#shift in seat ? hip is dislocated

[kurooandkenmasslut]

HIS HEART!

DOUMA X F!READER! X ?

Summery: after being shut out of your abusive parents house in the cold, icy weather, you thought no one could save you or help you now. Oh how you thought wrong.

Warnings: This story contains strong, hurtful language. Such as cursing, names (like slut, bitch, useless), mention of some blood. Spoilers of season 3 and 2. This story had two alternative endings, so if you don't want it to end this way, you can read the other one! Alternative n2 is you get with s1 else so! I might change this up a bit later on, so keep your eyes peeled!! (Change as in adding more detail and dome heavy manga spoilers!) Enjoy!

"Get out you useless slut! Nobody wants you here!" Your father screamed. Your mother was beside him, her brown eyes glaring down at your weak frame. They hit you, beat you, and tied you to your room wall. They even taped your mouth shut to muffle your pained screams. Your father grits his teeth as he untied you and threw you out the door and slammed the door shut.

You had some major injuries. Like a stab in your hip, arm so close to dislocating, legs in cuts and bruises, and ankles burning from the harsh ropes. But you ran and ran. You panted, finding it hard to breathe, legs wobbling. Your mind is hazy and your legs were about to fail you, your eyes started close down, as the air around you seemed suffocating.

But just as you were about to collapse and never rise again, you fell into a muscular chest, almost warm, but then again, cold. Your head slowly twitched up, and your (e/c) got lost in this mysterious rainbow one, lashes long, creamy white hair framing this mysterious person's face.

"P..p-please h-help m..me.." you barely rasped out. You haven't got water in days, and it showed. Long fingers touched your face, long claws lightly scraped your smooth face. "It's okay my dear, just close your eyes." He whispered, his voice sounded welcoming, but it almost sounded evil, and it was like your mind was telling you to run and not close your eyes, but you obeyed his wishes and closed your eyes.

Your ears rang and you heard muffled voices, and you shifted a bit and opened your eyes, blinking repeatedly. After you opened your eyes, the voices stopped, and it slightly alarmed you. This isn't your dirty ceiling, it was more of a... clean one. You propped yourself on your elbows and held your head closing your eyes in pain. ow, you sure got a massive headache. "Ah! It seems like you've woken up!" The voice started you, and you shot your eyes open. There he sat, the mysterious guy. His white, unusual pale face, rainbow eyes, red top, and black drips coming down from it. His hat seemed to have the same pattern. His beige and baggy trousers matched his outfit.

"Wh..where am I?" You mumbled, eyes scanning the room. You looked down at your body, noticing the bandages. 'Looks like I've been treated, maybe this isn't a bad place.. maybe someone from the village took me in? He doesn't look like anyone I know from the village though..' You thought.

"You are in my home! Dont be afraid my dear beauty, I don't bite! Oh, how rude of me! I didn't even introduce myself!" He said, and chucked at his silliness. He got up from his seat and started walking over to you. "My name is Douma/Doma! What's your name, my darling?~" He cooed and ran his index finger along your chin. "(N-Name) (L/N).." you softly whispered.

'Ahh! She's so adorable! Not to mention a fine beauty! Way prettier than the girl I ate yesterday, and prettier than Daki! Hm~ maybe I won't eat her just yet..' Douma/Doma thought and grinned, showing his fangs. "Well then! You are now a part of my cult my dear!" He cheered. "...cult?" You questioned, tilting your head sideways. "Mhm!" He hummed. He didn't want to make you into a demon, but if he had to, he unfortunately would.

TIMESKIP!

It's been a few months now, and you've already warmed up to Douma/Doma. And now, you think you've fallen for him. He consistently treated you well, fed you, made sure you slept well, he made sure you had the best time with him. But the only thing was that he didn't take you out in the daytime, which made you question it, but quickly shut the thought down and just thought that he was busy during the daytime.

But recently, a new woman came in and he had taken an obvious liking to her. Seemingly, according to Douma/Doma, she had previously been in an abusive relationship with her husband while she was pregnant, her name was. Kotoha Hashibira.

And honestly, she was a kind and lovely woman, but you were jealous. You fear that Douma/Doma liked her better than you, and you could see that she had taken a liking to him, and he did too. He's more around her ever since she gave birth to her baby, Inosuke. He looked so adorable, you even got to hold him. "I think he likes you!" Kotoha giggled, her smile was genuine and warm, maybe Douma did deserve her.

You closed the shoji door gently and flopped onto your futon as tears slipped from your eyes. You covered your body in your duvet and hid your face with your hands. After all the times you spent with him, he loves her now. You loved Douma and Kotoha, you did and you tried to suck it up and face reality but it hurts, it hurts seeing your saviour, the one who saved you, the one who took care of you, the one you loved being with another woman.

You sniffed before setting your plan in your head to talk to him about it. You slid the door open and walked down the hallway you'd walked down for the millionth time, only to see Kotoha running with Inosuke in her arms, her facial expression showed that she was genuinely terrified, horrified. After Kotoha ran past, a few seconds later Douma almost flew past. "Lord Douma! I need to speak with you!" You said, but he only snapped his head back at you, his gorgeous, breathtaking eyes, now have some writing in them. Uppermoon Two. Uppermoon two? What does that mean? Your eyes adverted over down to his face, around his mouth. ..human blood? That would explain the pale skin and the fangs.

But he only ran in the same direction Kotoha had run. His head makes a mental note to deal with you later. You widened your eyes. Sure, you had a few thoughts run through your head when you met him. He was pale, he had razor-sharp nails, not the kind of nails humans would, and he had fangs, it was unusual to have multiple colours in your eyes like him, but you never questioned it because, after all, he did save you.

After they both left, you went back into your room, completely speechless. You didn't comprehend what to do. You've heard stories from the town about demons.

Alternative ending n1: if you stayed.

You decided to stay, after all, your heart beats, and pounds when he's near, and your body just couldn't move an inch towards the door to escape. After all, he did 'save' you.

You heard light footsteps coming to your door, the same familiar light steps, he took. The loud knocks rang throughout the room, making you shiver. "My darling~? May I come in~?" He sang, you rasped out a somewhat affirmative and the door slid open revealing Douma himself.

He closed the door and slowly walked over to you. "Hm. I guess it's not a secret anymore huh?~" He cooed. He put his right hand under your chin and put his face closer to yours. "Say.. instead of being a weak human.. why don't you come and join me, my dear.. we can live together forever! I won't let anything happen to you. you can be my forever bride! Maybe even be an upper moon alongside me! Come with me, come with me..." He chanted. You couldn't give in. Youu couldn't.. oh who were you kidding? Of course, you were gonna give in to him, you loved him.

"I... I will come with you, Lord Douma.." you said, which made him laugh in pleasure, grinning widening his eyes, which made him long a little crazy.

He stuck his finger in your neck, pumping his blood in you. After a good portion, he put his finger out. The blood affected you, and it was obvious. The blood made you choke and hold your throat, and you passed out.

You opened your eyes, wincing at the light. But Douma quickly stuck his head in your vision, his smiling face looking down at you. "My oh my! You look more beautiful than before! Akaza is going to be so jealous! Do you know who Akaza is? He's my best friend! Even though he doesn't show it, I know he label's me as his best friend too! But I think he's just so moody because he was an upper moon before me, but I'm still ranked above him!" He ranted, and you tilted your head.

"What's an uppermoon?" You questioned, and he answered you, and you both talked all night. "Say, wanna go out for some dinner, I heard your stomach rumbling!~" He teased, which made you blush and nod.

Eventually, you flew passed all the ranks and were officially upper moon two, alongside Douma, just like he said. Muzan had liked your strength and confidence, so, he let you be upper moon two.

"Ah, it seems like you are here too, akaza-san!" You said, you and akaza were in the infinity fortress, which could only mean one thing, a uppermoon has fallen. "I guess.." akaza said, eyes trailing around the castle. You got startled when you felt something on your back, which made you glance behind you, but shook off the tense feeling when you saw Douma'a gorgeous face.

"Hello, my dear! I wonder what happened." He trailed off and nuzzled his face in your neck, and you saw from the corner of your eye to see akaza fake gagging. You saw a vase in the corner, and you almost forgot who it was when it started shaking. That was when Gyokko, uppermoon five came out, also the one who smelt like fish.

"Oi! Biwa woman! Where are Kokushibo and Lord muzan?" Akaza yelled. "I summoned Kokushibo here first, he has been listening to your conversation. And muzan will come in shortly."

During the meeting, Gyokko had mentioned something about how he knew something but wasn't sure of it, and that had scintillated you and Douma's attention, so after the meeting, you two tried to talk to him.

"Gyokko~ can you pleeaassseee tell me? I promise to treat you after~!" You poked fun at, trying to get him to take the bait. Gyokko blushed before shaking his head. "I'm not telling you (Name!)" He yelled. And that's when Douma picked his head up and asked him, which he denied.

Suddenly, Akaza came up behind Douma and hit him, causing his face to fall apart. But he regenerated in a blink of an eye and grinned. "Oi! Akaza! Hit him again and I swear to god-" "now now now (name!) Play nice! We were just playing! After all, he's just jealous!" He said and laughed, making a vein pop out of his head. "Why you-" He yelled, ready to land a good hard punch on him, but that's when Kokushibo came in.

"Akaza." He said, a place with Kokushibo is always intimidating and always has tension. You've always admired him, for his strength and his seriousness. You admit you get a small shiver down your back, and it seems like Akaza had visibly shaken.

While that was all happening, you saw Gyokko trying to slip away. "Biwa lady! Teleport me to the place with Hantengu!" "OI!" But it was too late, he had evaporated, along with the demon. And it seemed like everyone disappeared too, well, except Douma of course, he would never leave you. The strum of the Biwa had sent you back to your home with Douma, in a specific position, you were sat on his lap, making you blush violently. He brushed his hands on your thighs, trailing down further. "Say.. how about we have some alone time?" He grinned, and you agreed.

Alternative ending n2: if you escaped.

As Kotoha passed by, she managed to catch a glimpse of you and she mouthed, 'Run'. You trusted her, and you misjudged her. And so you ran back to your room before Douma caught sight of you and started packing your important stuff before running out the other door, in the other direction. You thought he was a demon, after all, you saw him feasting on a human, and you saw his eyes, which had 'Uppermoon Two' written in them. You realised that he didn't 'save' you, the only thing he saved you from was himself, he waited for the perfect time to eat you. So, you had no choice but to run, it was a good chance anyways since he'd always had an eye on you.

You ran and ran, and ran, keep running, you chanted, run run run run, and you paused for a break. You panted before looking up. You saw a man, he had white hair, he turned around, his purple eyes widening at your frame. "Oi! You there! What are you doing?!" He yelled. You ran over to him.

"I'm (Name) L/N! I have a long story but please can we go somewhere else!? A demon is going to be looking for me and eat me!" "I'll take care of him for you." "NO DON'T! HE'S AN UPPERMOON TWO!" You screamed. He was shocked. He doesn't know who you are, and you don't know who he is. You don't seem to be in the demon Slayer Corps, so how do you know what a uppermoon is? After he heard uppermoon, uppermoon two to be exact, he knew it would be dangerous, especially since he didn't prepare, and he was injured, plus, it wouldn't calm you down if he waited for the demon to come over.

"Fine, come with me." He grumbled he grabbed your hand and started sprinting. You could see that he was way faster than you since he was dragging you.

"Where are we going?" You asked. "We're going to the Demon slayer corps, but it's too far away, so we'll have to get a place to stay for the night before going again. But tomorrow we'll be there." He said sternly. He seemed to take the job seriously. You took in his appearance. His hair was all messed up, scars roamed everywhere on his body, and there was no blank place on his body where a scar can't be seen, 'he must've been a tough and brave fighter', you thought. His uniform showed his buff chest, making you blush a bit. He had white sleeves, he lifted his hand to itch his face, noticing how they were scars on his arms too. He had a white belt with trousers. But the two things that popped out for you were that he had a unique sword, and you assumed it was for a demon, and the other thing was that.... he had no eyebrows. But you didn't mind.

"Oi! Stop staring at me, it's getting creepy!" He scolded you, and you jumped and blushed. He was handsome, you had to admit. "So... um... what's your name?" You asked, you wanted to be friends with him.. possibly even more.

"Sanemi Shinazugawa." He said, he didn't even ask for yours but you said it anyways. "My name is (Name) L/N! Nice to meet you!" "Yeah I know, you said it already." He grumbled and rolled his eyes. You looked down and realised he was still holding your hand, but his hands felt warm, so you didn't complain.

"So what happened?" He asked after a few minutes of walking in the village. "I'll tell you later." You mumbled, he understood, they're were people everywhere so explaining your life story with people listening wasn't the best idea.

After you two got to the place where you two were staying, you started explaining. He was listening well, and centralized.

After you finished explaining, it was silent for a few seconds before he asked you a few more questions. He told you it's best if you bathe and prepare for the next day, so you did.

"hah?! There's only one bed?!" Sanemi yelled and you blushed. "I can sleep on the floor if you want?" "Okay" He mumbled and you smiled. You walked over to the bed and grabbed the spare pillow and blanket and lay on the floor.

"I didn't mean literally, you idiot." He mumbled, but you were that tired you didn't even hear what he said since you were fast asleep. He grumbled before putting his hands under your knees and back and lifting your body onto the futon. "Tch.. silly woman.." He mumbled to himself and fell asleep.

The sun shone brightly through the window. You yawned and opened your eyes. Another day yet again. You got up and did your usual stuff, like brushing your hair, and your teeth and changing out of your pyjamas. It seemed Sanemi still hasn't woken yet, and the earlier we are, the closer we are to safety.

"Shinazugawa! Wake up!" You said, lightly shaking him. You sighed, he must be a deep sleeper. "SHINAZUGAWA!!" You yelled and he woke up startled. "OI! WHY ARE YOU YELLING?!" "TO WAKE YOU UP FOR FUCKS SAKE??"

(You'd swear that the people next door to you is pissed and reporting you and sanemi to you to the staff.)

After that lazy ass Sanemi, got up and did what was necessary, you two hit the road again. "Hey, what age are you?" "19." (Let's pretend he is in my au 💋) "Wow! I'm 18! Our ages are so close!" You squealed and Sanemi just looked at you dumbfounded.

Finally, after you got to the Demon Slayer Corps, he dragged you over to some man called, 'Kagaya Ubuyashiki's estate.'

"Hello my dear child, welcome back. How was your journey?... It seems another presence is in the room. Who is this person, my child?" He softly questioned. Sanemi explained who you were and your story to you. Kagaya nodded his head in understanding.

"Well then, Welcome to the Demon Slayer Corps, (Name) L/N."

Timeskip!

Two years ago you were promoted as the ' Wisteria Pillar.' You helped Shinobu with her poisons and meditation for patients. You were happy with your job, as a hashira, and as a nurse.

"Oi! (Name)! Wanna go to the town?" Sanemi asked, and you nodded your head eagerly. You've taken a great liking to Sanemi, and you hoped he did too. You hid your sword under your lilac haori and tried not to scare the people in the village not far.

You and Sanemi went from market to market, but one, in particular, caught your gaze. "Hey hey hey 'Nemi! Look at this! This matches your eyes!" You squealed. It was a cute bracelet that had some shades of purple and some charms on it was white.

"'Nemi I'm gonna make you wear this!" "I'm not gonna wear that stupid band around my wrist." He said and rolled his eyes. "Please please please ~ ill get one for me too to match you!" "Tsk... fine.." He grumbled and your giggles and paid for the two bracelets. You slipped it on his wrist and wore yours too. "Ahh!! We're like twins!" "Don't be silly 🙄" "Hey! 😟😔" Then he ruffled your hair, messing it up. "C'mon, slow poke." He teased and you ran at him and clung to him.

"Oi (name) I gotta tell ya somethin." Sanemi called. "Yeah? What is it?" You smiled. You gave him the smile that made him smile. Not a crazy smile he gives demons before slaughtering them, the loving smile.

"I-... fucks sake.. um... I- UGH I LIKE YOU, DUMBASS!!!" He screamed. You wore a shocked face, totally not expecting that. "Well?! DON'T JUST GIVE ME THAT SHOCKED FACE AND ANSWER ME!" He yelled at you, again. You giggled at him. You were happy he wasn't gonna give you some corny thing and went straight to the point. It was Sanemi Shinazugawa after all.

"Oi oi oi oi, why are you laughing you punk-" "I like you too idiot!" You squealed. The tips of his ears were pink before, now his ears were red and so was his face, now he was the one who wore a shocked expression, totally not expecting that. You grabbed his hands and leaned close to his face, making him redder than Giyuu's red side of his haori. Sanemi went back into reality since he put his hand at the back of your head and pushed it, making his and your lips connect. It was like fireworks exploding in your stomach, it felt amazing. When you disconnected from him, your lips tingled. You blushed and kissed him on the cheek.

"Let's go back, yeah?" "Okie!!"

"Oi! Shinazugawa! W-wh.HAH.. where did you get your bracelet?" Tengen teased, trying to tease him through laughs. "YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH IT YOU FLASHY RETARD?!" Sanemi yelled and Tengen put his hands up in defence. Sanemi turned around and smiled at the memory. You were all his, and he was all yours. Maybe just maybe, if you two make it out alive, he would marry you and love you until the day you two die, and that's a promise in his heart.

[the-trinket-witch]

Fly-Fishing Bodytype Headcanons

Inspired by @comingyourlugubriousness 's post

(Cw: disordered eating/body dismorphia/body disphoria)

Azul Ashengrotto

🐙 Years of self-image issues has left him, ironically for an octopus, rather bony.

🐙 Despite this, he still maintains that Octopod Strength Floyd alludes to during Beans Day. Most of it is in grip-strength, but there have been occasions where he has been caught moving furniture in the Lounge that someone 'of his size' shouldn't be able to move.

🐙 His human form, like all merfolk who have dual-residence on land, maintain some slight mer traits. Those being:

Color pointing on ears, sometimes limbs

Unconventional ear shapes

No mammalian 'traits' (teats/bellybutton)

Non-typical pupil shapes

'Birthmarks' in place where gills typically are.

Teeth (Azul having beak plates that resemble human teeth. Please don't stare.)

Sensitivity along where gills usually are, as well as legs in general.

🐙 He sometimes has to rely on his cane/magical focus on days the barometric pressure fucks with his joints. Most merfolk experience leg/hip pain when first coming on land, sometimes it lingers no matter how long they stay up here.

🐙 His poor vision and super-tasting are possibly connected as a side-effect of the Human Potion. As octopi can taste/sense with their tentacles, eyesight is not as much a priority, and glasses can make up for it, so all the extra sensitivity goes to that purple tongue of his.

🐙 The Human Potion locks the chromatophores in his skin to a particular shade, so when it begins to wear off/come time to take more, his skin will shift in color based on strong emotions (bright red=angry, dull gray=sad, purple=blushing, etc.)

Floyd Leech

🦈 (A lot of the size/shape difference I'm leaning into is def inspired by Julymarte's post)

🦈 both he and Jade have a set of pharyngeal jaws.

🦈 in lieu of glasses, he wears contacts (morays have shit for eyesight)

🦈 has a small pack of colors of insta-dry nail polish. It gives him something to pick at during the day but it looks nice first thing in the morning?

🦈 speaking of nails, he has to square off his nails, well, Claws on the reg because they want to grow out and point. It's gotten somebody slashed in the past because he's so handsy.

🦈 Coupled with his theorized growth spurt, his mer-to-man transition leaves him with achy muscles some days. Stretching seems to help a bit.

Jade Leech

🐬 Along with the above's differences, his hair has a finer texture compared to Floyd's courser hair.

🐬 Has some DAMN FINE calves from all the hiking. Hiking has also given him scary good grip strength. Moreso than Floyd 👀

🐬 Alternates between Contacts and glasses. Glasses are more reserved for 'after hours/weekends'.

🐬 Ties his work/school shoes really tight, and has debated about whether to also start wearing hiking boots like Rook, but it ruins the ✨Aesthetic✨

Albert Eastwind

🌂 2 yrs on T, (trans masc)

🌂 was already somewhat tall for his age, but is probably done growing at 5'9"

🌂 Being on T has caused a bit of weight gain, but he's curbed it with weightlifting. Most of his strength now is in his arms/shoulders

🌂 Has maintained quite a bit of dexterity from early years of gymnastics. He sometimes uses the (unoccupied) graves behind Pentergeist to practice vaulting.

🌂 Sometimes gets anxiety shivers, but doesn't know that's what it is.

🌂 From The Crash, his shoulder had been dislocated by the seat belt, and now his right shoulder clicks at certain angles. He has told nobody.

🌂 Has not been to physical therapy after, so he gets immense relief in his back from Floyd's 'squeezings'.

🌂 Stated above, he gets awful sleep, which is why he wakes up before anyone else. Suffers from nightmares every night to the point he's developed hypnophobia-extending to almost all forms of being unconscious.

[threeunrelateddescriptors]

Joints and their funny decisions

Warning, I will be talking injury. Specifically dislocation and subluxation

Nothing bad, but if such things aren’t your cuppa, don’t read on. I’m just rambling aimlessly.

My joints have always been loose.

I refer to things as swimming around. My shoulder swims around, my knees swim around. They all just kind of choose their own path.

For the most part, it doesn’t bother me. Well, ok, it bothers me, but in a non-consequential way.

I have had some major dislocations, but mostly my joints stay in their lane and don’t bother to truly fuck themselves up.

This means I don’t totally understand how joints are supposed to work. I understand logically, but viscerally I don’t. I’ll give examples in a minute.

Luckily, I’m also incredibly strong (thanks genetics!) which is a blessing because it means my muscles can hold my joints together since my ligaments are too bloody lazy.

So, back to not truly understanding joints in most people. I have been repeatedly told that when other people carry a marginally heavy grocery bag, they don’t have to actively engage their shoulder muscles to keep their arm from slowly sliding down. Or that they’re arm doesn’t sag after too long of sitting at a desk.

Other people can’t simply tense some muscles in their shoulder and make the humeral head shift position (either to protrude slightly forward/backward or lower).

Other people’s kneecaps don’t shift around under gentle pressure quite as easily or as far. Or that their lower leg doesn’t start to dangle lower if they don’t have feet touching the floor.

The ways this means I interact with others, I assume that if I grab you by the arm and tug you along without you being prepared, your shoulder will subluxate or dislocate. I’m constantly amazed to be reminded that this is not the case.

When I see people sitting on seats or counters where their legs are dangling, I assume they’ll need to move soon or be in pain from the joint opening up. It actually bothers me to see people sitting on high stools without a foot rest because I imagine the amount of pain they’ll be in (they aren’t and won’t be).

Although I’ve been told a million times that the above things are not how most bodies work, because I live in a body that behaves this way, it’s always something I need to be reminded of.

Logically, I get it; but in the same way that someone who’s color blind understands other people literally see the world differently but can’t quite fathom that difference because they don’t have that experience.

This also means that I run into people viewing the world from their body (which does not have loose joints). And so, when I say my shoulder is out of place, they are working on the premise that it is (1) an extremely painful and (2) traumatic thing and since I’m not making pain noises, I must be exaggerating or not know what I’m talking about.

But when I speak to others with loose joints, I seem to not fit in there either. My muscles do a fabulous job of holding things in place, and when the joint does dislocate or subluxate, my muscles pull it back. Or it doesn’t bother me and I don’t notice it until it pops back into proper place. Normally, there’s zero to minimal pain either way. Which seems to make many loose jointed people suspicious and question if I’m exaggerating or don’t know what I’m talking about since for many it is painful or their muscles don’t just pop the joint back into place.

Which is to say, my world view, as informed by my particular body, means I assume everyone’s joints swim around but that it’s not a particularly bad or painful phenomenon. And it is new information every single time someone tells me that’s not the majority of human bodies.

Except my elbows. When those fuckers shift around, it hurts. Thankfully the one full dislocation of my left elbow happened when I was 3-4yrs old and I don’t remember it. Oh, and I’m not so cool with my finger joints going wonky.

But wrists, shoulders, knees, hips, ankles, bones in my feet, ribs, these are all pretty cool about when they shift.

Hell, the couple of times my shoulders dislocated (one memorable time I got to watch my humeral head leave the socket and protrude forward in real time, then I tensed my muscles to pull it back in and it was fine), they’ve had the manners to not be painful about it. I don’t try to dislocate them on purpose, but I subluxate them constantly (both passively and on purpose).

I feel like I should write down the many varied dislocations and subluxations I’ve had. I think it would entertain me.

[ezravogelofficial]

Hostile

The world is hostile

Hostile to me, but not the guns or the fists or the words made of thrown bricks

But the sound and the light, the tired morning and the sleepless night

Hostile is the desk chair, the bed springs, and the shop booth

I sit and shift and move and writhe, silent so no one finds me with their hostile eyes

The seat wraps its wires around my screaming hips, a ball joint with no oil, wound with steel until I've quivering lips;

Teeth-bitten and dry skin, pressed and pursed against everything they're holding in

Hostile, the stairs in my very own home

A pit of spikes between me and the water,

Me and the oven

Me and the door to the rest of the world

Like walking through the woods at night, they reach out all their teeth and bite

Snapping down on calves and thighs, burning through tendons and unmade cries

Hostile

And, so, the voices of the people

"Sloth is evil"

"Take the stairs because they're eco-"

Logically the choice should be to do what's best for you, but they presume

Healthy for them is healthy for you

If they can skip the elevator, then you should too

Hostile

The wicked lights on the TV screen

"Just set the brightness," choose from migraine level 1, 2, or 3

"I don't like to watch TV, I'd rather feel like I'm productive."

And they never consider that what they've said might have been reductive

The TV screen, with its neon knives, becomes a computer with HDMI

When the wood of the chair digs its fingers in, I abandon the desk

I abandon my eyes, and my head, and my sight, just to give my hips some relief

When the world is hostile,

I work from home where I'm protected, except from beds and chairs and stairs and all the things you neglected

To consider

Are hostile

Even dinner

Is hostile

Every food the doctor ordered brings me closer to regret

"Have you tried-"

"Have you considered-"

"Maybe this-"

"Maybe that-"

"Meditation-"

"Concentration-"

"Home grown-"

"Try organic-"

"It's the placebo effect, because you're panicked-"

Or maybe, just maybe, all the things you take for granted,

All the things you think are healthy, and in your garden planted,

And the things that help with weight loss and that make you big and strong,

Are the things that give me nauseous spells of seven fucking hours long

The world is hostile

To some of us who did our best

We try to work hard and we try to get rest

But it's hostile

We didn't fail at some morality test, and you didn't do anything to become so blessed

And we don't deserve it just because we're treated as less

"But I'm not hostile-"

Are you sure? Are you sure?

I'm not sure if that's even possible

Even the well-intentioned and the ones who learn, seem unable to resist their hostile concern

Their pitying "awww"s and their horrified shock when we tell them we dislocate things when we walk

It's not a comfort and it's not sympathetic, it just makes me feel small, weird, and pathetic

I'm not a shock piece or a scrape-kneed child, I have feelings and I'm sick of being pitied, reviled

But even those who don't "awww" or gape, are hostile in their own uncompassionate way

If it isn't horror, or pity, catastrophizing, the only thing left is rationalizing

"They're used to it-"

"They have to be used to it-"

"You can't feel pain all the time, you'd get used to it...

... right?"

I'm used to it

I'm used to not being used to it

After so long of feeling this pain all the time I'm used to not being used to it.

I'm used to this:

That the world is hostile.

- Ezra Vogel

[whatisthiswritingthing]

All About Balance - Kelley O’hara x Hockey!Reader

Prompt: Can you a Kelly O’Hara imagine where the reader plays hockey and some how gets injured in a game and Kelly is really worry and just a bunch of feels?

Kelly cringed when she saw her girlfriend get slammed into the boards again. The refs this game weren’t calling anything and it quickly got out of hand, both teams taking advantage of the freedom, some players taking too far though.

Y/N seemed to be on the receiving end of those rougher players. To Kelley, it seemed that her girlfriend spent more time face down on the ice or pressed into the boards than playing. Kelley and Emily were sitting in one of the boxes near of the arena; the US hockey team in Washington for the next couple weeks.

“Fuck,” Kelley raised out of her seat, leaning over the railing to try and make sure her girlfriend got up again.

“She’s tough Kel,” Sonnett reassured when they saw Y/N get up again, “look, she’s up already.”

It was one of the few whistles of the game, an opposing player checking Y/N into the boards again from behind. The player was sent off, and the remaining players set up for a face off. Y/N skating in, ready to take it. The opposing forward leaned forward, bumping her helmet against Y/N’s, she reached out with her stick, leaning it on Y/N’s hitting it a few times. The ref waved her off, directing another player to come in.

The ref dropped the puck. The opposing forwards both swatting the puck away. Y/N went to skate away, but was knocked off balance by the german forward, a hard elbow to the side of the head. Trying to catch her balance, she skated backwards slightly. The German skated away, assisting her team to work through the power play.

Y/N saw a chance for a goal, edging her way to a goal post. The puck came to her, but before she had a chance to touch it, two German defenders slammed into her side, sending her into the goal. Both landed on top of her, forcing the goal out of the ice, all three players ending in an awkward heap on the metal.

Players from the US immediately stepping in to pull the German players off Y/N. Everyone began pushing and yelling, but Y/N remained on the ice.

Kelley was standing at the railing, knuckles white while she waited for her girlfriend to get up.

Y/N had managed to slide herself off the goal and get to the boards. She reached one arm up and awkwardly pulled herself up. Keeping her left arm tight to her body, she slowly inched her way to the bench. With the chaos happening by the goal, two of the trainers slid out the door and assisted Y/N the rest of the way.

Kelley leaned forward more, trying to keep her eyes on the hockey player. She hardly even registered Sonnett patting her back, “let’s go Kel, we can wait by the change room.” When Kelley didn’t move, Emily tugged on her arm toward the exit.

Once below the ice, Kelley anxiously paced back and forth, Y/N already in the medical room by the time they made it there. They could hear the buzzer go, signalling the end of the game. The defender pressed themselves into the wall as many disgruntled players entered the tunnel and into their respective change rooms.

Kelley pressed on her tip toes, knowing she wouldn’t, but hoping to get any kind of glimpse of her girlfriend. Dropping back down, she huffed and began to pace now that she had room again.

She felt Sonnett tap her arm, “Y/N says check your phone.”

Kelley scrambled to pull her phone out.

           Y/N: Just getting changed, you don’t have to wait, I’ll go back with the team.

That’s it? Kelley is anxiously awaiting an update and that’s all she gets? She loved her girlfriend, but fuck.

           Kelley: I’ll wait, we are in the tunnel. I’ll drive you if they release you.

           Y/N: Ok

Her girlfriend was infuriating, fucking infuriating.

Kelley continued to pace back and forth, her anxiety growing as she saw more and more players file out, Y/N yet to be one of them.

“Your girlfriend has to be one of the most stubborn human beings I have ever met,” Kelley whipped around to see Hilary step out of the change room.

“Yea, I know,” Kelley sighed, trying to glance into the changeroom, Sonnett just smirked.

“Most of the team is gone, you can go in and help her. She was refusing any help getting changed.”

“Of course she was,” the defender mumbled as she rushed into the change room.

As she got in, she saw Y/N sitting in her locker, most of her equipment gone, remaining in only her compression shorts, sports bra, and a sling.

“Hey baby,” Kelley knelt in front of the hockey player, “heard you’re being a little stubborn,” she tapped both of Y/N’s knees, “let’s get you dressed.”

Y/N nodded, but stayed sitting down, letting Kelley bunch her joggers around both feet for her to easily step in. Kelley slid her hands to Y/N’s ribs, intending to help her stand.

“Fuck,” Y/N moaned out lowly. Kelley immediately pulled her hands away, eyes scanning Y/N’s torso for injury.

“How bad?” Kelley whispered.

“Dislocated shoulder,” she limply motioned with her good hand, “bruised ribs, I think it’s from landing on the post,” Y/N tried to shift to show Kelley the bruise, only to groan and freeze.

“Hey, woah, stop moving,” Kelley stopped her with a hand one hip, the other on the good shoulder, “here,” she pulled Y/N’s good hand to her own shoulder and wrapped her arm around Y/N’s lower back, “nod when you’re ready to stand and I’ll pull you up.”

Y/N nodded, and Kelley pulled her up to stand, “you good?”

When Y/N nodded again, Kelley leaned down and pulled the joggers up and over Y/N’s hips.

“Just my coat, I can’t do the shirt,” Kelley could feel Y/N beginning to tremble in her arms as she guided her good arm through the sleeve, draping the other side over the sling.

One of the trainers approached the couple, “leave her equipment, we’ll take it all back to the hotel for her. She’s cleared to leave for the night, you can take her home, we just need to see her again tomorrow.”

Kelley nodded and began to lead Y/N out of the change room. Y/N leaning heavily into her, the pain and exhaustion catching up to her.

“Hey slugger,” Sonnett teased when they made their way out.

“Hey kid,” Y/N gave a small smile.

The trio slowly made their way out, fortunately they had been parked in player parking and were relatively close.

Kelley led Y/N to the back seat on the driver side. Opening the door, she guided Y/N to sit down, encouraging her shift over enough so she could slide in next to her. Kelley reached over and did her seatbelt up for her before doing her own.

Y/N shifted in her seat a little bit, turning herself slightly to lean against Kelley. Kelley rested a hand on her thigh while Sonnett began to back the car out of the spot.

If it wasn’t for Y/N trembling next to her, Kelley would have though the hockey player had fallen asleep. “Fuck,” Y/N groaned when Sonnett eased over a speed bump, her whole body going rigid, the grip tightening on Kelley’s arm.

“Damnit Sonnett, take it easy up there,” Kelley snapped at the defender.

“Sorry Y/N/N,” Sonnett glanced into the back seat.

“All good Sonny,” Y/N let out a breath, trying to release the tension in her body.

Y/N leaned her body into Kelley’s as they rode the elevator up their condo.

“Let’s get you some pain killers and then into the shower, sounds good?” Kelley suggested, posing it like it was a question, but already knowing she would be taking care of her girlfriend.

Y/N just nodded into Kelley’s neck.

Kelley guided her straight to the bathroom, she reached for some naproxen for Y/N to take, hoping it would help ease some pain for the hockey player to shower. While Y/N swallowed the pain killers, Kelley moved to turn the water on, allowing it to warm up.

“Ready?” Kelley, slowly unzipped the jacket.

“No,” Y/N chuckled humourlessly before groaning.

Kelley let the coat drop, kicking it out the way. She gently eased the injured shoulder up, lifting the strap off her neck, slipping the sling off all the way. Y/N kept her arm to her chest, Kelley guided it down.

“This is going to hurt babe,” Kelley gave her a gentle kiss. She began to roll the bra up by the chest strap, “take your good arm out first.” Y/N bent her good arm in, slipping it through the arm hole, Kelley guiding the fabric up and then over her head, sliding it down the injured other side.

“Worst part is done,” Kelley kissed her again, trailing kisses down her chest, she dropped her hands to the waist band of the compression shorts, dropping to her knees she pulled them all the way down.

Kelley kept her hands on Y/N’s hips, supporting her as she stepped into the shower, “I’m going to grab some clothes and I’ll be right back.”

She rushed out of the bathroom, gathering clothes for both of them, making sure she grabbed a sweater with a zipper and not bothering with a bra for Y/N. Back in the bathroom, she quickly undressed herself and stepped in the shower behind Y/N.

“I can’t bend down to pick anything up,” Y/N grunted out, leaning her back into Kelley’s chest.

“That’s alright,” Kelley soothed, reaching down she took the shampoo, lathering it in her hands and gently massaging it into Y/N’s hair.

Y/N moaned softly and tilted her head back slightly.

Kelley repeated the process with conditioner, leaving it to soak in while she began to rub body wash gently across her shoulders, gliding her hands down her sides.

Rinsing both of them off, Kelley turned the water off and stretched an arm out, pulling a towel in and wrapping it around Y/N’s shoulder.

“It’s too early for bed, so let’s get you settled on the couch for now and I’ll find you something to eat,” Kelley explained while she began gently toweling off her girlfriend.

“Kel, I can get dressed myself, you’ve already done so much for me, I’m fine,” Y/N tried to push away Kelley’s hand.

Kelley caught it, tugging it laid flat on her own chest, “I need to do this Y/N/N,” she let her voice crack, “god Y/N, watching you not get up and the struggle to leave the ice,” her jaw clenched, trying to keep her tears at bay, “you always get up, you always pretend it nothing, so when you didn’t and you let the trainers help you off, I knew it was bad.”

“I’m fine Kelley, a little sore, but I am fine,” Y/N brought her good hand up to Kelley’s on her chest, inching forwards and kissing her delicately.

“But you’re hurt, that’s not ok!” Kelley let out frustrated, she wanted to pull herself away, but needed to be close to Y/N.

Y/N squeezed Kelley’s hand, she knew the frustration was just her displaced worry, her inability to protect Y/N.

“You know that’s part of what we do Kel, I’m a little worse for wear right now. But the drugs and shower are already helping. Some good ol’ Kelley snuggles and I’ll practically be 100% by morning,” Y/N nestled her nose into Kelley’s neck, before placing a teasing bite on it, then a soft kiss.

Kelley giggled, and wrapped an arm around Y/N waist, pressing their fronts fully together.

“Now, you need to get me dressed, and you need to get dressed, because now that the pain killers are kicking in, I am realizing we have been naked far too long together to just be naked,” Y/N used her injured arm that was still tight between them, to tweak a nipple

“Fuck Y/N, you’re terrible,” Kelley groaned out, “let me worry about you, when you’re back to 100, we can spend as much time naked as you want.”

Y/N giggled and released her nipple and allowed Kelley to begin dressing her.

The couple made their way to the couch, Kelley made sure to pull all the pillows she could to properly prop Y/N before sitting down first and guiding Y/N down to lean against her.

Once partially laying down, Kelley wrapped and arm protectively around Y/N’s waist.

Y/N reached her good hand up and stroked Kelley’s jaw, “thank you for tonight babe. I know I’m not always easy to take care off, but I appreciate it.”

“I know you do, and thank you for putting up with my worry,” she leaned into the touch, closing her eyes.

“It’s why we work; we balance each other out, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

[cowboy-eddie]

Tumblr Exclusive: Hen, Eddie and Get to Know You

It hits Hen at 1am in the morning, randomly, laying next to Karen, that she wouldn’t rely on Eddie to save her life. Not because he isn’t reliable, not because he isn’t skilled, but just because... she doesn’t know him very well. Sure, their kids have play dates and they work together in the field sometimes on medical cases, but other than that what does she know about him, and what does he know about her?

Rolling on to her side, away from Karen so she doesn’t wake her, she shoots a text to Chim because he’s probably the only person she could talk to about this.

Hen: what’s Eddie’s favourite colour?

Chim: what the fuck kinda question is that?

Chim: and it’s 1am

Chim: ask Buck

But that’s just the thing; Hen doesn’t want to ask Buck and dismiss it. She wants to know for herself. Endeavouring to ask him the next time he’s on shift, she put her phone down and rolled over. As sleep came to her, she tried to think about what she wanted to ask Eddie. Maybe he had a favourite TV show, or a favourite sport. Did Buck mention baseball? He definitely mentioned baseball...

~~~

“Hey, Eddie, what’s your favourite colour?”

His brows furrowed in confusion as he put down his fork.

“My favourite... colour?”

Everyone else was suddenly intrigued too, Chim leaning over to Buck who turned to whisper back.

“Well, yeah. I know Buck’s is red, Chim thinks it’s stupid to have a favourite colour, and Bobby-“

“-leave Bobby out of this conversation,” Bobby said, mid-mouthful of pancake. Eddie shrugged.

“I dunno... I don’t have one, I guess. Christopher’s is green, so... green?”

“Dude, it’s blue. You literally always gravitate toward blue,” Buck said and Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, so I guess it’s blue.”

“What about your favourite sport? Is it baseball?”

“No, Hen, he’s a Hockey guy.”

Buck butted in again and Bobby was suddenly interested. Glancing between Hen and Eddie, he cocked an eyebrow.

“Why the interrogation, Hen?”

“I just... feel like I don’t know Eddie very well.”

“Yeah, well, the feeling’s mutual,” he huffed, clearly uncomfortable with being questioned, and Hen immediately back off.

“I’m sorry, Eddie, I didn’t mean to-“

“-no, it’s... it’s fine.”

And they leave it at that, Bobby frowning at Hen as if to say “did you break him?” Before turning back to his pancakes.

~~~

Later, on a call, Hen watched Eddie roll out a hose. He was methodical and efficient, but his knee on his left side was a little weak and if he leaned on that side he almost missed his step. Buck, of course, was glued to his side as usual and seemed to be working the hose as well, or maybe flirting. Whatever.

“Hen. Put Eddie down.”

“What?”

Hen turned toward Chim and he took the blood pressure cuff off his patient, patting his shoulder.

“Looks good. Probably just a panic-induced reaction. I do want to get you to hospital just in case.”

“Yes sir.”

The guy let Chim lie him on the gurney inside the ambulance and shut the door. Chimney, hands on his hips, cocked an eyebrow.

“Why the sudden obsession with Eddie? You in love with him?”

“I’m married, to a woman, with two beautiful children. Or did you forget, Chimney?”

“My bad. But seriously, you need to stop staring at him. You’re gonna make him take stress leave.”

“I told you! I feel like I don’t know him. How stupid is that; this guy is one of our best and I feel like I barely know him past Christopher.”

Chimney shrugged.

“It’s always been you and me, Buck and Eddie, and Bobby. It’s just the way things worked out.”

“I can still talk to Buck, though, and ask him how therapy’s going, ask him personal things. Can you imagine what would happen if I asked Eddie something like that?”

“Oh, I can, and I can tell you right now it would not end well. How about we stop staring him down, and take this poor guy to the hospital before he thinks we forgot?”

“Fine.”

Hen climbed into the ambulance, radioing into dispatch to alert the hospital they were on their way there.

~~~

“Hey, Eddie, what happened to your knee? If you don’t mind me asking?”

Eddie sighed, putting down the clipboard he’d just pried off Buck.

“I dislocated it a few years ago. Went to physical therapy and everything but it never quite bounced back.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks for telling me.”

Hen went to walk away, when Eddie called out.

“Hey, Hen- what’s your mom’s name?”

And Hen smiled. Of course Eddie got it.

“It’s Antonia- Toni, if you want to be on her good side.”

“I better stick with Toni then.”

He disappeared into the locker room then, and Hen blinked before heading back upstairs.

~~~

It carried on like this for the rest of shift- Hen would ask Eddie a random question, and then an hour or so later he would approach with one of his own. It got to the point that they were asking about each other’s families as well now; Hen knew Eddie had sisters, but she hadn’t known he was the youngest of the three of them. Eddie was aware Hen didn’t have siblings, but he had no idea her father abandoned her so young. She finds out his favourite food is his grandmother’s Tamales, and he discovered that she loved cheeseburgers but only when Buck orders them, because he always remembers to double the ketchup.

Meanwhile, the other three watched this go on between calls. Buck crossed his arms, but he wasn’t pissed- if anything he was pleased.

“Fucking finally,” he murmured, Chim and Bobby looking to him with confusion. Buck shrugged.

“I always felt like those two just didn’t quite click, not in a mean way or anything, but more along the lines of no shared interests.”

“They’re bonding over their love of hockey I think,” Chim said, watching over the rail into the truck bays. Bobby just shrugged.

“As long as they’re getting along. It’s good to see Eddie opening up a little.”

“Amen,” Chim and Buck said simultaneously. The alarm began blaring and everyone leapt into action.

~~~

“Hey, Hen, can I ask you something?”

“If it’s my favourite cheese, you can bribe me easily with Brie,” Hen joked, head in the ambulance as she restocked it. Eddie shifted.

“No, it’s a little more, uh- why today?”

“What do you mean- oh. Oh!”

Hen stopped throwing things in the cupboards, taking a seat on the edge of the ambulance. Eddie sat too and she realised he was trying to trust her.

“Well, it’s kind of- kind of stupid, actually. I was lying in bed and it was 1am and apparently I was kind of delirious, because I- for half a second... I felt like I couldn’t trust you with my life.”

Eddie’s face hardened, walls going up, but Hen darted to grab his arm.

“I was wrong! I was wrong. You’re a skilled firefighter, and you’re unstoppable on scene, but I just- I felt like I didn’t know you very well. I decided to change that. I wanted to change that.”

His face screwed up, like he’d eaten something bad, before he shrugged.

“Cool.”

And that was it. Off he went, probably to find Buck. Those two were inseparable in the best of times, let alone when either of them were feeling vulnerable.

~~~

The next call they were on, Chim was tied down with a patient and Hen could tell she needed help. She turned her head, about to yell when she felt Eddie appeared behind her like he’d known and she grinned at him.

“Grab the stethoscope.”

“Got it.”

And they worked in unison. For the first time she felt like he had her back and she had his. They smiled at each other, focusing on helping their patient. When the patient had been loaded into the ambulance, Eddie cleared his throat and looked to Hen.

“Hey, uh, I think we know each other better than we think.”

“I think you should go and kiss Buck, but I hope to god you already know that.”

“Oh my god, Hen,” Eddie choked, but he was laughing so Hen figured he wasn’t pissed and about to close off to her. Nudging his shoulder, she gestured to their patient.

“Ride with me? I might need you to stay in the back.”

“Sure thing.”

Hen turned and yelled to Chim that she had to get to the hospital and he went to climb into the ambulance when Eddie beat him and Chim pouted. Buck appeared beside him, a frown on his face.

“Did they just-“

“Eddie stole my best friend,” Chim huffed. Buck snorted.

“If it makes you feel any better, Hen stole my boyfriend.”

“Buck.”

[bangtans-bubs]

BTS Reaction #2: When you watch the movie “365 Days” with your boyfriend

-/-

a/n: hey army! i’ve recently started working on a request with mafia min yoongi (suga) x reader, and it was a quite interesting request. my inbox is still open, so feel free to submit any requests/ideas running through your mind.

warning: smuttyyyy goodness

word count: less than 300 (per member)

*creds to gif owners

-/-

> Kim Namjoon (RM)

He can never make it through a sex scene because the intimate scenes start to provoke his “innocent” mind and fill it with lustful thoughts. He usually requests to change the genre of the movie to comedy to prevent himself from pouncing on you, but this time you insisted on watching the entire movie whether it’s with or without him. He would’ve walked away, but he wanted to test his self-control, even though it was a dangerous task. He tossed the remote towards your side and decided to sit on the other end of the couch as a safety precaution. He safely made it through the first quarter of the movie and that caused him to put his guards down. Just when he thought he was clear, he noticed how you had shifted from your end of the couch, now leaning your head against his pounding chest. He thought you were oblivious of the current situation, but your actions said otherwise. You lazily threw your leg over his thighs, placing your knee right above his rising length. He began fidgeting around in attempts to move your leg lower, but his movements gave you the wrong sign, causing you to roam your hand over his broad chest. You can hear his heart throbbing through his chest and felt his breathing quicken at your sudden actions. When he realized where your hands were headed, he suddenly grasped it with a firm grip and said, “It doesn’t seem like you put this movie on with the intentions of finishing it, baby?”

“Well, now I’m trying to finish other things,” you replied back with a devilish smile on your face.

> Kim Seokjin

He believes that self-control should never be a thing when it’s just the both of you chilling together. He’s also very mature when it comes to watching intimate scenes, with or without you. Actually, he’d be a bit more calm if he was the only one present during a sex scene, but if you’re there too, he doesn’t bother to control his urge to touch you. Even if you both weren’t watching this movie together, he would’ve found another way to embrace/feel you. You never get bothered by it either because you rarely see him due to his tight schedule. The both of you would find yourselves tangled with one another on the floor while watching the movie. Before the freaky scenes appear, you’d feel Jin’s hands roaming around the hem of your shirt before finding their way up your torso. He would teasingly run a finger across the underside of your bra, barely touching your skin. If he notices that you have your eyes closed, fists clenched, or you’re holding your breath, he would say, “I think we should recreate those scenes, baby.”

> Min Yoongi (Suga)

Never in a million years would he have ever watched an erotic movie with you. A sex scene can appear on the screen and he’ll start making comments like, “Is he insane? He’s going to dislocate her hips.” Or, “What pleasure does someone get from dislocations?” The movie genre can be far from comedy, but Suga will somehow manage to make you laugh to the point where your abs and jaw start to ache. After passing an intimate scene, he’d say, “His tongue game must be weak if he needs to put in that much effort to make her feel good.” You furrowed your eyebrows and broke into a fit of hysterical laughter. He had a questioning look on his face and blankly stared at you, waiting for an explanation.

“I highly doubt anything will be better than that tongue.” Your challenging remark made him glide his tongue across his lips before he turned to smirk at you.

“I’m tempted to prove you wrong, baby.”

> Jung Hoseok (J-hope/Hobi)

Oh, the way this man stares into the tv makes you feel like he’s into it. Usually, both of you sit side by side when watching a movie together, but this time he sat with his body facing you. At the time you didn’t understand why, but as soon as a sex scene appeared on the screen you’d notice him stare at you from your peripheral vision. He’d switch his attention between the tv and you to see how you react to the scene and if he sees you raise an eyebrow, he’d know you like it or you’d want to try it. He let out a silent laugh before turning his attention fully towards the movie, but his laughter had you questioning his motives. You’d just let it go and focus on the scene, maybe running a hand through your hair or up and down the side of your thigh. He noticed how you began fidgeting and let out another laughter before getting up, taking smooth strides towards your shared room.

“Where are you going?” You threw the blanket you had over yourself to the side, curiously waiting for an answer.

“I’ll be waiting for you in the room. The quicker you come, the better for you.”

> Park Jimin

He does not give a fuck about whether his movements are sly or not. If he wants you in the middle of a sex scene, then he’d do anything to get your attention. He’ll think about which weak spot he should target, then he’ll take actions depending on that spot. You’d stay stubborn and beg for him to focus on the scene because you love giving him a hard time. You knew he wouldn’t last a single scene, which is why you decided to tease him by denying his request to stop the movie. After making a move on your weak spots and that resulting in nothing but a waste of time, he’d start fanning himself and use the excuse of the room being “too hot” to remove his t-shirt. He knows it drives you insane when he’s shirtless because you start to debate on which part you should mark first. He caught you drooling over him as if he was a fresh piece of meat and didn’t hesitate to say, “I want to make you scream louder than her.”

> Kim Taehyung (V)

Taehyung never had a probelm with watching a movie filled with lustrous scenes because he’s positively sure that he has already done those things with/to you. V considers himself to be an intimate person and would always insist on cuddling you while you both enjoy the movie. V had asked to watch this movie since it was blowing up all over social media for its raw sex scenes. You didn’t refuse because he was very tired at the moment, so he’d have no intentions of doing the dirty, or so you thought. You grabbed your bowl of popcorn and seated yourself on V’s lap, before realizing that maybe that’s not the brightest idea. You tried to fall onto the side of the couch, but his arms had a death grip around your waist, restricting you from any movement. You let out a heavy sigh and just decided to slide yourself lower on his lap to rest the back of your head between the crevice of his neck. You were only 20 minutes into the movie before the masturbation scene appeared on the screen. You desperately tried to unclasp his hands from your waist, but that just caused him to pull you closer to him, his lips lingering dangerously close to the the nape of your neck.

He began peppering wet kisses along the sides of your jaw before pulling away to say, “I’ve always wanted to see how you touch yourself on the days I’m not here. I want to see how well you imitate my actions.”

> Jeon Jungkook

He can be a beast in bed and could do things you’d never imagine a man to do, but when it comes to watching a movie with sex scenes, he’d always begin giggling like a kid and start blushing. He’d get embarrassed as if he’s the one in the scene, and honestly you found that very cute, but kind of scary because of how well he switches up from a freak in the bed to an overly excited child. He always wants your legs to rest over his so he can lay his hands over your lap, and in this case that didn’t help you. During the sex scenes, he would run his hands over your mid thighs till he reaches close to your heated core. He’d peek at you from the side of his eyes to see if you’ve caught onto his mischievous intentions. If you’re oblivious, he’d just rest his hands there and wait for you to react, but if he notices your breathing quicken, he’ll move his hands to the waistband of your shorts and slightly tug at it. He’d lean towards your ear and whisper, “You know... I learned quite a lot from this movie. I think I’m ready to practice those learnings with you. What do you say?”

*requests are open

[heximagines]

“You should’ve told me sooner” with RZ Mikey? I know you said you liked writing fluff with him and I love how you portray him, go nuts and have fun! And if you’re in the mood for NSFW both would be awesome, but if you’re not down for it that’s perfectly fine!! Have a good day 😊

The fluff is a little more subtle in this I think but I hope you enjoy. Thanks for the request. <3

__

Something was off, you knew it, you just couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was. Your narrowed eyes scanned your boyfriend as he sat beside you on the couch. Sure Michael wasn’t much to move around once he was comfy but he hadn’t even gotten up to grab anything to eat since he got home which was extremely unusual. He just walked in and took a seat. Michael’s eyes shifted behind his mask to glance over at you. When he saw you were staring he quickly moved them back to the TV, yet another clue  something was off. Michael didn’t seize the opportunity for a staring contest? And he’s actually watching the dumb reality show you put on while he was gone? Usually he would have changed the channel on you as soon as he was in the door. Finally you sat up from your relaxed position and moved to crawl across to his side of the couch to get a closer look at him. “What’s up with you?” One of your fingers came up to poke and prod him in the chest. He lifted his hand, his left hand, and smacked yours away from him. Your eyes flew to Michael’s right hand and he knew he’d slipped up. He wasn’t sure when you’d grown to know him so well and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Right now Michael just decided it was annoying. You reached out to Michael’s other hand and he shifted his fingers, hoping to convince you he was fine. You looked up at him with a small crease between your brows, then rested your hand over his. Finally Michael did the only thing he could think to do and shoved you off the couch. You let out a surprised yelp as you landed on your back and your head banged off the edge of the coffee table. “What the fuck Michael!?” He stood abruptly and lumbered past you towards the kitchen. You glared as he went but finally something caught your attention. Michael’s right shoulder was hanging a little lower than his left.

Bingo.

You scrambled to your feet and chased after him. When you got there his mask was now sitting on the counter and he was finally tearing into the fridge, still favoring his non-dominant side. You stood in the doorway with your arms crossed. “Michael Audrey Myers.” He whirled around at the use of his full name, scowling. “Don’t look at me like that. You should’ve told me sooner.” He was busted, you were too observant. Michael always knew he’d find that irritating someday. He took a leftover chicken breast from yesterday into his bare hand and started eating it before turning his back to you and walking back in the direction of the couch. You were hot on his heels. You snatched your phone off the coffee table and opened up your search engine. You knew what you had to do but you weren’t sure how. After scanning through a WikiHow article you locked your phone and tossed it on the couch just beside Michael before cracking your knuckles. “Okay, let’s do this. Lay on your back and stick your arm straight out to the side.” Your boyfriend only rubbed his greasy hand on the arm of your couch. “If we don’t fix this it’s only going to get worse. Now c’mon, stop being stubborn.” No response. “Oh so you want to do this the hard way huh?” Now Michael only tilted his head, a sign of amusement. The hard way huh? He’d like to see you try. “Fine...” You moved to sit in Michael’s lap, your legs on either side of his hips. You grabbed him by the jaw and tilted his head further. Leaning in you let your lips trail up Michael’s neck, nipping and kissing. Oh, right, the hard way huh? A large hand came to rest on your ass, squeezing, before Michael picked you up with one arm and carried you off up the stairs. Just as you’d planned.

You were dropped carelessly onto the bed. Michael roughly grabbed the collar of your shirt and pulled it up and over your head. You complied easily, lifting your arms to make it easier before stripping off your pants for him. You were definitely not in the mood to lose anymore clothes this week. He placed his palm flat in the center of your bare chest and pushed you down. Once again you followed the silent order. When he was sure you wouldn’t move he let his hand slither up to your neck. His thumb traced over the swell of your throat, feeling the delicate skin before squeezing. Your lips parted as your last uninhibited breath left you. You could hear it in the back of his throat, the low rumbling growl that let you know Michael was pleased with you. It sent an involuntary shiver down your spine and made you spread your legs. You might be able to read Michael like a book but he knew exactly how to push your buttons. His right arm twitched and Michael grunted in annoyance when he realized he couldn’t move it how he wanted. You stretched your arm out and ran your hand gently over Michael’s injured shoulder. “I can fix i-,” your sentence was cut short when Michael pushed down harder on your throat completely cutting off your airway. Your hand retreats to come grip his wrist, trying to get him to ease up. But you know there’s no point. He holds you like that until tiny black splotches begin to dance across your eyes, then he lets you go. As you desperately suck in air Michael seized the opportunity to unzip his coveralls and push them down his body. Without the layer you could see an indent in Michael’s shoulder that confirmed exactly what you already knew. His shoulder was dislocated. With your breathing still heavy you reached back out to run your hands over the planes of your boyfriend’s abdomen, starting at his chest and moving down to where his hips dipped. Roughly Michael grabbed your wrist and pushed your hand under the belt line of his pants. You gladly squeezed his length, running your thumb teasingly up and down the underside before pushing the coveralls farther down his hips. Rolling onto your stomach you gave him a few languid strokes before pressing the tip of his cock to your lips. You stare up at Michael through your eyelashes as his hand meets the back of your head. Before he can urge you forward you part your lips and take him into your mouth with a moan. His fingers tighten in your hair and he gives you barely a second before he’s thrusting in and out of your throat. Michael stared down with you and if you didn’t know him well you’d think he was completely unaffected. But the crease in his brow and tenseness in his jaw gave away just how much he was enjoying this. You let him do as he wishes and try your best to relax your jaw and keep the tears that are already stinging your eyes at bay. You move your tongue move along his cock as Michael uses your throat, adding to his pleasure.

For a brief moment he pulls out of your mouth and you think he’s ready to move on but instead he uses his good arm to flip you onto your back again, now with your head hanging off the edge. He hooks his thumb into your mouth and pulls it open again. He thrusts back in with a grunt. His hand finding it’s way back to your throat and squeezing it, making you tighten around his shaft and gag. Spit leaked from the corners of your mouth and streaked down your cheeks and into your hair. One hand braced itself against Michael’s taught thigh and the other gathered some of the wetness from your cheek before finding your entrance. You let your fingers rub and tease over the sensitive area before slowly pushing inside. You moan around Michael and the muscles in his thighs tense. He groans quietly and finally pulls out of your mouth. Michael lifts you by your throat, making you sit up before letting go. You’re only allowed a moment catch your breath and rub your tender neck before You’re pushed down by the center of your back so your chest is pressed against your bed, knees bent beneath you. Michael roughly pushed his cock into your slick cavity, making you moan out and clench around him. His pace is just as punishing as always, rocking your body and eliciting obscene sounds from your lips, but you can feel a slight hesitance that isn’t normally there. However, pain has never stopped Michael. He was singleminded in what he wanted and right now he wanted nothing more than to fill you with his cum. He reached out and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head away from the mattress so he could better hear every little sound he made spill out of you. His eyes closed and his head lolled back  as he took in each one, letting it motivate him. Once he was sure you’d keep your head up on your own his hand shoved itself under you, stroking where you needed the attention most. Your thighs shuddered and shook under the treatment. You could feel yourself growing closer and closer to your end and you knew Michael was too as his thrusts only became more desperate. Finally you came with a loud sob of pleasure, spasming around him. It only took a few more thrusts before Michael came inside you. Small aftershocks coursed through your body as you slumped back down onto the bed with a groan. But you knew better, Michael wasn’t done with you yet. He flipped you over onto your back and grabbed your ankle, spreading your legs for himself.

You had lost track of how many rounds you were on but it seemed like your boyfriend was finally satiated. That or his shoulder simply hurt too much to continue. You couldn’t quite tell. But you were sweaty and tired and your body ached all over so you wouldn’t complain. Your heavy arms and tired eyes urged you to stay in bed but there was still one matter you have to take care of. You sat up in his arms and pressed a chaste kiss to Michael’s cheek. “I’m going to go get a shower okay?” He only nodded before releasing you from his hold. You stood on shaky legs and glanced over at Michael to confirm that he was just as you wanted him. His good arm had curled in to rest over his stomach but his injured one was stretched out in what was probably the most comfortable position for him. You gingerly made your way over to the other side of the bed, stopping to fiddle with the light on the nightstand. Michael’s eyes were closed and you had only a moment to do what you had to. With speed you didn’t know you were capable of you grabbed Michael's arm and pulled on it steadily until you heard the telltale click that let you know his shoulder was back in place. Michael’s arm lashed out and he grabbed you by your already bruising neck, glaring up at you. You grin shyly and put your hands up. “Feel better?” you manage to wheeze. And he must have because slowly Michael released you and with one last pointed look he rolled over onto his side so his back was to you. You leaned in and placed another kiss on his shoulder. “I love you Michael. I’ll bring you up some ice and food after my shower.”      

[abused-sides]

Hungry [dead dove: do not eat]

    Trigger warning: someone dies from a food allergy and it’s VERY graphic, it’s an unsympathetic character. This is also written from someone who has a ton of severe food allergies, including the one that’s used, so it’s not some random asshole making light of a situation. Abusive relationships, death, murder, unsympathetic character is murdered

note: please read the trigger warnings and do not fucking read if it’ll bother/trigger you, this is the last warning

    xxx 

    Every morning, Janus ran out to buy him and Remus coffees while Remus stayed behind and burnt their breakfast. 

    Logan woke up to the smoke detector screaming and the rest of their roommates groaning while Roman frantically waved a blanket and snapped at his brother (Janus still smiled when he came home). It was as good of an alarm clock as any. 

    Every morning, Logan scraped together breakfast for a boyfriend he didn’t love. 

    Remus and Janus’ voices carried over from the living room as they ate on the couch. Logan used the burnt remnants of their stove to make bacon and eggs, something he could cook in his sleep. He wasn’t sleeping, though—He was focused on Remus and Janus. 

    “So,” Remus stole a piece of bacon and talked with his mouth full, “when’s the oaf getting up?” 

    Janus sipped at his coffee. “Obligatory defensive comment incoming,” he murmured, and Remus wrapped an arm around his waist. 

    “Don’t make fun of him,” Logan announced. 

    As much as Patton begged everyone to get along, Remus was never one to hide how he felt. Neither was Jaxon. 

    “You know he doesn’t do it on purpose, and you know he’ll be down here any second,” he whispered, and bumped Remus with his hip, who laughed. “Get out of here!” 

    Remus finished the bacon and said, “I gotta get to work anyway.” 

    That didn’t stop him from making out with Janus a good few minutes before leaving. 

    Jaxon stumbled into the kitchen sleepily. 

    “Morning, J,” Logan said quietly. 

    He hated Jaxon’s first appearance—he was too tired for Logan to tell what type of mood he was in. He used to stay quiet until he knew for sure, but Jaxon snapped at him once and said, “When you don’t say good morning, it feels like you’re mad at me or you don’t care about me.”

    Logan always said good morning now.

    Jaxon ignored him, took his plate, and went back upstairs. Logan relaxed. 

    “Just let me know when you want me to kill him for you,” Janus sneered, then ducked into his and Remus’ room. 

    Roman left for work next, singing on his way out, followed by Patton, who kissed Logan’s cheek and told him to stay safe. Virgil worked nights and didn’t wake until well after 3pm. Janus used noise-cancelling headphones while he worked. As much as Logan tried, he couldn’t get a shift today. He was essentially alone with Jaxon. 

    His stomach churned. 

    He went to his computer. 

    It didn’t take long for Jaxon to come back downstairs. He wrapped his arms around Logan’s shoulders and nuzzled into his neck. 

    “What’s going on?” Jaxon asked. “You’re tense.” 

    Logan’s shoulders relaxed. “I just have a lot of work to do.” 

    “So? Take a break. Come hang out with me.” 

    “Jaxon…” Logan frowned at the screen. “I have a deadline.” 

    Jaxon yanked his arms back. “Are you mad at me or something?” 

    Logan looked over his shoulder. “What? No. Why would I be mad?” 

    He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, brown eyes hard. “Because you haven’t hung out with me all week. I never see you anymore.” 

    “I work right here in the living room because you wanted to see me more,” Logan insisted. “And we watched three movies last night. We can watch three more tonight.” 

    “Well I don’t wanna force you.”

    Janus’ door creaked open. “That’s exactly what you want to do. Can you two quiet down?” 

    “Come with me,” Jaxon growled under his breath and grabbed Logan’s wrist. 

    Logan stumbled after him. 

    “HEY!” Janus stormed forward and grabbed Logan’s other wrist. “He has a deadline. He needs to work. Have you no manners?” 

    “Sorry, princess, I wasn’t raised in a castle.” Jaxon yanked Logan hard enough for his shoulder to ache. 

    “You’re hurting me,” he said desperately. 

    “Let go of him.” Janus’ eyes were deadly slits. His teeth were fangs, his grip of a Boa. 

    Logan pulled—he’d get punished for that later—until Jaxon let go and he stumbled back into Janus’ arms. Janus quickly righted him then took his hands away. Logan shivered. 

    “We’ll talk about this later,” Jaxon mumbled, “when the snake isn’t around.” 

    He turned and stomped up the stairs. The door slammed, and Logan flinched. 

    “I’m sorry,” he spouted as he turned to Janus. “I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to interrupt your work.” 

    “Don’t worry about it.” 

    “And what he said—” 

    “I am a snake. It’s great. Is your wrist okay?” 

    Logan held it up. The skin was clear, but a bruise would surely show. “It’s fine. He almost…” He forced a laugh, “almost dislocated my shoulder, though.” 

    “Let me take a look at it. Sit down.” 

    Logan sat and Janus tugged his loose neckline down enough to expose his shoulder. Janus hummed. 

    “Is it hurting?” 

    “Just a little. I’m okay.” 

    “Let me get some ice.” 

    Janus came back a moment later and settled the icepack on Logan’s shoulder. 

    “Why haven’t you kicked us out?” Logan asked quietly. 

    “Because if he left, you’d go with him. And we like you a lot.” Janus ran his fingers through Logan’s hair, who leaned into the touch. “Besides, we have better plans for him. We’re killing him, remember?” 

    Logan laughed, and prayed to God Jaxon didn’t hear. 

    xxx 

    Logan didn’t see Jaxon again until dinner. Roman and Remus were play-fighting in the kitchen, yelling over the boiling of a stew. Patton and Virgil were watching a horror movie on the couch, Janus sat at their feet. Virgil kept kicking him. 

    Jaxon came down the stairs as Logan asked to help with dinner. Remus quickly took Logan under his arm. 

    “Yeah! Stir this for me. Hey, Jaxon. I’ve got Logan helping me here.” 

    “I missed you at lunch today,” Logan said over his shoulder. “Are you okay? Feeling sick?” 

    “A little,” he mumbled. “Will you eat with me?” 

    Logan melted. “Of course. Remus, is this safe for him?” 

    Remus grabbed Logan’s shoulder. Logan furrowed his eyebrows as they locked eyes. 

    “Yes.” Remus tapped something on the counter. “Janus and Roman helped me.” 

    Logan glanced down. 

    Peanut powder. 

    He swallowed. 

    “It’s perfectly safe for Jaxon.” 

    Blood rushed through Logan’s ears. 

    “No, actually.” Logan sucked in a shuddering breath. “No, I want to make him something myself.” 

    Remus’ shoulders slumped. “I understand. I guess.” 

    “But…” Logan grabbed his hand. “You can make it again if I ask?” 

    Roman set a hand on Logan’s lightly purpled shoulder. “We absolutely can.” 

    Logan got to work making Jaxon grilled cheese sandwiches, and they ate in the living room with everyone else. Jaxon kept wrinkling his nose and pursing his lips like he was rubbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 

    “Everything okay, Jax?” Patton asked sweetly. 

    “There’s no peanuts in that, right? Something about the smell is setting me off.” 

    “Nope.” Janus laid his head in Remus’ lap. “We know about your allergy, Jaxon. We’re careful.” 

    xxx 

    That night, Logan stayed up late with Jaxon watching movies. Logan fell asleep cuddled against Jaxon’s chest and woke up the next morning snuggled with him in bed. 

    He hauled himself out of bed, heavy with exhaustion, as the smoke alarm screamed. Janus kissed Remus on the cheek before leaving for their coffees. Remus cracked another egg in the pan. Roman sang Disney at the top of his lungs as he got ready in the bathroom, Virgil pounding on the door demanding that he needed to piss. Patton snapped that there’s another bathroom upstairs and that if those two didn’t stop fighting he’d lose his mind. 

    Logan found a path in the kitchen to grab the stuff for French toast. He pushed aside Remus’ used dishes and ingredients to set his own down. 

    “How are you feeling?” Remus asked as Logan whisked. “You know, about the decision you made.” 

    “Good,” he admitted. “I think it was the right call.” 

    Remus set the spatula down hard. “So how else do you wanna proceed?” 

    Logan’s whisks slowed. “I… I don’t know. Last time I talked about maybe taking a break, he—” 

    “Hey, Jaxon!” Patton greeted cheerfully. 

    Logan snapped his mouth shut. 

    “Morning, handsome.” Jaxon kissed the back of Logan’s neck. 

    He smiled as Jaxon poured them both juice. “It was the right decision.”

    xxx 

    “Logan!” Jaxon bounded down the stairs. “When are you stopping for lunch?” 

    “Um…” Logan shifted in his seat. “I had lunch.” 

    Jaxon stopped. “What?” 

    “It was quick.” Logan pushed back in the chair to face Jaxon. “Just a snack, really. Then I got right back to work.” 

    “Why would you eat without me? I knew it, you are mad at me. We always have lunch together.” 

    “I know, I’m sorry—”

    “If you know, why did you eat without me? What did I even do?”

    “You didn’t do anything!” 

    “But you’re mad at me.” 

    “I’m not mad at you!”

    “THEN WHY WOULD YOU EAT WITHOUT ME?”

    Logan flinched. 

    Jaxon grabbed his wrist and hauled him to his feet. “Don’t be a baby! Just tell me!” 

    He slammed Logan into the wall just as Janus’ door opened. Logan’s head bounced off the paint, his eye erupting in pain. 

    “Get off,” Janus snapped. 

    “This is none of your business! Go back to work!” 

    Janus pulled his phone out of his pocket. He dialed three numbers. 

    “Put the phone down!” 

    “I need someone here right away, my roommate—”

    Jaxon leapt ten steps back. Logan crumpled in on himself, pressed against the wall where Jaxon left him. 

    “I think he’s calming down now,” Janus said into the phone. He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I would like you to remain on the line.” 

    Jaxon grabbed his wallet and keys, and stormed out. The door slammed and Logan flinched. 

    “He’s gone now. Thank you for your help. Let me ask.” He pressed the phone to his shirt. “Do you want to press charges? Do you want the police to come?” 

    Logan shook his head, eyes watering. “I want to make dinner.” 

    xxx 

    “That again?” Jaxon asked, peering over Logan’s shoulder. 

    Logan stirred the thick broth. “You didn’t get to try it. It’s good.” 

    Jaxon shrugged. “Is your eye okay?”

    “It’ll heal.” 

    He left. Logan grabbed the peanut powder and dumped in a generous amount, then left it to boil and cook down. 

    Everyone stared at Jaxon as they ate. Logan finished his bowl and grabbed seconds. Pale blotches appeared on Jaxon’s face. His lips swelled. 

    “Are you sure this doesn’t have peanuts?” He asked nervously. “I don’t feel great.” 

    “My eye hurts,” Logan announced. 

    “I have some medicine for it.” Remus kissed Logan’s cheek. “I’ll be right back.” 

    Jaxon glared. “Kiss your own boyfriend!” 

    By the time Remus came back, Jaxon’s throat was swelling shut. “Drive me to a hospital,” he demanded in a hoarse voice. 

    Patton knelt between Logan’s legs and applied the cream Remus bought to Logan’s browbone and the top of his cheekbone. 

    “Dinner was good,” Virgil said. “Are you gonna finish yours, Jax?” 

    He glared and stumbled for the door. “What the hell is this?” 

    Virgil shrugged and grabbed Jaxon’s bowl, downing the rest. Roman leaned against the door with his arms crossed. Jaxon threw a punch, but Roman easily ducked against Jaxon’s weak, wobbling frame. 

    “Oh, God, are you okay?” Patton gasped. “Call an ambulance!” 

    Jaxon collapsed to his knees as his body convulsed. His hands dug into the carpet. He vomited, elbows and knees locking. 

    “Shit, did we add peanut?” Roman asked. “Old habits.” 

    “What’s the number again?” Remus stared at his phone in confusion. 

    “What’s… wrong… with you… all…” Jaxon gasped through his throw up. 

    “911, I think,” Logan mumbled. “Are you okay, love?” 

    “I need someone here right away. My roommate is having an allergic reaction. He was eating alone, we didn’t catch it very fast— yes. Okay, I understand. Mhm.” He gave them the address then hung up. 

    Janus, Remus, and Roman turned on the T.V. Logan and Patton got to work cleaning up after dinner. Virgil stared Jaxon down. 

    He was dead before the paramedics arrived. 

    xxx 

    The smoke alarm blared. Logan hauled himself out of the warm bed and came out of Janus and Remus’ room. 

    “Slept long enough,” Janus said, wrapping his arms around Logan’s waist. 

    Logan leaned his head on Janus’ shoulder. “Coffee?” 

    “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

    “Breakfast is almost ready!” Remus called. “Hurry up!” 

    “I HAVE TO PISS, ROMAN!” 

    “THERE ARE TWO BATHROOMS!” 

    Logan got into the car with Janus. Janus pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the nearest coffee shop. 

    “How are you feeling?” Janus asked, reaching over and taking his hand. 

    “Hungry.” 

[axoxtxhxh]

You Saved Me - Chapter 1

Overall summary: Everyone loves Miche right? I hate that he never had the chance to grow as a character so I started writing a little story about what would happen if he didn’t die that day. So this is the first chapter. It wasn’t originally supposed to be the first chapter, but I’m impatient so hopefully the overall story is still good. Thanks for reading!

Chapter summary: Miche gets saved. Whoo-hoo!

Also, I am definitely not a doctor, but I looked up TONS of broken bones pictures and info in order to try to make this semi-realistic. Sorry to the doctors out there for messing this up!

Chapter 1

MichexFem!Reader      Warning: Mentions death, broken bones, vomit, blood      Word count: ~4,200

Y/N could hear Miche’s screams. She ducked down on her horse trying to move as fast as she could. She noticed the bigger, hairier titan approach him after it launched Miche’s horse. She was in the open field, but dipped behind the trees and houses when she saw the abnormals. She was so close now.

“Come on, Miche,” She said to herself. “Hang on just a bit longer.” She flew past the last set of houses and was preparing to round the corner just as the big titan turned the other way. She was taken by surprise and could have sworn she heard him speaking. There’s no way. She tried to pick up more speed as she fully rounded the corner, Miche in sight.

Miche was surrounded, the titans closing in. She wasn’t even sure she had enough space to squeeze in with her horse. Miche was pulling out his blade when she lowered her body as low as she could, leaning over her horse.

“Miche!” She yelled and he turned towards the sound, seeing Y/N racing towards him. She put out her arm and he reached up, grabbing it as they raced past the titans about to catch them, barely making it through. The titans all turned, following them.

He grabbed the back of her saddle and laid there, his stomach on the horse while his legs and arms dangled on either side.

“Shit! Fuck! Holy fuck!” He was yelling, confused that he somehow made it out alive. “I think I shit my pants.”

“Well we aren’t out of it yet.” She looked back, the titans were closing in again. She looked down at Miche, her stomach dropping. His leg was broken, worse than broken and he was losing a lot of blood. “What happened to your gear?”

“I…” He couldn’t think how to explain.

“Nevermind, you take over. I will take care of the titans.” She started to get up.

“No.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Just go through the forest. We can lose them that way… Please.”

Y/N was confused why he was pleading with her, but she followed what he said and went through the forest. It was a lot harder for the bigger titans to follow and they lost the majority of them. A few smaller ones continued following after they made it out of the clearing, but soon they fell behind and Y/N and Miche were safe. Well, as safe as they could be. She headed towards the next set of trees for some cover and slowed down. She jumped off the horse and helped him down so they could catch their breath.

Miche fell to the ground and vomited. He was choking and breathing heavily his body trying to react through his emotional state. Y/N leaned down behind him placing her hand on his shoulder.

“Miche?” She rubbed his back a little. He turned around to face her, wiping his mouth. His eyes were red and pouring, tears falling all over his cheeks. He started panting, his breathing becoming quick and uneven, fighting a panic attack. He reached forward and pulled Y/N into his arms, squeezing her tightly. He sobbed uncontrollably into her stomach and she held him tighter, dropping to her knees so his head laid on her shoulder. “I—It’s okay, I got you… it’s going to be okay, Miche.”

“Thank you,” he whispered into her. “Thank you for coming for me.” She looked at him, not sure what to say. His eyes were still red, the dirt on his face made the tear stains stick out that much more.

“I…” She started, not knowing what to say. She could only watch him struggle to comprehend what had happened.

“If you hadn’t come...” He was crying again. “If you weren’t there… I could… I was going to be…” He bent over to the side on all fours, vomiting again. He struggled to breathe and Y/N continued rubbing his back until he was able to get himself up. She didn’t know what else she could do for him other than be there.

His breathing slowly returned to normal, but he stayed on all fours looking at the ground. Y/N was getting worried about staying in the same spot too long.

“You okay if we get back on the horse? We shouldn’t stay here much longer.” She looked around the woods, getting nervous.

“I think so.” He was completely lost in his head, eyes lidded, tears and dirt covering his face while spit was dripping from his mouth. Y/N reached up with her cape and wiped his mouth then used her hands to wipe the tears off of his cheeks. Miche held her hand at his face, sniffing her palm as he closed his eyes.

“I’m going to need your help getting you back up there.” She helped as he climbed up onto the horse. She again noticed how bad his leg was. We need to get you to a medic. She climbed up herself, sitting in front of him. They made their way back to the base. After 10 minutes of riding, Miche’s head laid bobbling on her shoulder, having either fallen asleep or passed out. Either way, she knew that if she didn’t get him to a hospital soon, he may not make it.

They were less than 80 miles from headquarters, but she wasn’t even sure if they could make it back there today. The sun was already starting to set in the sky and her horse was tired. She slowed down her riding to give herself time to think.

What do I do? I can stop riding here and give my horse a break, but Miche isn’t doing well. I can ride as long as the horse can go, but I don’t even know how long that will be. I can try to remember some of my medical training and try to fix Miche’s leg myself. She turned to look at his leg. Blood was starting to drip from his boot. Shit! I have to do something.

She pulled off to the side, taking slight cover between some trees and turned around to look at him. His face was pale and sweating.

“Miche.” She shook him. “Miche.” His eyes fluttered open and he looked around, eyes still unfocused. “Miche, I need to—”

He doubled over, leaning forward on her leg and grabbing the back of her jacket, groaning.

“My leg! Shit!” He was moaning and breathing heavily through his teeth.

“Miche. I have to try and stop the bleeding.” Y/N started. He lifted his head and moved it to her shoulder, shaking it. “I’m going to get off the horse. Can you hold yourself up?”

He waited there, unmoving for a while until he pulled his head off of her shoulder, leaning back a little. The front of his hair was soaked with sweat and his lips were turning white. She slowly lifted her leg over the front of the horse, trying to move him as little as possible. She slid herself down off the side and Miche sucked in air quickly as the horse shifted its legs to account for the weight change.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She rubbed the horse, trying to get him to settle. “Can you lift your good leg over to me? I can help if you need.”

“Wait! Wait!” He looked down, taking deep breaths. “I can do it.” His lips were tight, pursed together to muffle his groaning. Y/N watched as he turned to the side, slowly inching his leg over the horse.

“You’re going to need to turn around and lower yourself with your back to me.” Her hand was on his good thigh trying to reassure him. “I’ll lean over and you can slide onto my back. I’ll lower you down.”

“I’m too heavy,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about that.” The corner of her mouth curved a little. “I come from a family of tall men.” She turned around, leaning forward and giving him a seat to land. He turned himself around, wincing as his broken leg moved. He slowed his movements and reached down for her hip to stabilize his landing. Bit by bit, he gently lowered himself onto her and she slowly lowered herself to the ground until he was sitting. He leaned all the way onto his back and let out a deep sigh, taking deep, steady breaths. She watched him before pulling off her cape and tearing off some strips of fabric.

“This might hurt a little.” She warned. He looked at her, his eyes fully focused now, and nodded. She gradually worked the strips around his legs trying to move it as little as possible. He continued breathing deeply, his breath staggering out when she reached under his thigh.

She pulled the strips tight and tied a knot in the middle of his thigh. She quickly went back to the horse to grab her satchel of water and went back to him. She lifted his head and helped him drink some of the water.

“Thank you.” The cool water hitting his throat and cheeks felt good.

“I’m going to take your boots off.” She moved down to his legs, getting more nervous about the amount of blood he’s lost. She reached for the top of his boot.

“Please, go slowly.” He looked down at her and she nodded. She pulled from the top of his boot until it was lower than his knee and then grabbed the foot, sliding slowly. Miche groaned and she slowed the pulling, trying to keep it away from his leg as she continued sliding it off. A little further and the boot was off. His other leg wasn’t as bad, the boot coming off without any issues. She made quick work of the leather straps, setting them aside to use later.

“Can I get you anything?” She was back up at his face.

“I’m re—really co—ld.” His body started shivering and she grabbed what was left of her cape and laid that over him then removed her jacket and laid that on top of him as well. Looking down at his legs, she could see how bad the breaks were. His left leg was broken at his calf, twisting the lower part of his leg and his ankle was severely dislocated. His right leg had some deep cuts on it, but for the most part, it looked okay and since he was able to stand on it earlier, she wasn’t going to worry about it for now.

She took a deep breath and walked over to the trees, climbing up to the branches and pulling some of the smaller, but firmer ones loose. She broke them down to the length of his calf and went back to sit with him.

“This next part is going to hurt.” She looked down at him, her eyes serious and concerned. “A lot.” He looked at her, his eyes round. “You can bite down on this.” She gave him one of the sticks she brought back and he put it in between his teeth and nodded at her.

Back at his legs she was contemplating which bone to adjust first. The dislocated ankle might actually hurt less to realign and maybe she could use that as a buffer before straightening his tibia. Then again, moving his ankle will in turn move his tibia which will probably be just as painful. However, if she doesn’t move the ankle first, then the tibia might not line up properly anyway. Ankle it is.

She looked back up at him and rested her hands lightly on his heel and the side of his foot. She took a deep breath and as quickly as she could, jerked her hands pushing his ankle back in place with a snap. Miche cried out, his voice muffled by the stick in this mouth. Y/N quickly positioned her hands to readjust his calf and pushed it back in place and he let out a broken wail, his breathing becoming uneven and heavy. He brought his hand up to his forehead, tears flowing out onto the grass below him while his chest bounced up and down as he cried.

“That should be the worst of it.” She tried to comfort him while she placed the sticks in line around his calf and used his leather straps to tighten them which incited a small groan from him. She moved up to his face and saw that he was covered in sweat. She moved his wet bangs out of his eyes and wiped the sweat off of his forehead. He looked over at her, his bottom lip curling as he unsuccessfully fought back what was coming.

She knew that look. She knew it all too well when she worked with the scout doctor in her younger years. It didn’t matter how tough you were, how manly you were, how many titans you could kill on your own, pain was pain. Based on Miche’s legs, he was in a lot of pain. He pushed his face into her knees, letting himself cry and she lowered herself more so he could rest his head in her lap.

She brushed his hair back as he pulled himself deeper into her lap, holding her hip and crying into her stomach. His breath was catching, stuttering from his crying and she looked down at him. His eyelashes tinted darker from being soaked with tears, he focused his attention on her belt loop, playing with it. His breath continued catching and she could feel herself losing it. She looked up quickly to blink back tears.

It’s not that she hasn’t seen anyone this bad. She’s seen way worse. She’s held onto men’s hands as they cry in pain and there was nothing she could do for them other than hold their hands feeling the grip weaken as their lives slowly drifted. But this was Miche. She rubbed at the tear stain on his cheek and he looked up at her. His eyes were red from crying, but the color was starting to return to his face and Y/N let out a sigh.

“How are you feeling?” She touched his cheek.

“Better actually.” He smiled lightly.

“Good enough to move?” At that his eyes widened, worrying. Y/N looked around. “It’s going to be getting dark soon. We can’t really stay here.”

She looked off into the distance, looking for anything to help them. A short way away looked to be some houses. She stood up, squinting her eyes to see better.

“It looks like there is a village or something that way. If we go now, we can move slowly and hopefully get there before it gets too dark.” She continued looking around for something to help carry Miche.

“I can get myself on the horse.” He said as if he could read what she was thinking.

“Are you sure? You’ve lost a lot of blood.” She looked back down at his legs. She needed to stitch up the wounds quickly.

“If we can get on the horse, we can get there faster.” He sat up and Y/N dropped down to him to help him. His head was spinning and his vision wobbly. He managed to stand up, his weight on his right leg. She did her best to prop him up and after a couple tries, they were able to get him on the horse. She quickly hopped on and they road to the houses.

It turned out there wasn’t a town, it was a couple houses next to each other, both of them vacant. They slowed down and surveyed the surrounding area. Everything looked okay. In fact, there was a working well in front of the house as well as the great cover the surrounding trees provided.

She hopped down and helped Miche. He was moving much better than before. He wrapped his arm over her shoulder and she helped him into the house. It wasn’t big, but they really didn’t need much. There was a bed in the corner and Y/N walked him over there first. There was a fireplace next to that with a small bathroom across from the bed. There was even a little kitchenette with some leftover supplies, she might be able to make them something to eat.

“I’m going to get some water and make sure we have enough firewood for the night.” She walked over to him. “Please rest a little bit.” He nodded, his eyes already half closed.

She went to the well, pulling up enough water for the kitchen and the bathroom, as well as filling up her water pouch. She pulled her horse around to the back of the house where a small cover gave him shelter and she filled up his water as well.

Having something to do was helping her. She was never the kind of person to sit and do nothing while people around her kept busy. Having something to do to take her mind off of their situation was exactly what she needed.

While in the back, she noticed there was some chopped firewood with an axe and Y/N grabbed those, bringing them all inside. She also saw a small patch of potatoes and some wild lettuce and grabbed some of those to make dinner. It was dusk now, the last bit of sunlight slowly disappearing as she worked on lighting a fire.

She chopped the potatoes and lettuce and put them in a pot with water, setting it on the fire. While that was boiling, she found some flour and tried to make a dough for bread, setting that near the fire to cook. It wasn’t the greatest, but it would do well enough.

“That smells good.” Miche was looking at her from the bed, smiling.

“Don’t even try to lie.” She smiled back, walking over and lifting the blankets to check on his legs. “I’m going to need to do those stitches. I found some first aid supplies in the bathroom. Are you okay if I do it now?” He nodded.

She grabbed the kit and started working, first cutting his pants up until the knot she created earlier. It was a little harder now that the splint was on, but most of the lacerations were on his thigh and knee and didn’t look as bad now that his leg was realigned. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had to do this, but the motions came back quickly.

“The stitching and bone stuff, did you learn it from when you studied medicine?” He questioned, looking down at her while she worked. She nodded. “How old were you?”

“I started studying when I was 14.” She told, not looking up from her work. “I did it for about seven years. I was working with a doctor who worked with the military so I saw a lot of these kinds of breaks and cuts.”

“I guess I have twice as much luck as I thought I did.” He laughed. “What made you stop then? seven years is already a big commitment.”

“I decided to join the scouts because I was tired of losing people.” She sighed. “By the time a lot of the soldiers came to us, they were too far gone. I thought if I joined the scouts, I could stop people from dying before they reached the doctor.”

“That’s…” Miche watched her concentrate. He thought of all the people she must have seen, the different and terrible conditions the soldiers came to her in. Most of the citizens never see the horrific situations and deaths that the scouts encounter, but Y/N did, every day. Yet she still took the responsibility, putting herself in danger so more people wouldn’t die.

“Last one.” She moved quickly through the final small cut and covered him back up. “Obviously, it’s not perfect. You should still see a doctor, but it’s good enough to get us there.”

“Thank you.” He said, resting his hand on hers and she smiled.

She went to the kitchen to grab two bowls and poured soup for them both along with her attempted bread.

“This isn’t too bad.” He said after eating a spoonful of soup. “Better than the mess hall food.”

“I will take that compliment.” She took a bite of bread, dry flour coating her mouth and she swallowed hard trying to get it down.

“It’s like if the mess hall food was shit, this is shit’s cuter younger brother.”

“Ah-ha so you are feeling better.” She chuckled with him.

“But really, it’s not bad.” He kept eating. “So where exactly are we?”

“I honestly don’t know. I thought this was going to be a small town, but it’s just two random empty houses.” She thought about their luck. “It’s nice that it has basically everything we needed. We’re about 50km West of headquarters. So if we leave early enough, we should be able to get to HQ tomorrow afternoon.”

“Well I am feeling a lot better.” He started. “Seriously, after fixing my legs, resting and eating. I might be able to get myself up on that horse tomorrow without any help.”

“Slow down cowboy,” She cautioned, “I’m pretty sure based on the swelling, your right leg is also broken. It was necessary you walk on it for us to get here, but I really recommend you do as little as possible on your feet.”

“Well then how am I supposed to pee?” He joked.

“You don’t want to know.” She said coyly, taking a sip of her water. Miche finished his food and Y/N scooped another bowl for him. “Eat more.”

They stayed quiet for a little as they finished their food. Y/N poured a second bowl for herself and a third one for Miche before taking both bowls and putting them in the kitchen and washing up.

“For a second I thought you were going to force me to eat a fourth bowl.” He laughed.

“I should have.” She added more wood to the fire. “But I want to make sure you have some for tomorrow morning.”

“Well I’m glad for that.”

“Why’s that? You actually looking forward to the taste?” She teased.

“I wasn’t kidding about me having to pee and I’m not sure the plan.”

She sat on the bed next to him trying to think about how to go about telling him. He honestly wasn’t going to like either idea, but maybe if she painted one of them as better, he wouldn’t feel so bad about it.

“Well there is an ideal option and a not-so-ideal option.” She counted on her fingers. “Ideal option: I piggy back you into the bathroom and set you on the toilet.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad.” She smiled at her plan working.

“That’s why it’s ideal, but it’s also the most painful because you’re going to have to move.”

“Let’s start with that one.”

“I figured you would say that.” She pulled off the covers and helped him slide to the edge of the bed. “I’m going to let you move yours legs and I will just help guide.”

“What does that even mean?” He started sliding his left leg off the bed, keeping his knee straight. He barely got the back of his knee to the edge of the bed before he was panting. “Shit.” He tried to move it again and winced, sucking air through his teeth. “I can’t… I can’t…Can you grab it?”

Y/N put her hands under his ankle and under his knee and guided his leg back to the bed. Miche was taking deep breaths, his face already sweating. He shook his bangs out of his eyes.

“Do you want to try turning around? Maybe lowering your right leg first for balance?” Y/N suggested and he nodded. She helped turn him around and he started lowering his right leg, getting it on the floor easily.

“Okay, that was much better.” He planted his foot firmly on the ground. “Can you help lift my other leg and I’ll stand up?”

She moved around the side and put her hands under his knee and ankle again, lifting as he tried to stand up. The second he put weight on his right leg, pain shot straight up from the fracture in his leg and he cried out.

“No, no.” He sat back down. “It’s not going to work.”

“Why don’t you try just climbing my back so your leg doesn’t touch the ground at all?” She turned around and bent down a little to let him climb. “Get on.”

“This is so stupid.” He positioned himself to face her, grabbing her shoulders and pulling himself up a little. Lifting his right leg to her hip, she held on from behind his knee and he started to lift his left leg, but it started aching and he sat back down. “I can’t. Sorry, maybe tomorrow I will be able to. It’s too much right now.”

“It’s fine.” She lowered him down and walked to the kitchen. He set himself back in the bed, with his back against the wall, trying to catch his breath.

“So I guess we’re going with the not-so-ideal option.” He told her as she came back from the kitchen. “What is it anyway?”

His eyes widened, his mouth fell open and sweat starting to form on his face as he looked at what Y/N was holding. She was smiling at him.

“Please no.” He shook his head at the cup Y/N was dangling in front of him.

[xbunnybunz]

always maybe never [wolf keum x reader]

Summary: A story in which you love Wolf Keum, and maybe he likes you back.

Genre: Romance, Angst, One-sided romance

Date: December 27, 2020

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“They took my glasses,” He said.

He looked pissed.

You watched him blankly, taking in his bruises, the scrapes and the blood.

“Did you lose?” It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, and boy does that get him worked up.

“No.” He snaps, louder than before. Maybe be regrets it, maybe he’s tired, but he lowers his volume immediately after. “No. I fucking didn’t.”

Silence falls over the both of you. Over you, drenched, standing over him in a moldy, stinking alley. Over him, shielded from the rain with your umbrella, lip busted and knuckles bruised.

The red and blue lights of a police car soaring through the night carry into the alley. It throws hues of neon colors upon Wolf’s face, he’s so belligerent even like this, you think you might just leave him here.

“If you’re done asking me questions, you can fuck right off now.”

He’s a nasty little thing, but the way his eyes glint like diamonds in the sliver of yellowed streetlights intrigue you.

“How long were you planning to stay here then?”

He doesn’t respond. Shifts half an inch away from you, like he kinda wants you to leave and also not really.

“It’s real cold out tonight.” You say. And he looks seriously hurt, but you don’t say this aloud. You wonder what the fight was about, if it was worth ending up next to a dumpster for.

You move closer, kneel so you’re eye-level with him despite his adamancy to not even glance in your direction. The moon bounces light off his damp hair, first silver, then purple. The city lights tend to play tricks on your eyes.

“Let’s get somewhere warm, alright?”

You present a palm to him, face up and already starting to pool with rainwater.

It hangs in the air for a long moment, long enough for you to begin to retract it. But then he reaches out and grabs it, a large, calloused hand wrapping over your own. Even in the chill of twilight, a warmth blossoms there.

“You’re fucking annoying.” Is all he says.

You roll your eyes and hoist him up to the best of your ability, which included almost dislocating your elbow as he slowly picked himself up. It’s only when the top of his head hits your umbrella do you realize how much bigger he is than you.

“Here, you should take this.” You hold out the umbrella to him. He takes it wordlessly, placing it right between the both of you. He’s shivering, despite his best efforts to hide it, you can feel the tremor of his body when it brushes against yours for that golden split second.

You look up at him, eyeballing the furrow of his brows, the slight twitch of his lip, eyes cast somewhere far into a long distance. Just what was he looking away from?

You make it to a nearby hole-in-the-wall eatery without serious injury. He flops down onto the seat like a wet fish and grills the patrons who look at him funny.

“Play nice.” You hum, moving beside him and drying him out as best you could with takeout napkins.

He grunts and exhales deep and heavy from his nostrils, hair matted to his forehead and neck. You dab at it, wondering if the purple color would bleed like cheap tye-dye. Of course, it doesn’t.

“You have such an interesting taste.” You coo. Fingers find strands of hair and pinch, rolling.

He turns his head slightly to meet your gaze, eyes cold yet burning. Like this hasn’t happened before, like he hasn’t absolutely taken you apart and pieced you back together before.

“I know.”

Just those two words are enough to send electricity down your spine. You pull away before you’re zapped by this high voltage man.

You take a seat but never break eye contact with him.

The low buzz of the yellowed restaurant lights above you hum life into your fingertips, into your ears, into your heart. It’s nauseating to see the dark red and purple bruising on his cheek and browbone.

“You should find some hobbies,” You offer, voice quieter now. “Like knitting, or something.”

Your lips begin to quirk up, but his straight face drains you of that energy.

“Maybe later.” He says, and you remind yourself to start keeping a tally of each time he says that.

“Right.” You look down at your lap and laugh, but it sounds dry. “Let’s eat, and then I’ll bring you home.”

He doesn’t argue.

The next time you see him, he’s got his glasses again. He’s still scuffed from the last fight but at least he can walk straight now.

“Are you alone?” You ask, bumping hips with him behind the slushie machine.

He takes one crinkling bag of chips off the shelf, cellophane crackling under his fingers. There’s a black motorcycle helmet wedged under his arm and he’s got his riding sneakers on.

“Yeah.”

You peek at the door and true to his word, you only spot his motorbike and pedestrians cursing how it was parked.

“That’s rare,” You tease. You’re standing close to him, so you dare to brush your pinky against his. Nearly have a heart attack when he hooks his with yours.

You look up at him but he’s not looking at you. To anyone who wasn’t watching for a sign, he’d just be pondering the selection. But you were watching, always watching for anything. A glance, a flutter, a chance that he was really there with you.

Today, he’s generous. Staring straight ahead, he graces you with a slight upward curve of his lips. Just a bit, just enough to dimple his cheek, just enough for you.

Play it coy. You pull away from him and tiptoe between the fridges with a sway in your step. You pray and pray he’s following you. When you catch sight of his figure in the reflection of a coffee pot, you feel like a million bucks.

“Ah, I wonder what I should get for tonight.”

You don’t mind that you’re in the unthawed hams section because you know he’s not paying attention anyways. He’s just relying on muscle memory while you agonize over all your movements, you’ve both been through this a hundred times.

Right on beat, he asks the question you’ve been praying for.

“Do you need a ride home?”

His shoulders look broader when he rolls them, the red school blazer stretching and falling back into place. He has no idea how mad he drives you.

“Oh, I guess that’d be nice.”

He smirks, a wicked smile.

Or maybe he does.

You love riding on his motorcycle because everything smells like him, but you guess that’s easy when your face is buried in his hair and the crook of his neck.

Every time you wrap your arms around his waist, you hold onto him like you’ll lose him. One of these days, you swear you will. Sometimes you catch him throwing a glance over his shoulder, and sometimes you wonder if today’s the day he’ll finally tell you to let go. But it never is.

The wind whips about the both of you and blisters your cheeks with the cold. He’s slowed down, and you love it because you know he rides like a demon without you.

The city lights zip by you like fireflies in the distance, the glow of commercial buildings dwindling to zero as you enter the residential area. The scrape of rubber tires on concrete pavement makes people peep out their windows, tongue in cheek, before closing the blinds.

“How are you back there?” He asks at a red light, voice muffled from under his helmet.

“Warm.” You lie. Kind of.

His chest moves in rippling motion that might’ve been a chuckle, might’ve been a cough. And he’s off again. Your eyes close and you hold him closer to you, feel his body and heartbeat against yours, breathe in the smell of his cologne, his bodywash. For the few minutes you’re on the back of his bike, there is only you and him in the universe.

It always ends a second sooner than you remember it should, and it makes you wonder if he’s riding faster or if you’re too eager. He shakes out his helmet hair and helps you off the bike like a proper gentleman, rare for someone as unruly as Wolf Keum.

“Thanks.” You say, and peer at him through your lashes, batting them slowly. You’re feeling cold and emboldened tonight, so you’re hoping he’ll take the bait.

He reaches out, long fingers brushing aside your windswept hair. He traces your jaw and it feels like home, like victory, like you’ve almost got him where you want him.

The warm lights of your house illuminate his face softly and silhouettes his more angular, predatory features. It brings out the Wolf Keum you know and you yearn to keep him like this forever, away from the bloody knuckles and broken bones that make him so sharp to hold.

“Do you want to come in?”

His eyes are calm, barely a trace of emotion save for keen interest. You pray to all the gods that he’ll come in just this once, after so many nights of being left empty handed. For a second, you think the heavens have heard you when he misses his cue to shake his head like every other time. His hesitation is dizzying, and the adrenaline that pumps through you overpowers even the motorbike ride.

He ponders for just a second too long, and his phone rings.

It snaps both of you out of the reverie. From where you stand, you can see the caller ID. Donald Na.

Wolf turns away and takes a step towards his bike to pick up the call. You can’t help the hand that goes out after him. When he looks back to you, he gestures to his phone.

“Maybe later.” He mouths.

And you smile and nod, because that’s what you always do. You watch as he pulls on his helmet and gets on the bike, idle chatter falling from his lips and into the receiver. When he drives away, the exhaust from his bike billows behind him and clouds your vision with smoke. You return home without knowing if he’d waved goodbye.

It’s a temperate day when you speak to him next.

You’re sitting in the park waiting for Wolf, shaded by trees and warmed by the sun. You’ve left the remainders of your croissant on the floor and it’s become a meal for a flurry of pigeons, cooing and flocking by our feet. An ant crawls up to your sneaker, confused with the obstruction. You’re entertained by it’s strange dancing for a few moments before a shadow crosses your vision.

“Hey.” He says.

You smile. “Hey yourself.”

He exhales through his nose in a manner that you assume is amusement.

You pat the seat next to you and he eases himself onto it, stretching out his legs and sending some pigeons head-bobbing awkwardly away from him.

Mindlessly, you note that he’s abandoned his blazer today, opting to tie it around his waist instead.

Birds chirp overhead and the grass tickles your ankles. There’s the sound of children laughing and the rushing of a fountain a ways from you.

He’s relaxed. You can tell from the way he’s kicking his feet.

You peek at where his hands are and notice that they’re close enough to feel his warmth, but don’t miss the bandages on his knuckles and forearms.

“You’ve been busy?” You ask. You pretend it’s a joke but it’s not actually.

He raises his arm and regards it as if it doesn’t break your heart to see him like this. “This? It’s nothing. Some shithead thought using a pocket-knife would hold us off.”

Something in your chest twists.

“That’s funny.”

He hums in agreement and you want to choke him for it.

You let the sounds of the park ease your mind and his. Wonder silently if there’s even a point to all of this heartache, this outlandish game of who-gives-less-fucks anymore.

Beside you, Wolf leans back and lets the sunlight wash over his face, his neck, his chest.

His eyes are closed, but you can see his eyelids fluttering slightly, like he wants to look into the sun but the brightness scares him. His messy lavender hair sweeps over his forehead and spills over his ears, just brushing the nape of his neck with soft curls. It’s nearly concealed, but you can see a faint line of a scar peeking out at you. Just past his adams apple, trailing upwards to his jaw. When he first got it, he refused to say where or how it had happened, but you’d be a fool to not know only metal and gems cut so deep.

This isn’t the only scar he adorns. You’ve memorized the marks he has lining his body like constellations; switchblade starry sky and cigarette burn borealis. In the sun, you can see the endless expanse of marks on his skin like a splatter of cursed stars. There’s far too many for you to count, so you turn away and rest your eyes.

It remains like this for a moment longer, but then he says something that surprises you.

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

Your head snaps towards him, blink and situate yourself further in your seat, wondering if you had somehow fallen asleep and wandered into a dream.

Wolf nods once and the action is slow, like he’s still churning the words in his head.

“Yeah,” he says, voice low. “Everything about this situation is... Strange.”

He picks up a hand and gazes at it, brows furrowed. He clenches a fist and unclenches it, turning it this way and that in the light of the sun.

“But say I do leave, right? Then what will I have left to do? My school life is shot, and no one dares to approach me.”

He drops his hand and looks at the clouds rolling lazily over the blue sky.

“If I leave, what will I have left?”

You almost want to laugh, almost want to cry, or maybe do both at the same time. You want to ask him if he remembers who is speaking to at all, but you cannot find the courage.

Suddenly, he looks in your direction and that peaceful yet painful moment is over. A strange look crosses his face and you can feel him tensing, back becoming just a bit straighter.

As you turn, the sound of a hundred of flapping wings taking off meets your ears. The shadows of pigeons in flight scatter across grass and the park path, crossing over the figures approaching briefly before ascending skyward.

The first foot to emerge from the shadows belongs to a tall blond hair with sharp eyes, followed by three or so other men.

You stare, but he doesn’t spare a glance in your direction.

“Keum, didn’t expect to see you in this part of Yeongduengpo.”

Wolf remains reticent. You look at him but he won’t take his eyes off of Donald.

Donald raises a hand to gesture to Wolf and you don’t miss the way his silver rings glint in the midday sun, all precious metal and shining gemstone. When he speaks, it’s almost a hiss.

“Come, I have last week’s reports to discuss with you.”

He doesn’t move from beside you, but you can hear him swallow thickly.

Donald begins to stroll again, the men beside him following suit. As he passes Wolf, he fails to even regard you and it makes you feel tiny.

A second passes as he holds his gaze with Wolf, it’s a challenge to disobey and it’s not at all unfamiliar to you. Those dreary nights Wolf has spent with you, both a man and a husk of a man, is because of Donald Na. It is within this essential and excruciating second that his behavior either becomes normal or abnormal, dictates whether he steeps deeper into that endless black sea or fights amidst the raging storm.

In this second, you hope he remembers himself, hope he remembers you. Those endless nights you’ve spent picking up pieces of his shattered self, putting him back together and brushing over the cracks with adoration. Those endless nights you’ve spent despairing for him, for yourself, for all the tears you’ve cried when trying to convince yourself this won’t get any better.

You hope that he proves you wrong this one time, hope that in his heart, he knows he’ll always have you.

But when you feel him pull his hand from yours, you already understand his answer.

You’re acquainted with this sensation in your throat, this burning in the back of your eyes. It’s made a home in your heart, barren since the day you ever laid eyes on Wolf Keum.

Still, a final flame of hope flickers within you.

You grab his hand just before he’s out of reach. When he looks back, he’s all sharp teeth and hard eyes but it’s nothing you can’t handle.

“Can we…” You want to speak, but your tongue feels leaden and dry. “Can we speak about this soon?”

Wolf’s face remains the blasé, brows set in a furrow and lips downturned into just the slightest scowl.

To a passerby who wasn’t looking for signs, he may seem apathetic, annoyed, even. But you were no passerby. For Wolf Keum, you’d always be willing. Waiting. Watching. For a glance, for a flutter, for anything that meant you hadn’t been the only one foolishly in love the entire time.

And for a second, you think he regards you with a gleam in his eye, something that resembles sorrow, or regret, or anything else that may ease the stale aching of your heart. But when he opens his mouth, it’s that same damning line again, that empty promise that keeps you stumbling in darkness for a trace of salvation.

“Maybe later.”

It will only ever be Wolf Keum that you allow yourself to be swindled by every time. You promise yourself this. Release his hand, or he pulls it away from you. You cannot tell which came first.

“I understand.” You say, heart breaking again.

You never will.

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Crutches- Prompt Fill

cw broken bones, food, internalized ableism, dizziness, headaches

Card by the wonderful @celosiaa! I am still accepting bingo prompts! Please send me more because the starred ones are back written already! Send me a prompt and a character and let me know if you want a drawing or writing!

Navigating the London underground on crutches had been trying to say the least.  But, Jon has gotten very good at navigating it with his cane, so out of sheer spite, he managed it without incident. 

He is still clumsy on them, and by the time he reaches the university, he is more than out of breath, having to stop and use his inhaler before he can reach his classroom.  (He will not be sharing that information with Martin, no way.  He is Fine, and that would only cause worry, and Martin has enough to worry about being an EMT).  

Of course the annoying thing is that he broke his Good leg.  

Of course he manages to break his one more functional leg.  What a very Jonathan Sims thing to do.  

He sighs.  He does not want to explain this to his students.  (And he certainly doesn’t want to explain this to Tim and Sasha, but of course they are coming over for dinner.  Actually… he’s grateful that they don’t already know.  Somehow he actually managed to calm Martin down and talk him out of calling them.  Jon leaned hard into the look I’m fine!  It’s a clean break!  It hardly hurts!  It’s fine!  I’ve had much worse, please don’t fuss!  I’m still conscious and everything! Thing.)

Frankly, it’s embarrassing.  

He misses the days where he would just… heal.  

He might still.  Well, he certainly would the old fashion way, but his recovery might be faster than normal.  Physical injuries are still a little aided by his connection to the Eye, however weakened that connection might be.  Doesn’t do Shit for illnesses, but as much as his EDS causes him to bruise, the bruises don’t stick around for too long.  

Just have to wait and see.  

His students stare.  

Jon shivers.  

He tries not to think about the Institute.  He tries not to think about the prickle on the back of his neck… the feeling of eyes on him when there was no one around.  Don’t be daft, Jonathan, you can see the students right there.  You can see their eyes.  You are just their odd professor who looks even more haggard and beat up than usual.  

He Feels much more haggard than usual.  And he’s shaking from the albuterol.  

“Professor, what happened?” One of his students ask as he maneuvers the podium so he can drop his bag.  

He curses at the lack of chair in the lecture hall.  He’s asked for one.  Repeatedly.  And he’s dragged his office chair in with him before, but… he doesn’t exactly have the hands to do it.  

He has to balance on one leg to dig is computer out so he can connect it to the projector.  

“I’m fine,” he answers automatically.  He was.  He is.  Just tripped like the idiot he is, and broke his good leg.  His bad leg had been throbbing since he got on the tube.  

He ignores it.  

His students eye him with clear suspicion.  Which… Jon would have worried about if… they weren’t perfectly justified.  

They had seen him faint many times, pop his hip back in place, watched him dislocate and relocate his arm, and there was the time he had the concussion, and the time he had a migraine and had fainted when someone tapped him on the shoulder, and the time when he had come to class feverish.  

These students have called Martin so many times by now.  

He deserves those cautions glances.  These kids (not really kids, but sue him, they look like kids in his eyes) are ready to call him on his bullshit.  

“I fell the other day.  I’ll be fine.  Just a broken tibia.  I’ll be fine in couple months.  Let’s get on with the lesson.”

One kid raises their hand, and Jon calls on them.  “Yes?”

“Professor Blackwood-Sims, isn’t that your good leg?”

Damn these overly observant students.  If only they payed that much attention to his lectures.  (No, that’s not fair, they are all good students.  The ones who struggle, have good reason to, and Jon has managed to get them to all come talk to him and tell him what they need to do better).  

Jon smiles tightly.  “Well… it was.  Okay, on with the lecture.”

His leg hurts.  The not broken one.  The broken one… well that hurts a little too, but not nearly as much as the one full of holes.  (They are both full of holes, but one was wormed much more thoroughly and hasn’t been the same since.)

Balancing on one leg proves difficult as he’s hit by dizziness.  He’s been standing too long.  Too long on his bad leg, and the tension and pain have given him a headache bad enough that he’s had one of his students turn off the lights.  He can’t face the light of the projector, so he gives the lecture angling away from it.  

One of his students offers to run the PowerPoint so he can sit in one of the desks as he teaches, but he turns her down.  There are only a few minutes left.  He can make it.  Then he can get home and take some painkillers and shower before Tim and Sasha come to dinner.  

He knows he can cancel, but he doesn’t want to.  He’s more dreading having explain what happened.  

He reaches the flat quickly enough.  He should have time to shower and cook.  He hopes.  

He swallows some painkillers dry (just a few so he can still take more before bed and not worry Martin by pushing the recommended doses too far) and works his way out of his work clothes while sitting on the bed.  It isn’t fun.  

He swallows his pride and uses the shower seat.  He hates it.  He hates that he needs it, yes, but honestly it’s more an issue with the textured plastic under his naked skin.  It feels… wrong.  Both because it reminds him of the circus, and because it’s just a bad texture.  It also feels gross… as in unclean.  He cleans it vigorously often, but it still doesn’t feel clean to him.  

Between the headache, and the dizziness from the hot water and several nights of poor sleep (from nightmares and trying to sleep with a cast on which gave him More nightmares), and the pain in both his legs, Jon fights back the darkness around the edges of his vision.  

He will Not pass out now.  

No.  

Will not happen.  No thank you.  No.  

He fights to keep upright and conscious.  And, surprisingly, wins that battle.  He sits on the bed again while dressing, and while braiding his hair. 

It takes him a long time.  There is a lot of hair to work with, and his scalp hurts with the intensity of his headache.  He also dallies, the more time this takes, the longer he can sit.  He should consider dragging a chair in front of the counter and a chair in front of the stove.  That could make cooking less painful.  

Well, in some ways.  

The unnatural angles are hell on his wrists when chopping.  

Lesser of two evils, however, he supposes.  

Shit.  He isn’t going to have time to finish dinner by the time Tim and Sasha arrive.  

And Martin isn’t going to be home for another hour.  He knows, he knows (not Knows, though), that they won’t mind.  Tim might even Help him cook, but… he doesn’t like being a bother.  He wants… well frankly he wants to erase the years of hurt with food (Christ, Martin has worn off on him.  Not that he minds.  He loves Martin).  

The sauce is almost done, but he hasn’t even started the pasta by the time Tim’s voice drifts through the door.  Sing-song and loud.  No knocking (thankfully).  

Jon hates that he needs the crutches to get to the door.  He hates that his vision is swimming by then too.  The painkillers took the edge off the pain, but can’t do much about the other stresses on Jon’s mortal frame.  

“Be there in a moment, or you can just let yourself in,” Jon calls back.  He has to pause and lean on the wall.  This is all very irritating.  

Apparently, Tim had already been halfway through unlocking the door, because he’s in before Jon can even finish the sentence.  

“Jesus, Jon, what did you do this time?”  Sasha exclaims, quickly, but gracefully pulling off her coat, hanging it on one of the hooks by the door.  It’s less a question than a statement.  

“Hello Sasha, Tim.  Dinner isn’t quite ready, but it’s not too far away.  In the meantime there’s wine.  Martin will be here soon, but his shift isn’t over yet.”  His eyes are closed.  Head tilted back against the wall.  The room finally stops spinning around him.  

“What did you even do?”  Tim this time.  

Jon… doesn’t meet his eyes.  He knows he is blushing, but there isn’t much to be done about that.  He mumbles.  He doesn’t know why.  He knows it won’t work.  Shoving out the words too fast to be understood.  

“What was that Jonny?”  That is a cackle.  Tim is cackling.  Tim, is very irritating… but he does love him, even when he’s teasing.  

“Tripped over my cane.”  Jon says as quickly and quietly as possible.  

“Only you, buddy.  Only You, could do something like that.  Now PLEASE SIT DOWN BEFORE YOU FALL OVER.  I can finish making dinner!”  Tim herds him to a chair.  In the kitchen, because Jon knows that Tim knows Jon won’t actually relax on the couch or the bed if he’s told to.  

“Okay, Jon, what’s left to do… No buts!  This smells amazing and I can’t fuck up pasta, probably.  At least I assume you planned pasta, because there is a box on the counter.”  Sasha says this brandishing aforementioned pasta.  

Sasha makes him tea.  Tim makes the pasta.  (Tim is absolutely the chief between the two of them.)  

“When did you last have painkillers?”  Tim asks.  

“Not too long ago.  Really I’m fine.”

Tim hmmms.  

Jon finds himself nodding off at the table by the time Martin comes home.  

He knows he’s being talked about.  

“Hey, sweetheart.  Hey?”

Jon sleepily raises his head from the table.  “Sorry, I went to work.”  

“Love, I thought you were going to Zoom in today.”  Martin doesn’t sound Angry.  But he doesn’t sound happy about this.  In Jon’s defense, he did say he would see how he felt, and he felt fine in the morning.  

Jon whines, he hates disappointing Martin.  

“We can talk about that tomorrow.”  Martin presses a kiss to his forehead.  

“Hey!  No sleeping until we eat!”  Tim.  Mock serious.  Although he will be very serious if Jon tries to skive off to sleep without some food.  

“Dinner, then I vote we cuddle Jon until he gets some rest!”  Sasha this time.  

Just like old times.  

He knows he will be teased for How he broke his leg.  He knows he and Martin will have a serious chat about him pushing himself.  

But for now there is food, and cheer, and his loved ones.  

[d3-iseefire]

Little Swan Lost Chapter 39

Thorin hadn’t realized it was possible for a human to turn as scarlet red as the girl did when he opened the door. She then did her best to look anywhere but him but her eyes, almost on their own, darted toward his chest every few seconds. Every time they did, he swore she discovered a new intensity of red.

At least he didn’t have to worry about whether his young wife found him physically attractive.  

The thought passed idly through his mind, only to be pushed out by another taking its place. He had personally seen her being escorted back into the palace on their wedding night, and her cousin had all but accused her of infidelity. The media reports and rumors, many traced directly back to Shire, also painted her as…promiscuous to say the least.

Thorin had half expected similar rumors to crop up in Erebor, especially after discovering she’d found a way to sneak out of the palace.  

Those rumors had never come, however, and now, watching her reaction to him, he questioned if she’d ever seen a man without his shirt on much less done anything else with one. Instead of behaving like the tart the media painted her as, she was behaving far more like a…

“I’m sorry,” Bilba suddenly blurted, derailing his train of thought. She waved a hand vaguely toward where the worst of the bruising from the ocean fiasco had stained his torso a mottled yellow and black. “That must hurt.”

It did, but there was no reason to rub it in her face. “It’s fine,” Thorin said instead. “What about you?”

“Oh.” Her hand lifted slightly toward her side. “I’m all right. Thank you for asking.”

They lapsed into an awkward silence, until Thorin finally cleared his throat. “Did you want something?”

Bilba jumped. “Did you hear what happened today?” Her voice was so quiet he could barely hear her. She started wringing her hands aggressively, leaving the skin reddened.

Without thinking, Thorin put a hand over hers, stopping them mid-motion. She froze, and her eyes went wide.

“Sorry.” He pulled his hand back.

“No, it’s fine,” she said quickly, waving her hands in front of her. “It’s-- ”

She trailed off again and Thorin suppressed a sigh. They’d be here all night at this rate. “You were saying?” he asked, struggling to keep the frustration from his voice. “I was in meetings all day, so I haven’t heard much of anything.”

Meetings that had left him drained and fighting a headache, which was why he’d grabbed some pain medication and gone straight to bed afterward, only to be woken up less than an hour later by her knocking on his door.

Her shoulders slumped a half inch or so as if relieved to find him ignorant. Probably not a good sign.

“I just thought I should tell you. Before –”

“I hear it from someone else?” Thorin filled in. Definitely a bad sign then. He sighed and resigned himself to still more frustration before he’d be allowed to sleep again. “All right.” He gestured toward the couch. “Shall we?”

She nodded, and then paused, eyes darting toward his chest. Thorin raised an eyebrow in question. “Would you prefer it if I put on a shirt first?”

Another nod and Thorin pushed off the doorframe to retrieve a black t-shirt from his closet. It was one he used as an undershirt so it was on the tighter side, but it would have to do. He didn’t really have any casual clothes and he wasn’t about to get dressed back in his uniform for…whatever this was.

He returned to the door. “Better?”

She muttered something that sounded like “marginally” and headed for the couch with him close on her heels.

He sat on one end, and she immediately headed to the exact opposite side. In a seamless, graceful move she sat and pulled her legs up so they somehow fit perfectly beside her on the small cushion. Thorin would have dislocated a hip if he tried to copy that position, but she looked entirely comfortable. His own flexibility was limited to throwing an arm along the back of the couch and crossing a leg to allow him to face her easier.  

“You’re a dancer, right?” he asked, only to mentally kick himself. Of course she was a dancer, he’d literally witnessed her doing it.

“I danced for a company back in Shire.” A look of genuine happiness crossed her face, and Thorin realized it was the first time he’d ever seen it. “I was hoping I could maybe dance for the one here in Erebor too.”

Thorin tried, and failed, to find a diplomatic response. He suspected the girl didn’t understand being crown princess wasn’t just a title, but a full-time job. Nori had reported Bilba had lived a relatively civilian life in Shire, but Thorin had thought she’d at least have some idea of what being a princess entailed.

It was becoming increasingly clear that she did not. She’d never inquired about her duties and responsibilities, and while a schedule had been mentioned to her, Thorin doubted she understood just what it meant. The fact she wanted to work at a bakery, and attend college, and was now expressing interest in dancing proved that much.

The look on her face was fading, and he knew he’d waited to long to answer.

“We’ll see,” he said finally, lamely trying to salvage what little he could. “You can bring it up to Balin.”

Perhaps they could work something out where she did certain things part time or only part of the year. There was also the possibility of patronages where they could potentially incorporate what she wanted into her actual duties. It’d depend on what duties she ended up having, and the possible conflicts between those responsibilities and the things she wanted to do.

She gave him a weak, false smile and focused on where her hands were clasped in her lap. “I suppose.” She shifted in her seat and took a deep breath. “All right, I guess I should stop stalling and just tell you.”

The sense of dread reared up again and settled across Thorin’s shoulders. If she’d gone to the trouble of getting him up and was fidgeting this badly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it. “All right.”

She started talking, eyes focused on her hands and voice low as she recounted the events of the day. By the end of it all, Thorin had shut his eyes and was pinching the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to ward off the worsening headache behind his temples.

Bilba lapsed into silence.

“First off,” he said eventually, opening his eyes and straightening to face Bilba. “I apologize on behalf of my father. He’s an idiot and had no right to do that to you.”

Or at least he had no right to do it the way he had. Thorin doubted the Thain of Shire cared whether or not the girl could produce an heir, not with the crown having four already, but he wouldn’t put it past the man sending someone infertile out of simple spite. So Thorin could at least understand having the question.

Having the question after barely a month, however, was ridiculous and forcing the girl into an exam was asinine. He could imagine what his sister had said to their father, and he fully intended to add his own part in the morning.

He’d also need to speak to Kyra. She didn’t deserve whatever his father had said on top of everything else she was dealing with. The media had been split on her since the wedding, with some giving her sympathy and the rest mocking her mercilessly. He’d heard some of what was being said and it was brutal. Kyra hadn’t commented on it, but he had no doubt she was aware of it.

“It’s all right.” She bit her lower lip. “I tried to tell Dis I didn’t need--”

“Dis is a force of nature,” Thorin said, waving off her explanation. “Trying to control her just encourages her.”

A ghost of a smile graced Bilba’s face. Her shoulders slumped with relief, and she leaned a little harder into the back of the couch.

“I appreciate you telling me,” Thorin added, and he meant it. It suggested at least some level of trust, even if she didn’t fully realize it. Even if she’d believed his reaction might be negative, she’d still gone to the length of waking him up to have a private conversation with him.

She was more comfortable with him than she thought, and if that was the case...

An idea that had been percolating at the back of his mind for awhile pushed to the front, and Thorin acted on it before he could talk himself out of it.

“I wonder,” he started slowly, his own nerves suddenly on edge. “Since we’re already on the topic, if I could ask you something.”

She raised an eyebrow in question, and he froze as uncertainty settled in. This probably wasn’t the best time but, then again, when was a good time to bring up physical intimacy? He’d idly hoped she’d approach him, especially based on the reports from Shire, but that hadn’t happened. Was it because she’d been finding an outlet somewhere else, or was it that the reports were wrong all together?

There was also the fact that he hadn’t even spoken to her until just recently and, again, how did one broach such a topic, particularly to a stranger? Oh, by the way, I know we barely know one another, but I’m not a huge fan of celibacy so I was wondering…”

Yeah, that would go over well, wouldn’t it?

But now she’d brought it up, in a roundabout way, so wouldn’t this be the perfect time to…

“You didn’t consummate the marriage, did you?”

Kyra’s words, almost the first thing she’d said to him after he’d called her on the wedding night.

A sick feeling settled in his gut.

What was he thinking? How could he do that to Kyra? She’d be devastated if he did…that…and she found out.

“Of course not.”

That’s what he’d said to her. Of course not, and he’d meant it even though, in the back of his mind he’d been thinking of the duty of one day needing to produce a male heir.

Duty.

Just a duty.

An obligation.

Intimacy for a purpose, not because he simply…wanted it.

And yet, here he was, about to ask about exactly that.

Mahal, what did that say about him? Was he really that fickle? Was it so important to him that he’d betray the woman who’d been by his side since childhood?

But you betrayed her already, didn’t you? A voice inside his head whispered. You broke your engagement, and married another, didn’t you?

He’d thought he was doing the right thing. He still thought so, most of the time. He’d made his choice and it had been the right one, hadn’t it? He’d been taught since childhood that duty to the crown came above all else. It had been a matter of honor.

And, besides, if he’d refused…if he’d abdicated the throne in favor of marrying Kyra…would that have really been better? Frerin, who had neither the temperament nor the desire to rule, would have been named heir. The nobility would have torn him apart.

Dis would have been there.

Even so, Thorin knew his father would have disowned him and fired Kyra from her position as ambassador. He would have been left penniless, and at the mercy of living off Kyra’s finances.

Excuses.

It was highly possibly they’d have had to leave Erebor, and for what?

For what indeed?

Krya would never be happy living a simple life, and Thorin would be useless for it. He was a crown prince. He didn’t know how to be anything else.

He’d had an uncle once who left everything behind to marry a woman his family had not approved of. He’d ended up rotting away at the villa of some benevolent relative or another, unable to find work due to his notoriety and lack of skill set. There was little call in the workforce for an ex-noble that had fallen out of favor with those in power.

Over time, his uncle had begun to resent his new wife and that resentment had grown into a cancer that had utterly poisoned their relationship.

If Thorin had gone down that same road, would he have faced the same end?

He feared the answer was yes. Yes and, in that, the choice, in the end, had been that there was no choice.

His father questioned why he didn’t abdicate.

The answer was he couldn’t. The answer was there were no good options, no good roads or paths to take that would lead him to an end he desired.

There was only the least painful route.

The route that did the least damage.

The route that protected Kyra from the worst possible pain, even if she didn’t see it.

 If it was the right choice, then why work so hard to undo it?

Why are you questioning it?

Why not just ask?

 Kyra’s face when he’d told her the engagement was broken filled his mind and a surge of nausea roiled in his gut. He pushed to his feet, guilt making his very bones ache. “Never mind,” he said, voice sharper than he’d intended. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He almost ran into his room and shut the door, the last sight he had of Bilba’s eyes, wide and startled where she still sat on the couch.

He pressed his hands on the door, leaned his head against it, and let out a quiet groan.

She probably thought he was insane.

He thought he was insane, sometimes.

He pushed off the door and paced to his balcony. He threw open the doors and was immediately hit by the bitter cold air coming off the ocean. The loud roar of the sea washed over him, and he heard the distant sound of a ship’s horn.

Thorin walked out onto the balcony, stone cold beneath his feet, and leaned forward to rest his hand on the stone railing. The skies were overcast, as they often were in Erebor, so there was little to see but he could imagine it well enough.

Light caught his attention and he turned to see it shining merrily from Bilba’s windows.

Those windows were supposed to belong to Kyra. The entire room in fact. She’d designed it, even slept in it when she wasn’t in his room. They’d been all but living together right up until the very end when he’d pulled it all down around her without warning.

What kind of man did that?

He tightened his hands on the railing until he felt the edge of the stone cutting into his palms, and then shoved off it angrily.

He stalked back into his room, dropped onto his back on his bed and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Mahal, what was he doing?

This was done with. He’d made his decision. Why was he questioning it now? He needed to stop. Stop questioning, stop having Ori look for ways out, stop…

Kyra’s heartbroken sobs rang through his mind, and suddenly bile was forcing its way up his throat. Thorin lunged from the bed, and barely made it to the bathroom before he lost what little he’d been able to eat that day.

When he was done, he leaned forward to rest his head against the cold porcelain of the toilet lid, chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Some crown prince he was.

Some fiancé, or husband for that matter.

He and Kyra should have just eloped, years ago when they’d have the chance. He could have given Kyra the large wedding she wanted later, after his father had a chance to calm down. Bilba would have ended up married to Frerin, who was closer in age to her and had far less baggage to cart around.

It would have been better for all of them.

He pushed himself shakily to his feet and went to rinse his mouth at the sink. A glance in the mirror showed him looking haggard, dark circles under his eyes from the day full of meetings, and his hair unkempt.

“Get ahold of yourself,” he ordered under his breath to his reflection. “You’re the crown prince for Mahal’s sake.”

His reflection offered nothing but judgement in return. Thorin splashed water on his face, grabbed a towel to dry off and went to try and get some sleep.

It would be a long time coming and, when it did, his dreams were haunted by the sound of a woman crying and a voice shouting one single question for which he had no answer.

Why?

***

Bilba didn’t know how long she sat on the couch before finally getting up to retire to her room. At her door, she paused and looked over her shoulder toward Thorin’s room. She could hear him in there, pacing about, clearly unsettled.

“Since we’re already on the topic, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you about.”

Which topic? They’d talked about money before, and he’d never brought anything up so that left the topic of…heirs? He’d wanted to talk about heirs?

No, she thought as sudden heat flooded her face. Not heirs.

Sex.

He’d wanted to talk about sex.

Wanted to but, instead, had freaked out as far as she could tell and ran off to his room?

Bilba walked into her own room slowly and shut the door behind her. Her room, but Kyra had designed it. How close must they have been to the wedding for Kyra to have designed her room in the marital suite?

He must have been sleeping with her.

Bilba paused mid-step as the thought crossed her mind. She knew that already, logically. They’d been together for years, all but married. She knew it, but this was the first time she’d recognized it.

It must have been a drastic change, for both of them. Their entire lives upended in an instant.

A heavy feeling settled over her, and Bilba wrapped her arms around herself. She’d been congratulating herself on not being bitter but had simultaneously been judging Thorin and Kyra for every time they so much as looked at one another.

If anything, they should be the ones who were bitter. Especially Kyra. Every day she saw the man she loved but couldn’t touch him.

Bilba sank down onto the end of her bed and tried to imagine if she had been Kyra, having to watch Bofur with someone else.

It would have hurt, and she hadn’t even been with him that long. Not as long as Kyra and Thorin had been.

She sighed and studied her hands. She wasn’t so good a person that she fully sympathized with either of them, but she supposed it wouldn’t kill her to try a little harder to be understanding, would it?

A soft scratching came from her balcony doors, and she got up to go open them a slit. Immediately the beach cat strolled in, damp and irritable but with tail and head held high.

“Did you get caught by the tide coming in?” Bilba asked. She scooped the small creature up and went to grab a towel to dry the small animal off with. Once that was done, she changed, turned off the lights and climbed into bed. The cat burrowed under the covers and curled against her stomach, purring softly.

Bilba absently stroked its head, while staring blankly into the darkness.

Had Thorin really wanted to talk about…that? She suppressed a shiver. If he had, it’d probably come up again, or maybe not. Maybe it wasn’t even what she’d thought. Maybe he’d been wanting to ask her if he could continue to have sex with Kyra.

Bilba scowled. Sympathy or not, she didn’t think she’d be okay with that. But she also didn’t think she’d be okay with him wanting to be intimate with her, either.

That wasn’t particularly fair though, was it? If it was something he wanted enough to try talking to her about, then shouldn’t she at least hear him out? Should she bring it up, or wait and see if he mentioned it again sometime down the road?

She’d prefer the latter. Maybe he’d just forget about it all together and never bring it up again?

She sighed. It had been so much easier with Bofur. They’d had a foundation, a relationship that made it easy to just talk when they needed to talk. They’d talked about intimacy. He’d understood her hesitancy, if not the reasons for it, and had assured her he was fine with it.

It had honestly never occurred to her that Thorin might not be.

She sighed and pulled the covers up to her chin. The thought of him possibly wanting…intimacy…made her nervous but didn’t particularly scare her. Mainly because she was confident that, if he’d planned to bully her or pressure her, she’d have known that by now. So she could say no.

She hoped she could say no.

She hadn’t actually said it to him yet, had she?

Some men were so kind, until they heard the word no.

Bilba shook her head. She was reading too much into it, working herself up over something that probably wasn’t even what she thought. He’d probably wanted to talk about something innocuous and, even if it had been that, there was no reason to believe he’d turn into a monster if…when, she rejected him.

“Please don’t a monster,” she whispered out loud.

The kitty grumbled against her stomach, and Bilba settled against the pillow, hoping sleep would find her sooner or later.

Maybe she could try talking to him? Not about that per se but just…about…stuff? She’d talked to Bofur all the time, and she missed it.

Maybe.

She’d think about it.

Maybe she’d just solve the problem by ignoring it all together and hoping it went away.

It had never worked before but there was always a first time.

Right?

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[thetranquilteal]

The Vintage Calendar [AO3] by @thetranquilteal

With the ending of her contract with the UK Armed Forces, all Claire Beauchamp wants for Christmas is to enjoy a quiet holiday in Scotland with her long-term boyfriend Frank Randall. While visiting with close friends, however, Claire is gifted with a vintage advent calendar that sets her life on a path she never expected... one that leads to Northern Badgers star, James Fraser. 

Modern Day AU loosely based on the Netflix Christmas movie ‘The Holiday Calendar’. New chapter posted every day!

Day 1: Candy Cane

Claire wrapped her dressing gown around her a little tighter as she shuffled across the living space to the kitchenette, early morning light guiding the way. She placed the kettle on the stove and set about preparing tea, her cold hands fumbling with the canister.

“Still cold, love?” Frank came up behind her and rubbed his hands up and down her arms gently, trying to generate some heat.

“Yes,” she admitted with a light laugh as she wrapped her dressing gown around her a little tighter still. Mrs Baird’s Bed and Breakfast was quaint and in an ideal location, in the very centre of Inverness, but it was not as warm and cosy as she would have liked. “I just can’t seem to shake it.”

“Here,” he took the spoon out of her hand and guided her out of the way, “let me finish the tea. You go and sit by the fire.”

“Thank you,” she kissed him on the cheek and made her way around the couch towards the purple armchair that had caught her eye the moment they entered their accommodation. She paused, though, when the vintage calendar caught her eye.

“Frank?” Claire called.

“Hmm?”

“Did you open this?”

“Open what, darling?”

“The calendar that Mrs. Graham gave us.”

“No, I haven’t had the chance to have a closer look yet. Is there there something for today, then?”

“Yes,” Claire’s brow furrowed as she reached out and picked up the little figurine sitting in the already open doorway. “It’s a little candy cane.”

The sun had long since set by the time Claire wandered the streets of downtown Inverness looking for somewhere to stop for a warm drink. Sparkling lights and Christmas decorations adorned each side and muffled festive tunes could be heard from many of the doorways she passed. She couldn’t bring herself to walk through any of them however, the lights seemingly too bright and vibe feeling too thick, and instead kept walking, taking turns here and there looking for somewhere a little more quiet to spend her evening without Frank.  

It had been a productive day, first studying various heavy tomes with the Reverend at the Manse and then a few hours spent at the local library looking over what Claire considered to be mounds of papers brought to them by the librarian, a large eyed woman with thick glasses, all too happy to deliver more than they could possibly read to their table along with what seemed to be a never ending cup of candy canes. It was there Frank had discovered a new lead, a handwritten note suggesting some rituals performed during yuletide centuries ago had a deeper and more intricate history than previously believed. Seeing the light spark in his eyes, Claire had encouraged him to continue his research and told him not to worry about their plan to spend the evening together - they had a whole month in town and one evening spent apart wouldn’t ruin anything after all.

The streets got darker and Claire subsequently got calmer, slowing her walk to a much more casual stroll, a warm looking restaurant now set in her sights. Suddenly a door opened to her left and a group of people flowed out, merriment evident in their faces if not their voices, each carrying boxes of what looked to be homemade Christmas decorations. She instinctively moved to the side to get out of the way, just barely dodging a stray oversized candy cane to the head and waited patiently in the entrance of an alleyway for them to pass.

“Druid!”

Claire jumped and turned to find an older man standing in an unassuming doorway staring at her. He was dressed in a shirt and kilt that had certainly seen better days and she looked around quickly to make sure that he was, in fact, looking at her before responding. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Druid!" The man repeated, waving for her to come in. "Ach, come on lass! I cannae stand here waiting for ye all night. Come in before ye attract attention!”  

“I don’t-”

Obviously frustrated by her hesitation, the man grabbed her hand and pulled her inside, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man so seemingly agitated.

She stumbled slightly but regained her balance in time to watch the man leave her just as quickly as he had found her to join a group of men huddled on one side of the establishment. She pushed her indignation aside for a moment to look around and - found a very ordinary tavern. It made sense that she hadn’t noticed this place herself, she thought. It was free from glitz, glamour and - perhaps most significantly - any holiday glitter. Overall, it was rather dark and grungy with lanterns and fireplaces providing a warmth she hadn’t experienced all day.

Determined to remain calm after such an undignified entrance, she squared her shoulders and walked up to the bar, raising a hand to attract the attention of the barkeep.

“Local cider, please.”

The man nodded and Claire settled herself on a stool and, feeling less conspicuous, took her time studying her surroundings more closely. Individuals and small groups were scattered here and there, their collective chatter on par with the music playing through speakers overhead.

She accepted her drink and handed over the required amount of cash. She took a sip and smiled at the taste. 'Life was too short to not enjoy the drink in your hand' as her old Commanding Officer used to say. Half way through her drink the group of men huddled by one of the open fireplaces caught her attention again when a pained grunt travelled across the room.

Just ignore it, Beauchamp. Enjoy your drink, Beauchamp, she thought to herself and for a moment she managed to do just that. Until she couldn’t stand it any longer. "Dammit, Beauchamp."

Claire got up, drink still in hand, and made her way over, their discussion becoming clearer with every step.

“Well, what if I-”

“-I dinnae need yer help!”

“Ye cannae-”

“-one phone call-”

“For the love of-”

There, amongst five or so men, each talking over the top of one another, was a young red haired man sitting on a chair cradling his arm. So busy arguing amongst themselves, they barely noticed her presence.

“It’s fine-”

“-force the joint back, myself.”

“Don’t you dare!” Without thinking, Claire pushed through to stand in front of the injured man. “Stand aside at once!”

“What??”

“Stand aside, she says!”

“Here,” she turned to the loud and overly short bearded man closest to her and handed him her glass. “Hold this.”

“Hold this, she says!”

Claire tuned out the discussion around them and focused on the task at hand.

“Now, what’s happened?”

“Ugh,” the patient grunted as he shifted in his seat, “landed on the ice wrong. Cannae lift my arm without it hurtin’.”

“How long ago?”

“An hour mayhap.”

Claire nodded in understanding and reached out a hand. “May I?”

The man looked at her for a long moment before taking a swig from a glass on the table and visibility gritting his teeth in anticipation. He nodded his consent.

“Do you have a history of instability in this shoulder?” She asked as she palpated the area gently.

“I’ve dislocated it once before,” he admitted with a grimace.

“Or twice,” a gruff and somewhat familiar voice added in, the man responsible for... introducing her to this pub, she suspected.

“Or twice,” her patient reluctantly admitted. “But no’ in a long while.”

“Hmmm… you really ought to see a doctor. Are there any clinics open this time of night?” When he didn’t answer she turned to look at the other men who in turn were equally nonvocal and completely unhelpful. “No? Well, it looks to me like you’ve suffered from shoulder subluxation - a partial dislocation, that is - and it’s fixed itself already. So long as you keep your arm immobile and make sure to rest, I don’t see why you can’t wait to see your doctor tomorrow.” Decision made, Claire stood up and turned to the others. “Fetch me a long piece of cloth or a belt. And some ice from the bar.”

"Fetch me, she says!”

“Ach, shut up ye drunk eejit and do as the lady says,” a tall, bald headed man with a thick grey beard Claire hadn’t noticed before came forward, his authority evident in how quickly the so-called ‘drunk eejit’ complied.

Requests quickly in hand, she turned back to her waiting patient and went about efficiently setting his arm in a sling, the young man following her movements closely.

“Taking a guess you’ve done this before?”

“I’m a nurse,” Claire shared as she pulled the knot tight.

“Aye, you work at the hospital? I havenae seen ye there before.”

“No, not that kind of nurse,” Claire chuckled at Jamie’s confused look and handed him the ice pack before clarifying. “An Army Nurse. But now I have to say I'm curious. Do you frequent the hospital often, Mr…?”

“Fraser," he paused as if waiting for something. A particular reaction from her perhaps? "But you can call me Jamie.”

“Claire,” she reciprocated with a smile. “Under normal circumstances I would offer to shake your hand but considering your current predicament I must advise against it and instead remind you to keep the ice on your shoulder for no longer than 15 to 20 minutes at a time. Do you have a physical therapist?”

“Aye, he does,” the bald headed man came forward once again, a hand on Jamie’s good shoulder. “And I’ll make sure he sees them on the morrow.”

“Wonderful,” Claire nodded with pleasure and turned back to Jamie, hands planted firmly on her hips. “Now, I believe you owe me a drink.”

A/N: Candy canes. Candy canes everywhere! From here we diverge from canon-adjacent and take a path that is much more Hallmark. // Are you looking forward to seeing what figurine will be waiting for Claire tomorrow?

[shegoesbyarose]

𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒍𝒍 𝑨𝒔𝒌 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝑴𝒆 ⟨𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑘.⟩

Words: 4.5K

Warnings: Some angst and intense scenes

Song Inspo: You’ll Ask For Me by Tyler Hilton

A/N: Lemme know what you think. I have two specific scenes for this pairing in my head. Not much more after that. This is a “whim” fic. OC is a WOC. 

❖❖❖

“Do you really live on a plane?”

Artemis smiled as she tucked the brown carry-on into the overhead bin. If only she had a dime for every time she received that question.

Securing the bin, she placed a hand on her hip and wiggled her brows. “Maybe.

His green eyes widened. “Do you have your own room? I share mine with my brother.”

She feigned surprise. “You do?”

“Uh huh.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Do you have a brother?”

She paused and smiled. “I do. He’s around your age, actually.”

“Really? What’s his name? Does he like Pokemon?”

Artemis chuckled. Kids and their litany of questions, not to mention the constant bouncing back and forth between topics.

“His name is Kalep,” she answered, bending down to tap his nose. “And he loves Pokemon.”

“Awesome,” Bailey smiled, revealing the gap between his two front teeth.

Lana walked over and placed her hand on Artemis shoulder. “Bailey, just when I thought we were gonna be best buds. You switching out on me?”

Bailey grinned. “I like a lot of buddies.”

Lana and Artemis shared an amused look.

“You heard him. Stop being selfish,” Artemis taunted. “Be right back.” She moved down the aisle, answering a few questions here and there.

Artemis then moved onto checking the overhead bins. Rest assured, a couple would be incorrectly shut. As she reached for the third bin that needed to be properly secured, she first glanced down to notice that the passenger was being over, digging in a bag.

As she finished closing it and looked back down, she met striking azure eyes crystallized between black, thick rimmed glasses, and a warm smile.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

She returned his grin. “First time flying?”

“You could say that.” He chuckled. “That obvious?”

“Naw.” She shrugged. “I’m just pretty good at reading people, and you, sir, have the look of someone who’s never been privy to being 30,000 feet in the air. You’re in for a treat.”

“Well, thank you, ma’am—”

“Oh god, please don’t. Artemis, my name is Artemis.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Artemis. I’m Clark. Clark Kent.”

Her grin diminished as a flyer placed his hand on the small of her back, quickly shifting it downward to her ass. He gave a light squeeze before continuing his walk to his seat.

She retained an eye roll and resurfaced her grin, even as Clark’s dimmed.

“Nice meeting you too, Clark.”

“I’m sorry.” She paused, confused. He looked surprised too, only for a second. “The overhead bin,” he quickly added.

“Oh.” She waved her hand. “It’s the least of my problems.”

“I’ll bet,” he murmured.

“Let me know if you need anything—”

“Artemis!” Bailey stood on the seat, leaned over so he was grasping at the passenger in front of him headrest. She looked back at Clark. “Or any of us.”

He nodded. “Will do.”

That was the first time they met.

The second time would be under similar but very different circumstances.

❖❖❖

Artemis was a ready reserve for Lana who was set to fly a special first time joint venture with the air force. Artemis didn’t mind. Lana had a family emergency, and they were friends. That’s what friends are for.

The speaker was a bit of a bitch, but that didn’t bother Artemis. She’d come across so many different types of individuals, some nice, some not so much. It never mattered, though, as long as she got her paycheck.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Even with the kids on board. She didn’t quite understand why in the hell they had minors on board, but not many things made sense to her when it came to Metropolis.

She was chatting with one of said kids who was fascinated by her name. Apparently, it was the same as one of his favorite characters from some book series. She prepared to ask which one when everything went dark.

Artemis looked around. She’d been trained to respond to countless scenarios, but this was different. She quickly excused herself and stood up, moving down the aisle to correspond with the other attendants.

She knew something was wrong. Hell, she could feel it. This was something that just oozed of malfunction. That much was obvious. However, she felt all of the young, frightened eyes on her. Even though she was concerned, she refused to show it. She had to remain calm, not incite panic among the kids.

Artemis helped  children get strapped in. At one point during the flight, they were all secured and yapping among themselves. Somewhere between the taxi and takeoff, they maneuvered out of their seats and moved about.

However, that plan went to hell at the same time the power went out again, and this time, it didn’t come back on shortly after. No, conditions quickly deteriorated. One minute she was helping the children secure their seatbelts, and the next, she was holding them against her body as the plane began to violently jerk.

In the event of turbulence, there was training. There was training for everything, but the fact that she just knew that this was beyond turbulence didn’t help. Still, she managed to keep her emotions at bay. Better than the other attendants who failed to hide their concern.

They too realized that something had gone terribly wrong.

And it only continued to worsen. Infrequent jerking transitioned into abnormal shifts in directions. The plane was moving about like a rag doll, simultaneously, forcing Artemis around and against various seats, walls, and armrests. She bit back her groans and moans of pain.

Help now.

Feel later.

Screams, shouts, beeping, and all sorts of chaos occurred around her. Still, she remained calm. In the kids, she saw Kalep. What if he were there? She’d want whoever was in charge to help him remain as calm as possible, no matter how grim the outcome appeared.

But, things only exacerbated.

The plane was angled almost entirely upward, and Artemis felt the absolute brunt of the trajectory as she continued to be tossed about the plane. Her shoulder was dislocated and the red liquid coating her fingertips after feeling on her abdomen told her that her injuries were becoming more severe by the minute, second, even.

Still, she couldn’t shake the terrified expressions of the children whose cries only increased in volume and intensity.

Even the adults were becoming choked up.

It was utter madness and chaos beyond comprehension.

For a second, she contemplated the most dire and maybe realistic outcome.

Is this how she would meet her maker? Thousands of feet up in the air, bloodied and battered, completely helpless to do nothing but make everyone as comfortable as she possibly could given the circumstances.

When was the last time she FaceTime’d her family? Purchased Kalep a game off of the Playstation Store?

Hell, she hadn’t seen the inside of her apartment for almost a month.

And now, she never would.

It was all a culmination of feelings and thoughts. Regrets at what could have been. Sadness at what would never be. Anger at the finality of it all.

Death.

And then a thought, if this truly was the end, did it mean the beginning of something else? A reunion she’d longed for for over a decade?

If only she knew it would happen like this.

Her eyes slammed shut as wetness pooled and spilled. Consciousness was a battle she was gradually losing.

But nothing had ever come easy, nothing that she really wanted, anyway.

She would hold on as long as she possibly could, as long as was possible.

And she’d spend the last of her energy making the children as comfortable as she could, even if it was only a fragment of comfort.

Plastered against the back of the plane, Artemis turned to the window. Everything was whipping by with such abnormal speed, red heat and flames of the fire lashing against the side of the plane.

She didn’t even want to imagine what the outside looked like, given the bedlam transpiring inside.

But what did still her was the quick flash of something that came and disappeared in under a second.

It was far too large to be a bird, much smaller than a plane, but the speed at which it moved…… It was almost beyond human comprehension.

I think hallucinations are a sign of pending death.

A macabre thought, but not entirely inappropriate.

Her eyes fluttered moments before her body dropped, moving in an unnatural manner. At that point, she’d managed to block out the searing pain that traveled through her body. What point was there in trying to address something she couldn’t fix?

It was meritless and a waste of time.

And energy.

The ability to remain coherent enough to guesstimate just how much time they had left waned with each struggle to keep her eyes fully open. Even when they were opened, she kept looking toward the children. As if she could will them to meet her gaze. Maybe then she could try to assure them that they were going to be okay.

She took a deep swallow.

That was such a lie, but she’d rather their last minutes be filled with hope, even if it was an empty box.

They didn’t need to know that.

As her body dropped to the ground, she took a sharp breath and managed to flex her fingers. They seemed to be the only thing she could use.

Voices called her name. She briefly recognized them as belonging to the attendants.

She lifted her head and saw black shoes and sheer stockings covering tan skin moving closer.

She moaned. “I’m f—fine.” Something caught up, and Artemis choked up something. She blinked. Red. Blood. “Kids. H—h—help them.”

The walking ceased. “Art—”

“No,” she growled, fisting her hand against the ground. Seconds later, she was shifted again, thrown forward, her head colliding with something hard. She blinked several times. Her vision was good and hazy. Artemis was almost certain that she was seeing duplicates.

The descent was steady this time, downward, and fast.

Every breath felt struggled against the invisible weight of the trauma that suffocated her body. Her fingers flexed and wiggled. If only she could bring her arm into her body.

The chain around her neck, the tiny cross that hung tucked into her blouse. Not that it would do anything to help her, physically.

But the emotional comfort, the connection is reminded her of, it would dim everything.

So she attempted to pull her arm inward, a burning shooting through that immediately ceased all movement.

So much for that.

That was when the tears continued. One could only remain strong for so long.

And just like that, everything stopped.

The movement, at least.

Everything was so still.

Too still.

Was this it? Was this how it was? A noticeable void of everything that being alive represented.

It was……subpar. Far from what she’d always imagined the afterward would be.

Halfway unconscious, Artemis missed the noticeable gasps and harsh whispers that spread through the plane as the door was easily ripped and tossed aside.

The question of if everyone was alright followed by heavy footsteps and a shadowed darkness that covered her back.

Hands moved to her side, gently turning her on her back. She gasped violently, becoming somewhat aware of her surroundings.

Eyes. Warm yet cool eyes bore into hers. However, her involuntary reaction was to fight. She struggled, mustering as much strength as she could, attempting to push the person away.

Then she heard it, the quiet whisper of her name.

“Artemis.” She stilled and tried to focus her vision. Everything was just so foggy. “It’s alright.” Artemis continued to moan and groan, determined to fight, so he continued to reassure that it was fine.

But, it wasn’t.

She was dead.

……Wasn’t she?

Artemis calmed herself down enough to stop moving. The stranger took that moment to speak again.

“You’re hemorrhaging internally, and If I don’t cauterize this bleed…..” He trailed off. If Artemis was in the right frame of mind, she would have cursed him. That certainly wasn’t the extent of her injuries. She didn’t like being lied to.

Her brows furrowed. How. Who. What.

All unasked questions he somehow detected.

“I can do things that other people can’t.” She shut her eyes and gasped. If breathing was difficult now, it was unbearable now. “Hold my hand.” He didn’t wait for her to respond, placing his over hers. She calmed down, ever so slightly. “This is gonna hurt.”

It wasn’t as though she was any position to speak, and even if she did, the scream that left her mouth seconds later spoke volumes more than any word could.

To her credit, the pain only lasted for a few moments, having lost the battle to consciousness.

❖❖❖

Hospitals sucked.

Of that, Artemis was 10000% sure of, to the point where she was prepared to defend it to the very end.

Every wall, floor, building, everything about it reeked of death. If not for you, for someone you knew.

Rarely anything good came from visiting one, let alone being admitted. Sadly, that was the case for her.

She’d been stuck at Metro General for over a week, and each day brought her that much closer to seeing if she could make a break for it.

Even though, deep down, she knew that was ridiculous.

She’d been significantly injured. Artemis lost count of how many times she was told that she was lucky to be alive.

More than she’d like to count.

Really, the fact that there were no other fatalities was enough for her. Sure, there were injuries, but nothing as severe as hers. From her knowledge, she was the only one still being held hostage.

And even if the hospital itself wasn’t bad enough, the damn people were just as bad.

Maybe not the doctors and nurses, and the staff. She admired them.

No, the damn people who visited her every hour on the hour, she felt like.

Lana had been at her beside from the moment she was rushed into the OR.

Guilt, she figured.

Artemis focused her gaze on the vase of flowers on the side of the bed. They were different from the one’s she received just this morning. However, the change wasn’t what circulated her mind.

No, it was the reason she was still alive.

Him. Her rescuer. She barely remembered what occurred, but she distinctly recalled his eyes, the way he looked at her, her name on his mouth.

Who was he? What was he?

She’d first thought she’d been dreaming. How could another person do what he’d done?

Flew up into the sky and separated a damn shuttle from a plane, stopped the plane from crashing, cauterized her wound, flew her to the hospital, and who knew what else.It was all too unreal, impossible to be reality.

But everyone else had saw him.

And Artemis heard him.

Whoever, whatever, he was, he knew her name.

And he’d saved her.

She was alive because of him.

For that…..she was beyond thankful. Still very much confused, but thankful.

Unfortunately, the world was also confused, and as the only person to have such direct contact with him, she was highly sought out.

Not to mention, everyone was praising her for being so “heroic.” Whatever that meant.

Reaching over the bed, she grabbed the card and flipped it over to see two letters followed by periods. Initials.

C.K.

Artemis frowned. Who?

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. She prepared to give the same scripted reply to the nurse on duty. She then paused as she was met with the same warm smile she’d first encountered a few weeks ago.

She leaned back against the pillows and paused. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He stood in the doorway. “Is it alright—”

“Oh, yeah,” she waved him in, sitting up as much as she could. Her eyes then fell on the bouquet in his right hand. “Please tell me those aren’t for me.”

He squinted. “What happens if I say yes?”

“Add em’ to the rest,” she sighed and smiled. “Thank you. They’re beautiful. I just don’t know if I’m going to have any room in my apartment if I receive anymore.” He handed them to her. She sniffed and closed her eyes. Lillies. Her favorites.

“Clark, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” She leaned and placed them on the remaining free space oo her side table. They were smaller than some of the others, but she wanted them to be the closest to her.

“I’d ask you how you’re doing but—”

“I’m sick of hearing that question,” she finished for him with a small smile. “How did you—you’re a reporter.” The bag on his shoulder, the almost embarrassed expression when she said it, it was obvious.

She prepared to send him away as she did the rest, but there was something different about him. Something genuine.

Artemis was willing to give him something. Not much.

“Look, all I know is that I owe him my life. Me and everyone else on that plane. I don’t know anything else.”

Clark crossed his arms. “I’m sorry?”

“That’s what you’re here for, right? The mystery hero?”

“Not my story.” He smiled and adjusted his glasses. “I’m actually here for you.”

She stilled. “Oh.” Well, that was unexpected.

“I work for the Daily Planet. We’d like to do a story on you. The mystery hero wasn’t the only one who saved lives. They say a lot of those kids are alive because of you.”

She shrugged. “I just did what anyone else would have done.”

“Not everyone.” He frowned.

Artemis picked at the hospital bedding. “You have any siblings, Clark?” He shook his head. “I do. Two. My brother’s name is Kalep. He’s ten. The sweetest and most annoying kid ever.” She smiled softly, remembering his big brown eyes in the FaceTime camera as Artemis reassured her father that he didn’t need to fly down.

Unnecessary money.

“Did you know that the youngest kid on that flight was eight?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Eight-years old. Hell, you haven’t even started to live when you’re eight. I can’t imagine it all ending so soon. I’ve seen enough of this world. I would have been okay. No matter what happened.” She looked out the window and licked her lips before looking back at him. “I wouldn’t change anything I did. Not a damn thing.”

Clark said nothing, chuckling softly. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I am doing the story on the hero.” A beat. “But she’s not a mystery.”

Artemis caught his gaze. There was something both familiar and comforting about him. She couldn’t place her finger on it, though.

“Okay, they sure do know who to send to get a story.” She shifted again. These beds were so damn uncomfortable. “I do hope they find him, though. He deserves it. I won’t even bitch if they throw him a parade or some shit. It’s well deserved.”

They both laughed as Artemis looked down, nodding slowly. “I just want to thank him, you know.”

“You’re not scared?”

“Of him?” She laughed. “No. Why would I be?”

“I mean, a guy who can fly. You don’t see them everyday.”

“There are a lot of things to be scared of in this world, Clark.” A beat. “He’s not one of them.”

❖❖❖

Artemis had never been so grateful to be home.

It was one thing to be away because of work. It was another to be away because she was physically unable to be home.

Thankfully, she’d been cleared and discharged. That was a few days ago, but each moment was more than appreciated.

She’d dusted, rearranged, hell, even cooked more than she had in all the time she’d been in Metropolis. Even whilst ambling around in a boot on her right leg.

Near death experiences tend to have that effect.

Not one for much television, she’d even started to rewatch One Tree Hill and was halfway through Homecoming. However, too much time in front of the screen triggered headaches, so she decided to switch out programming for a book on her wall of books.

She had so many that she’d purchased, started, yet never finished.

One of her new resolutions was to change that.

She loved to read.

It was one of the many fond memories she had. Being read to as she lay in bed, forcing herself just to stay up because no one told stories in such distinct voices as her.

Artemis settled on The Chaos of Standing Still. She noticed a bookmark toward the beginning and pulled it out. She could barely remember the plot, let alone the little that she’d read.

She scratched at her hair and made a mental note to order the bonnets that were waiting in her Amazon cart.

Ooh, she also needed to pay her cell phone bill. Maybe automatic payments weren’t so bad, because if she garnered one more goddamn late fee—

Artemis turned around and nearly fell flat on her ass. Thankfully, the book took one for the team, stumbling on her carpet. The bookmark laid next to it.

Across her room, close to the backdoor that led to the small balcony, he stood, cape lightly flowing behind him. The lighting was dimmed, but even with the lack of illumination, he stood out in the darkness. Representative of who he was, whoever that was.

“Umm, hi,” she blurted, placing her hand on her forehead. “How did you—” Her eyes shifted to the backdoor. “Never mind. Stupid question.” She got the feeling that whether she welcomed him in or not, it made little to no difference.

“Hi.” She waited for more. Nothing else came.

“Can I—get you something to drink?” She asked. “Do you even drink?” Artemis wanted to slap herself. What the hell was wrong with her? Since when did she get so easily flustered?

Maybe that was another side effect of almost dying.

“I do.” He smiled and stepped forward. She remained where she was. “But, I’m okay. Thank you.”

“Okay,” she murmured. “How—why—what are you doing here?”

“I read the interview you gave.”

“You read?” She blurted.

He shrugged. “In my free time.”

“Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “For—for saving me, and everyone else.”

He lifted his a hand. “Don’t. You never have to thank me for that. No one does.”

She tilted her head. “What are you?” She continued. “I mean, you’re not human. I dated my high school’s quarterback, and we were all impressed by his ability to push his truck. Yet, you’re out here lifting planes?” She hadn’t meant to babble. It wasn’t in her nature, but she was so damn intrigued. Not to mention, everyone had been searching for the man who stood a few feet away from her, only for him to find her.

“What I am isn’t important. It’s what I do….that’s what matters.”

“What exactly is it that you do? Save people? There are occupations for that.”

He chuckled. “I think we both know it’s a little more complicated than that.”

“Touche,” she whispered and danced her fingers against her legs. Artemis looked him over. He was solid, muscles rippling against the formfitting material of his….uniform? Costume seemed inappropriate. Costumes were for people who feigned what he really was. A hero. “What’s the S stand for?”

He looked down and then back up. “It’s not an S. On my world, it means hope.”

She bit on her bottom lip. Artemis wanted to ask him where exactly his world was, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t answer. “Well, here, it’s just an S.”

He chuckled. “Noted.”

Her next question was instant. “What’s your name?” He stared at her. Artemis kept his gaze, willing herself to affirm her assertiveness. She was never one to shy away, to back down, to retreat. That couldn’t change. Not even for him. “You know mine.”

His gaze softened, something that didn’t bypass Artemis.

“It’s Kal.”

“Kal,” she repeated, accentuating each letter, despite the shortness. Artemis smiled. “My little brother’s name is Kalep.” She cleared her throat. “So am I your first or last stop?”

He tilted his head. “I’m sorry?”

“You know, on your grand entrance to the world.”

He offered a small smile. “No. What I do….who I am….it’s not of importance.” A beat. “I’m not yet ready to reveal myself to the world.”

She quieted. “But you did with me, and I’m nobody special.”

“I wouldn’t say that. To those kids you saved, the ones you risked your life for, you’re the hero.”

She straightened one arm and grabbed her elbow, shrugging. “The cape takes the cake. Kids are fickle like that. Besides, I just did what was right. No need to make a big thing out of it.”

He nodded slowly, stepping forward. Artemis inhaled subtly. He was so big. “And that’s why I’ve told you….and only you.”

His voice lowered toward the end of his sentence as his gaze focused on her, meeting her eyes. At that moment, she understood. She didn’t know why or how, but he trusted her. Kal trusted her.

“Got it.” A beat. “Okay, I just have to ask. Is this like a disguise? I mean, your….skin….” His eyes crinkled in amusement, tiny lines forming. “You’re not really….like green or something, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Okay, good, cause then that would be really….weird.”

His smile deepened. “You have a good night, Artemis.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “You too, Kal.”

He nodded and prepared to leave.

“Hey, Kal.” He turned to face her, eyebrows lifted. “I—uh—I’m out of work for a while. Recovery and all. So, um, if you ever want. I mean, if you’re ever around.” She pushed her lips together and pushed a hand over her curls. “I’m just here.”

He said nothing, just a smile, and a second later, he was gone.

[mosylufanfic]

“Sit your ass back down and talk to me” + Killervibe 💖

I Got Memories on Tap

The bar on the corner was kind of a dive, but at 10-something in the morning, it wasn't too bad. Plus they had wifi, and depending on who was behind the bar, Cisco could usually nurse a bowl of free bar mix and a Roy Rogers while he looked for jobs online for several hours, and maybe a beer when he was done for the day. It was cheaper than Starbucks, and closer to his place, too.

When he walked through the door, he struck gold. It was Caitlin behind the bar. She was his favorite bartender, the one he liked talking to the best because she could usually hold up her end of a scientific conversation. Plus she refilled his soda without charging and had once given him free beers for a week after he'd fixed the overhead sound system when the cheap-shit owner wouldn't spring for a real repairman. 

She looked extra-tough today, black tank top, heavy eyeliner, dark lipstick. Unlike the other bartenders, she didn't have any tattoos or piercings, but he'd personally seen her smash a drunk's face into her bar and then kick him out without changing expression.

Sometimes she smiled at him, though.

"You look sharp," she observed, plucking a glass off the shelf and reaching for the bottle of grenadine.

She was used to seeing him in geeky t-shirts, hoodies, and cords. "Interview," he said, tugging his sport coat straight and checking the stool before sitting down. The last thing he wanted was a mysterious stain on his only dress pants. "No drink today, I gotta catch the bus in ten minutes."

She put away the glass and the syrup, and arched a brow at his laptop, which he had parked in its usual place on the bar.

"I need to figure out how to tie a tie," he explained, fishing said article out of his pants pocket and holding it up. "Last time I wore one, it was a clip-on."

She looked around the bar, which was dead empty except for him, and then reached out and shut the lid of the laptop, which he'd just opened. "Forget that. I'll do it."

"Wow, really? Thanks!"

She rolled her eyes, coming around the bar. "Yes, really. Give it."

He held out the tie, expecting her to tie it loosely and hand it over so he could drop it over his head. Instead, she stepped up to where he sat on the stool, plucking the tie from his hand. 

"Flip up your collar," she ordered, and after a moment of surprise, he did. She looped the strip of fabric around his neck and adjusted the length, brow furrowed in concentration.

This close, he could see the crisp line of her eyeliner and smell the faint vanilla scent of lotion, overlaid with the sharp bite of hand sanitizer. He'd noticed that she was a demon about washing and sanitizing her hands. Maybe she was something of a germaphobe, which begged the question of why she was working in such a grungy hole. 

God, she had pretty eyes.

Cisco had done enough time in the service industry himself that he knew the unspoken rule: friendly wasn't the same as friends. He'd managed to keep that in mind for the months he'd been coming in here. He was having a really hard time remembering that right now, though. 

"Chin up," she murmured.

He lifted it, focusing his eyes over her head at the sputtering neon Coors Light sign on the wall. "Where'd you learn how to do this?"

"My fiance," she said, hands busy at his throat. "He hated wearing ties and he could never manage to tie them on his own."

"Fiance? You're engaged?" She'd never worn a ring. Not once. Not even when it probably would have saved her some of the come-ons he'd overheard.

Her hands hesitated. Then she gave his tie a tug and said, "No," like slamming a door between them. She stepped back. "You're all done."

He flipped his collar back down and ran his hand over his tie. It felt right, crisp and smooth, the knot snug without being strangulating, the bottom edges aligned perfectly. 

"Thanks," he said brightly, trying to gain distance from the topic of her mysterious not-fiance. "How do I look? Professional? Do I scream 'hire me, please, I'll be the best damn engineer you've ever seen'? Or is it more like, 'if you give this pitiful schmuck a job, you'll live to regret it'?"

She propped her hands on her hips and gave him a once-over. "Top five at least," she said finally, and went back around the bar.

He felt a smile spread across his face. He went to tuck his hair back in a nervous habit, but wound up flapping his hands around his ears because his hair was tied back at the base of his neck. Right, right, he was doing the adult hairstyle thing today.

"Okay," he said, shoving his laptop into his bag. "Time to go hang out at the bus stop, because if I miss it, today of all days, I just might throw myself in front of a train."

"Sit your ass back down and talk to me," she commanded. 

He blinked. Even with her hard shell, she rarely swore. "But the bus." There were only a couple of windows high up against the ceiling. No way he'd be able to see it coming.

"I'll tell you when the bus is coming down the street. I can see it turn the corner on the security cams."

When he shifted uncertainly, looking at the door, she leveled a look at him. "You're a bundle of nerves, and that won't do you any good going into this interview. Sit."

He opened his mouth to pshaw that, then paused. He was a bundle of nerves. And he'd blown interviews before by babbling and going blank. Besides, he really liked talking to Caitlin.

He sat down, settling the bag on the bar in front of him.

She picked up a spray bottle of cleaner and sprayed down the bar. "Tell me about this job." Squirt, squirt, squirt.

"It's at PalmerTech. R&D. Basically my dream job."

Her hand paused, and then she continued cleaning. Squirt, squirt. "It's a good company," she said.

"Yeah! Yeah, their work on robotics is so - " He flailed his hands, unable to express the coolness in words. "And Ray Palmer? If he's half as awesome as he is in the press, I'll be damn lucky. Like, I've heard he actually does a lot himself. Can you imagine building stuff next to Ray Palmer? I just hope he's nice."

She picked up a bar towel and wiped down the bar. "He's a very rare specimen. Exactly what he seems."

Cisco blinked. "Uh, have you actually - ?"

"Met him? Yes." She scrubbed at a sticky spot next to the soda gun, her face giving nothing away.

His jaw dropped. "When?" 

"When I worked for Mercury Labs."

"You worked for Mercury Labs?" If his jaw dropped any further, he'd dislocate something. "As what?"

"Their research division. I was a bioethicist and a geneticist."

If she'd said she was a comic-book supervillain, he couldn't have been more shocked. "A what?" Then "Was?"

She glanced at the security feeds behind the bar and said, "Bus," very calmly.

"But - wait - when was that?"

"Before." She turned her back and picked up a clipboard. "You're going to miss your bus."

He grabbed his laptop bag and bolted, arriving at the stop a few doors down from the bar just time for the bus to roll up, belching diesel fumes. 

As he settled in his seat, the bar went past his window. He watched it recede into the distance, boxy and grubby and nowhere that anyone would choose to go if they had another choice.

Instead of his upcoming interview, his mind twisted and tangled around the question of Caitlin - god, he didn't even know her last name.

She'd been a scientist. Working at one of the top biomedical research labs in the state. Rubbing shoulders with Ray Palmer. And she'd been engaged. But not anymore.

How had she gotten here?

FINIS