a sort of relaxed companionship, and when Jon does the same there's an undeniable undercurrent of fondness in the tone he gives the name. She has yet to meet him herself, but this seems as good a time as any, now that the room has stopped trying to suffocate her. "You're Gerry Keay?"

The man holds his silent contemplation for another minute, before he shrugs and grabs the chair across the desk. "That would be me. I've never seen an avatar of the Hunt look so famished," he observes. "Your kind doesn't usually deprive themselves."

"Well, I do," Daisy grumbles.

"Yeah. I can see that."

Silence. It's not exactly comfortable, but it's not uncomfortable either, and the company keeps both the Buried and the Hunt at bay.

"Are you here for Jon?" Daisy asks, and Gerry nods.

"Always. But right now I have to see Martin first."

That's... unexpected, to say the least. "Why do you have to see Martin?"

The man gives her an amused, resigned smile and a shrug. "Jon," he says like it's all the reason he needs, and Daisy decides on the spot that she likes Gerry Keay.

"I guess that tracks," she nods. "Why don't you go then?"

"You looked like you needed someone to talk to for a bit."

"That helps." Daisy nods. While she would've sneered at it before, she's now terribly aware that kindness is a virtue sorely lacking in the world they move in. "I'm alright now."

"You sure?" Gerry's eyeing her strangely, and only then does Daisy remember he's aligned with the Beholding as well.

"Yes. I'm- I'll just keep myself busy." Daisy looks at the computer. "I can... figure out what kind of onion I am."

The man blinks rapidly a couple times, probably trying to process what she just said, and Daisy wonders if Melanie felt the same perverse satisfaction when she said it.

"Sounds- yeah. I'll go now," Gerry says, climbing to his feet again. He turns at the door, and gives Daisy another evaluating look. "You're… very strong. Thank you. For helping him back." And he's gone before Daisy can ask what that even means.

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"You should be careful with that. Could be dangerous." Peter half-turns before he leaves, a hand on the edge of the ajar door and ice-cold eyes heavy on Martin's nape.

"Not any more dangerous than anything else in my life, really." Martin shrugs, eyes fixed on the bright computer screen. Interacting with Peter is only tolerable because it feels only marginally like talking to another human being, but even that is enough to upset his stomach.

"Well, if you look at it like that. But I think you'll find that doing something dangerous out of your own free will is always better than being controlled to do it, even if that will is motivated by your frankly worrying infatuation with a man that does not care about you."

"Hm," is all Martin says. Out the corner of his eye he sees Peter's lips curl into a satisfied smile, but he can't bring himself to care. It's not like he's telling any lies either way.

"Okay! Now I really am running late, so if you don't mind?" Peter says in that cheerful, jovial tone Martin is quickly growing tired of, before he closes the office door behind him.

Martin sighs. This is- it's been harder, lately.

He still remembers why he's doing this, and he still cares, he really does. And everything is going according to plan, Peter really does think Martin believed his 'only you can save the world' spiel, Jon is out of the coffin, Daisy's alive, the Institute is -mostly- safe... but he just got the first actually feasible proof that the Extinction might be a real thing, and all he can think is that he's glad Peter left quickly.

The door flies open, and Martin jumps to his feet so abruptly that the chair he was sitting on tumbles to the floor.

"What- Gerard? What are you doing here?" Martin asks angrily, his heart beating madly in his throat. "Peter could've seen you!"

"I waited until he left, Martin, I'm not an idiot." The man rolls his eyes as he closes and locks the door behind him. Martin isn't sure it would be enough to stop Peter from coming in through the Lonely, but it's something.

"So what, were you eavesdropping?" Now that the shock is starting to pass, Martin is steadily moving towards annoyance in the spectrum of emotion. He told Gerard he didn't want him messing with his business, and yet here he is, just-

"You still look a bit gray," Gerard comments, coming to sit across Martin's desk like they had a freaking appointment. "You know what he said was bullshit, don't you?"

"He said a lot of things," Martin mumbles as he picks his chair back up and sits under Gerard's heavy gaze.

"There we go again." Gerard rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes are a beautiful color, Martin notices -if he still felt anything when writing his poetry, he'd be inclined to find a suitable comparison- and they couldn't be more different from Peter's. Gerard is actually looking at him, instead of through him, like Peter does. "Are you always this stubborn?"

"Excuse me? I'm not- you're the one who broke in here!" Martin sputters indignantly. "After I told you very clearly that I didn't want your help. If anyone is stubborn, that's-"

"The door was unlocked. Next time you want to be alone, check that first." Gerard shrugs, leaning backwards on his chair until the front legs lift off the floor.

Martin rolls his eyes. "Would it have stopped you?"

"For about five minutes." The man gives him a smug smile that fits his face like a glove, a handsome, mischievous troublemaker that takes far too much pride on the admission. "You look better now."

Martin grumbles, shoving the tape towards him across the desk's polished surface. "Here. Dekker's statement."

"What did you make of it?" The chair's legs land heavily against the floor, and Gerard reaches to take the tape and shove it in his jacket's pocket.

"It's... very odd. It feels like the Spiral, the Lonely and the End all rolled into one, with a side of the Stranger to boot." Martin worries at his bottom lip, frowning. His thoughts as he puts them into words are slow like dripping treacle, like waking up on a cold morning, but he can feel with no room for uncertainty that they're his thoughts, not the Lonely's. "I'm- I don't know if it is a new power, but I- the fears don't usually interact like that, do they?"

"Not really. They're more likely to fight over territory than to share it." Gerard's face is thoughtful when Martin lifts his gaze to look for answers there. "Sometimes they get along if their domains overlap. I've seen the Forsaken mix with the Vast and the Buried, but never at the same time because those two are opposites. The more entities that try to get in the mix, the more likely it is to fail."

"Hm. So? New kid in town?"

"I'll have to listen to it. I'm not exactly thrilled by the idea, though." Gerard sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck in a slow, deliberate movement that belies his exhaustion. "But it's not out of the question."

"H-how's Jon?" Martin blurts out. Gerard's mouth twitches, and Martin clears his throat, looking pointedly away.

"He's... better. I don't think anyone's left the coffin before, so it's not like we have much to compare his progress to. Got a nice new mark out of it, of course. We're this close to completing the card."

"The what?"

"It's just something I- " Gerard blinks, a confused frown coming to rest at his face all of a sudden. "...Something I thought of."

"...Yes?" Martin arches an eyebrow, but Gerard's frown only grows more pronounced when he shuts his eyes tight, as if trying to focus on a though- "Oh. Oh, you're bleeding again!"

Martin goes rustling frantically around in his desk, until he finds a box of paper tissues. The black ink dripping down steadily from Gerard's nose still hasn't slowed down by the time he looks back up, offering the box.

"Her- grab one. Jesus, what happened?"

"I-" Gerard opens his eyes again, and one of them has popped a blood vessel, it seems, the black startling against the white and blue as he reaches to pull a tissue free. "The Eye didn't like that too much."

"It didn't like what specifically?"

Gerard gives him a dubious look. "I don't-"

"Oh, no. You have to tell me now." Martin scowls as fiercely as he can, ignoring the heat on his face when Gerard raises an eyebrow.

"Excuse me? I have to?"

"Of course you do! You can't just barge in here and- and expect me to give you all I know and then not tell me anything!"

"You continue to not be what I expected, Martin," Gerard says in a flat, annoyed tone. Good. "It's got something to do with the marks. He's- he has twelve of them already."

"That's- wow. That's a lot of them." Martin blinks. He's aware -oh, he is so aware- of Jon's brushes with the entities, but it never occurred to him to actually sit down and figure which he hasn't encountered yet. It never felt important, for some reason. Peter's voice echoes in his mind. You should be careful with that. Could be dangerous.

"And he's getting them in the weirdest ways too, like-"

"Is there a normal way to be marked by a fear god?" Martin interrupts, only to be pinned down by Gerard's unimpressed stare. He snorts. "Sorry, sorry. You were saying?"

"Well, yes. I was there when he Knew about the bullet in Melanie's leg. It was a tidbit from the Eye. And then- why did that Stranger bloke bring the coffin here?" Gerard frowns, and ink starts running down from his other nostril as well. "Ah, fuck."

"Yes, maybe- we should stop for now." Martin gives the box of tissues another push. "I really don't want to go looking for Jon because you bled out in my office."

"Would be hard to explain, huh?" Gerard tears a handful of tissues out, before climbing to his feet. "We'll listen to the tape. I'll-"

"Wait- we?"

"I'm not going to lie to him," Gerard shrugs. "Besides, it will make him... not happy, but at least he'll have news of you."

"Very considerate," Martin says dryly. It's an abrupt reminder that they might be doing this out of love for the same man, but they're not friends. Still, Jon deserves nice things, even if Martin can't be the one to give them to him. "What?" He asks, when he zones back in and finds Gerard still looking at him thoughtfully.

"He really does care. Lukas knows how to come at you; don't let him." Gerard opens the door, halfway out already before he pokes his head back in. "Don't call the Lonely back in yet, give yourself a break, will you?"

He's gone before Martin can answer, and he sighs. This is getting so much more difficult than he thought it would be.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"-statement ends." Jon clicks the recorder off and places it on his improvised desk, before turning to look at Daisy. "The Flesh continues to be... puzzling, to say the least."

"Nasty," Daisy agrees without looking away from her phone. The tape recorder slides a little on his stomach when she shifts to make her head more comfortable on Jon's thigh. "Are vampires from the Flesh?"

Jon leans back, resting his head against the wall as the Knowledge starts pressing against his mind. "Yes. Bit of the Hunt too. And a little Stranger. They're quite a mess." He shifts too, the hardwood floor of his office punishing on his tailbone.

"Want to switch?" Daisy asks, already halfway through sitting up.

"I'm alright." Jon slides down instead. "It's almost time to leave anyways, Gerry will be here soon."

"I met him the other day. He seems nice." Daisy lays back next to him. Jon slides his hand under her forearm, just to have an additional point of contact, and she tangles their fingers together.

"He is," Jon says quietly. Daisy, who is not aligned with the Beholding but whose stare can still make you squirm, looks at him out the corner of her eye.

"What's up with that?" She asks after so long has gone by that Jon is starting to think he's safe. He lets out an exhalation that hopefully doesn't sound as exhausted as he is with this whole matter.

Gerry has ways been generous with his touch, a heavy hand on Jon's shoulder, around his wrist, on top of his head, but recently there's been the slightest moment of hesitation just before making contact, and Jon finds himself dreading it every time, without really knowing what outcome he fears more.

It definitely doesn't help that Jon is far too aware that no matter what Gerry may or may not feel, he did not choose to be here willingly, that even if he for some reason enjoys Jon's company, he's as much a prisoner to him as Jon himself is to the Eye.

"Nothing." Jon says, then adds sullenly. "I don't know."

Daisy squeezes his hand. "Martin?"

"I don't know." Jon turns his head away to avoid Daisy's gaze. "I- Daisy, I think there's bigger things to worry about."

"It's good to- I'm trying to think of the little things too." Daisy shrugs. "It feels like having a purpose."

Jon purses his lips. Sure, having a purpose is good and all until said purposes are self-sacrificing to a fear entity to keep you safe or behaving in an entirely too confusing manner.

"How's Basira?" He hasn't spoken much to her since that day after the statement. Jon gets the feeling she doesn't want to give him another chance to voice those thoughts she doesn't pride herself on.

Daisy sighs. "She's- it's okay. We're together, so it's fine. I just-" her voice falters a little, and Jon turns back to face her, squeezes her hand in reassurance. "I know I'm not what she needed."

Jon doesn't do her the disservice of trying to offer advice; the nuances of their relationship are something he doesn't want to intrude on. Instead, he tugs softly on her hand.

"I think we have time for an episode or two, if you're up for it."

Daisy's chapped lips twitch with humor. "I thought you didn't like it."

Jon snorts; no need for an Eye membership to see that, then. "It's- charmingly simple, I suppose."

"You don't get to back out," she says, lifting Jon's hand in hers to tap at her phone.

"Fine. But I will comment on it." Jon mock-scowls as the opening notes of The Archers' intro start playing.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Want some coffee?" Gerry asks as he locks the door to the flat behind him.

"That sounds nice," Jon mutters. His voice is distracted and somewhat annoyed, and Gerry turns to see him struggling with the very last button of his coat. The burned hand must be aching more than usual, because he's not even trying to use it. "Uh- could you-"

"On it," Gerry nudges Jon's hand away gently, before easily sliding the button through the hole. "You're... good." Jon's large, dark eyes are glued to him when he looks up, awfully closer than he expected.

"Yes, I- thank you." After a moment's hesitation Jon's hands slide under his again to grab at the coat's lapels, and he steps away as he shrugs it off.

Gerry sighs, taking his own jacket off. This tension is ridiculous, he thinks as he watches Jon make a beeline for his bedroom. It's not- Gerry's far too aware of the situation with Martin. The tape he's carried around in his jacket for the past two days can attest to that, so no, he's not planning on making a move on Jon without at least a conversation. But he can't- it's not like he can just pretend he doesn't want Jon. Not after the Buried, not after thinking he lost him, and all the revelations that stemmed from that.

And speaking of the tape...

He hasn't brought himself around to listening to it, the hard corners digging at his ribs where his heart should be. Gerry's not so blind as to not realize this is selfishness on his part, a futile attempt to keep up this false normalcy they have found for themselves.

It's not fair for Jon, after Gerry made him promise to not keep secrets, but most of all it's not fair to Martin, who Gerry has very much decided he misjudged.

"We should- there's something I have for us. That we should listen to," he says once he goes back to the living room. He hands Jon -who has already changed into night clothes and is balled up at one end of the sofa- the two steaming mugs. "Here. I'll be right back."

Jon's eyes narrow in suspicion when Gerry comes back with the tape recorder. "What is that?" Gerry sits next to him on the sofa, stalling for time. "Gerry..."

With the kind of relationship he has with Jon, there's probably not a good way or time of saying 'I really like the way you say my name', but considering the news he's about to give, Gerry's willing to bet this would be one of the worst.

"I spoke to Martin." He says hurriedly, instead.

"You what?" Jon's eyes go wide, and Gerry lifts a hand in an appeasing motion.

"Yes, when- I went to look for him when you went into the Buried."

"I- why would you do that?!" Jon asks, his voice strained.

"Let me see, because I found out you'd fatally misunderstood the concept of anchors, and I thought he might have a better chance at getting you back than a rib." Gerry finds himself growing more agitated as he speaks, the light compulsion bringing forth more than just words. "A rib. Jon what were you think-"

"You said you'd stop bringing that up," Jon cuts him sullenly, his brow furrowed as he straightens up to shove a finger into Gerry's chest. "You said a man used quiche as his anchor!"

"It was not about the quiche, I thought you'd understood that!" Gerry clamps a hand down on Jon's to yank it away from his torso as he leans forward. "How was I supposed to know- a rib!"

"Well-" Jon snaps angrily, inches from Gerry's face. "Next time-"

"Next- there is not going to be a next time, Jon! You're not going into any more entities without me," Gerry blurts out. Jon's face goes carefully blank, and they stay there for a moment, breathing heavily in agitation. "Jon-"

"What- the tape." Jon sits back, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping an arm around them. "What's in it?"

Gerry groans, sitting back as well. Stupid.

"It's... let's just listen to it," he says before pressing the play button.

"Right. Martin Blackwood, archi- assistant to Peter Lukas, head of the Magnus Institute."

Jon grows more and more stiff with each passing second, and Gerry purses his lips in thought. This is probably the most Jon has heard of Martin in months, and the content could hardly be worse.

"Hey, I..." Gerry sighs. Jon doesn't look at him, and Gerry notices with a start that his eyes are starting to glow a faint green. More information to the Archive, then, whether Jon wants the knowledge or not.

He reaches over to lay a comforting arm across Jon's shoulders, pulling him lightly towards him, and Jon -surprisingly, terrifyingly- comes. It doesn't make Martin's words any less dreadful, but it does make it easier to listen to, knowing they're not alone.

"What- what happened after?" Jon asks after the tape clicks to an end. Gerry didn't miss how his posture against him grew stiff again at the subtle abuse Lukas flung to Martin after the statement. He'd known that was a possibility, but he'd also known Jon wouldn't let him stop the tape before it was over.

"I waited until Lukas left, locked us into his office and pissed him off until he was more human." Gerry shrugs. "Then we talked."

"Please don't antagonize Martin," Jon mutters softly, running his pointer finger over the edge of the tape in a gesture that seems almost intimate, and that Gerry very much doubts is meant for the device.

"All interaction helps, when he's like this. Especially if it turns out he wants to engage back, and trust me, he wanted to argue with me."

"That's because you are irritating," Jon huffs, and Gerry snorts a little.

"Beholding hasn't told you where it hid the return receipt?"

Jon's hand slaps softly against Gerry's chest. "What else?"

"Not much. After- I reminded him that you care about him. When he was more himself," Gerry adds, giving Jon's shoulders a light squeeze. "He even listened, I think." Jon frowns, quiet and contemplative for a moment that stretches for entirely too long. "Does it help? To know he's doing this for a reason?" Gerry asks

'Does it help to know you're loved?' he doesn't add.

Jon sighs.

"Somewhat. I just- leaving my personal- what are we going to do about this?" Jon asks. "This new- we have our hands full with the regular ones already, but a new one?"

"Is the Eye telling you something about it?" Gerry watches his face carefully, but his eyes are already back to their usual, comforting dark hue, and Jon shakes his head.

"Suspiciously quiet, if you ask me." Jon looks up at him, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Does it ever tell you anything?"

Gerry thinks of the marks all over Jon's soul, and the screeching static that came from trying to Know about them.

"Sometimes. I try to pay more attention to what it doesn't want to tell me."

"And what is that?"

"There's something about your marks," Gerry says slowly, trying to pinpoint the exact piece of information that the Watcher doesn't want him to focus on. "I think there's a reason you're getting- oh, there we go."

"Wh- Gerry!" Jon springs from the sofa, leaving Gerry's side uncomfortably empty as he darts into the bathroom. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back to keep the ink flowing from his nose from making a bigger mess. Done with Eye business for the night, it seems.

"It doesn't hurt," Gerry shrugs after Jon comes back with a handful of bunched up toilet paper. "You're a cheapskate, Martin had tissues."

"You're ridiculous," Jon huffs, pressing the paper carefully against Gerry's face. "Should I- I'll get something to read, that'll fix it. Hold this."

"Nah." Gerry makes no move to take over holding the toilet paper under his nose, cracking an eye open instead to find Jon hovering over him with concern clear on his face. "Just talk to me. I like it better."

"I-" Jon's cheeks go a few shades darker, and Gerry feels his mouth twitch into a smile. "Uh- alright. What- Gerry, I'm really bad at small talk."

"Then don't do small talk," Gerry shrugs. "Tell me... oh, tell me about when you broke into Getrude's flat."

"W- how did you know about that?!" Jon gapes, his face red with embarrassment. He could get used to this, Gerry thinks.

"Had a lot to listen to when you went to pick up Daisy. Supplemental Jon sounds like a fun fella," Gerry adds with a wink, and Jon sputters like an angry kettle.

He could definitely get used to this.

#jongerrymartin #illicio #vit writes #j/g/m

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nelllraiser · 4 years

Text

teardrops on my guitar(m) | leah & nell

TIMING: shortly after and then you’re free (escape from the ring) LOCATION: nell’s greenhouse. PARTIES: @nelllraiser and @phoenixleah SUMMARY: leah helps heal nell’s arms, and gets some veggies in return. taki gets to see his cat crush.

To be honest, Nell had been in dire need of some burgers from Al’s, and Leah was always good company for a trip such as that. After breaking loose from the Ring with Remmy, she’d been eating more than perhaps seemed humanly possible after going hungry for an entire week. Now that her stomach was full, she was walking Leah towards her greenhouse behind the Vural place, figuring it was as good a place as any to do this. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Nell asked again, not wanting to take advantage of Leah and her tear’s healing abilities. “I still feel sort of bad that all I got you for something like this was lunch.” Nell knew that phoenix tears went for obscene amounts of money on the supernatural market, and she still wanted to make sure that everything was still alright with Bea’s friend. Opening the door to the greenhouse, Nell circumvented around the mattress that was still in the center of it, leftover from when Bea had been dead, and Nell hadn’t felt right sleeping in the house. To be honest...she still used it when Bea wasn’t home, the house seeming too quiet to be alone in it, as if her sister were still gone. “Alright, here we are,” she said before stopping some twenty feet in, surrounded by greenery.

Leah would never turn down a good burger, so stopping at Al’s with Nell before giving her what she needed was never not an option in her mind. She was worried about the youngest Vural, if she were being honest. After everything that had happened with all of them- after what happened with Bea, she still felt a certain ache and anxiety around the Vurals, like she couldn’t do enough to help. She didn’t know exactly what happened that got Nell involved in an underground fight ring, and for once she had no desire to know anymore about something that was clearly supernatural. Maybe she was doing a disservice to herself and the Scribes, but she was worried she’d find out something she didn’t like about the ring- and if Nell were involved in something like that- well, … It was easier to just not ask questions. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder as she followed Nell, not remembering the last time she’d been back there. “Really. I’m really more than okay with it. I wouldn’t feel right taking money, not from you.” She probably wouldn’t feel right taking it from anyone, but then she wouldn’t have offered tears to just anyone, either. “I know you’ll keep it quiet- people don’t need to know where you got these from, right? ...and that’s really all I can ask, honestly.” Her eyes fell to the mattress in the center, and that pang of worry was back in a flash. How could she have been so distant and selfish when Bea died to not even reach out to Nell and Luce? “I don’t think I’ve ever been in here. It’s..beautiful. Are you… in here a lot?”, she asked vaguely.

Nell nodded at Leah’s answer, having wanted to confirm one last time that this was all in line with her sister’s friend. Though she figured...it wouldn’t be blasphemy is she also counted Leah amongst her own friends. Certainly they weren’t as close, but it was safe to say she always enjoyed the other girl’s company. “Alright then, deal. Thank you again, Leah.” As for not spreading the news of the tears, Nell didn’t hesitate to reassure the phoenix. “Oh no, of course. I won’t be telling anyone where they came from. I know how...people like you can often be targeted. And I have no interest in putting you in danger.” If anyone tried to hurt Leah, Nell wouldn’t hesitate to make them regret, and she knew Bea was of a very similar mind. “Really? I guess that makes sense. I’m pretty...protective of the greenhouse. I don’t usually like people going into it without me. Of course, sometimes Bea gets to come in if she needs vegetables for dinner sometimes or something.” It was still strange at times, readjusting to Bea being back and mentioning her in everyday conversation as if she’d neve died in the first place. “I mean- I spend a lot of time here. It’s...peaceful, you know?” It was basically Nell’s retreat at this point, a safe space to be away from all the noise of the outside world. “I’m glad you like it, though. Maybe you could take come clippings with you if you won’t accept payment.”

With a smile, Leah dismissed Nell’s thankfulness. She never quite knew how to react to gratefulness, especially when she knew in her heart something was the right thing to do. She didn’t have to question whether she’d give the tears to Nell, or whether to bring extra for the other Vurals. “You brought her back”, she started, knowing she didn’t have to explain what she meant. “And now you’re hurt because of it. This is literally...literally the least I can do.” At Nell’s reassurance, she reached into her bag, fishing around for one of the vials she’d brought with her. She nodded, letting out a breath. “I trust you, Nell. And, well… if it does somehow get out, it’s not like I don’t know where to find you,” she teased. Her hand finally found the vial, and she pulled it out, holding it up triumphantly. Her eyes landed on Nell’s wounded arms, and she blinked. They were worse than she thought. “They won’t be instant”, she explained. “Not with your arms being so bad. But maybe after an hour or two, you’ll notice a huge difference.” She looked around, amazed at the variety and condition of plants that surrounded them. Nell was describing the greenhouse almost like her own private sanctuary, and it reminded her of how she felt about the library. “Maybe I’ll take some veggies of my own?”, she suggested. “Do you have any kale?”

“We brought her back,” Nell corrected gently, knowing it wasn’t just herself that was responsible for Bea walking the earth once again. “I would have...there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. For Luce, too.” She figured that went without saying, but the witch wasn’t sure what else to say in response to Leah’s words when it came to her wounds. At the sight of the vial, Nell’s eyes lit up, hopeful as to how they might make it so her arms seemed to constantly sting and crack. She tried to reign it in as Leah explained, giving a nod. As for her arms...they looked like someone had splashed a map of the world across them, shiny continents plastered onto rougher patches here and there, still raw in places and pink and fragile. “Anything is better than this,” she simply said, endlessly frustrated with how limited she’d been ever since the resurrection. “I’m ready whenever you are?” Nell asked, presenting the gruesome sight of her arms for inspection and phoenix tear application. “Leah, you can have literally as many veggies as you want if it means being able to do something as take a fucking shower without having to worry about reopening my arms. I’ll give you an entire forest of kale.”

Leah nodded. “You all did.” She couldn’t imagine what it took for all of them to get Bea back, even now, it was clearly still affecting everyone in some way. She’d helped Winston with their tech problem, at least, but emotional trauma was going to be a little harder for all of them to overcome. “I know that, Nell. And I know they know that, too.” Even when they bickered or argued, the love the Vural girls had for one another was so strong you could basically see it flowing through them. She expected nothing less than Nell and Luce to try to bring Bea back when it first happened, and part of her felt like a coward for giving up hope so soon. With a laugh, letting her eyes fall to more of Nell’s plants. “You’re like a regular old granny, growing all of this in here, you know that? Okay, deal… I’ll have free reign of all your kale and zucchini. That’s how you can repay me.” She winced as she got a better look at Nells arms, every new angle seemed to provide deeper insight into just how damaged they truly were. “Shit. How did you explain this to the hospital?”, she asked, as she popped open the vial. “I can see why they wanted to keep you there for so long. Okay, hold still…”, she warned. Gently taking hold of Nell’s left wrist, Leah pulled her arm out straight so the tears could access area’s evenly. Her face was serious and concentrated as she began the process, tipping the vial along Nell’s arm and letting the contents spill out onto it. The last thing she wanted was to use too much on one arm before she had the chance to start the process on the other. “Stop me if it’s hurting you”, she said, letting her eyes shoot to Nell’s for only a second.

As far as emotional trauma went, Nell was firmly refusing to let it truly sink in, or rather acknowledge it. She’d power through. She always did. That’s how it worked, right? Either way, a warm smile was on her lips at the mention of her sisters and their relationship. It was certainly..complicated at times, but at the end of the day they were family. “Excuse me?” Nell said, faking outrage at Leah’s words. “I am not a grandma! But if I was a grandma, I’d be the hippest one. If anyone’s a grandma, it’s Bea.” She stayed still as Leah poured, a little apprehensive as the drops began to flow. There was a reason her blood sacrifice scars had been so prominent on her arms before the necromancy had even happened. Injuries made by blood magic weren’t meant to be healed by magical terms. But at this point, Nell was desperate to have her arms healed. With everything going on with the Ring, she couldn’t afford to be caught at anything less than her best. Hopefully, seeing as phoenix tears weren’t the traditional sort of magical healing, it wouldn’t have any adverse effects. Finally, the tears made contact with her skin, and Nell clenched her teeth as a burning sensation began to follow the liquid’s path. That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it? Maybe it was just the residual blood magic fighting back, trying to keep the sacrificial wound from being healed. But even though it hurt, she could see her skin stitching itself back together before her very eyes. If she could have her arms back, the pain was worth it. “No, keep going. It’s fine.”

With a loud laugh, Leah held up a hand defensively. “You’re the coolest granny”, she reassured. “All the other grandmas go to you for grandma fashion advice.” She pointed at her with a teasing finger, grinning. “Are you calling Bea a grandma cause you think she’s old? Because I’m not too far behind her, honey.” She bit her lip as she continued to pour the tears, wanting to get every inch of Nell’s arm before she starting on the other one. Her eyes darted up when she noticed it was causing Nell pain, but she continued. She nodded at her words, understanding. Pausing in between would just make the pain last longer. “Hey, where’s that big guy Taki? I haven’t seen him in a while”, she said, wanting to distract Nell. Satisfied that she was done with her left arm, she grabbed Nell’s right wrist, glancing up at her before she began again. “We good?”

“You bet I am,” Nell joked back with a slight chuckle. “I’m the baddest bitch in the retirement home.” Though, if she was being honest...the chances of making it to a ripe, old age at the rate she was going seemed slim. Before the last couple of months, she’d barely thought about her own mortality, but after watching her sister die, being an inch from death, and continuously finding herself in bleak situations...it was a reality she could no longer escape. “I’m calling both of you grandmas because I think you’re both old,” she shot back with a grin. Then, Taki seemed to appear at the very mention of his name, instantly rubbing up against the ankles of Leah with eyes sleepily slitted in contentment. He’d always been fond of the girl, after all- they shared the element of fire. Nell spared him a smile before gritting her teeth again, and giving Leah a determined nod. “We’re good. I just want my arms back.” She’d bear the pain ten times over if it meant she could get rid of this sense of powerlessness.

Leah rolled her eyes playfully, chuckling. It was something she could really see happening, Nell being the ring leader to a bunch of badass old ladies. “I’ll be sure to remind you of that on your 28th birthday, we’ll see what you think of that then.” She smiled down at Taki as he walked by, taking her attention away from Nell’s arms momentarily. “I’ve summoned him!”, she joked. “Hey there big guy.” She always felt a certain kinship with the Ovinikk, and hadn’t seen him since before Bea died. Leah nodded back, licking her lips before pouring the last bit of the vial onto Nell’s right arm. “There.”, she said, letting her eyes meet Nell’s again. “That should be it. They already look like they’re getting better.” It wasn’t a lie- she could tell just by looking at them that they were already vastly better than when she got there. But Nell still had a long way to go. “It’ll take a few hours, … maybe even into tomorrow to be 100%. Maybe you should have a movie night with Winston or someone, just so you’re not tempted to go out and get yourself into more trouble… at least not until you’re fully healed.” There was a playful smile on her lips, but the sentiment was real- if Nell wanted this to work, she needed to rest. Suddenly, she held up her finger, as if she was remembering something. She rummaged through her bag, pulling out two more vials and presenting them to Nell. “For Bea and Luce. You’ll probably see both of them before me, so… I figured I’d just give them to you.”

“If I make it until then,” Nell joked, though the delivery of it might have come off a bit more morbid than she’d intended. With everything that had happened in the past few months...it wasn’t exactly looking all that promising. The witch tried to brush the thought aside like an errant cobweb, moving on to something much more enjoyable. Taki. “He must have sensed your radiant presence,” she said lightheartedly. Meanwhile, the oversized cat began to purr ferociously, patting his paws against Leah’s legs as he stretched, almost as it to ask why she was paying attention to anything other than him. As Leah signaled the end to the healing, Nell instantly went to test the limits of her arms, stretching and flexing them. They still weren’t prettily healed, but her voice broke out in a relieved laugh when there was little to no pain as she moved. “Thank you, Leah,” she breathed, not knowing how to express her endless gratitude in a way that was sufficient. “Thank you so much. This is...this is really helpful.” At least she could gain some of her autonomy and power back now that her arms were nearly mended. As she gripped the vials in her hands, she again asked, “Are you sure? If you give us these you have to take more vegetables and stuff than you can carry.”

Leah gave Nell a pointed look. “Don’t talk like that”, she warned, putting a hand on Nell’s shoulder. “You can’t let yourself even think like that, Nell, because you’re gonna manifest it. You’ll make it to 28. You’ll make it to 108. Because your sisters will kill you if you don’t.” There was no doubt in her mind that if something happened to Nell before then (and who knew, with all the bad luck she’d been having lately), that Bea and Luce and Blanche and Winston would go to the ends of the earth to bring her back, just as they had done for Bea. But she also couldn’t imagine all of them having to go through that again. She laughed at Taki at her feet and at Nell’s comment, kneeling down to scratch behind his ears now that she was done with Nell’s arms. “Do you need some attention, Baby?” she asked over his purr. She pressed her face into Taki’s and then kissed him on the forehead before quickly standing back up to chat with Nell, though she continued to pet him. She nodded to acknowledge the thanks, biting her lip. “I’m really, really glad, because after all the shit you’ve been through lately, this is the least I can do, like I said. For all of you. I’m so, so positive”, she nodded again, and then glanced around at all the vegetables just begging to be picked. “Okay, fine… but can you and Taki help me bring them to my car?”

#teardrops on my guitar(m)#chatzy #ch:leah #wickedswriting

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