#For fuck sake doctor. (Crack)

[eternityhistoria]

I AM NOT CUMMING MY BRAINS OFF JESTER!!

[meowzfordayz]

hashira accidentally touch your chest

Author’s Note: pls and ty enjoy this tidbit of crack-fluff. 😆💖

hashira accidentally touch your chest

Hashira x Reader

Word Count: ~1,600

CW: explicit language, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Suggestion Fulfilled: Can we get all hashira accidently touch y/n's breast

~faqs~

Fyi, “chest” means boob. I was just worried Tumblr would block this post from tags if I included “boob” in the title lmao. 😉

Shocked 😳😖

“I apologize, [y/n]-san, it won’t happen again!”

Gyomei’s nearly in tears, he feels so terribly 😞

“These things happen!” you promptly assure him, “Besides, you technically won the bout.”

No need to mention that he always wins when training together 🥲

“I cannot accept such a tainted victory.”

“Himejima-san, though I appreciate your concern and respect, there’s truly no issue.”

Meanwhile, Gyomei’s rethinking his entire Breathing Style to ensure he never accidentally touches anyone’s boob(s) again 💀 

In cold disbelief 😐😐😐

If you don’t say anything, then he won’t say anything

Alternatively, if you do say something, then Obanai will immediately curl up into a ball and die

Spends the rest of his day recalling the fleeting warmth of your breast

He swears his hand doesn’t even get cold, so affected by the heat of your bosom

Your boob must be ✨magical✨

“Iguro-san,” you call out gently, noting his dazed stare, his dinner untouched while he sits crossed legged, “Is something on your mind?”

“No.” 😐😐😐

Well okay then 🙃

“About what happened earlier…”

🫨🫨🫨 <— Obanai is FREAKING OUT

“… Iguro-san, I didn’t mind.”

And then you stand up, take your dishes, and leave

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEEEAAAN?!?!?!

Good luck finding Obanai tomorrow 🫡 (the poor man’s been pleasantly overwhelmed)

He’ll avoid you for eternity now 😌 (not really, but at least until he can breathe around you again)

She giggles 🤭

Lol

“Oh my! [y/n]-san, I didn’t mean to touch you so intimately!” 😅

“No worries, it happens.”

Your face may or may not be burning up a storm, but that’s okay!

Mitsuri’s blushing too

A lot 😳

“I hope I didn’t hurt you?!”

Because like, What if I gripped too hard?! 😭

She’s well aware of her own strength

“You barely brushed me, Kanroji-san. I promise!”

Phew!

She grins, relief evident as she bumps her elbow against yours

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? I would be so embarrassed!!!”

“Kanroji-san, our secret is safe with me.”

I wish it would happen again… <— lowkey both of you thinking the same thing 🤪

As a medical personnel (among other roles), Shinobu accidentally (or even on purpose, depending on where you’re wounded) touching your boob isn’t entirely unreasonable nor unrealistic

Obviously it would be nicer if she was caressing you out of love and affection 😔

And not methodically cleansing then bandaging claw marks that just so happened to cross over your chest 😒

“You should make a full recovery,” she’s all business, “The demon avoided your nipple and didn’t puncture deep enough to affect the functionality of your breast,” fortunately, you’re too exhausted to be embarrassed by her bluntness, “It has a nice shape. I’m glad you survived.”

EXCUSE ME WHAT?!?!?! 😃🫠

Now you’re kinda embarrassed

More so preening, really 🤭

It’s like when a doctor randomly compliments the rhythm of your heart or some other characteristic from a mainly professional POV, but you’re still caught off guard because who tf compliments someone’s kidneys or bowels movements or?????

In your pain hazed delusion, you briefly contemplate somehow getting your other boob injured too… gotta make sure you’re matching in (nice) shape, y’know? 😌

Kyojuro can be discreet, albeit more so for your sake than his

“I APOLOGIZE! I DID NOT MEAN TO TOUCH YOUR BREAST!” <— how he could react 💀

“Pardon my slip, are you okay?” <— how he actually reacts, because he isn’t entirely lacking in social awareness and decorum 😆

“Oh,” you don’t mean to squeak, but it can’t be helped when the most handsome man you’ve ever known just casually grazed your boob, “I’m fine! Totally fine! Haha!” 🫨😵‍💫🫠

You’ve gotta be more convincing than that, or Kyojuro will never forgive himself 😕

He’s a lil oblivious when it comes to physical attraction

Not like, infantly so, but given this particular circumstance?

He doesn’t realize you’re flustered; he assumes you’re mortified 😖

“You sound decidedly less than fine.”

He’s softer now, worried about startling you 🥺

“I was surprised! But don’t worry! I’m not worried!”

Okaaay, but he’s worried 🥲

“Is there any way I could make amends for my indiscretion?”

Not only is he handsome, but he is such a gentleman 😭😍

“Rengoku-san, there are no amends to be made, I promise. I’m not mad, nor do I feel unhappy or unsafe. I forgive you.”

Your regaining of the ability to speak in complete sentences greatly reassures him 😮‍💨😁

“Ah. Well. I am grateful for your kindness and understanding. It will not happen again.”

…

…

Hold up 🧐

Why does she seem… she seems… disappointed? Should I have said it will happen again??

You’ve suddenly given Kyojuro something quite pleasant to ponder 🤔

After all, he isn’t entirely oblivious 😉

“Are you going to apologize?” Sanemi demands

“For what?” you screech

“For touching my hand with your boob!”

Your eyes roll, “Oh fuck off!”

“I didn’t ask to touch you,” he grunts

“I wouldn’t have given you permission anyway,” you retort 😒

Arms crossing over his bare chest, Sanemi scoffs, “Well I didn’t give mine either!”

“You’re ridiculous. It was an accident.”

You seem genuinely pissed 😬

Sanemi rethinks his approach

“You know I’m joking, right?” 😅

“Nooo,” your sarcasm cuts deep, “I thought you were flirting.” 😐

Uh 😀

Well 😃

Shit 😄

“Fuck you!” 

When in doubt, curse ‘em out 💀

You scowl, confusion lingering as your blood boils, “Fuck you!”

“I said it first.” 🙄

You stalk away, fed up with his antics

#man child #sort of #romantically inept is more like it

As tends to happen with epiphanies, yours doesn’t hit until you’re almost asleep

“WAS THAT MOTHERFUCKER FLIRTING WITH ME???!” 😳🥴😭

Best believe Shinazugawa Sanemi is about to have a Lesson 101 in flirting asap 😤😎

(assuming you’re older, like, mentor age to Muichiro)

Neither of you make a fuss about it

It’s like accidentally calling your teacher mom 😬

Or grabbing a random person’s hand in the supermarket thinking they’re your parent 🫣

Embarrassing, but not a huge deal — unless you make it one

There’re those three seconds of slow motion Uhh and What just happened and Oops 🫠

And then time speeds up to normal again, you have a quick conversation with your eyes (gosh forbid you speak and bring the unspoken into reality 💀), and it’s over

^^ Alternatively, if Muichiro initiates a conversation to clear the air, then you’re able to have a mature and concise chat that is respectfully and patiently resolved

Embarrassing/accidental encounters are part of growing up

As long as they can be navigated ~safely, there shouldn’t be any lasting harm

⚠️I also want to emphasize that I am talking solely on inarguably accidental/one time incidences⚠️

Hehehe

Giyuu’s hand is stuck 🫣

Only for like, a fleeting second

But omg 😭

He was already embarrassed, and now he’s triply embarrassed 🫠🫠🫠

“... Tomioka-san?”

You won’t lie; you aren’t especially bothered 🤭

But it is a compromising position to be caught in; Giyuu lowkey crushing you, one of his palms clearly cupping your boob 😬

#wrestling #or something #so maybe this isn’t super realistic #forgive me

You’re about to repeat his name when he finally springs to life, immediately rolling off you, standing abruptly, about to literally sprint away

And then he remembers his manners 🙃

He offers you a hand

His other hand; his boob hand is currently tucked away in his haori

He’s never washing it again

#closet perv

“Thanks,” you smile faintly, accepting his assistance as you lift yourself from the ground

You hope he can’t hear your heartbeat 💓

He definitely can 😶

But can you hear his?

“I don’t think we should train together anymore.”

Giyuu is swift and harsh with his solutions

“Why?”

Your question comes out stiffer than intended

He hesitates, unable to interpret the fear in your tone — the longing

“I always beat you,” he explains lamely, “Don’t you get tired of losing?”

You scoff cheerfully, grinning now as you squeeze his hand

Fuck, we were still holding hands?! <— Giyuu is in shambles 😳

“I could never lose!” you declare, feelings brimming in your throat, spilling onto your tongue, “Not when I’m with you.”

Then we should absolutely stop training together would be the responsible reaction

Attachments are the most dangerous game for a Hashira to play 😕

Instead, Giyuu’s rendered speechless, unable to shake his hand from yours

“Well alright then,” he mutters, stomach churning as he narrowly avoids the warmth in your gaze

In fact, you swear he squeezes back 💓

“EXCUSE ME! I HAVE A WIFE!” 😤😤😤

“You have three wives.” 🙄

Sputtering, Tengen shrieks, “I already have plenty of breasts to touch!” 

“Tengen,” you glare, not one to back down as you jab a finger into his own chest, “You touched my boob.” 😒

“AND I’M SORRY!” 😭

Much better 😌

“I don’t know what they see in you,” you scoff (you’re also lying, you can see plenty🤭), “They’re gorgeous… and you freak out when you accidentally touch a boob.” 💀

Tengen is 100% pouting now

“I don’t freak out when I touch their boobs,” he huffs

“Well aren’t they lucky.” 😐

“You could be lucky too!”

…

…

Tengen starts running 

You give chase

“DID YOU TALK TO THEM ABOUT THIS?” 

Tengen runs faster

“TENGEN!!!!!”

Tengen runs faster and faster

You give up

*insert gasping for air here*

“DO YOUR WIVES KNOW THEY’RE MARRIED TO A COWARD???!!!”

Oh well, you’ll have to visit their estate sometime this week 🙃

You’re sure to get an answer from Hina, Makio, and Suma ☺️

And you can’t wait to see more of Tengen 😏😋

Sorry, sometimes the horny just happens 🥴

[icallhimjoey]

supreme leader, would you ever write a sequel to ‘ground rules’ where our baby with joe is here and it’s just a cutesy dad!joe moment? (also wouldn’t be opposed to some smutty times as well bc i just can’t go past gotta-be-quiet-cause-the-baby’s-sleeping-but-fuck-i-want-you-right-now-new-parent-smut) heart you, as always!!

we're switching gears, everyone! sorry for the whiplash! Wordcount: 3K

---

Only Have Eyes For You

(read Ground Rules here)

Joe has yet to stop staring at her.

It’s either eyes on her, or eyes on you, and even though you’re gorgeous and make his chest swell beyond what he thought his ribs could ever manage, looking at her is different.

New.

“Will you keep an eye on her?”

“Yea, of course I will. Go get some rest, please, baby.”

It’s been over an hour, and he still needs to raise a thumb up to wipe a tear from an inner corner about every thirty seconds. For several reasons, too.

It’s been five hours since you’ve given birth, and both sets of grandparents – grandparents, that sounds so fucking wild – have left evidence of their visit all over the room. There’s balloons, cards, flowers, bags with gifts in for you and for the newborn baby girl and Joe feels like they brought too much and too little. Were there for too long but left too soon. Should’ve been there right after instead of two hours later, but also maybe should’ve come to meet the baby tomorrow instead of today.

He wants to protect and hide this little girl from the world, but also needs everyone to see how gorgeous she is.

Five-hour old baby, fast asleep in her clear plastic bed that’s been placed right next to your hospital bed where you’re asleep even faster.   

He’s got no idea how much sleep he’s gotten over this weekend. Doesn’t care, either. Just knows that he’s staring at perfection no matter which way he turns, and that the small of his lower back aches because he’s been sitting in his chair weird, but this is the only way he can both touch you and see her little face.

Her perfect little face.

Joe’s got a hand around your ankle as you lie passed out in your hospital bed, finally in what seems to be a deeper sleep rather than just a quick nap, and he wishes you could stay like that for at least the next ten hours. He knows it doesn’t work like that with a newborn, and you’re obviously in a hospital which doesn’t help, but God, you deserve to sleep for a fucking lifetime.

Everything that surrounds you looks and sounds normal, so he guesses your blood pressure must be okay, but he keeps his ears pricked, just to be sure.

The birth was a long one. Almost everything you had tried preparing for hadn’t happened in the way you’d expected, which is what everyone kept telling you was going to happen, but it was still frustrating. It did however feel very fitting with how the two of you had even gotten together.

It was a good thing you managed to pull through most of the labour with humour.

Doctors and nurses had started making jokes of you becoming permanent residents when your dilation had halted at six centimeters for ages, and in return, you had started making jokes that they were going to have to start knocking before coming in, because you knew of a way to induce the labour that Joe would feel more comfortable about if he had some privacy.

“No, no, I do not–” Joe had immediately protested the first time you’d cracked the joke, and the lack of laughter coming from him plus your weird eyebrow wiggle had only made the nurses laugh louder.

“Sorry to inform you,” the doctor said in the middle of giving you another check. “But having sex will not cause labour to begin before your body is ready for delivery.”

“It won’t?” You’d acted all heartbroken. Made Joe mutter, “Jesus Christ!” under his breath, because, you were six centimeters dilated for fuck’s sake. Of course he wasn’t going to have sex with you.

“We’re still not in labour, are we?” the doctor said, insinuating that he thought you had probably tried it at home already.

“Ask him how many times we’ve had sex...” you’d challenged immediately, making Joe groan from the corner of the room where he was sort of pacing around, facing the wall more than the room, because there was another man with fingers deep inside of your vagina, talking to you about sex.

“Can we please focus on—” Joe started, equally as embarrassed as he was humoured by you.

“Once.” You answered your own question and gestured at your stomach. “One time! All it took!”

It had become a running joke between the two of you that Joe didn’t think you were going to involve so many other people in. Joe had gotten you pregnant and then hadn’t touched you since.

Not true. There had been plenty of touching. But you were super pregnant when you’d gotten together and it never felt right for Joe to insert parts of himself into parts of you that felt like they belonged to a whole different person for the time being.

Which actually made a lot of sense to you.

It was just unfortunate that hormones had made you super horny for half the pregnancy.

Hence why it had become a running joke.

One that really annoyed Joe. You were lucky that he loved to hear you laugh and to see you smile so much.

When the two of you were left alone again, Joe scolded you through a smile and pressed kisses to your temple, because you were being funny and entertaining even though you’d just gotten bad news. Again.

Joe lovingly touched your stomach, and pressed his cheek to yours as he looked down at it and said, “You’ve made it too nice in there. She doesn’t want to come out.”

“Remember when we were like, let’s do this as friends...” you joked, but Joe could hardly focus on your light tone of voice when you grabbed hold of his bicep with a strong grip.

“Idiots.” Joe commented, finding your hand and covering it with his.

“I think we would’ve been able to do it, but—”

“You think so?”

“Yea. I was very determined. But, this is nicer.” You smiled and made eye-contact with Joe. He was quick with a tissue, to dab at your wet eyes. He’d learnt to be ready for every and any emotion over the past few days; everything and anything could bring you to tears.

“I wouldn’t have been able to do it.” Joe said, smiling too. “I was already sort of head over heels if I’m honest. You were determined for two, I think.”

That had made you burst into actual sobs.

The last hour of giving birth, you’d cried non-stop. A weird silent steady leaking of water from your eyes as you struggled through the delivery. Joe guessed it was the pain – had to be, because, what the fuck was even going on? How the fuck had nature decided that this was meant to be normal? But then finally, when soft baby cries filled the room, one of the nurses said, “You’re there, you’re done. Relax, we’ll take it from here.” He’d realized then that it they were tears of exhaustion over anything else.

You’d been going for hours, and then your blood pressure did something funny after the placenta got removed, so now they wanted to keep you for a bit, which was scary. But going home with a newborn sounded even scarier, if he was honest... so he wasn’t going to complain about how uncomfortable his chair was.

Or how tired he felt.

He’d been going for hours too, but his tired was different from your tired. He could feel it in his bones, sure, but it was easy to keep his eyes open. Easy to keep staring at her. Easy to do jobs whenever someone asked him to do one.

“Mum’s done. Now, dad, come here. Pay attention.” 

And he has not been able to stop paying attention yet. He’s listening to your breathing, paying close attention to the rhythm because you’re the priority after all that’s happened. Yet he can’t keep his eyes off of his baby.

There’s a baby next to your bed.

The one he watched you gave birth to.

Your baby.

His baby.

He thumbs another tear from the corner of his eye before it leaves a wet trail down his face and uses his sleeve to dry both his eyes as he pushes his nose into his elbow for a second, not letting go of your ankle.

Life is ridiculous.

He still feels emotional over seeing you scream and cry, in pain and all sweaty. You’d performed a miracle, but it was no fun to witness how difficult the whole thing was on you. Had he not already convinced you to be with him, he would have started that quest today and would’ve likely never stopped.

When he blinks his eyes back into focus, it’s to you stirring in the white sheets of your hospital bed.

He freezes.

Maybe if he holds his breath and doesn’t make a single noise, you won’t wake up. He’s not sure how easy it’ll be to fall back asleep if you pull from your unconscious state completely. He wasn’t there when it happened – had gotten hauled off to help wash and dress his baby (the tiniest clothes he’d ever seen still too big on her, he was pouring tears as he tried to put the socks on and hated how you weren’t there to see it) – but he was informed that you lost a lot of blood and needed a lot of stitching.

After going through all of that, you’d needed stitching.

Your baby had been taken to get cleaned up, and you’d told Joe to go with her. To watch her. To stay with her and to not lose her out of his sight.

He’d listened.

Knew better than to tell you no.

But then you were left on your own, and you’d needed stitching.

You can’t move without wincing now, and Joe could probably jog home if he really wanted to. How is that fair?

Joe holds his breath, and watches you stretch your spine in your sleep before you relax again.

But then suddenly, your slow movements turn jumpy as you jolt awake with a gasp. It makes Joe jump almost just as much, and he narrowly avoids your knee to his face.

He watches you wince in pain, clearly uncomfortable, but then you immediately sink back into the mattress when your eyes find the clear plastic baby bed that holds your child, and you release a relieved breath.

“My God,” Joe whispers, already humoured by what just happened. “She’s still here, calm down.”

“Sorry,” you croak, curling a hand around the edge of the hard plastic and Joe watches your knuckles go white.

“You okay?” Joe’s already up on his feet, hand on your face to wipe your hair back.

With your eyes still closed and head slumped to the side, you softly answer, “Hmm. My vagina hurts.”

“Yea, of course.” Joe nods, unable to look at you without all the sympathy in the world displayed on his forehead. “Do you need anything for the pain?”

“I need to pee, but I don’t want to. It’s already burning.”

“I’ll go get someone.”

“Please.”

Joe gets a nurse in, and he helps you get out of the bed before you’re helped over to the toilet. Not before you tell Joe to watch her. Watch the baby.

“I’ll keep an eye,” Joe says, because he’s already found it’s his new favourite thing to do. To stare at her. “Go pee.”

The door to the bathroom is left open, and Joe listens to your conversation as he does as he’s told.

It’s a lot of, “Careful, mum. Careful. Slow movements.” coming from her, and a lot of hissing in between your teeth from you. A lot of, “Is this normal?” questions coming from you, and a lot of “If you feel this, it’s probably for this reason, which is totally normal.” answers from the nurse.

Joe gets the room and the fresh new little person all to himself for a second, and he leans all the way over your bed, feet still on the floor, his head resting in both hands as he slowly blinks at what you’ve created together.

He can’t get over how you’ve made this.

Two people have just gone and accidentally made a whole new person... it’s legitimately insane, Joe thinks.

The peeing takes longer than Joe thought it would take. He doesn’t blame you for taking your time, but he hopes that you figure out how to do it without being in pain or needing any help before you get to go home.

Joe hears a shocked gasp coming from you before you softly ask, “That’s a lot of blood. Is that a lot of blood?” followed by a toilet flushing and a reassuring, “Absolutely totally normal. Don’t worry.”

Baby is still asleep. Soundly and so peacefully, small tiny nose doing a perfect job at breathing, Joe’s already so proud of her it’s stupid.

“Well done, mum! First bathroom visit!” the nurse claps her hands together and laughs when you give a sarcastic yay in faux celebration.

You’re miserable, but Joe can hear your smile through everything and it makes his heart swell even more with pride. For you. For urinating. He’s proud because you peed, what the hell.

He shares his first secret smile with his daughter. “Mummy peed!”

You get helped back into your underwear and joggers, and Joe lets his view distract him enough that he almost doesn’t hear what you ask just before you step back into the room.

“Six weeks before sex, right?”

You’re joking, but Joe hears the serious confusion when the nurse asks, “Oh, have you not been talked through—”

“We have. Don’t listen to her.” Joe interrupts, and when he looks over his shoulder to see you shuffle back over to the bed, he catches the cheeky smile you’re trying to hide.

Before he can say anything else about how he’ll have you wait twelve weeks if you keep bringing it up, he catches your eyes flash in pain, just from your small shuffling steps, and he’s up in an instant. Pushes himself from your bed and turns to place both hands under your arms to make sure you’re safe and supported.

You hold onto him like a lifeline and pause in place for a moment.

God, the labour is done. Can you have a single second without any uncomfortable sharp pulling down there? Jesus.

You don’t see how Joe and the nurse share a look over your shoulder. The nurse is smiling at him, and Joe gives her a tired shake of his head as he rolls his eyes, quietly communicating that the girl he’s chosen to have a baby with is an actual menace.

“Maybe eight weeks?” Joe carefully jokes, hoping it’ll get you to laugh and forget about how sore you’re feeling for a second. Instead you just sigh and go, “Yea, maybe.”

You’re helped back into bed by four hands, shuffle slowly into position and leave enough room for Joe to join you.

You’re sore and tired and in a weird emotional state, and it’s simply much nicer to be all of those things squeezed tightly up against him. Joe knows to curl into you with his whole body and lays an arm over your pillow for you to place your head on. It gives the both of you the perfect view of your baby.

Your baby.

You feel a flash of want for her. To have her in your arms. Against your chest. To hold and hug and keep her close. But she’s asleep and you’re not quite sure what to do when she wakes up. What if she cries and you can’t get her to stop? This is safer.

You can both just watch her.

“I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” the nurse says after checking a file, and you ask, “To help me feed her?”

The nurse smiles, says, “Yea sure, that too.” and leaves.

You make a funny face, confused, and look at Joe like you think she was being rude.

“To check on you.” Joe softly says, and your face drops immediately.

“Oh. Yea. But I feel fine, now.” your focus is barely on yourself. There’s this whole other brand new human to be worried about.

“Hmm. Okay. Think you can sneak a little more sleep before she’s back?”

“Probably not.” you say, but Joe sees how you close your eyes anyway. Feels how you carefully move your hips back a little to feel more of Joe against your body. Feels how you grab onto his arm and firmly press it into your stomach that’s still big and round, but all soft and squishy now.

“Can you try?” Joe whispers, lips touching the shell of your ear.

“Will you watch her?” you’re already sinking away. Joe’s body heat is pulling you under quicker than he’d anticipated.

“Of course I will,” Joe says, but lies, and watches you for a moment instead. You’re his priority. Thinks it’s silly how you wouldn’t accept that if he told you. “I’ll watch her.” he confirms, not lying then, because he’s talking to his daughter as he says it.

Joe watches you until he feels you drop of the deep end. Feels you relax in a way he’s not felt you relax in ages.

After a while Joe repeats, “I’ll watch her.” in a barely-there whisper before he places a barely-there kiss against your cheek as you sleep.

His gaze moves back to the small baby girl in the room, and Joe’s eyes immediately well up again.

It’s stupid how even just the sight of her feels new and unexpected again. Like he’s seeing her for the first time once more.

And he simply finds that, once again, it’s so easy to stare.

Finds he can’t stop staring.

“Yea, I’ll keep an eye,” Joe whispers to himself. Thumbs another tear from his inner corner before it can run down his face and bother you.

“I’ll keep an eye.”

---

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[fanaticsnail]

Why are you giving me this, Wire?

Hey Doc Masterlist here

Word Count: 880+

Synopsis: Wire hands you a small, cyllindrical object that has your curiosity peaked. It is not until he begins eating until you realise exactly what it is he's given you.

Warnings: surgical talk, mention of a food allergy, exhausted Doctor, grumpy doctor. gn!reader x platonic!Wire, undressing crewmates, medical administration, swearing.

Notes: This is brought to you by one of Australia's greatest comedy trios. The link is available here for Aunty Donna's skit. I was meant to be doing chores, but my hand slipped and now there's some more Kid-Pirate Doctor fic crack.

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sinning-23

“Hey Doc?” A smooth, warm baritone purred down at you from your position lining up for food in the mess hall, “I've got something for you.” 

Curiosity plagued your mind, prompting you to turn and view the taller member of the Kid-Pirates who loomed over your body with his great height. In his larger hand, he held out a small, cylindrical object and passed it to you without a further word. 

With brows furrowed, you turned the lengthy object in your hands and read the scrolled print on the exterior of the smooth surface. A small, blue cap was protruding from the end, a coiled blade hidden in the orange end of the barrel. Leaning closer, you sounded out the title aloud. 

“Epinephrine?” you quizzed him, looking up at Wire and darting your eyes around his posture, “Why are you giving me this, Wire?” His eyes moved from the tube to your face with a soft, playful smirk pulling at his cheeks. 

Looking down to Wire's ceramic plate, you noticed his amassment of crustaceans piled in a whopping heap in the center of the dish. Pursing your lips, your tone held a deep warning in your chastising words. 

“Wire,” you narrowed your eyes, looking to his plate and back to his mischievous gaze, “Are you allergic to shellfish?” His eyes twinkled, plucking a skewer with freshly charred shrimp and scallops dressed in chili butter and herbs. 

“Wire,” you tilted your head to the side, “Don't do it.” Your dark, hummed warning only seemed to spur him to draw it closer to his lips. 

“I swear, Wire,” you stepped closer, prompting him to retract his proximity and turn away from you, “If you're anaphylactic, I swear to the great sea-beasts, Wire.” His smirk widened, and his playful eyes never left yours. His mouth opened, his tongue darted out and flickered over the tantalizing skewer Killer had dotingly prepared for the crew. 

Placing your own plate down beside you, you attempted to jump to collect the shellfish from his hands a moment too late. His lips opened further, the shrimp and scallops passing into his lips and having him crunch on the juicy shell and swallow it whole. 

Humming in satisfaction at the flavor, he opened his mouth and began heartily shoving in crab flesh, lobster tail, pipis in curry broth, and fresh oysters with lime. 

“Oh, for fucks sake, Wire!” you growled at him, slamming your unoccupied fist on the cafeteria railing and reading the instructions on how to administer the epinephrine with the greatest success. 

“Remove blue safety cap without damaging the cartridge-... Fuck, Wire!” you began hastily reading, watching your crewmates face beginning to swell and turn purple. He was smiling and wincing all the way, swallowing another juicy scoop of lobster tail down his rapidly closing throat. 

“Swing and push orange tip against outer thigh with force and wait until you hear the click-... Wire, stop eating!” You roared, tugging off the blue cap and removing his belt to get better access to the muscle of his thigh. There was no way you could penetrate the thick leather pants with the small blade hidden within the barrel, prompting your rage to ignite further as you undressed your crewmate. 

“Hold for at least three seconds-. -Wire, put down the king-crab leg!” You managed to usher Killer in to aid you in your plight, who managed to pry away the delectable assortment of crustaceans on Wire’s plate and toss it to Kid. Your captain was not hiding his smile in the slightest, laughing as Wire threw him a swift ‘thumbs up’ and a rapidly swelling smile. 

Finally punching the epinephrine barrel into Wire’s bare thigh, he breathed in a heaping lungful of air and began to pant as his throat reopened. The swelling of his face went down after thirty seconds, the soft tears gathering in his eyes from the lack of oxygen did not take away your fury at him for making you puncture his skin as a balm for his stupidity. 

“Wire, what the fuck?” your barked growl prompted a laugh to rise from within the mess hall, the loudest was your captain's amongst them. “Happy with yourself?” Wire joined his crew with another hefty laugh, looking to Killer and clapping his hand over his shoulder. 

“Worth it,” he nodded in satisfaction before looking down into your eyes. He pinched your chin between his index finger and thumb, scrunching up his nose and teasing you with his gratitude, “Thanks, Doc. You're a lifesaver.”

You tugged your face away from his grip and turned back to your discarded meal. Huffing out an exasperated puff of breath, you shook your shoulders and returned back to reassembling your evening meal with your lips grimaced in agitation. As you sat down beside Killer at the table, you took a bite of the dish and immediately felt the tension and agitation leave you instantaneously. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, bringing your palm up to your lips and chewed on the mouthful of shellfish. Sparing a glance at Wire, you hollowed your hand after swallowing and called over to him, “You were right, Wire. It is worth it.” 

Killer smirked beneath his mask, giving your shoulder a firm squeeze in thanks for your praise before he stood to begin tidying up the mess left behind by the crew.

[reevesdriver]

The 141 Clinic: Crack It (NSFW)

Summary: Your lower back is killing you so when you mention it to your mum and she recommends a gruff and handsome chiropractor that can work wonders with his hands who are you to refuse?

Word count: 2625

Reader: Female reader

Character(s): Captain John Price / AU Chiropractor Price

Warning(s): NSFW / 🔥🔥🔥 / Smut / Pervert behaviour / Masturbation / Fingering / Oral sex (Fem Receiving) /

Support Me: Kofi

(AN: I woke up in the middle of the night and my back was killing me and this idea came to my head so enjoy. Also I've always wanted to go to a Chiropractor and get cracked like a glow stick, is that normal or am I just getting old??) (Also I'm not a chiropractor but I've seen some videos here and there so for the sake of the fic let's pretend I know what I'm talking about.)

Your back was well and truly, fucked. After throwing it out doing something you can't remember you'd popped some painkillers and hoped for the best. Unfortunately for you no matter how much resting, stretching and painkiller taking you did nothing seemed to be working. A few days post back throw-out you were sat in your mums kitchen slowly massaging your lower back with a grimace on your face.

"Oh dear, has the pain not subsided yet?" She stopped in the middle of her conversation to ask when she saw the pained look on your face.

"Normally it goes after a day or two but it's been almost a week now and it's still the same."

"Hmm." She thought. "My friend Val said there is masseuse clinic that opened up not too long ago next to that new gym. I'll get the number from her hold on."

Before you could protest she left the room to grab her phone, it couldn't hurt to go and see a professional could it? If you went to the doctors they would tell you to rest and take painkillers and so far that had done nothing for you so why not give it a go? She returned to the room, phone in hand, and opened on a text message thread. "Val said to ask for John Price, he's the Chiropractor who helped her hubby with his back pain a few months ago. She said he's very handsome too."

You nod adding the number to your phone and choosing not to acknowledge the last thing your mother said, her friend Val had terrible taste in men so you were positively sure that the Chiropractor would be nothing special. Pressing the number you just saved you raised your phone to your ear as it started to ring. After a few rings you heard the phone being picked up and the deep and gruff voice on the other side of the line immediately made you lose your train of thought. "Hi this is the 141 clinic how can I help you."

"Oh, uh, hi, sorry. I'm looking to book an appointment with John Price please."

"That's me love, can I take some of your details and reasoning as to why you're looking for an appointment." God his voice was like velvet, goosebumps rose on your arms and you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand.

"H-Hi Mr Price." You stutter and quickly give out your name and details. "The appointment is for my back, I threw it out about a week ago and no amount of rest or painkillers is getting rid of the pain."

"Ok I see, I can fit you in tomorrow at 5pm if that's any good? If I get a cancelation I could get you in earlier but if not then it'll have to be that time please."

"Yeah, that's fine. Is there anything I need to do before the appointment?"

"Nothing at all love, just turn up and make sure you're wearing something comfortable. I'm going to put you in all sorts of positions so best not to have anything movement-restricting on." John spoke and then grinned when he heard the sharp intake of breath from the receiver.

“Ok I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow love, bye.” He hung up and added your appointment to his diary for his own record. Your mum smiled at you as you put your phone down on the counter. “Well did you get an appointment.” She asks with a knowing smirk.

"Yeah, that was Mr Price on the phone, he's booked me in for tomorrow."

"Oh is that why you blushed?" She laughs.

"I'm not blushing, I just didn't expect his voice to be so deep."

"Mhmm." She smirks and you shake your head in response.

You spend the next day working from home perched on your office chair at your desk as you replied to emails and sorted through documents to try and occupy your mind. Anxiety crept in as you checked the time on your laptop and saw that it was nearing 4pm. Deciding you were done working for the day you clocked off and took a quick shower before riffling through your closet for some cycling shorts and a baggy top. They were comfortable and non-restricting, just what Mr Price had said to wear.

Once dressed you grabbed your bag and shoved your purse and a bottle of water into it before pulling up your phone and typing in the name of the business so you could get directions once you got into your car. The drive didn't take long and soon you were pulling into the almost empty car park which was dimly lit. Parking up you took your keys from the ignition and made your way towards the building after grabbing your bag and locking the car.

Entering the building you were hit with a sweet smell of flowers and fruits from the wax melt that was burning near the reception desk. An older lady with glasses perched on the edge of her nose looks up to you as you enter. "Hi Miss, can I help you?" She asks with a smile.

"Hi yes, I have an appointment with Mr Price. I'm a little early." You shift nervously.

"Of course you must be the last appointment of the day, follow me please." She says standing from her chair and rounding the desk. You anxiously follow her down a hallway and stop a little behind her as she knocks on a door before entering.

"Mr Price, this young lady has an appointment with you." She says as she holds the door open urging you to step into the doorway and you fight the urge to drop your jaw at the man sat behind a desk.

"Hi." He greets you with your name and stands extending a hand out to you. You step forwards and shake it making note of the size difference between your dainty hand and his large muscular one that had specks of hair on the knuckles. "You're free to go Dorris, lock the door on your way out please."

"Thank you Mr Price, I'll see you tomorrow." She replies and with that the door to the room shuts and you're left alone with the very handsome chiropractor.

"You seem nervous love, I've not scared you have I?"

"N-No not at all, I've just never had anything like this done before so I'm a little anxious that's all."

"Well I promise you're in safe hands, but if you feel uncomfortable at any point just let me know and we can stop ok?" He says and you nod in response. "Good, now you said it was your back that was hurting you so I'll make a start with that, if you lie down on the table for me darling I'll have a quick feel and see what I can do."

You nervously dropped your bag against the wall and took off your jacket and shoes before stepping over to the table. Kneeling into the material you quickly lie down onto your belly and rest your arms to the side of you. You feel him step to your side. "So where do you work sweetheart?" He asks as he runs his hands up and down your spine and across the expanse of your shoulder blades.

"I work from home, just admin work mostly." You explain and for once you wished you had a better sounding job.

"You spend a lot of time sat at a desk?" He asks as he feels different points on your back and gives them little tugs here and there. He's trying to work out any knots he can find before he turns to cracking and so far he's having a field day with your middle and lower back.

"Um yeah, a few hours sometimes. I try and take breaks when I can but I get so stuck into my work that sometimes I forget."

He tuts. "That's not good for your back darling no wonder you're in pain." You hum in agreement and try to steady your breathing as his digits roll over your vertebrae. "Okay I think I know where your problem is. I want you to breathe in for me when I say so doll and exhale as I push, can you do that for me?" He asks and awaits your reply.

"Yeah, I can do that."

"Good girl." He says gruffly and you clench your thighs together, an action that doesn't go unnoticed by him. "Breathe in doll ... and breathe out." On the exhale his heavy hands press into your spine which cracks and almost instantly you can feel a wave of relief wash over you. The pain that was nagging you all week had finally subsided and you couldn't help but let out a breathy moan at the feeling.

"That do the trick darling?"

"Yeah, fuck, thank you."

You feel him lift the bottom of your t-shirt up. "I just need to have another feel of your back, easier to do it without clothes in the way. Can I undo your bra?" He asks and you gasp softly.

"Of course." You reply a little too quickly earning a throaty chuckle from the man. "You're an eager one aren't you." His hand runs up your bare spine and you feel his fingers pinch your bra as he expertly undoes it with just a finger and thumb.

You feel him lift a leg over the bench so he's straddling your body, his hips resting dangerously close to your arse as he rubs your back feeling each vertebrae. John reaches to the side of the table and starts to lift a section of it up, you feel your arse begin to rise in the air as your pelvis is pushed upwards from the cushioned bench.

"So, how long have you been a Chiropractor for?" You ask trying to distract your mind from the position you're in.

"About 10 years, a couple of my mates and I had the idea to put our skills together and open this place up as well as the gym next door."

"That's nice that you're all working together, you must be close."

"Yeah we are." He says and edges himself closer to you so his hips are pressing against your arse. The growing bulge in his sweatpants prods at your rear and he can hear your breaths deepen and sees your fists clench around the edge of the bench when he presses against you. He finds another spot he wants to crack and makes you breathe in again. On your exhale he presses down onto your lower back, nudging his cock against your closed arse and pushes his palms until he hears the crack.

You let out a breathy moan. Any attempts to stop the sound are futile as John bends over your body, his rough hands wrap around the sides of the bench as he lowers his mouth to your ear. "You alright there darling?"

"Mhmm, perfect." You say, your voice muffled slightly. John laughs softly, he's looking at your face, your cheeks are flushed and there's drops of sweat on your forehead. You let out another soft moan when you feel his cock twitch against your rear, eager to be touched.

John rises back up and runs his palms against your back once more, he can feel the delicate little hairs on your back rise slightly as he moves his hands to cup your arse. "I think we're all done with your appointment sweetheart." He says and you whine again. An hour had passed by so quick and although you felt relief with the pain in your back gone you still craved his touches. Your ears prick up when you hear him continue. "Unless there is anything else you'd like me to help you with?"

"Please John, touch me." Your voice more clearly now since you've raised your head to look back at him.

"Are you sure?" He questions and you quickly nod.

In one swift motion John moves his hands from your arse cheeks to the waistband and is tugging your shorts and underwear down and off your legs, discarding the clothing haphazardly across the room.

"Fuck." He mutters seeing the gloss that is smeared across your inner thighs. Your arse is still raised on the portion of the bench and he has a clear view of your leaking pussy. You wiggle your arse slightly earning a rough strike to the plump cheek. "So needy." He says and immediately dives his fingers into your sopping heat.

You moan at the intrusion, two thick fingers eagerly pump inside of your wet cunt with ease. "So wet, so warm, fuck." He groans feeling your walls clench around his digits. John retracts his fingers as quickly as he'd put them there and before you could protest the lack of him he presses his wide tongue against your pussy. Effortlessly he lifts your hips up a bit more with his hands and laps at your clit, devouring your pussy and coating his stubble with your juices.

His tongue moves feverishly between lapping the small bundle of nerves and diving into your cunt. Your nails dig into the leather of the bench as he eats your pussy better than any man ever has, spit and cum is drenching his face and your pussy so much that you almost miss the rough slaps of skin on skin as John tugs his cock.

"God John, fuck." You breathe as you cum against his face, legs jerking so much that they threaten to fall off the bench. John pulls his face from your pussy and jerks his cock quicker, throwing his head back he plasters your arse with thick ropes of cum, an animalistic moan falling from his mouth as he climaxes.

When a few seconds pass you finally speak. "Do all your clients get this kind of treatment?" You ask panting, a hint of jealousy present in your tone.

"That wouldn't be very professional of me now would it?" He replies and you laugh. He grabs some wet wipes from off his desk and cleans you up before wiping his cock and tucking it back into his pants.

“You did really well today sweetheart though I feel you would benefit with these appointments becoming a regular occurrence. I’m going to put in a recommendation for you with some of my colleagues too and we can take it from there."

You blush. "Thank you John." You say moving off the bench and tugging your shorts back up your body, your underwear nowhere in sight. Being the gentleman he is he helps you put your shoes back on and ties the laces for you before forcing his lips against yours. You can taste yourself on his mouth and tongue as runs his hands up your body and around to your back where he refastens your bra with ease.

"You're free to go." John says finally detaching his mouth from yours. You stay stood still for a moment, catching your breath and trying to calm your legs that are still numb from pleasure. John watches as you throw your bag over your shoulder and grab your jacket from the floor. He opens the door for you and leads you back to the front doors, the building now completely empty from any staff who would have been walking around before your appointment.

"I'll see you soon love." He says opening the door for you once more and allows you to step outside into the cold air. With a smile you turn away from him and slowly walk back to your car unaware of John pushing your underwear deeper into his pocket.

[cloudrunnerscinnamon]

An "early-ish" House MD one shot. House and reader :)

The reader experiences a particular bad night and finds herself stuck in the ER with the one and only Greg House. This could really go either way...

gif is not mine (found it on google)

"Getting mugged wasn’t the worst part about my night"

„I’ll do it“ House took the IV-bag from the nurse before she could argue with him. You on the other hand really didn’t want him near you. However, you knew House well so you decided against putting up a fight and let him take care of you. He made clear that he wanted to watch over you, discussion over. Doctor’s orders. 

Wilson, Cuddy and all of  House’s attendees (old and new) were standing a few meters away from the two of you. The initial shock of you getting mugged and being delivered into the ER with a grade 3 concussion and a laceration to the forehead had worn off but they all felt like staying close. Now, in fact, they were shamelessly watching the scene in front of them unfold. They all knew this would probably be the pivoting point of House’s and your relationship. For a month the two of you had been buzzing around each other. Chase had bets running as per usual. Wilson was sure you would crack first and confess to House how you felt about him. Cuddy on the other hand had put in for „House, taking one more risk for the sake of finally finding happiness“, what can you do, she was sappy like that. There were a few more variants going around in the bookie but those were the two most popular. 

It wasn’t like House or you were denying that you liked each other. It was obvious, the amount of time you spent together and the pile of insiders you shared annoyed everyone around you. But whenever somebody tried to inquire, all they ever got was a 

„Oh, House and me?“

„(Y/N) and me?“ 

„We just hang out, we watch the same crappy shows and like to piss of the pizza place with weirdly specific orders.“ 

„Seriously, we are just friends!“ Even Wilson couldn’t coax a confession out of his stubborn friend. 

Funny thing, neither of you wanted to screw things up by showing your cards. 

„This will sting a bit,“ House was sitting on a chair in front of you taking your hand in his and carefully inserting an intravenous catheter. His hands were steady and his movements well practiced. You still hissed a little when the needle pierced through your skin and you could feel House’s blue eyes immediately on your face. He wanted to say something but reconsidered busying himself again with attaching the tube of the IV- bag to the IV-line. 

„Sure didn’t sting as much as the rest of the night,“ you snatched your hand away as soon as House seemed satisfied with his work. 

„And no, I am not talking about getting mugged.“ The harsh tone of your voice surprised you. Yes you were hurting because of him and yes you were out of your mind from the pain in your chest, your heart, but still. Wounding House didn’t give you any pleasure or redemption. It still sucked. All of it. Stacy sucked, their kiss sucked and what you heard him say, well, that just was the cherry on top. 

House didn’t get up from his chair but remained right in front of you. The chaotic atmosphere of the ER didn’t seem to phase him at all. Slowly he went to take your hand again but you brushed him off. 

„Fuck off House. I don’t want you near me.“ For a second you could see the pain in his eyes flash, then it was gone again. Replaced by his usual wall of safety guards. Safety guards he had let slowly and steadily dissolve with you. He wasn’t going to give up that easily now.

„Yeah, sorry I’m not going anywhere.“ House sounded firm even though you were sure he was confused and so out of his comfort zone. Him prolonging eye contact and taking a „stance“ was all just an act to hide his feelings and ever growing insecurity. For once the doctor was actually scared to lose someone. Displaying confidence and nonchalance was all he knew how to do right now. 

„What? I am not being funny here.“ You leaned further back, unconsciously creating more distance between you and House. Why didn’t he just leave already. Did he take some weird pleasure in knowing that you had overheard his and Stacy’s conversation? That earlier this week you had seen them kiss in his office? You were so angry and hurt that getting mugged almost felt like a nice distraction. 

„Just go!“ You made a flinging motion with your hand and your voice broke from all the emotions. House scrunched up his face and squinted his eyes at you like he simply didn’t understand what was going on. He was confused by your actions. He was here, he was taking care of you and still you wanted him to leave. 

„Why do you want me to go away?“ His voice was small, he seemed sincere which made you want to jump out of your skin. Sad, hurt, humiliated all of which you were feeling right now but deep down there was also frustration and anger. All those month of casually hanging out and spending time together. Was that all a lie? It had felt so genuine. Could you have been so wrong about another person? You sure weren’t stupid. You had never thought of yourself as the one that would change House. You knew many had and tried to be friends as well as love interests and they had all failed more or less miserably. You simply enjoyed being around him as he was. You liked being his friend. Oh how very stupid you felt now. Friends? Your thoughts were interrupted by House’s voice. It sounded modulated like he was really trying to stay in control of his demeanor.

„(Y/N)?“  

Irritatingly for you the shock of getting mugged, the thudding pain in your skull and Stacy’s performance had taken a big chunk out of your self-control. There just wasn’t anything left to hold back the emotions from spilling over. Tears blurred your vision and your mouth twisted into a thin line. At least you were able to hold back that sob building in your throat. You knew you couldn’t take it much longer, something had got to give. 

„Because it hurts to look at you.“ And there it was. Painfully aware of all the people around you and House blankly staring at you. Was he in shock? Your voice had been so much more penetrating than you had anticipated. Shit, where did all that pain come from all of the sudden? Why weren’t you able to look away from those blue eyes? Was he even breathing? Were you breathing? Why was it so quiet? Was anyone breathing? 

„I love you and you crushed my heart!“ Those eight words had slipped out of your mouth before you even noticed they had formed on your tongue. Your own thoughts betraying you and that at the worst time. Why was your face so wet? Then the blue eyes were gone. House remained unnervingly silent. He had however gotten up from the chair. The doctor’s back was turned towards you. His right hand held onto an unused IV-stand. Was he steadying himself? Might be his leg but the pain had gotten a little less excruciating of late. You knew that because he had confided in you. Hot tears were still running down your reddened face while you stared at House’s unmoving figure.

Behind the two of you, at the reception counter of the ER, Wilson shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He huffed out a breath and ran his hand through his hair. Cuddy throw a cautious look at him. They both felt bad. Usually Chase’s bets didn’t turn into such a flurry of dramatic events. Wilson could sense the rising uneasiness of his colleagues around him. He cleared his throat and leaned back a little, turning his head towards Chase. 

„Now that it happened I don’t know why you let me place that bet.“ Chase’s arms were crossed in front of his chest. He silently stared at (Y/N) and House. 

„This is totally upsetting and those are our friends.“ Wilson knew the Aussie doctor wouldn’t let him off the hook that easy and he especially wouldn’t lend any emotional comfort. 

„So you forfeit?“ Chase raised an eyebrow at Wilson. 

„I,“ Wilson hesitated, his moral compass was spinning like a merry-go-round. 

„No, I don’t. I just think we are terrible friends.“ 

Chase snorted and rolled his eyes. 

„Just because we took on bets doesn’t mean we aren’t their friends. Or well (Y/N)’s friends, I don’t know about House. Does House actually have friends?“ 

Wilson looked dumbfounded and left Chase hanging for a good comeback. The other doctor took that as enough of an answer. Just then Chase‘s pager went off. He glanced at it quickly and with another nod towards Wilson, he pushed himself off the reception counter, he had been leaning against and left.

The machines, next to the bed you were sitting on, started to beep loudly. Immediately House turned around and checked for the reason of the onslaught of alarms. A nurse standing nearby also rushed over. You followed House’s line of vision and quickly realized that your condition hadn’t suddenly taken a turn for the worse. The pulse oximeter that had been clamped onto your left index finger had slipped off. You hadn’t even noticed. 

„It’s okay I got it.“ House waved at the nurse stoping her in her track. She just nodded and went back to scribbling on the chart of another patient. House’s hands took a hold of our left one, he slipped the pulse oximeter back on. The noise stopped and the numbers on the screen went back to somewhat normal at least as far as your non existing medical understanding told you. He kept holding your hand and you let him. Your outburst and confession had drained you even more and you were left longing for contact. 

„There, looks good, normal heart rate. So it can’t be crushed.“ House smiled openly at you although it seemed a little too assertive. You couldn’t believe your ears. 

„You are kidding me right?“ Once again you wanted to pull your hand away from his but he held on. It took you a few seconds to untangle your fingers from his, he watched you struggle a bit bevor slowly letting go. You sniffled and tears started to come anew. The way he kept looking at you made you nervous and confused. House’s weird behavior was something you clearly couldn’t deal with. The moodiness, rude arrogance and sheer lack of interest in other people’s necessities you could handle – but this? This was worrisome. 

„House, please just – just leave.“ It sounded like a plea, your tremulous voice not helping. However House didn’t respond. He looked back up to the monitors again, busying himself, biding his time. You knew he wasn’t gonna leave. A frustrated huff through your nose. Shaking your head in disbelieve you let its weight sink down into your hand, rubbing over your forehead. 

„Why do you call me House?“ Your head snapped back up. The blue eyes were on yours again. 

"You never call me House.“ He said his own name like something foreign, something he had to get his tongue acquainted with.

„It’s always been Greg,“ his eyes fell and you had to bend forward a little to still hear him. „Right from the beginning. You only ever use House when you talk to other people.“ To say you were shocked was an understatement. 

„Seriously? This is what you are going with?“ The harshness of your tone was matched my House’s soft response. You had never seen him so abashed.

„Just tell me,“ a quiver at the right corner of his lips, „Please?“ This, you weren’t able to deny. House was either being sincere in all his coyness or he was playing you to get what he wanted but whichever it was, you couldn’t stop yourself from indulging him.

„I call you House because everybody does and I am not special.“ Fast and prompt, no time to think about your choice of words. This day wasn’t gonna get any worse, was it? Might as well lean into it then. House was right though. You had always preferred calling him Greg. You understood that at work people referred to him as House. It was both formal and still not too friendly for coworkers. In the beginning you hadn’t actually really noticed that hardly anybody besides you called him Greg but when you realized it you couldn’t help but ask yourself why. The nature of your relationship (or friendship to be correct) was purely pleasure. You didn’t share anything work related and so the version of House you hung out with struck you more as a Greg kind of House other than a House House. 

„To call you House is safe,“ you said and in your head you added: and it is less intimate. With a heavy sigh House took a few steps and let himself sink down next to you on the hospital bed. Both your feet were dangling down and you followed the swinging motion with your eyes. For some reason a comfortable silence fell over you. The ER was, now as before, busy but the different sounds and monotonous buzzing worked like a coat slipping around the two of you. There was enough room to stay still in all the hectic. For the next couple of minutes House and you quietly agreed on taking a breather. 

The dull thud of Houses cane on the floor made you jerk up a little. He was going to say something. Repeatedly hitting the and of his cane on the floor was a tell-tale-sign of the Doctor building up to saying something. You had noticed that relatively early, but you weren’t sure if he realized you knew. House would mold the words in his mind until they satisfied him enough to actually say them. You also knew that he only ever did that if he was nervous or stressed out about what he wanted to say. 

„(Y/N), I am not with Stacy. Even though you might think that after what you heard tonight.“ Ah of course, yes, this would definitely make House uncomfortable. You just stayed silent, letting him continue.

„And trust me I know it sounds cliché but it is not what you think it is.“ He half laughed at that, it sounded studded with frustration and a hint of desperation. 

„What is it then? Because it really did sound like the two of you were making up.“ As soon as the words left your mouth you wanted to take them back. You really didn’t want to know. It was enough for you to know that it hurt. 

„You know what? Don’t answer me,“ you lifted your hand, pressing the palm of it against your eyes in an attempt to dampen the headache. It didn’t work and you let your hand sink down again, resting it on your upper thigh. 

„Do you love her?“ Since you had arrived in the ER you had tried to avoid looking at House but the question you had just put to him demanded you to make eye contact. House didn’t immediately answer. His long fingers scratched absentmindedly at his stubbled chin.

„No I don’t and I haven’t for quite some time.“ There was so much conviction in House’s voice that you didn’t doubt he was telling the truth. 

„What I said, what you heard,“ the doctor kept looking around while continuing to explain himself. Scanning over the room but hardly registering what was going on. 

„I wasn’t talking about Stacy and me. But without the proper context I can see how you might think that.“  He snuck a peek at you trying to gauge how this conversation was going. Only the white knuckles of his hand holding his cane in an iron grip gave aways how tense he was. Throwing your hands in the air you could only shake your head. This whole situation was ridiculous. 

„You kissed, I saw you, in your office.“ you said bluntly. You were ready to start a fight. Leaving everything pent up wasn’t gonna work. If House thought he could fool you with this talkative demeanor you were sure as hell gonna make him work for it.  

„I know and I felt awful“ Small voice, barely more than a murmur and two absurdly blue irises. Aaaaand there you crumbled again. You involuntarily mimicked House’s wispy smile.

„Didn’t look like that,“ you muttered. He grabbed your hand carefully avoiding the IV catheter. His fingers drew small patterns on the back of your hand. 

„Well do you believe me if I say you got that the wrong way around as well?“ 

Yes, your thoughts screamed and you wanted to threw yourself into House’s arms. Instead you pressed out a, „No.“ 

But he let you have that one, making sure you could keep your dignity. 

„Fair enough“. House intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing them a little. He sucked in a breath of air.

„But,“ drawing out the vowel, House made his point anyways,“I’m sorry, you do have it the wrong way around.“ Was that his teasing tone? Was he actually mocking you? To be fair you could feel the tension draining from your body. If anyone would ever try to convince you that House wasn’t able to understand emotions and steer them empathetically you would just laugh in their face. Which is also what you did now. You laughed because frankly you were overwhelmed.

„Whatever. This is humiliating.“ You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or to laugh.

„She kissed me.“ House added, looking all dopy and school boyish. You gaped at him. House was carefully maneuvering this sinking wreck off a ship into saver waters and you knew it but it was still annoying you. Why was it working? 

„Oh well that changes everythi–„ You jumped right on board and countered sarcastically but House cut in.

„Yeah no, I know it doesn’t.“ He agreed with you however he wanted you to fully understand the circumstances. 

„The only reason I let her was because I am shit at feelings.“ House shrugged his shoulders.

„What? Sorry you lost me. You are shit at feelings so you kiss your married Ex-wife?“ Was he kidding you? Your hand slipped away from his and you tugged your arms tightly around your middle. You didn’t want to fell like that but anger and frustration where front runners again. House got the message. When he talked next the lightness in his voice was gone.

„If you are shit at feelings you might not be able to trust them. Sometimes I need actions to fully understand them. Actions I get and I am good at them.“

Your mouth opened but potential words were stopped by an index finger pressed against your lips.

„Ah ah ah wait!“ The Doctor removed his finger and continued.

„So when she kissed me I was able to say goodbye,“ he paused for a second, “ because there was nothing. No love, no anger or other sentiment. It was only a kiss which I did not particular care for. It cleared my head.“ 

„Hmm.“ Not as articulate as you would have liked to be but you couldn’t manage more, so you just kept listening. 

„I wanted to come after you. I…“, House hesitated then he turned a little more towards you. He wanted to see your eyes but you kept your gaze low. 

„Your face. The way you just turned around and left.“ His voice was husky.

„I told Stacy then, what I just told you… and to be fair she was pissed. I should have know that she wouldn’t leave it at that.“ A bitter chuckle slipped from House’s mouth and he shook his head. The doctor was lost in his thoughts for a second. Your voice pulled him back into the ER.

„So when you asked me to come by to talk, you in fact wanted to talk?“ Maybe all was not lost. Maybe just, maybe this day had still something good to offer.

„Oh yes, yes I did and other stuff“ A cheeky grin appeared on House’s face and he softly bumped his shoulder agains yours. When you looked at him he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

„Shut up,“ you snorted. This man is unbelievable. 

„Not funny yet?“ He lightly poked your thigh, testing the waters. 

„Nooooo,“ you said, returning the shoulder bump. 

You looked at each other, wary smiles meeting. House drew in a heavy breath then. He still had a few things he wanted to say, get out of his system. 

„Stacy rang the doorbell 10 minutes before you. She must have left the door ajar. And the rest, you witnessed first hand.“ He scratched the back of his neck and proceeded.

„Annoyingly not all of it. Seeing that we wouldn’t be having this conversation now.“

You nodded slowly, processing. Neither of you knew what to say now so you just kept sitting next to each other. It wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward it just seemed necessary to pause for a bit. 

After a few minutes you suddenly had this weird feeling of being watched. You became more aware of your surroundings and let your eyes drift. Behind you, at the reception counter you saw House’s attendees as well as Cuddy and Wilson jump apart like they had been caught red handed. All of them were making it a point to be terribly busy looking. 

„I can’t believe they are all still watching us.“ You nodded towards the group of doctors. House followed your line of sight and you could feel him growing a little bit uneasy. There was no smile on his face and his features seemed more in control. You didn’t want to see him so gloomy after there had just been some kind of light at the end of the tunnel. You wrapped your hand around House’s elbow and tucked a bit. His head turned back to you. You were surprised to find sadness and, what was that? Remorse? Etched into his face.

 „They are making sure I don’t crush your heart twice in one night.“ With the bitterness in House’s words came also a promise. He wanted to do this right. He wanted to make this work and find out what this between the two of you could be. He acknowledged how his actions from earlier had hurt you. Everything about this conversation was so out of character for House that you had a hard time believing you weren’t imagining things. Maybe your concussion was worse than you thought and you were having crazy hallucinations. Could you have hallucinations from concussions?

„Yes, but that is highly unlikely in your case, since the CCT-scan did not pick up any intracerebral bleeding.“ 

„What?“ Surprised you looked at House. 

„Did I just say that out loud?“ The doctor smiled at you amused and your stomach fluttered. You always had liked it when he bestowed you with one of those uncensored grins. 

„Yup.“ House confirmed. Chalking it up to the most ludicrous day you have had in a while you decided to ignore reason and precaution and just trust your gut. You let your head sink against House’s shoulder and immediately the side of your body melted agains him as well. Before a sigh of relieve could escape from you House had already wrapped his arm around your waist. This was nice. It felt good and easy. 

After a while you could feel the weight from House’s head on yours. You watched your feet dangling again. The calm breathing and the warmth between the two of you had you feeling drowsy in no time. A stifled yawn from you and House nuzzled his face into your neck.

„Yeah, me too,“ he whispered.

„How much longer ’til this thing is through,“ you asked quietly while pulling at the tube of the IV-bag. House lifted his head and frowned at the IV-bag. He considered his answer for a couple more seconds and before hopping off the bed.  

„Maybe 10 more minutes. We can speed it up a little.“ The doctor reached for the drip and adjusted the roller clamp. Immediately the solution in the IV-bag started dripping faster and he turned back towards you, sitting back down. 

„I don’t want to stay in the hospital,“ You sighed. Next to you House was blowing raspberries, obviously thinking something over. 

„You should with a third degree concussion. But I can take you home and make sure you’re okay.“ House offered looking at you expectantly. You considered your options and figured that the perspective of having House fussing over you wasn’t too bad. Your stomach rumbled loudly. An idea came to you then.

„Do you still have that pizza I brought, at your place?“ House had to chuckle at that and his laugh lines appeared. He nodded.

„Yes I do, at least I didn’t eat it. I went straight after you this time.“ House looked at you carefully, in all the joking there was also truth. Apparently he was satisfied with what he found in your eyes because he continued lightheartedly.

„If nobody broke in and ate it, it should still be sitting on the kitchen counter. “ 

„Great!“ You exclaimed happily.

„I could eat, really had a long night. How about you?“ You really wanted to get out of the hospital and leave the last few hours behind you.

„Nooo, completely normal night. So relaxing.“ House earned a slap from you on his shoulder. 

„Ouch! Don’t hit the cripple.“ His fake whiny voice made you actually laugh out loud and you were so relieved to feel somewhat normal again. 

„How about instead of taking me to my place, we go to yours and warm up that pizza then? I can be on concussion-watch anywhere right?“ With that you slowly slid off the bed, carefully steadying yourself. House watched you, assessing if you really were able to leave the hospital.

„I was kinda planning on that anyways.“ He stood up as well and undid the tube from your IV-catheter. The IV-bag was empty. With his hand he indicated for you to sit down once more. While he removed the IV-catheter from your hand you were happy to run along with the banter. 

„Sure you were. What if I’d refused.“ You cocked an eyebrow at House, challenging him. Even before he spoke you knew there would be some kind of quick-witted comeback.

„Oh I would have just kidnapped you.“ He shrugged his shoulders casually, a big fat grin on his face while he peeled off the adhesive tape that had kept the IV in place. 

„Of course.“ You laughed. The needle in your arm was gone and House pushed down some gauze on the exit wound. After a few seconds he put a plaster over it to keep it in place.You used his focus to study his features. There was still that smile on House’s face, though it had faded a little. You wondered what was on his mind. The heaviness that started to appear on his forehead couldn’t be from doing some routine doctor stuff. Just when you wanted to go for it an ask House what was going on, he mumbled your name.

„(Y/N)?“ Was his voice shacking? Your heart sank. Please don’t mess this up. Your imagination started to run wild and you feared for the worst.

„Hm?“ you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable let down.

„Can you not… can you maybe?“ House leaned closer to you. He seemed oblivious to your emotional turmoil. The whispering made his voice sound rough. With another sharp intake of air he took the plunge. 

„You are special, you know. To me you really are special.“The words tumbled out of his mouth practically rolling over each other. You scooped them up, holding them, they felt soft and warm to the touch. 

„So could you maybe not do the House-thing like everyone else?“

You smiled at him. This was big. House just committed to talking about his feelings leaving himself unguarded in the process. 

„Okay, Greg.“ 

[shewolf-sinclair]

I HATE when people dumb down Jason Todd “he’s impulsive/irrational/erratic/brash/dumb/the angry robin!”

WRONG

let me break it down for you fools because he’s actually like one of the most nuanced and complex characters to ever bless my presence (and he’s the best ((my fav)) robin argue with the wall) (tldr at the end but please read the post)

Starting out as robin they are ALL orphans. because that’s like bruce’s thing. BUT dick and tim had families before bruce adopted them. Jason did not. HE GREW UP ON THE STREETS. (+10 points for truama✨) which led him to grow up to be independent and resourceful. Bruce literally met him because he was trying to steal the bat mobiles tires with the intent of reverse engineering them to sell to the people of gotham because bullet proof tires in that kinda city would save lives source

As for being brash. Yeah. he is. he lacks people skills because HE GREW UP ON THE STREETS. yet he still knows how to sympathize with people and not be an ass ALL the time. he’s cocky sure but it’s a defensive mechanism after years of being treated like he doesn’t have value/having to prove himself. and damien is worse lets bsffr.

He’s impulsive. (likely adhd) Teenager. next question.

He’s the angriest robin! he only ever wants vengeance! WRONG. dick is angrier! he was so petty he left gotham and got a new identity just as a fuck you to bruce. any anger Jason has is not unmatched or outdone by other robins and he is rightfully angry he’s been dealt a crappy hand in life. he’s jealous of dick because bruce was ALWAYS comparing him and telling heroic stories of dicks feats. it’s hard not to push yourself to be as good as or better than the og and not to crack under said pressure.

He’s dumb! NOPE. he is as smart if not smarter than tim. He is BRILLIANT when he wants to be. (see above: resourceful) if you take titans (cw) as canon (why wouldn’t u its as canon as any other tv show??) he is a GENIUS. he taught himself chemistry so he could invent and mass produce drugs. he had a genius strategy to fuck with the titans; the puzzle of clues for which dick needed scarecrow, kory, gar, and conner to solve. Not to mention him finding doctor light earlier in the season. He leads the outlaws bc he is a natural leader and good at handling the details!!

He’s a villain! OKAY AND? SO WAS HARLEY BUT WE LUV HER !! DAMIEN WAS A TRAINED ASSASAIN! he puts so much effort into helping people (see above: resourceful) HE RISKED/LOST HIS LIFE FOR IT. HE IS FIERCELY LOYAL. even as red hood he obtains a strict moral code; no drugs to kids or by schools, don’t kill innocent uninvolved people(depends on which media you’re looking at). serve karma on a gold platter. unlawful but USUALLY NOT unethical. he also becomes a vigilante (and the JL for a bit) and does so much good! none of them are perfect ALL of the time. and considering the other DC villains, he’s not that evil.

strength?? no problem! he almost beat dick and bruce several times in the comics!! source

not to mention his proficiency for new things (see above: chemistry) his whole time as robin he uses bat tech. but redhood uses guns and knives. he just picked that up and was a skilled marksman immediately. (also truama response after nearly dying to death stroke)

so what hes kinda fucked in the head. aren’t they all? isn’t that… the point? it’s justified after everything he’s been through AND it makes hims a better character, more 3D more realistic and relatable.

also for the sake of this thesis partially disregard the wonderful work of art that is WFA it’s a fixit. for a reason. because the it was broken and needed fixing.

TLDR; you don’t have to like Jason Todd, or think he’s the best Robin, but you have to admit, he is a complex, layered, well written character. And stop mischaracterizing him and dumbing him down to this impulsive, angry, weak kid.

bonus: my Jason playlist

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

⚙️ Steddie Big Bang 2024: Project Reveal ⚙️

I am stoked to reveal my project for the @steddiebang2024 - an action-filled, steampunk-inspired Steddie adventure. I'll be collaborating with the amazingly talented @cuips-not-cute on this one, and I can't wait to see what they'll create! 😍✨️

Summary and snippet under the cut

⚙️ Excerpt

“Look,” he finally says. “We've been over this. The doctors said it's perfectly normal. ‘s called phantom limb or whatever the fuck. Can take years to go away, sometimes never does. It's fine.”

Gareth shuffles unhappily. “Yeah, but-”

“No buts,” Eddie insists. “I appreciate your concern, Gare, I really do. But to be perfectly honest with you, I’d rather hack off another limb than go anywhere near those shallow, sanctimonious, rich assholes ever again, so they can take that money and shove it right up their-”

“Eddie, shut up, for fuck’s sake!”

Gareth's voice cracks around the last syllable and Eddie trails off with an irritated groan.

“What? Why?”

“Just-” Now that he thinks about it, Gareth is sounding weirdly nervous. Eddie frowns at the wrench in his hand. “There’s, um …”

“No, by all means,” says a new voice. “Let him continue. He hasn’t said exactly where to shove that money yet.”

Eddie shoots out from under the transporter and nearly crashes into a pair of legs.

“What the fuck?” he blurts, slamming his feet down in a desperate attempt to brake. His right leg creaks and the metal foot scrapes over the floor with a harsh, grating sound. Eddie thinks he sees sparks, briefly. “Hey, look where you’re-”

There’s a guy staring down at him. A guy in an embroidered waistcoat with tails so long they nearly brush the shafts of his shiny leather boots. He's leaning on a carved walking stick, raising an elegant eyebrow from under a swoop of shiny, chestnut hair. Eddie decides then and there that he hates that douchebag.

“Where I’m going?” Douchebag finishes his sentence. “I was just standing here. Maybe you should-”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie sneers, finally remembering to sit up and push his goggles back. The movement leaves a black smudge of oil on his forehead, wet and sticky. “It’s still my damn shop, good sir, so excuse the fuck outta me if I don’t go out of my way to kiss your-”

“You’re Edward Munson then?” another voice pipes in. “Of Munson’s Machinery? You own this place?”

Eddie blinks. A girl is peering over Douchebag’s shoulder. She reminds him a bit of one of those tall monster birds with the long necks he saw at the zoo once - all gangly limbs and jerky movements and nervous eyes. Ostriches? Yeah, he thinks that's what they're called.

“Eddie is fine,” he says automatically, then remembers he's still mad at the both of them. “I mean … what's it to you?”

Douchebag huffs a sound that might pass as a laugh, if only his face matched the noise.

“Nevermind,” he murmurs and turns to go, making to put his preposterous top hat back on. “This was a stupid idea anyhow.”

“Steve?” The girl latches on to his arm and yanks him back. Douchebag makes an annoyed, whiny sound and Eddie can feel his own mouth twitching into a grin. “Be nice?”

While Douchebag pouts and grumbles something unintelligible under his breath, she turns to Eddie with a strained smile.

“Sorry about him,” she says, fingers awkwardly tugging on the dispensers of her billowy pants. “We talked about this before coming here, or at least I thought we did, only right now I'm honestly wondering if we had the same discussion, because you're sort of our last chance, so it would really befit us to treat you with some basic-”

“For fuck’s sake, Robin,” Douchebag blurts. His hand flies up like he’s trying to scrub it down his face, or pinch his nose maybe - one of those theatrical, overdone gestures of long-suffering exasperation - just that he’s still holding the stupid hat and almost whacks himself in the forehead with it. “Just go ahead and tell him everything, why don't you? That'll do wonders for our negotiation position, I'm sure.”

“Excuse me, what position?” asks the girl. She throws up her hands, so suddenly that her dispensers twang with it, and Douchebag flinches. Eddie’s starting to like her more and more. “And I'm asking that in all honesty, dingus. This place is the only option we have left. Our position isn't just shitty, it's literally non-existent. There is no position, Steve. So you can either try again and behave like a decent human being or we can just go home and forget about the whole-”

“Ugh, alright,” Douchebag snaps. “I'll do it, I'll do it.”

He shoves himself past the girl and her shit-eating grin so that he can glare down his nose at Eddie. Eddie, who is still crouched on the ground, glares right back, head tipped into his neck.

“I, um-” mutters Gareth, shuffling off the workbench and gathering his half-finished breakfast. “I'll just … I’ll come back later, I guess. See ya, Eddie.”

Eddie makes a vague sound of acknowledgement as he bustles out, but doesn’t bother breaking his staring contest.

“So, Mr. Munson,” Douchebag drawls after a second or two. “Would you be interested in a job offer? I heard you’re one of the best mechanics on this side of town.”

[snowed-leopard]

TEAM BIRDTRESS 4/9: MEDIC!

(No archimedes’ we’re harmed in the making of this art!)

Medic: the bearded vulture. Okay I admit this one lives a little south of Germany but in my defense its traits fit medic so well I couldn’t resist. They’re one of the most likely vultures to actually hunt live prey, and also will drop them from great heights to stun them. They’re a white color initially (like a doctors coat anyone? Hello???) but will color themselves with red dust that looks stunningly like blood. They particularly like bones of animals the most and will drop them from great heights like their prey for the sake of their marrow, and the skills they have towards cracking them open takes years for chicks to master (he literally stole a man’s skeleton and medicine like that takes years to practice) also he’s a vulture and has all the premonitions of death and cleanliness that come with? Like helloooo so good. Yes he doesn’t have a tail visible from here but I gave him cool ass bearded vulture eyes.

Sniper is next! And past him I don’t have a planned order so please do ask for who should follow. Pyro has a finished sketch, and I know what demo’s sketch will be though.

More musings under the cut! And sources Ofc :3

I think I’m really leveling up my feather rendering game during this whole thing at least, but my hands hurt like a motherfucker. Fuck you rain.

I’ll be honest I kind of knew immediately what medic would be, the range wasn’t quite right but I just couldn’t imagine medic as another vulture. Also, he doesn’t have a tail visible in this image, but assume it’s behind his coat, because I didn’t want to figure out the pov logistics, and coat logistics, of having it in the coat. As a reparation, he does have the cool red and blue bearded vulture eyes bc I love them. I really don’t have a lot of musings on him this time. I had a less dramatic pose before this with a similar comp but I decided I wanted to up the drama and sinister ness and so I went for the dramatic perspective version. Sorry archimedes I pro is medic won’t eat u tho still <3

[pumpkinsy0]

That pony in the er post was so.good I need more hcs of that

ok but this time its me who put him in the er for the sake of the post, this is all for u anon

hes in that room w the shitty small tv in the corner of his room, that's his form of entertainment and he hates it bc all it plays is terrible quality scooby doo reruns

ponys trying to make darry crack a smile, and its like he kinda does???? but its just for ponys sake, he's still very worried

"this bed is fucking terrible" and he's been knocked out sleeping a good chunk of the day, it couldn't have been THAT bad

he hates the food in the hospital, only thing he can really eat is the jello and that's BARELY, someone from the gang is sneaking him food from the cafeteria or some chocolate cake from home

tim and curly WILL visit him to see how he's holding up, theyre both actually worried and nosey mrs, just sticking their nose everywhere

curlys also accidentally hurt pony, keyword, ACCIDENTALLY, tim didn't have to smack him that hard over an accident

if pony can't or isn't allowed to walk, PLEASE do not let curly push his wheelchair, he goes to fast or does that thing where he puts all his weight on it and they both fall

going back to ponys substance abuse issue w his pills, ik he would shit himself if the doctor asked him what medication he takes and how much of it, bc then that means he either lies about it and gets hurt worse or lives but has to face the #talk with darry and soda

pony doesnt know shit about his medical history, darry previously didn't really know THAT much either, but he's learned it so every time pony is asked a question by the doctor, pony looks over at darry like a soggy cat for him to answer

when pony was like SUPER out of it for whatever reason, soda did that "here comes the airplane" thing and darry told him to stop but he was giggling a lil too, its ok king let ur chest jiggle in delight

[gh0stly-pages]

Out of Our Minds (Part Four)

Ledger!Joker x Harley Quinn-esque f!reader (18+)

CW: swearing, mentions of blood

Words: 5.9k

Chapter Summary: More sessions pass and while you learn more about the Joker, the pull you feel towards him grows stronger. Yet this time, it feels like everything is starting to change...

Previous part: Part 3

Notes: We back, and things are really picking up this time. Hope this distracts everyone who might be going through a tough time right now. <3 Things really pick up in this one, and I'm already excited to drop the next part lol. Have fun with this one!

With every session your infatuation for the Joker only grows.

At first, you tell yourself it comes from your want (well, need) for him to progress, both for the sake of actually seeing him healed and for the sake of your survival. Then eventually, you think it comes from the fact that his mind truly is incomprehensible, and you want to know what’s going on inside of it, want to crack open his skull and see every gear. But now, you’re not even sure what it is exactly that keeps you feeling empty anytime you’re not in a session with the Joker. You don’t know what you’re chasing anymore. Everything is just one big mind fuck.

Slowly, the Joker becomes more and more human to you. Where others still see some kind of raving, homicidal madman, you see a person. 

As your sessions carry on, you tell him more things about you, and you learn more things about him. He likes junk food. He is skilled with almost every gun known to man. He owns over thirty blades. His sleep schedule is so all over the place that he doesn’t even know what day it is ever. He prefers nights over mornings. He drinks his coffee with lots of creamer. Every fact you’ve tucked away in your mind and you’re not sure for what.

You like it when he tells you something personal about himself, but he likes when you do it even more. “I was a gymnast for a long time,” you told him once, much to his surprise. Even you hadn’t expected to get into that part of your life. “I had to stop once I started going to school, just got too busy, but I was real good at it.”

“Gymnastics, huh?” He said, grinning, and you figured he must be imagining you, usually so rigid, flying through the air. It sounded like a joke. You were surprised he wasn’t laughing. “So, you’re pretty, ah, light on your feet?”

You smiled to yourself, thinking of all the memories. It had felt so nice to throw yourself into all that hard work. When you were flipping in the air, you felt free. “Guess you could say that. Certainly hasn’t come in handy though, in my line of work.”

“It may come in handy with mine. You’d probably make a good fighter, Doctor l/n.”

The thought of you fighting anyone made you laugh out loud. Have you thought about fighting people before? Of course. All your life people have hurt you and you wanted to hurt them back. But in the end, you had decided that wouldn’t do any good. Now, however, as you kept imagining it, the Joker appeared at your side, and you were winning this fight, him laughing maniacally beside you. It sent a sort of thrill through you. You didn’t like it. “Luckily, I’m not in your line of work.”

He had winked. “You can always change your mind.”

Alongside learning bits of things about him, he also taught you a few new skills, probably antsy to test them out considering he’s strapped to a bed most of the time. He (as best as he could still cuffed to a table) tried to teach you to pick a lock, how to get a perfect shot with a gun, how to rig up TNT. It was nothing you needed to know, nor anything you thought he should be thinking about, but you went along anyway because it was best he knew you were there to support his interests. As dark as they were…. You’d work on that. 

After your last session, you decided to bring something up to Mr. Dale.

“Doctor y/n, your progress has been very minimal,” he had commented as you walked up to him, before you could even open your mouth.

You frowned. “It’s the Joker, sir. It’s not going to move very fast-“

“Well, I am tired of waiting. The longer he sits in that cell I fear the worse he’ll get, and then what? He snaps and tries to kill us all?” He cleared his throat, adjusting his collar. You wanted to smack him. “Is there any way you could hurry up the process?”

Don’t rush me, was what you wanted to scream, but that wasn’t going to get you anywhere but kicked to the curb. “I do think I have an idea,” you said, trying to direct him to why you came up to him in the first place. “You need to let me bring in his makeup.”

Mr. Dale’s eyebrows shot up. And, of course, he began to laugh. If it weren’t for growing used to the Joker doing it so often, it would really piss you off. “You want to turn him back into a clown? Miss l/n, I fear that would only encourage him.”

“First off, it’s Doctor l/n,” you point out sternly. You’ve had enough of him treating you like less. If there’s another thing the Joker has taught you, it’s to not take shit from others. “And second, I want him to embrace himself. If he can be this clown persona he sees him as, we can take this persona and shape it so that it’s less… violent. Then, the makeup will no longer be something he associates with villainy. Please, Mr. Dale, I know what I’m talking about.”

You smiled wide as Mr. Dale’s face fell, absolutely shattered by your words. He wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead. “Alright, Doctor l/n, I will allow it however if it ends badly-“

“It wont.” 

“You’re getting too comfortable. It’s his fault, I’m sure. I was right, he breaks people.”

You wish you could grab him by the collar and pull him close, but instead you settle on a deadly glare, looking him right in the eye. “I’m not broken. J isn’t broken.”

“Well, you’ve changed.”

You scoffed and turned away. “See you later, Mr. Dale.”

You have changed. You’re not sure if it’s for the better or not.

—————————

For your session, you walk in with a gentle smile, the tubes of makeup in your bag clinking together. You’re going to keep it a surprise, for later in the season. You’re not really sure why you feel giddy, but you do. It sort of outweighs your exhaustion, you’d run to the store late that night to pick up the same paints the Joker was said to have used. And when the guards finally let you in through the door, your smile grows even wider at the sight of the Joker, who is already smiling back at you. Not just because of the scars, it’s an actual smile. At first, his smiles had been menacing, but now you feel they’re actually kind of… nice. “Well, hello, doll face. So lovely to see you again.”

“Hiya, Mr. J,” you respond, taking your seat. “How are you doing today?”

“You know me, Doctor l/n, your presence puts me in a much better mood.” He props his chin up on his fist. “You look beautiful today.”

The past few sessions, Joker has certainly grown more flirty. It’s not something you’re a stranger to, the other patients have tried their hand at it, usually to try and get on your good side, but it’s different coming from Joker. You know he likes to rile you up, but you can’t help but feel the words are mostly genuine. “I look like this everyday,” you point out, not wanting to show him how his words affect you. 

“And you are, ah, beautiful everyday, doll.”

“Mr. J, refrain from flattery, please.”

He bows his head, pretending to be upset like a kicked puppy. “Oh, you’re no fun sometimes, Dr. l/n. You know I like to tease ya.”

“Some of the guards told me you’re allowed to roam around your cell now,” you say, trying to switch the subject before he can completely throw you off course. He’s good at that. “How are you liking that?”

“Hmmmm, well, I, ah, went from being stuck permanently standing in a small cell and now I can walk around the cell. Once you’ve walked it once you’ve, ah, seen it all.” He looks to one side of the room. “A wall there.” His head swerves to the other. “Oh, and one there too! What a surprise!” He chuckles to himself. Nothing makes Joker laugh more than his own nonsense. 

“So, not much better?”

Joker shakes his head. “Nah ah ah, not one bit. Can barely even make a ruckus too, the doors conceal all my banging and kicking and laughing. The guards can’t even get annoyed with me.”

You bite your cheek. “You really like being a nuisance, huh?”

“I do like to make people tick.” He wets his lips. “Especially pretty psychiatrists with sharp minds.”

Already, you can feel your cheeks warming. Embarrassment, that’s all it is. You, once again, try and take the conversation back to what you actually need to be in there for. “How about we get started, huh?”

Joker nods, smacking his lips together. Despite how much he licks them, they’re always chapped, the skin cracking. “What am I in for today? I feel we’ve talked about everything we possibly can.”

“And yet you’re no closer to getting out of here, are you?” You smirk at him as you bring out your clipboard. “I feel like I’ve been keeping it too light these past few sessions. I’ve learned a lot about you but you still won’t let me reach past the barrier.”

“What barrier?”

“The barrier between you and whoever you were before you became the Joker.”

His lips twist into a frown. Again, his past touches a nerve. “Dolly,” he warns, “I’ve told you, whatever came before doesn’t matter. I’ve always been the Joker. You won’t find anything past that.”

Once again, Joker is being a stubborn ass. As much as you enjoy talking with him, he also drives you nuts. “You’re saying your life started once Batman came to the scene?”

“He gave me purpose. What’s a joke without the punchline? Batman is the punchline.” 

“You were a child once, Joker.”

“Like most people, yes.”

“And how was your childhood?”

He ignores your question, grumbling as he stares at his cuffed wrists, rotating them as you sit there expectantly. You realize he’s not going to answer you and groan. So, he doesn’t want to dive into the past. You’re not going to force him. Prying was never the best way to go about things. You’d leave it alone again… for now. “Okay, sorry, Mr. J, we can move on. Is there anything that you’d like to talk about?”

Joker raises an eyebrow, not confused but suspicious. “You’re just gonna turn it into some kind of analysis moment, aren’t you?”

He knows me too well. “Well, that is my job. But no. Just, talk to me.” You hold your hands together, resting your chin on them. “About anything.”

“Hmmmm.” He looks like he’s having trouble thinking of something. “I’ve been thinking about Batman.”

“B-Man.” Of course. “What have you been thinking about him?”

“Those last moments I saw him, his expression. He looked so shattered.” You’re not really sure what he’s talking about, and you’re sure your face betrays this but he goes on anyway. “Oh, I’d live for a moment like that again. Seeing Batman react to my schemes, it’s so pleasing.”

“Do you consider your vendetta against Batman more for yourself or on behalf of the people of Gotham?”

He points at you. “There’s the analysis question. You can calm down there, Doc.” Joker coughs. “Behalf makes me sound like mister tall, dark, and dorky,” he snorts. “I’m trying to pull back everyone’s mask, but especially the Bat’s. I mean I, ah, already broke down Harvey Dent.”

That makes you go still. You hadn’t thought much on Harvey Dent, or how what Joker did may have affected him. You’re not sure if broken is the right word. Maybe scarred. Figures.  “The explosion. Right.”

“Poor, poor Harvey Dent. Gotham’s White Knight broke right in half. All because of me!”

You frown. “Harvey Dent died a noble man, Joker. Batman killed him all because Harvey was trying to do good.”

Joker’s eyebrows shoot up. “Harvey Dent is dead? And Batsy killed him?”

Oh, fuck. You clap a hand over your mouth, shaking your head. You weren’t supposed to say anything. It was an accident, you hadn’t meant to let it slip. “I… no, I mean, yes but-“ you stumble to try and cover it up but there’s no going back. Joker knows. And, honestly, who cares? He was going to figure it all out eventually. You take a deep breath. “Yes. Harvey Dent is dead. Batman killed him and five other people. And then Batman… he disappeared.”

Joker shoots up from his chair, and it takes you aback, causing you to squeal. You instinctively push your back into the chair while Joker looms over you. You’re not sure what he’s feeling, his mouth a thin line, his nostrils fuming. “Doll, why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” he hisses.

“I… my bosses didn’t want me to. They were scared of what you’d do. That this would inspire you…”

You wait for him to yell, to react violently, but instead he laughs. This time though, it isn’t a creepy giggle or a small chuckle, it’s a full body laugh, the kind that contorts his body. It sounds like it hurts. “Batsy killing people?” he chokes out. “I don’t believe it. No, I don’t believe it-tah one bit.” He clutches his stomach. “Batman is a very hard person to break, believe me.”

“You… you don’t think he killed all those people?”

“Ha! Absolutely not. He would’ve killed me too, he had me in the perfect place to do it, multiple times. No no no, something’s wrong about this…”

Slowly, you loosen your posture, moving back closer to the table. You’ve never even thought that any of that mess could have been something made up. “I’m confused,” you admit. 

“Doll, do you know how hard I tried to get Batman to kill me? He won’t do it! He just won’t. He’s got his, ah, one rule, his precious little moral code. He had me in the perfect position to kill me so many times yet he didn’t take any of those chances. Yet now he says he’s killed off five people including Gotham’s little savior? Puh-lease. There’s more to this story than they’re letting up.”

You hadn’t thought about it that way at all. Well, probably because you had no reason to. Joker knew more about Batman than any Gothamite did. You didn’t know much about him other than his attempts at stopping crime. Who were you to know Batman supposedly didn’t kill? You admit, it was strange that he had a streak of getting rid of criminals in ways that didn’t involve killing, then suddenly turned and killed a few people? “Are you sure you didn’t… break him?”

“No, if I did I’d know it. I’d feel it. The Bat is about as stubborn as me, doll. And now he’s in hiding?” He sniggers, a hand gently touching his lips. “Sounds like some kind of, ah, twisted joke. The Bat is hiding something.”

“I’m sure he’s hiding lots of things.”

“Whatever this is though I’m curious about it.”

Of course. You just ignited a flame in him. Idiot. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“Good thing they got nine lives.” 

The more you think about it, the more intrigued you are. Batman has always been shrouded in mystery for you. Was he good? Was he bad? And now it turns out his story is all over the place, that it doesn’t make sense? You kind of wanted to know now too. “Do you think it has to do with Harvey?”

“Only one way to, ah, find out.”

“Which is?”

He looks at you like the answer is obvious. “Drive the Bat out of hiding, of course.”

There it is. Mr. Dale was right. You shouldn’t have told him. He was going to find out eventually but now was not the time. Shit. “J, you can’t-“

He cuts you off. “You don’t like the Bat, do you?”

“Well, no, but-“

“Then don’t you wanna know what his little secret is? It must be somethin’ real special if he’s, ah, abandoned Gotham. Doesn’t sound very heroic to me. Sounds rather dull.” 

You know Joker’s dead set on getting back Batman for his own amusement, but what of you? What reason would you want to go find him for other than to expose him? He locked up Joker and left him here to rot. He killed five people plus Harvey Dent. He gets to hide away while people still root for him, safe from consequences. Everyone else suffers. Maybe Joker has a point. “I’m just a psychiatrist working Arkham asylum, Mr. J, trying to seek out the Batman is far above my pay grade,” you finally say, snorting, trying to get the idea out of your head. “B-Man can’t hide forever.”

“You’re right. Because we’ll drive him out.”

“We?”

“Well, you like to do good, don’t you? Little miss Mother Teresa, over here. You’ve already offered me friendship. So come on, help me, help Gotham, help us all!” He shows you his yellowing teeth. “Or, are you not as good as you think you are?” He reaches out with his hands suddenly, moving towards you. They only reach about halfway across the table, stopped by his cuffs, but you still jump. “What’s behind that mask, dear? Tell me what you really want. Let. It. Slip. Every dirty detail.” 

You’re trembling now. Like a rabbit caught in a trap. “I… I’m not sure I’m following.”

“You’re not as good as you think you are, dolly. I can see it! I, ah, can sense the darkness looking beneath your white coat.”

What the hell was Joker going on about? That you were as rotten as he was? You weren’t. You had dark thoughts sometimes, yes, but you weren’t crazy. You weren’t crazy. You weren’t. You weren’t bad you- “I don’t know what you want from me,” you whisper.

As your voice gets quieter, Joker gets louder. “Is that it? You feel all fine and dandy in this shitty life of yours, locked up with me in this madhouse? The people out there don’t care about you, they don’t care about any of us. But you’re fine with it, huh? Like a little pet pooch nipping at their heels. You’re just being optimistic!”

“Joker-“

“Tell me,” he demands, “what you really want! I want to break Batman! I want to strip all of Gotham down to its rotting core! And you want to keep yourself beneath their boots? Dolly, please, you’re much much more than that.”

Heart thumping, you can’t take his words anymore. You stand up abruptly, slamming your hands on the table. “Fine! You wanna know what I want? I want to hurt every single person around here who has done me wrong! Every single person who ignored me or disregarded me, everyday I wish I could just rip them apart. I- I hate everyone. I hate this stupid fucking place because everyone treats me like shit and at first I was only trying so hard at this because I can harldy survive and they told me that if your sanity improved then I’d get a raise!” What is with you today? You clap your hands over your mouth, hands shaking. Fuck, Joker was going to be pissed. Oh, goddammit. “J… I- I didn’t…” You struggle to find the words, trying to keep looking him in the eyes. They give nothing away. He is silent. “Mr. J-“

Then, out of nowhere, he cackles. He throws his head back, neck exposed, and laughs into the air, the howls of his laughter echoing throughout the room. Immediately, you’re caught off guard. You can’t tell if he’s laughing because it amuses him or because he’s angry. Even when he calms down enough to look at you and smile, you still can’t tell, and you continue to shake. “Doll,” he begins through his laughs, “that’s exactly what I’m looking for.” He doubles over with howling laughter again and you’re not sure if you should be scared or confused. “This whole time you just wanted a raise! So you took on little old me?”

There’s a lump in your throat. You swallow it down. “I didn’t have much of a choice but yes… it was that or be fired. But I did really want to help you, Mr. J. Are- are you mad?”

“Mad? No! I am, ah, lovin’ this side of you. It’s so cruel.”

That certainly took a weight off your shoulders, and you finally took a long breath in. Fucking hell, Joker was confusing. Guilt still gnawed at you. “You’re right, I’m just as selfish as you say people are,” you mumble.

“Exactly,” he hisses. “But it takes guts to admit it, especially to someone who, ah, doesn’t exactly handle things very nicely.”

“I’m so sorry, J.”

“Don’t apologize. It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Then I don’t know what to do now. You’re set on getting Batman out of hiding, I’m going fucking crazy right now, everything feels so weird.”

Joker seems to find the utmost pleasure in your unraveling. “Doll, what’s in the bag?”

The question takes you off guard. “What?”

“When you came in, you were all giddy, and I could hear something moving in your bag I haven’t heard before. What is it?”

Ever so perceptive. “Oh… uh,” you fumble through your bag, bringing out the three tins of paint. “Your paint. They… they let me bring it for you.”

Joker’s smile falters a bit, yet he doesn’t look upset, just surprised. “My paint… You really brought it for me?”

You nod. “Y-yes.”

His voice dips low. “Put it on me then.”

Now that takes you by surprise. More than anything else that’s happened to you today.

The Joker is so guarded off, yet he’s inviting you in, allowing you to not just touch his face but apply his makeup. It feels sacred. This is a part of him that makes him not just recognizable, but feared. And here you are, being asked to put it on him. It’s so wrong it feels… right? It scares you.

“Are you sure you-?”

“Put it on me, y/n.”

If this is a test, you’re not exactly sure how to pass. But his look is unnerving and so you stand up, pulling yourself onto the table between you, a lump in your throat. You feel frazzled as you move close to him, bending your legs to the side of you as you settle on your thighs. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. You can see every line of his scars, every wrinkle and crease on his face. “Okay,” you say, more to yourself than to him. You grab the white paint to the side of you, screwing off the lid and taking a large glob of the substance.

You loom close to him, your fingers wet with white paint, waiting for a sign that he’s okay with this. You don’t dare breathe, scared that any movement, any sound, will shut him down. But to your surprise, he doesn’t back away, he nods. Keep going. Your fingers finally land on his cheek, right beneath his eye, and you gasp at how warm his skin is. Joker shows nothing on his face to reveal how he feels except for the way his eye twitches slightly at your touch, his cheek twitching along with it. As you start to paint around his face, everywhere but his scars and lips, you wonder if his reaction stems from a disdain of being touched or from not having been touched so gently in so long. 

“Mr. J,” you whisper, and you can feel your hands start to shake again but you quickly steady them. Once his face is fully white, you dig into the black paint. He notices this and closes his eyes, letting you rub the dark paint in circles until each of his eyes look like they’ve settled into two, painted voids. When he opens his eyes again, they’re still trained right on you. “What am I doing?” you ask to no one in particular.

Joker doesn’t answer your question. He doesn’t have one for you anyways other than the obvious. “The red now, doll.”

“Y-yes, of course.” Quickly, you grab the red paint and stick your fingers in, moving them towards Joker’s lips but stopping. Putting the makeup on his face had been intimate enough but… his scars? That was a whole different kind of territory. “J…”

“Do it,” he murmurs, and it’s so quick you still wait, your hand just in front of his mouth shaking. This had to be a test. Some kind of sick joke. “Doll, can you, ah, hear me? I said ‘do it’.” 

You want to protest, but for what? He made it clear what he wants. So, you begin to smear the red across his lips, moving first to the scar on his right, your entire body shuddering as your fingers touch the sunken in skin where the carvings were made, the mangled flesh around it, every bump and curve. You don’t understand why anyone would ever find these scars ugly. To you, the way they healed, the way they are a part of him, there’s something hauntingly beautiful about it.

Godammit, J is beautiful.

As you continue to smear the red paint, he looms closer. “Do you wanna know,” he whispers, “how I got these scars?”

“I…” Of course you do. Everyday since you’ve met him, you go home and you can’t help but see his smile. See those scars. And you can’t help but wonder how they got there. You imagine a blade ripping across his mouth, drawing so much blood it drips down his chin. You’ve imagined him screaming in pain. You’ve imagined him uttering not a peep as the blade pierces his skin. So many possibilities. This was the barrier you’d been hoping to jump. “Yes,” you finally rasp.

“I can, ah, never get the story straight. It’s like a black hole, doll. A black hole in my mind. There’s so many ways I could’ve gottem, so many ways I think I gottem. What’s real? What’s not? Who the fuck cares?” Even with a furious growl in his voice, he laughs. “I can’t remember what it really was that did it. There was a horrible father. A wife who I tried so hard for. There was war, and violence, the mob, and so much pain. I’ve seen a lot. Maybe they’re all real memories, maybe they’re not, doesn’t matter! I hated the scars at first, I really did, but now? I embrace them because there is just so much to smile for. I’ve got so much left to do in this city. So much fun left to have. But there’s something I’ve been missing.”

You rub your thumb over his right scar, drawing in a shaky breath. “What is that?”

“I have all these plans, all these ideas and feelings over what I do and yet I’ve never thought anyone good enough to share them with. People, ah, will only be good to you for a while before runnin’ off with your secrets, it’s just human nature. I didn’t feel a kinship to anyone until you came along, Doctor l/n.” When he smiles, you feel the movement beneath your finger. “Look at you. So lonely. Letting everyone spit on you. Yet here you are, being so kind to me. I’m sure you imagined I could’ve killed you for keeping me along for a stupid paycheck, but you admitted it to me anyways. You are pulling back your own mask, right in front of me. You know you couldn’t fix me, right?”

You can feel tears welling in your eyes at his words, guilt gnawing at you. “I wanted to try at first. But now… I- I don’t want to fix you. I like what you are.”

“That,” he growls, “is exactly why I’m so drawn to you. I know, doll, that you crave something more than what you have now, this world kicking you down over and over and over again. I know the feeling. You’ve got nothing and everything to lose. Yet you manage to smile amidst the darkness. You smile in the face of pure chaos.”

“I don’t understand,” you mumble. 

“I want what’s best for both of us, doll face. You were right. I do need someone by my side. As I was saying, what I’ve been missing this whole time, was you.”

Your eyes grow wide. “Me?”

He nods. “You stuck with me this long. Even for a paycheck, that’s somethin’ no one else would do. And yet the big Arkham bosses are out there now, laughing at the both of us. Ain’t that unfair?”

“Yes.”

“Doll, stick by my side, and we’ll let them all know just how corrupt they truly are.”

Your arms break out in goosebumps. Every word the Joker utters is dripping with venom, an edge to each syllable. You’ve tried to ignore him, the way he crawls into your rib cage, into your mind, finding your weaknesses, your dark desires and whims you push away. Yet here he is, getting you to reveal them, and trying to get you to go along with him. It’s working. “Let’s show them, then.”

You look down at your fingers, covered in red, and it almost looks like blood. 

He grins. “That’s the spirit.” With a curl of his finger, he gestures for you to move closer. You do, and he cranes his neck towards your ear. “If you really wanna help me,” he whispers, his breath hot in your ear, “then tomorrow is the day you get me out of this place.” Every t is pronounced as sharp as a blade. “You’re smart, doll, I know you can think of something.”

Breaking Joker. Out of Arkham. A few weeks ago, you might have grabbed your remote and hit the red button but now? You think you might just take him up on that. You move back to look him in the eye. “You won’t help me think of something?”

“I’m sure you’ve got something in that, ah, pretty mind of yours.”

You huff. “J, I’m serious. This is Arkham. It’s constantly guarded and protected. And I’m just me.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“You’re you, sweets. No one’s gonna suspect you.”

Oh fuck. He’s right. No one gave a shit about you. You’d fly right under the radar. That part was easy. But everything else? This wasn’t exactly your forte. You didn’t know what to do. “I’ll try my best,” was all you could offer.

He reaches his hand out, and at first you think he’s trying to grab you, but instead he goes after one of the paint tins. The red paint. Agonizingly slow, he removes the cap, getting his fingers wet with paint. “Doll, you and I are gonna make something special. I always knew you had it in ya. C’mere.” You tilt your face towards him, and Joker smears the red across your lips, a mirror of his own striking smile. “Don’t forget to smile,” he says.

“Never.”

_______________

Later in the night, Joker stares at himself in the reflection of the small, grimy window of his cell door. His face is painted exactly the way he likes it, maybe just a bit different, but he could care less. This, this person he’s looking at, is the person he is, the person you have given back to him. He touches his face and he can still feel your phantom touch, the way you had run your finger over his face, his eyelids, his scars. You hadn’t backed off, or avoided them, you had touched them so softly. Soft. You were soft. 

You made Joker feel soft and he hated it.

Yet, he couldn’t fathom getting rid of you. It would be easy, definitely. If things actually went well tomorrow and you managed to get him out of Arkham, he could easily kill you off. No one would look for you. And even if they did, helping him break out of Arkham would mark you a criminal, and Gotham would curse your name forever. But Joker doesn’t want to do that. Even the thought of your death makes him angry. He is used to wanting to hurt people, yet when he comes across you now, he feels… protective. He knows how the world hates him, yet somehow you showed him sympathy. No, even better, you were showing him loyalty by offering to help break him out. And if you really went and did it? God, he almost breaks into chills.

When he looks at you, he notices his body reacting strangely. His heart speeds up, his hands feel sweatier, his mind feels like it’s going to split right in half. This isn’t the kind of insanity Joker usually basks in, this is something worse. He doesn’t want to put a name to it. You were so good, and yet when you let your mask slip, Joker couldn’t help but feel pulled in even more. What lies beneath you is dark and spiteful, and Joker wants to see all of it.

You won’t let him down tomorrow, Joker is sure of it. 

A voice on the intercom comes through the crack under the door, crackling through the speakers placed along the hall outside. “Shutting lights off. Everybody get to bed.”

Joker grunts, moving to plant himself down on his metal “bed”. He’s not going to sleep though, how could he? Chaos was coming, and you were bringing it straight towards him.

________________________________________________

When you get home, you stumble into the bathroom, quickly turning on the sink faucet and drenching your face in water. You let the ice cold water drip down your face, crying out as you try and get a grip on things. Your fingers are still covered in Joker’s face paint, the water hardly washing any of it off. It’s like he’s on you forever.

Why, for fucks sake, do you almost want it to never wash off?

You look at yourself in the mirror now, the makeup that Joker spread smeared down your chin. This is you now. Mr. Dale was right, you have changed. But fuck it, it was for the best. This change, this thing radiating beneath your skin, it’s something dangerous yet powerful. It moves you. You’re not crazy, you’re insane. 

You can’t tell what this feeling is towards Joker. It almost feels like… love.

Love for the Joker.

The Joker. The Joker. The Joker-

He was right. He was always right. People were going to walk over you all your life. You were tired of it. Nothing was going to change if you didn’t change it first. You couldn’t stand around and watch these people, with their pockets fat and their reputations swell, walk around with such pride when you knew they were all phonies. This city, your city, you’re going to unveil it. No longer will it crush you. You’re going to crush it. 

You were going to be Joker’s partner in crime. And you loved it.

Taglist: @lightsabergirl / @knoepfl / @jeffswh0re / @itsmrshamilton / @heath-ledger-jokers-wife / @lolwey / @ilovetoomanymen / @amazingzou/ @ronniesweetkisser / @emberhatesthemoon

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

[eternityhistoria]

@atdutiesend casted a spell:

{ for Argalia, from XIV Grim; have crack -- } “   I AM HAUNTED BY A PAST THAT I CANNOT GO BACK TO! anyways ”

"TO BE OR NOT TO BE, that is the question, is it not, dear actor?"

[peachesofteal]

Alone / Chapter 2

Part eight of the Sassy series.

Simon Riley/female reader 4.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, panic attacks, angst, PTSD, trauma, blood and torture, hospitals, emotional hurt/comfort, medical stuff, coparenting, relationship issues, reader is going through it, soft dad Simon Riley. You’re living in a nightmare.

Blood has a distinct smell. To many, it’s the pungent minerality that turns their senses but to you, it’s the tang of the metal that makes your lip quiver. It’s the saltlick iron that makes you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and breathe through your nose slowly, an effort to try to prevent the tossing of your stomach. 

Here, the scent is everywhere. On the walls. On your face. On your clothes. There was a puddle of it, beneath your knees. It’s a combination of yours and nameless others, their blood one of the only things left of them in the world, seeping into the fabric of your jeans, staining the concrete blocks of-

“Mrs. Riley?” Your doctor, your therapist, looks at you expectantly over the rim of her glasses, and you huff. “Where were you just now?” You try not to scowl. Be honest. You’re supposed to be honest. 

“The room.”

“Where you were being held?” You nod. You force your fingers flat against your thighs, beating back the urge to scratch your nails against your skin. “And what were you thinking, about the room?”

“I was remembering what all the blood smelled like. What it tasted like.” To her credit, your shrink doesn’t flinch. She holds your gaze steady, until you are the one looking away, glancing over her shoulder at the clock that always seems to move too slow.

You’ve tried this once, already. Tried to get her to crack, to push you off. Tried to get her to cower, or recommend you speak to someone else. She’s stronger than you originally thought, you’ll her give her that, but you supposed it didn’t hurt that she’s been having twice weekly sessions with Simon when he’s not away on an op for over two years now, and you’re well aware your dog and pony show are nothing compared to whatever he’s been telling her.

Simon Riley, the closed off ghost who wouldn’t even show you his face when he got you pregnant, turned father of the year who bent over backwards for his wife, now goes to therapy, and meditates when he’s out on ops.

“Do you remember how you felt, when you were in that room?” Oh, for fucks sake. You nod, lips pressed into a line. “Can you tell me?”

“Worried.”

“Worried about what?”

“Theo. And Simon.”

“Not for yourself?” You shrug. Your lungs hurt, like they’re being constricted, and you look down to your shoes.

“Can we talk about something else?” You say it to your laces, not to her, but you know she hears it when her pen clicks and the scratch of the tip scrawls across her pad.

“How is co-parenting going?” Your head snaps up, and you smother the glare that pulls at the edges of your face.

“It’s fine.”

“You and Simon are communicating alright?” Jesus christ. 

“Mostly.” You shrug and don’t elaborate. She nods at your silence, an indication she wants you to keep going. You grit your teeth. “Sometimes, he calls, or texts and I don’t answer him. Or I don’t answer him in a timely manner.” Your fingers make air quotes around the timely manner bit.

“Why is that?”

“It’s… hard to explain.”

“Are you uncomfortable with the communication?”

“No!” you rush out. “No, no of course not… I want him to see Theo as much as possible. I just feel, mixed up. So, when I see him, or hear from him, it makes those mixed-up feelings feel… more intense. More mixed up.”

“Can you name a few of those feelings?” You close your eyes and picture Simon’s face. You see him holding Theo’s hand in the supermarket or pushing him on the swing set in the park. You see him in bed beside you, before, eyes soft and full of love, his smile beautiful and easy on his lips. Unburdened. 

“Sadness.” You pause to take a deep breath. “Sadness and anger, confusion. Guilt.” The pen scribbles on paper when you pause, and you glance up at the clock. Bingo. “Looks like we’re out of time.” You supply, smiling at her cheerily when she narrows her eyes, and then writes something down before giving you a nod.

The man says your name.

Not Sassy. Not Sass.

Your real name, before he tuts in your face, like you’ve let him down.

“Yer da ‘d be real disappointed in ye.” Saliva builds in the back of your throat.

“Don’t talk about my father.” You hiss and he outright laughs.

“Still fightin’ even when broken.” His fingers fold over the wound in your arm, pressing into the open, infected flesh, digging against it with his fingernails and the pain burns, it scrapes across your skin like a million little knives. “Maybe ye’re not so worthless after all, eh?” You launch the spit into his eye, grim satisfaction creeping over you when he staggers back in surprise, rage brewing across his face before he’s gripping you by the collarbone and thrusting you backwards, tipping the metal chair until you’re slamming into the ground, your head bouncing on blood slick concrete like a child’s ball.

“Stupid bitch.” His leg draws backwards until he’s firing the toe of his boot into your stomach, kicking you once, twice before you’re gasping for air, pain blooming across your abdomen as he batters you.

You close your eyes, and think of Theo. You think of Simon, of the two of them together. At home, safe. You pull the string of a memory until it comes to the forefront of your mind, Theo’s first words, his first steps. His second birthday party, when Johnny bought him that obnoxious drum set, and Simon bent you over the couch after Theo went to bed. The day you got married, your first wedding anniversary, the hotel room in Florence. You slip into these memories like they’re real and try to block out the smell of the blood and the pain in your body, try to drown in the shadows of your old self, your past, while you lose everything to the present, over and over again.

The little house is quiet when you get home in the afternoon.

At first it doesn’t bother you. Theo is with his dad for the night, already been picked up from school and probably taken to the park, his favorite Friday activity. Si will probably get him pizza, because he spoils him endlessly, and he’ll let him fall asleep while they cuddle on the couch and watch some awful kid’s show. You can see it, in your mind, the image of Theo in the crook of Simon’s elbow where he still fits, his little arm stretched across his dad’s ribs, Simon with his feet on the coffee table.

It rips your heart apart. The swell of emotion is strong enough that tears pool in your eyes, dripping down over your cheeks while you curl up into a ball on your own couch, blanket tucked up under your chin. You did this. You are a nightmare. You did this to yourself. You press your palm to your lips and scream into it, smothering the sound as best you can, your throat turning raw with each breath. Your body shakes with sobs until you’re exhausted and your eyes slip shut, tears still webbed in your lashes, while the sun shines through your living room window. 

Your phone jolts you awake a few hours later, your hands scrambling to find where you’ve lost it in the couch, the realization that it’s going to be Theo breaking through the heavy weight of your misery. Must be close to bedtime. When you slide open the facetime call, he’s grinning at you, little dab of red sauce on his chin.

“Mum!” he shouts, glee coloring the word and you smile back at him easily, hastily rubbing your face to erase the evidence of your state. “Dad got ‘izza!”

“I see that.” A big thumb drifts in front of the camera to wipe the glob of red away and Theo giggles.

“Say goodnight.” Simon says in the background and Theo pauses, little eyebrows creased in confusion before he recovers and looks back to the phone.

“Goodnight mum. Luh you.”

“Love you too bug. Have fun with dad.” The phone shifts, darkness covering the camera for a second before it’s righted, and Simon’s face fills the frame. Your stomach clenches.

“His mates from school are all gonna be at the fields tomorrow morning. I told him I’d take him, if it's alright with you.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Thanks.” You can see him studying you through the screen.

“Everything alright?” his tone shifts, takes on something softer, something sweeter, something that feels like a memory, and your chest tightens.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”

“If you need-“

“I’m fine.” You snap. He sighs.

“Alright then. Goodnight, Sass.”

“Night.”

“There she is, see?” Simon points, and Theo frowns when he sees you, lower lip tugging downward, his face confused before he looks back to his dad, burying his face in his chest with a cry.

“Hey bug. Come here.” You hold your arms out to him, but he just cries into Simon, the scared wailing splitting you open and pouring concrete into your lungs, so it feels like you’ve got an entire building sitting on your chest. “It’s okay baby.” You call, hands still waiting, voice edging on desperate. You want your baby. You want to hold him, to feel him in your arms and know he’s okay, that he’s here, that Simon’s here, and you’re here and there is no danger, nothing to fear. Simon steps closer to you, his emotions raw across his face, and Theo screams in his arms, legs kicking ferociously.

“It’s mum, Theo. Stop. Look.” Simon tries but it’s no use. You know Theo is terrified of you, your battered and bruised face, the wires and tubes that are connected to your chest and the IV that’s stuck in the back of your hand. Your brain buzzes, a low droning noise between your ears making your head spin and you call Theos’ name with a croak.

“NO!” Theo shrieks, he screams it at the top of his lungs and Simon looks lost as you stare wordlessly, hands reaching out into the void, begging to hold your son that doesn’t even recognize you.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel the tears drop down onto the arm that’s folded across your abdomen.

The door slides open, and Johnny appears, pulling Theo from Simon’s arms, patting his back softly and giving you a sympathetic look.

“C’mon lad, let’s go get a lolly, yeah? Give mum and dad some time.” Theo hugs his uncle around his neck, and heaves little sobs into his skin while Johnny shushes him and carries him back out the door.

“I-“ you choke on whatever it was you were going to say, the buzzing in your head so, so loud that it drowns out your thoughts, covers up your feelings until you’re pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes.

Knuckles tap against the glass, Johnny’s face appearing in the window.

“I’ll be right back.” Simon assures you, leaving his foot in the door while he talks to Johnny, their voices fuzzy, and suddenly, the world is tilting and all you can smell is blood.

The buzzing in your head is ferocious, a searing sharpness that feels like a lobotomy, your mind screaming inside your head. The stitches in your skin burn, and you swear you can feel each cell trying to pull closed, the sticky edges of your wounds slowly seaming back together, sealing shut everything inside of you, trapping the buzzing away within your own body so you’ll never be able to pull it out.

You need to go home. You have to get out of here. You can’t stay here. You have to get home. Where everything is safe. Where there is no danger.

You fidget with your central line, trying to unclick, unscrew it until you’re just tugging on it as hard as you can without making a sound, pain throbbing into the hole that’s been created for the port as you start to pull the sticky pads off your lower rib cage. The noises in the room are going berserk, bells and whistles chiming and beeping while the buzzing in your head gets louder and louder, and your fingers dig into your IV, trying to rip it from your skin before Simon is grabbing your hand.

“I have to get out of here.” You tell him. He’ll understand. You know he will.

“Bloody hell Sass, stop.” Your fingers are still scratching away, trying to crawl towards the IV, the last thing tethering you to this place, keeping you from your family, and you push against the pressure holding you still. The buzzing in your head is screaming now, louder than Simon’s voice, louder than the frantic beeping of the machines that have lost their leads.

“Let me go! I ha- have to go. I have to get out.” Simon tries to grab your other hand but you’re too quick, nimble and lithe like you always have been, and you latch onto the needle in your skin, ripping it free, blood trickling down your arm and dripping across your thin hospital gown. Heavy hands grab your shoulders and press you back against the bed.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.”  His elbow pins your collarbone down while his hand comes up to cradle your face. “Everything’s alright.” What? No, it isn’t. It’s not alright. This is certainly not alright. Can’t he hear that noise? You shake your head vehemently and he tries to hold you steady. 

“No. N-no, no, Simon. I have to go. Please, we have to go.” The door swings open and a man in blue scrubs with a badge walks through, a nurse at his side, capped syringe in her hand. Your stomach roils. “Simon.” You plead as you eye them, their slow steps bringing them closer and closer to you, and you shift on the bed, up against your husband, trying to bury yourself in his body, hide from whatever the people in scrubs are going to do. “Simon, we have to go home. Please, we need to get home.” 

“Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He strokes the hair away from your face, and you realize he’s got tears in his eyes, his gaze heavy and sad, and your own eyes widen in fear when you feel a new set of hands on your body.

“Get off me!” you scream, thrashing in the bed, Simon trying to talk to you, trying to calm you while the man in scrubs pins your arms down.

“Don’t hold her like that.” He snarls, and the foreign hands on your body adjust, letting your forearms go loose while the pinch of a needle punctures your skin. “It’s alright, I promise.” Simon’s voice breaks. “I’m here, Sass. I’m right here. You’re safe, you’re safe, I swear.” The needle pulls free of your arm and the world shifts, bright light blowing out the edges of your vision until your eyes are slipping closed, Simon’s face the last thing you see before everything goes dark.

It's three in the morning. The dark and stormy nightmares that keep you under in your sleep have finally slipped away, and you’re staring at your bedroom ceiling while your brain turns a mile a minute until you’re reaching for your phone.

Your thumb hovers over Simon’s contact for too long, way too long while you think about what it might be like to hear his voice before you’re scrolling to the next name and clicking the digits.

The phone rings and you try not the count it, try not to think about what you’re doing and the line clicks open to a bleary, sleepy Scotsman saying hello.

When you don’t say anything back, you can hear him sitting up.

“Sassafras?” Johnny tries, and you blow out a breath.

“It’s me.”

“Ya okay?” No. 

“Yeah.” He sighs, and then starts to tell you about his day, his family, what he’s been doing in his off time. It’s not the first time you’ve called him in the middle of the night, and probably won’t be the last, and he knows it. He fills your head with mindless details, funny stories about his latest op and the 141, other things he thinks you’ll want to hear. You never talk, just listen, and he does a good job of distracting you from whatever it is that’s going on in your head until you’re chuckling on the other end of the line, spirit just a hair lighter than it was when you called.

“Thanks, Johnny.” You murmur into the phone.

“Anytime. One more thing-“

“Yeah?”

“Call your husband next time, yeah?” Prick.

“Bye, Soap.”

“Bye Sassy. Love ya. Kiss the wee lad for me.”

“I will.”

At ten in the morning, the doorbell rings. Even though he has a key, he won’t use it, just waits patiently for you to open the door, not wanting to encroach on your boundaries.

Theo runs straight at your legs when you open it, and you scoop him up in a big hug until he’s complaining, insisting you put him down and let him show you the picture that’s clutched in his hand, something he drew last night.

“That’s you!” he points to a sloppy stick figure that’s holding hands with a little stick figure, a bigger stick figure on its other side. “an’ that’s me and that’s dad!” His eyebrows raise and you rub his head affectionately.

“Good job, you’re a real artist!”

“Put it on fridge?” As soon as you nod your approval he takes off, running towards the kitchen, leaving you and Simon in the living room, the straps of his backpack fisted in his dad’s hand.

“Johnny called me this morning.” You draw a quick breath before letting it out slowly. Traitorous bastard. “If you want me to take him for the rest of the day so you can get some rest-“

“I’m fine. Thanks, though.” Simon sets the backpack down, and you hear the click and clack of the alphabet magnets against the stainless steel.

“You can… call me, too. If you want. If you need… someone to talk to.” You expect to rebuff him immediately, to snap at him, to tell him you don’t need to talk to anyone, let alone him. You want to. You want to keep taking it out on him, keep dumping it on him, over and over until there’s so much of it between the two of you that he’ll never find his way back. Why would he want to? After everything you’ve put him through? You’re broken. Useless. 

“Why?” you blurt, and it surprises you. Looks like it surprises him too.

“You’re my wife, Sass. I love you.” Your skin feels hot and your heart thumps loudly in your ears. “Your trauma, the torture, what happened after… nothin’ is ever gonna change that.” You scoff, anger flickering in your veins, the heat of your irritation warming you from the inside out. 

“You can’t mean that. Not after… everything that’s happened.” He studies you for a long moment, eyes pinning you where you shift your weight uneasily, until he’s raising the back of his hand, holding it upright to display the ring. The ring, that he refuses to take off. The ring, that he still wears, even after you tossed your own at his head. The ring, that has your call sign and his last name initialed on the inside. 

“I will love and honor you all the days of my life.” He whispers it, and you swallow the lump in the back of your throat.

“Mum!” Theo yells, and you turn away, shoulders tight under your ears, fingers clenched together. “Mum, can we ‘ave popcorn?” Theo shouts again and you give him a tight-lipped smile when you reach the kitchen, your enthusiastic four-year-old trying to push a chair in front of the pantry.

“Popcorn?”

“Daddy said you might wanna watch a movie.” Theo pauses, eyes flicking between you, and his father, who you can just feel at your back, before he nods decisively, like he’s already determined that will be his next activity. “Moana?” He shrugs a little, face hopeful and you ruffle his hair.

“Sure, baby. We can watch Moana.” Your heart pangs when you realize that Simon probably told Theo you’d want a movie because he was thinking about how you didn’t sleep, how you might be too tired to go to the park or do something more involved. He’s still taking care of you, after everything. Still wears the ring, still calls you his wife, still tells you he loves you, he- 

“Can daddy stay?” The room suddenly feels devoid of oxygen. 

“I’m sure dad has things he’s got to do tod-“

“I don’t.” He cuts you off and you smother the glare that threatens to pull across your face. You look down at Theo, who’s so excited, so blissfully pleased at the idea, head shifting as he looks back and forth between the two of you and you crumble a little bit, unable to take his happiness away from him. You destroyed his family, why can’t you let him have this? Guilt sears across your skin, the pressure of it so intense that you’re nodding your agreement before you even realize it.

“Okay then.” Theo shouts with excitement and sprints to the couch.

“I can go, if you’re not comfortable.” Simon offers when he’s out of earshot and you shake your head.

“No, it’s fine. Makes him happy.”

“Mum! Make popcorn!” Theo calls to where the two of you still stand, an awkward distance apart in the kitchen.

“What did you forget?”

“Pwease?”

“Thank you, much better.” Your crinkle the thin plastic of the popcorn bag into the trash, the noise similar to the static that’s now playing in your head, before you clear your throat. “Want to uh, go get him settled? And then I’ll be in. In a minute.” Simon doesn’t respond, just disappears from the kitchen, and you focus on the minute countdown on the microwave while you take deep, long breaths, a desperate attempt to fill your lungs with as much oxygen as possible, until it beeps and you’re pulling the door open to dump the popped kernels doused in butter into a bowl.

You’re tracing the wood grain pattern in the living room floor between your feet when you distantly hear a voice, calling you over and over. It feels far away, impossibly far away, like you’re at the bottom of the ocean or you’re on another planet. 

“Hey, mum.” Simon’s voice draws you out of the depths sharply, and he strokes a gentle fingertip down your arm, over the pockmarked scar beneath your shoulder. The touch startles you, your head snapping up to see Theo standing in front of the coffee table in a red cape, construction paper mask, and Simon sitting delicately on the couch next to you. “Someone’s trying to show you something.” He inclines his head to the excited little boy, and you blink before shaking your head, trying to clear the fog that’s settled in your brain.

When it doesn’t, you shake your head again, and then look to Simon hopelessly. He reads you instantly, ushering Theo upstairs, enticing him with blocks and promises of story time later.

Blood. The scent of blood fills your nostrils, so strong that you think it might be dripping from your face, washing over your tongue, filling your mouth, filling the whole house.

Not real. It’s not real. You’re not there, you’re here. There is no danger.

Large palms cover yours, and then you’re looking up at Simon, his eyes soft, sympathetic, and you know he knows. You know he can see, what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking. 

He can see it all, because he’s been here before, too. He’s survived, he’s fought, he’s lived.

But he’s never been… this. He’s never been a nightmare. Never been useless. Never been this broken like this, dirty and pathetic like this, weak like this. 

Simon was strong. He fought. You failed. You couldn’t even get back to him. Couldn’t get back to your baby, your family. 

You feel his touch again and you choke on a gasp.

You can’t let him touch you, he’ll know. He’ll see it. He’ll feel it.

“D-don’t.” you hiss, forcing a hand forward to hold him at bay.

“Shhh. It’s just me, Sass. I’ve got you.”

“No, n-no.” He can’t know. “No, I… I need” You stand, stumbling forward, catching yourself on the coffee table before straightening, Simon’s confused gaze tracking your every step while you put as much distance between the two of you as possible. “I need to lay down.”

When you cross into the living room, Simon’s sitting on the couch, Theo already snuggled up into his side, both watching the television intently. Theo looks so happy, his eyes light and joy filled, body weightless with love and the knowledge that he’s with his family.

His family, that you broke. That you destroyed. That you took from him.

Simon’s thighs are spread wide, their width in his jeans momentarily distracting you before you’re cataloguing his face, his lips, his eyes, the line of his nose, all things you used to know better than yourself, things you used to be able to trace in the dark. Your stomach flips, and the walls of your house look like they’re shaking, the buzzing noise in the back of your head roaring to life, drowning out the sound of Moana singing to sea.

“Mum?” Theo calls, hand out for the popcorn, and you deposit the bowl on the table before you’re backing away.

“I have to go fix something, in the kitchen really quick.” You explain to him, and he shrugs, eyes fixing back on the movie, fingers mindlessly bringing pieces of popcorn to his mouth.

Theo doesn’t notice when you take the stairs instead of turning into the kitchen, but you know Simon does, and you’re not surprised when he’s rapping his knuckles against your locked bedroom door, where you’re sitting with you back against the wood, hands pressed to your head, trying to control your breathing. He knocks again, but there’s only silence to answer him, and it stretches on for miles. 

“Sass?” you hear him shift, feel his weight press against the door and at first you think he’s trying to come through but then you realize, he’s sitting against the other side, just like you.

His fingers slide underneath where there’s a gap between the floor and the door, just wide enough for a few fingers, just enough for you to see the glint of his ring.

Without thinking, your own fingers cover his.

Neither of you speak.

[gaysindistress]

Van Helsing Retold - two

pairings: vamp hunter!reader x vamp!bucky

Summary: Under the cover of night, vampires and their hunters have been at war for centuries, never letting their bloodshed reach the light of day. That is until the wife of a powerful vampire leader, Steve Rogers is murdered and he demands revenge. Y/N Van Helsing is the target of his crusade and she comes face to face with his right hand man, Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: cursing

Word count: 2.7k

One | series masterlist

Tag list: permanent @vonalyn @hidden-treasures21 @unaxv @cakesandtom series

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest. The women in the banners are purely for aesthetic purposes.

Bucky shoves his hands in his jacket pockets as he approaches a shadowy figure sitting on a bench by the river’s edge. The figure tips his head back to look at the vampire and then looks back to the water.

“Took you long enough,” Sam says as Bucky sits next to him, “it’s cold as hell out here.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “maybe you should’ve worn a thicker coat if you’re going to complain about everything.”

Sam narrows his eyes at him, “care to explain what happened between you and y/n?”

“How is she?”

“First tell me what happened.”

Bucky shrugs his jacket further onto his shoulders, “I didn't mean to throw her that hard.”

“Jesus,” Sam mutters to himself at first, “she’s alive but things aren’t looking great. Peggy’s venom got into a cut on her hand and the doctor was only able to freeze it.”

Bucky’s jaw tenses as he listens to Sam and when he responds, the words are low and deliberate, “Steve wants me to kill her and if he finds out she has venom in her system, he’ll make me turn her.”

Sam lets out a disbelieving laugh, “you can’t be serious.”

Stern blue eyes meet his dark brown ones.

“Fuck, what are we going to do?”

Bucky looks towards the river, “how badly do you want your Guild Master dead?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Sighing, Sam looks to the river too, “You think Steve would buy it?”

Bucky shrugs, “You’ll need to get some of her stakes and hide them in John’s stuff. I’ll tell Steve that she told me it was him and then I killed her. I’ll set her safehouse on fire and you’ll get her to safety.”

“He’s going to search the fire for a body.”

“I’ll handle that. All you need to focus on is hiding her stakes in his room and getting her somewhere safe.”

Sam gets to his feet and turns to walk away but asks one more question before leaving, “Why do you care what happens to her?”

“I…i don’t know.”

The vampire hunter rolls his eyes, “so much for trust and honesty.”

“I am being honest. I don’t know why but I do. Everytime I even think about her, something inside me feels like it’s breaking. Fuck, when I threw her in the warehouse, I felt it. I felt her hit the pole and pain in her head. And…and I couldn’t figure out why my hand has been hurting but now it makes sense,” Bucky mumbles as he stares ahead and clenches the hand in question.

“I thought…” he starts but gets tripped up over his thoughts, “I thought that… you know… you couldn’t feel each other until you’re both turned.”

Pained blue eyes rip away from the dark river and snap to Sam.

“We’re not supposed to be able to. We might feel a draw to them if they’re still human but she…” Bucky blinks rapidly for a moment as if to blink back tears, “she’s not just any human. She’s a Van Helsing, it would make sense if the bond showed up differently.”

“Do you…do you really think she’s…”

Bucky cuts him off, “for her sake, I hope not.”

“And what about you?”

He takes a long pause before speaking, “what I want doesn’t matter.”

Waking up in the infirmary once again is a cruel reality check; however, the blinding lights saved me from the dream I'd been having.

I’m back in the warehouse but instead of the female vampire on the floor, it’s me. My own stake is deep in my chest and I’m falling to the ground as he yells for me. His voice is strained and cracking as he cries out my name but he’s too far away to do anything, to save me. The agony in his eyes brings tears to my own and they burn as I jerk awake with them still falling down my face.

Sitting straight up, my body feels like it’s on fire and my venomous hand is pulsing as if it has its own heart beat. I slowly bring it into my view, the hand shaking as I stare down at it. Black veins crawl up to my wrist but stop and the skin has a deathly color to it. The bones beneath the thinning skin are prominent and ache from the venom among other things. Hidden under the veins is the small scar where the venom must have infected me. Vampires heal at extraordinary rates but the place where they were infected and turned remains. I’ve seen some with gashes down their chests, others with thin bands on their necks, and the one that did this to me had the smallest puncture wound on her neck. I wonder where and what his scar is.

Sam's soft snoring breaks my trance and I look over to find him slumped in a chair, fast asleep. His legs are outstretched and his arms are crossed over his chest as his head leans against his chest. He’s dressed in a thick coat and I can see where the night’s rain hasn’t dried just yet. He must have been out hunting but I don’t see any gear, any weapons on him.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he teases me and my eyes flicker to his dark ones, “how are you feeling?”

“Like I’m half dead.”

“Closer to death or life?”

I look at my hand for a moment, “like 55% alive.”

He groans as he stands and stretches, “I’ll take it.”

A ball of black fabric lands on my feet and my boots thud at the side of my bed.

“Get dressed.”

“Why?” I narrow my eyes at him as I shrug a black turtleneck on and snap my worn but beloved tactical vest on.

He turns to give me privacy as I put on the cargo pants, “I found a lead.”

I pause as I’m lacing my boots, “on what?”

“Your hand.”

“Who did you sell your soul to to get that info?”

Sam laughs, “more like who did I have to kill but same difference I guess. It doesn’t matter though. My contact said that this Helmut guy has an anti venom of some kind.”

“That sounds like a bunch of bullshit,” I scoff as I stand, my body protesting from being bedridden for three days. Pulling my jacket on I stop at Sam’s side where he turns to me with a gentle smile.

“Bullshit or not, we have to try.”

“Or we could cut my hand off. I’m sure John would buy the best prosthetic hand money can buy.”

“And forever be indebted to that man?” He teases me again and slings his thick arm over my shoulders, pulling me into his side, “not a chance in hell. Not a chance.”

Something is wrong.

Something is…..off.

Outside of the office we’re sitting in is too quiet with it being in a thriving nightclub. We pushed past dozens of intoxicated people and were surrounded by even louder music but here in this room, I hear none of it.

The men around us are too still, too unmoving. They’ve made no noise, not even those that come with breathing. The man before us, or at least what I assume is one, also isn't moving. I can’t tell with the maroon mask that covers their face. Regardless, something feels deeply wrong about this place.

The person before us in the maroon mask suddenly leans forward in their leather chair and sniffs the air.

They sniffs the fucking air.

Even though I can’t see their entire face, I can see everything I need to in their eyes that are pinning me to my chair. Sam stiffens next to me and I make a quick sweep of the room with my eyes for anything to help us out. I’m in no position to be pulling the shit I'm about to be but if I’m right (which I usually am) and Sam led us into a vampire den, I’m going to have to pull this shit regardless of how I feel.

The masked vampire leans back into their chair and tears their chin on their fist.

“You don’t have much time,” he says to me in a low accented voice. German.

A German vampire.

Even fucking worse.

I narrow my eyes at him, “probably not. Comes with the territory though.”

“Ah the dangerous life of a vampire hunter,” he chuckles, “tell me Van Helsing, who did it?”

“The wife of the leader of the Captain’s Guard.”

I can see the mask raise as he raises his eyebrows at my admission.

“And for my next trick, I’ll turn this bottle of whisky into assault and battery,” I say plainly as I tear said bottle from the desk in front of me. I smash it on the edge and throw the two halves at the guards behind us. Before they can move to defend themselves, the broken bottle halves lodge into their necks and they fall to the ground. Sam is quicker with his matches and flicks a bundle at both bodies as the masked vampire stays in his place.

When I turn to him, he pushes his chair back and stands. Rounding the corner, he perches himself on the front of the desk with his hands clasped in front of him. He’s holding something but I can’t see what it is nor did I see him grab anything. Sam pulls me slightly behind him as he stares at the other man, “Do you have it?”

“Of course I do,” he says and reveals a syringe with thick black liquid in it, “but it won’t do her any good.”

“is that the anti venom?”

“It is for some but for you no.”

“Quit the cryptic riddles, is that the anti venom?” I snap as I step around Sam but his arm is quicker and it yanks me back behind him.

“As I just said, not you. What you need is the blood of the one that you crave and this,” he says, lifting the syringe so it dangles in between us, “is not that.”

I let out a cry of anger as it tumbles from his hand and smashes on the floor. Sam hauls me into his arms and pins me to his chest.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I hiss at Sam as he struggles to keep me against himself, “he just broke his bargaining chip.”

“Ah but that’s where you’re wrong. The anti venom that I dropped,” he throws a pointed look at the black blood and broken glass at our feet, “is useless to you. Not even the blood of the vampire thet your venom belongs to could cure you. The only one who could is the one that you crave.”

“What are you talking about? The one I crave? I’m a Van Helsing, I don’t crave any vampire let alone their blood,” I sneer at him. I'd stopped fighting and allowed him to hold me up. My body is weak already and the little whisky bottle action that I did see drained whatever energy I had stored. I can feel the fatigue seeping into my body and the venom finds joy in being able to cause me great amounts of pain.

“You may be a Van Helsing but you are no better than the rest of us,” he sneers back before looking at Sam, “I gave you what you wanted and now it is your turn to give me what I want.”

“No, all you gave us was a riddle that’s impossible to solve,” he says through clenched teeth as his grip grows tighter on me.

The vampire says nothing but cocks his head slightly towards the door behind us. It clicks open and a familiar scent of cinnamon mixed with incense wraps around us.

“Helmut,” the voice that’s haunted me for a week now says slowly.”

Helmut, the masked vampire, seems to smile behind the maroon face covering, “Hello lap dog.”

Even though I can’t see him, I can feel the anger that boils under his skin and the way his body tenses in efforts to control it. I can feel the deadliness of him in the way his footsteps stalk towards us, the predator in him aiming for Helmut. He stops at Sam’s side but far enough back that I can only see the leather jacket he’s wearing. My sick hand begins to ache and I try to push it away by gripping onto Sam’s arm tighter but it does nothing. If anything it causes another way of anger to rip through his body and it comes out in his voice.

“You’re on the Captain’s Guard’s territory,” is the only thing he seems able to say.

Helmut shrugs and settles on the desk, “It was once all the same, why shouldn’t it be that way now?”

“This is punishable by death.”

“But I have a suspicion that you won’t follow through on those orders.”

Sam starts to slowly move us backwards and it seems like the two vampires don’t notice. They throw violent words back and forth, completely ignoring that we’ve almost made it to the door. Sam lets me go enough to open it but a sweeping wave of exhaustion wipes over me and I crumble fast. He’s barely able to pick me back up as I struggle to keep my eyes open but he’s not focused on me.

His attention is solely on the two bloodsuckers that are now turned to us.

An involuntary moan of pain leaves my lips as he tries to pull us away and the last thing I hear before the black fades in again is the sound of his voice calling out to me.

A beautiful cry in the cacophony of chaos that is the inside of my head.

Pain erupts at the back of Bucky’s head and it threatens to blur his vision. Helmut makes another snide comment but all he can focus on is the pressure building at the base of his skull and the fear that’s raising in his throat.

A sound so heavenly calls to him from behind but in combination with the physical effects he’s dealing with, he refuses to dwell on it. Turning he stops Sam with the Van Helsing girl in his arms.

She looks…weak. Black veins pulse in one of her hands and her eyes flutter close as she goes limp in the other hunter’s arms. Her skin has a deathly hue to it and her pulse barely registers from across the room. The sound that caused him to turn at first was really a moan of pain and his blinding need to make sure she is okay distracts him from Helmut. The masked vampire launches himself at Bucky and tackles him to the ground. His mask is gone now so he can allow every bit of venomous anger he has to be conveyed in his face.

“I should cut her and force you drain the life from her,” Helmut sneers, baring his teeth in a truly animalistic manner, “or maybe I should tell your master who she is to you and let him decide how to dispose of her.”

Time slows.

Sam’s and the van helsing girl’s heartbeats pound in Bucky’s ears. Helmut’s satisfied smile at his silence morphs into one terror and he falls away from Bucky as blood pours from his chest. There’s a dull thud and rolling follows as Bucky slowly climbs to his feet. Stepping over the heart that was once in Helmut’s chest, he approaches the two hunters. His piercing eyes are zeroed in on the girl and she’s passed off to him.

She makes a faint noise but nothing aside from her breathing. Bucky shakes as he pulls her tight against him and buries his nose in her hair. The smell of Jasmine and oranges floods his senses as he allows himself to find comfort in having her against him.

He hooks an arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders as Sam ushers them out. The club is as packed as it had been when they all arrived but no one notices the three. Sam gets them safely to his car and takes off as fast as he can by that time the Van Helsing girl starts to blink awake.

[jaehunnyy]

dynamic

Genre: soulmate!au, strangers-to-lovers, crack, maybe a bit suggestive but not really?, floofy floof

Word count: 2.1k

Pairing: rockstar!Wooyoung x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of pain and some broken bones, mentions of a funeral but nothing explicit (related to Seonghwa's story Memento Mori), mentions of crying, swear words, Wooyoung has some other piercings that he has irl, pet names, a kiss, possible grammar mistakes

Taglist: @shakalakaboomboo, @pocketjoong-reads, @nebulousbrainsoup, @justhere4kpop, @bluehwale, @bluisheye93, @ssaboala, @i-luvsang, @ad0rechuu

Networks: @cromernet 🤍

The music echoing through the loud speakers was suddenly replaced by your muffled breaths, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips as you kept messing up the same step for the nth time that day. You groaned in annoyance when your friend blamed it on the pain of your overworked limbs; yet, you signaled him to shut up, starting the music once again and trying to concentrate as much as you could before everything you crafted came crashing down—cause this scene happened exactly two minutes before the disaster. 

Wooyoung was helping his bandmate, Hongjoong, upload some announcements on the internet as they temporarily needed a lead vocalist who could replace Seonghwa on their tour. Due to the loss of his soulmate, all he wanted was to stay back from fans and fame for a bit, and they were all willing to give him a well-deserved break and wait for him. 

"You know you can still call me whenever you need help, right, guys?" Seonghwa asked on the other side of the phone, voice low and raspy due to all the crying he'd been through. 

Hongjoong smiled and nodded, wishing nothing more than to be close to his friend and show his support in this hard period. Attending a funeral would never be easy, especially when it’s your soulmate’s, your other half’s grave you're crying on; so he just wanted to show love to his friend. 

“Yeah, Seonghwa, just relax. It will be alri—’’

“OUCH! MY FUCKING HAND!” a sharp scream was heard, followed by another one: “It hurts, I can’t feel my hand, ouch!” 

“Woo?” 

“Soulmate, I fucking adore you but, holy crap!”

Hongjoong looked worriedly at Wooyoung, hanging up the phone as Wooyoung continuously hissed in pain. Among the eight rockstars, Wooyoung was the most excited to meet his soulmate—despite the pain he had to go through. Thus, he was convinced it wasn't one-sided; Wooyoung was clumsy and made you suffer a bit as well, and after all, where would the fun be in having such a bond, if not in teasing each other about the places you've hit yourself? Wooyoung endured all this pain for the sake of your tied souls, the pain that wore his soulmate's face, so he was taking it like a champ—not today, though. 

“Does it hurt that bad? Do you need to go to the hospital? You have quite a low pain tolerance, maybe it’s too muc-’’

“Shut up and just take me to the hospital!” 

Hongjoong took a long breath and shut his eyes, allowing Wooyoung to talk to him like that only this time. It’s safe to say that it was a hell of a day for both of you; all you wanted was to prepare the perfect choreography for the opening of Guerrillas’ concert, yet everything seemed compromised now. You were on the way to the hospital and you were sure you had some broken bones, crying not only for you but for your soulmate too, knowing how hurtful that must have been. Minho was nagging at how he told you that it was too much, but as soon as he saw the tears on your cheeks, he stopped. 

“Y/n, you will be fine… I’m by your side.” Minho, better known as Lee Know, your friend and partner for over ten years sighed, rubbing your back to soothe you a bit. 

You tried to take deep breaths, being used to this kind of pain, but more likely overwhelmed due to the wrong time this happened. As soon as you reached the hospital, your friend helped you get out of the car and followed you inside, asking for a doctor who could see you soon. At the same time, Hongjoong made it to the hospital too, carrying his extra whiny friend as he didn’t seem to shut up about his condition. 

“I’ll get you both an X-ray, prepare. I will need to cut your shirt so that I can have access to your hand, okay?” the doctor professionally said, until you heard some protests from an emo guy. 

“My mesh shirt? No, doctor, sorry but you are not cutting this.”

“Wooyoung, let her do her job.” Joong sighed, rubbing his temples as the younger one was giving him a headache. 

“No, no! No one is touching my outfit, I put a lot of effort into it!” 

Already losing his patience regarding Wooyoung’s antics, Hongjoong nudged his nape slightly in order to make him shut up—yet Wooyoung didn’t seem to be the only one affected. 

“Ouch!” you said in unison. 

Your eyes widened and you looked immediately around you, in search of the voice that echoed your scream, realizing that besides your friend, the emo guy, his friend, and the doctor, the room was empty. You stared at the shiny, silver jewels that adorned the long-haired guy’s ears, your eyes unconsciously roaming on his eyebrow piercing, then slowly, on his handsome features. His hair was tied in a messy ponytail, and you were completely out of it; was he really your soulmate? You must have been daydreaming for a while, because you felt Minho’s fingers pinching you, and when you flinched in pain, the guy copied your reaction—he had to be your soulmate. You opened your eyes to see him standing next to you, an overly excited wave coming from his healthy hand. 

“Hey, I think we’re soulmates!” he exclaimed, a big smile stretching his lips as he talked again: “You have no idea how excited I was to meet you, despite the pain you caused me. I learned to love you with all of it.” 

You smiled softly, reciprocating the feeling; the soulmate bond has always been a special thing for you, so now, with your soulmate beside you, you couldn’t help but show it to the world. Soul ties have fascinated you since you were just a little girl; something about having your own half, someone you could call yours forever, made you shiver with excitement. 

“I’m happy to meet you as well, emo guy.” 

Hongjoong smiled softly at the sight of his friend, an arm on his shoulder as he played with his hair softly: “Wooyoung is quite a special human, he is more than the emo guy he wants to be perceived as; he has a lot of love to give you.” 

You nodded at his friend’s words, Woo’s hand touching yours before the doctor came back, taking you to the place where you would be examined. 

“Seems like you two have a broken arm,” the doctor said, writing something down before talking again: “you should take some rest and medication, for at least a few weeks.” 

“I won’t be able to play the guitar for that much time? Holy crap, what would you guys do without your dear bassist?” 

"So we need to replace both Seonghwa and you now, amazing." Hongjoong said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at the younger one who was sticking his tongue at him.

The familiar names seemed to make more sense now, as you opened your mouth to speak.

“Don’t tell me… are you guys members of Guerrillas?” the words left your mouth as your soulmate smirked, nodding. 

“See, Joong? She’s a woman of culture.” 

“No way, I was supposed to dance at the opening of your concert!” 

You saw the shocked look on their faces; they were surprised to have one of the best dancers at that moment, and the leader of a well-known dancing crew beside them. 

“I guess I couldn’t get luckier, then.” Wooyoung whispered, hugging your shoulders with the other hand while you leaned into his touch. 

Three months passed since you and Wooyoung first met, and this period was filled with nothing but happiness and news in your life. You have discovered that under the cold allure he loved to keep on stage, he was a lovely, sweet guy (although clingy). He was also surprised by how much you resembled each other, though, in the end, you were his other half. His heart had always craved your touch, your voice, you. And despite those around you who were judging you for going too fast, you two felt as if it was the right thing to do. For Wooyoung, his soulmate meant another reason to keep pushing through when life gets hard, it meant happiness, the sweet sensation of spiritual fulfillment. For you? Your soulmate meant dynamic. A constant development of your personas, learning and growing together. A necessary energy that tied your souls together—it was giving you life, just like the blood flowing through your veins. And there you were now, in your practice room, your body settled between his legs as he laid his chin on your shoulder, watching whatever you were scrolling on your phone when suddenly, an idea hit you. 

“Should I show you the choreography that united us?” you chuckled, turning your head to see him better. 

“I would love to. Teach me too!” 

You smiled and got up, dragging him after you, in the middle of the floor. You started teaching him some of the easier moves in your choreography and watched as he followed along, though he seemed pretty much blinded by your beauty, and maybe, just maybe, a little lightbulb started to brighten his head with some amazing ideas too. He met the sight of his guitar, going to grab it as you looked at him. 

“Woo?” 

He just smirked, grabbing the guitar and attaching it to his torso with the help of its strap, then taking his phone and playing a rhythmic rock song, filling the speakers and your ears with a sweet melody. Queen's Crazy Little Thing Called Love was now serving as background music, while Wooyoung was working on strumming his guitar, fingers skillfully plucking the strings while he moved his head along to the music. You looked at him in awe, admiring how his hair fell into beautiful, raven waves on his face, the way the rings adorning his fingers shined with every movement of his hands, the way his body was swaying to the beat. 

It didn't take you a lot to start moving to the music, eyes shining with passion and love as you found yourself freestyling something. Your arms and legs were swaying graciously, making you get carried away with this being the first time properly dancing since your hand healed. Your soulmate wore a cheeky grin on his face as he started to sing the lyrics, his fancy attitude flying around him as he mouthed the words. 

"There goes my baby

She knows how to rock and roll

She drives me crazy" 

His smile kept growing bigger and bigger with every step he was making toward you, finally approaching you and putting his guitar aside. He smiled and his hands found their way around your waist, your bodies swaying in unison (more like jumping as you were too immersed into the music), into your little soulful party. He pressed his forehead on yours, noses rubbing together, making you giggle softly. You two kept stepping and stepping until he had you pinned to the wall as his face got closer to yours, his warm breath on your neck. His soft lips captured yours, your hands finding their way into his hair as your tongues molded into a sweet, yet passionate kiss. It was lovely, exuding a sincere emotion, the pure love between you—that was until you softly hissed when you felt something cold against your lips, looking at Wooyoung with a raised eyebrow, to which he only smirked. 

“Holy shit, do you have a tongue piercing?” 

“Surprise, baby.” 

You were face-timing your boyfriend while he was on tour, and the idea of cooking together popped into Wooyoung’s head. He was still upset that you had an event coming up right when he was touring (or at least that's what you told him, cause you had other plans), so there you were, trying your best to distract him from finding out more than needed.

“Hi, princess. We’re making waffles today.” 

“Okay, chef.” you nodded, giggling at how advanced he was with his recipe, while you were only taking the ingredients out, in order to waste time.

“My love, you are soooo sloooowww.” he whined, intentionally dragging the words and looking at the camera while you moved away from the camera’s view. “Baby, a bit to the right, please? I can’t see you, can you move your phone a bit?” 

He frowned when he noticed your sudden disappearance, looking around and noticing something off; you were definitely not home. What he expected to be your usual kitchen was replaced with some modern furniture, way too similar to the one in his hotel room. 

“Babe? Your kitchen looks so damn similar to mine… Are you perhaps in the same hotel as me? Did you trick me?” 

You smiled softly, knocking at the door and waiting for him to open it; without hesitation, he hung up the call and opened the door for you, catching you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist, whispering a slow “Surprise, baby.” 

[1-ker0sene-1]

The Dead Do Talk

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish / Reader

(Wheelchair User Reader)

Chap1, Chap2, Chap3, Chap4

"Comatose Blues"

Word count: 2.2k

CW:Blood, corpse description, guns

His eyelids felt heavy, just barely lifting to give him a blurry vision of the dim lit room. He almost let them fall closed again, almost let himself drift back into the blackness of sleep. But the throbbing in his damn skull wasn't going to let him do that anytime soon. He was alive. Fuck. Wasn't that nice? Makarov sent a bullet in his skull and he was still somehow breathing. Lucky bastard. He thought to himself, the team must've got him to a hospital in record time.

His eyes open more determined now, blinking heavily to clear his vision. His arms ached, well his whole body really. His hand slides up the side of the hospital bed, finding the plastic of the nurse button to press down on. Nothing. His brows furrow. But he stayed still a little longer, thoughts sinking in.

Wait.

There was no noise. It's a fucking hospital.

Johnny's eyes fall to the drip in his arm, following the tube to the bag with his gaze. Empty. Hadn't been replaced. He turns his head to the left, the monitor that would normally display vitals was blank, lifeless and turned off. What the fuck? Now that he was thinking about it, there was no bustling of doctors outside his room, no nurses, even the lights were out. Just the sun peeking through the thin blue curtains.

Something was wrong. He knows it. So wrong that something twisted in his stomach, making his shoulders tense. Johnny used his hand to lean on as he eased his sore body to sit up.

"Fuck.."

He let a groan slip out his throat, his voice hoarse and dry. His lips chapped and cracking. He rips the IV from his arm and tossed it aside, with a steadying breath he swung his legs over the bed, his feet on the ground.

His fingertips brush the side of his head, wincing as he finds the swollen stitches where he'd been shot. Quickly pulling his hand back as his brain practically throbs in his skull. Next he checks his abdomen, pulling the hospital gown up a bit. These shots were more clean, what he was used to. A few stitches in his stomach, a few on the back where the bullets left him. They were a bit less agitated too.

His eyes flick to the small stand at his bedside. Two things rested there, a vase of wilted flowers, and his dog tags. He reached for the small folded paper sticking out of the brown petals, unfolding it to read Laswells name, along with some scratchy blue pen lettering saying- "You'll be back on your feet soon Sargeant."

The letter makes him grunt.

Reaching for his tags he pulls them over his head to wear around his neck again.

John gets up with a groan, he's a little unsteady on his feet. But it doesn't take long to pull himself together, at least enough to make it to the door. He tugs at the handle, gritting his teeth as it doesn't budge.

"Fucks sake..-"

He curses, trying to pull again. Before pressing his shoulder to the door, pulling back and giving it a good slam. Feeling it shift on the hinges he pulls back, only to give it another bash. This time it bursts the door open. He grunts sharply, holding his side as it aches just a bit from the harsh movements.

The hospital halls were dark, eerily still. Johnny was realizing that this bad feeling he has was more than correct, considering the blood scattered around. Cautiously he walked along, searching for any signs of life in the building. Furrowed brows and a tight jaw. Shouldering into rooms to check for people, he either found abandoned corpses, more blood, or simply just the mess of what he's assuming was the rush of others escaping the building. Papers, medicine, medical supplies thrown about.

But nothing disturbed him more than the corpse he found in the lobby.. a woman. Torn open, long dead, insides dragged about the room. As if her stomach and chest cavity had been hollowed out. Jaw slack in a permanent scream of horror and anguish, eyes milky white looking up at the ceiling. The top of her skull bashed open.

"Steamin' Jesus.."

He tore his eyes away from her, he's seen hell and back in the field. But this was different. Shaking his head he kept moving. It was a hospital, somebody had to be here right? Somebody must know what's going on.

Johnny's head snaps up hearing footsteps. Looking over he sees the figure of a man walk by the doorway and past his sight. His throat tightens, he himself staggers towards the door.

"Aye-!"

He calls out. Voice strained.

"Sir-"

He grunts out, like a dog desperate for a meal- he needs to speak to someone. Following him out the door.

The man seems to be sheepishly staggering forward, almost like Johnny's exhausted walk. About his height, maybe a few inches taller. He quickens his place, reaching out and clasping his hand on his shoulder.

"Mate for fucks sake-"

Johnny irks at being ignored. Pulling on the figures shoulder to turn the man towards himself.

John's stomach drops when seeing the man from the front. The man's eyes were glazed over and milky white just like the corpses before, chunks of flesh hanging from it's ripped open throat. He was dead, long dead by the looks of it. This corpse was fucking walking. More than that now, it's jaws snap towards him.

"What tha fuck!"

Johnny rasps, stumbling back as the corpse only keeps walking at him. In his shock the animated body lunged towards him, slamming them both into the wall. He grunts, pain shooting up his abdomen. In attempt to block the bastard from biting at his face, Johnny's hand gripped the corpses neck. What was left of it anyways, nearly wanting to gag as the loose flesh was falling apart through his fingers as it's jaws continue to press and snap towards him. Just inches from his skin.

Frustration coarsed through him. He could fight this. He was stronger than this. But his body was aching, recovering, his head throbbing. He groaned as he shoved the body hard away from him. Taking a step forward from the wall. Ready to fight now for his survival. Taking a step towards the dead man.

But he never got the chance.

A bullet whips by him, going straight through the corpses temple. It falls the ground finally unmoving, as it should be. Johnny couldn't help but stare, his shoulders tense and tight, breathing shallow as he stared at the bullet wound on the rotting flesh. He could feel his own head pulse, his heart slamming up into his throat. Like he could feel the bullet ripping through hi-

"-tten?"

His eyes blink as he recognizes there was a voice speaking to him. Able to drag his eyes from the body, he looks down the hall. Falling on a figure maybe twenty feet away. In a dark grey manual push wheelchair, rifle in hand, aimed straight for his head.

".. What-"

He rasps, coming out of his shock.

"Are you bitten?"

The voice asks sternly. It's a woman in the chair, holding the rifle steady at his head. Eyes narrowed at him, a cloth covering her nose and mouth. Voice just barely muffled, but her strong tone gets her point across.

"No."

Johnny says, glancing down at his hand. Stained with the rotten blood of the body, but no wound and no bite. His eyes flick back to the woman, almost relief in his eyes. At least she was alive, not rotting, talking like a person. He steps towards her. But this only makes her raise the gun to keep it trained on him.

"Don't."

She snaps.

"You sick?"

John swallows.

"No. Take it easy lass.. I ain' gonna hurt ya." He says, trying to soften his voice. Attempting to deesculate the situation.

"Words don't mean shit anymore stranger."

She quips back, but her eyes fall to the dog tags. She was wearing her own around her neck.

".. You're a patient? What the fuck are you doing here still?"

She mutters.

Johnny's brows furrow.

"It's a hospital- fucks sake, shouldn't everybody else be here? 'Was shot a couple days ago."

The womans brows raise incredulously, her gun slowly lowering.

"Couple days ago..? That's not-"

She looks at his hospital gown and her brows fall slowly back down.

".. What day do you think it is?"

"Fuck.."

Johnny drawls out the curse as he sits against the wall, slack jawed with all the information he's been given.

He's been out for two months.

In those two months the world went to absolute shit. The dead were walking around, ripping the living apart to please an endless appetite. He has no idea where his team is, where Laswell was, where his family was. As far as he knew they were long dead.

Fuck he wished that shot killed him.

You sit next to him in your chair, giving him a look of pity.

"Thought the place was empty besides the dead.. somebody must've barricaded your door."

You sigh. The gun relaxes in your hold, no longer aimed at him. Your gaze flickers over the fresh scarring on his temple, the mid healing stitches. Shifting in your chair and glancing away. Not really knowing how to handle the man getting the world ending news.

"I don't.. Know what you're going through. But you're going to need to get out of here. There's corpses all over this place.. And looters will show up at night. I say you get some meds for your head and get out now. That's your best option."

You're trying to warn him, give him a chance.

"You're military right? .. You'll make it alright."

You mumble.

...

"Looters?"

Johnny mutters, blue eyes settling on your own colored irises. You look tired, dark circles under your eyes. But you're steeled, something he recognizes.

"The world isn't the same as it was."

You simply responded.

".. Somebody else isn't going to stop and talk to you like this. Safer to put a bullet in you instead."

You once again warn.

Johnny ran his hands over his face. Trying to take it all in as he squeezes his eyes shut tightly. Silence and deep breaths.

You chew on your lower lip. You do not know this man. This is the stupidest thought you've had in a long time.

"I'm hold up in a house.. couple blocks away. With some supplies. You can't stay here. Let's grab some pain killers, medicine, and get the fuck out."

You suggest. Gripping your gun with white knuckles. Cautious of him despite your offer.

His eyes open and he glances towards you, his foot taps on the floor in thought.

".. Thanks bonnie.. once I get in touch with my team I'll be outta yer' hair."

He says, holding out a palm towards you.

"Sargeant John MacTavish."

He introduces himself strongly. To which you clasp your hand in his with the same strength to give it a shake, giving him your own name in return.

Pulling your hand back you steady the gun again.

"C'mon Sargeant, I'm sure there's painkillers scattered around. Maybe some rations too."

You mutter, pulling a knife from your belt. You hesitantly hand it over. As he grips the handle, you hold on a second longer.

"You pull anything I'll put you down."

You say with an eery calmness. Johnny simply chuckles.

"Aye lass. I know." Taking the knife gingerly from your hand.

He watched you a bit impressed, you moved skillfully in your chair. Balancing the act of keeping yourself moving, and aiming your gun down the corridor. Johnny wouldn't want to say it out loud, but when thinking of the end of the world.. Or at least that is what this seemed like- he never really thought of what would happen to those with disabilities. But you handled yourself quite well.

Not wanting to waste anymore ammo, you had used your time exploring the hospital to tell John how to take down the dead.

"The brain. Whether you shoot, stab, or bash. Only thing to get them to stop is destroying the brain."

You tell him. Pushing open a hospital room with your boot as you aim in.

He watched you closely. How stiff and tense you were, still untrusting. Not that it wasn't understandable.

"Ye survivin' with others?"

He asks.

Your sharp eyes stare into his, before looking away and moving into the room. Picking up some pill bottles and shoving them into the bag resting on your lap.

"No." You say bluntly.

"Most people tried evacuating.. there.. Was. Shelters in the city. In the beginning at least."

Johnny's brows furrow.

"Why didn't ye?"

You shrug and toss a bottle to him, to which he catches and overturns in his palm to look at the label. Strong painkillers for his head. He holds onto them.

"Couldn't drive." You respond.

"Somebody could have taken ye-" Johnny mutters.

You shake your head with a grunt, pushing past his waist to roll out of the room.

"Hauling me around isn't exactly convenient. It didn't happen."

You say sharply. Everything in your stature screamed at him to drop it. Which the Sargeant did.

You nod your head towards the double doors at the end of the hall, one of the hospital exits.

"You coming John?"

He stares at the doors and then you. Pressing his tongue hard to the inside of his cheek before nodding.

"Yes ma'am."

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