#Joint and bone care hospital
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belivers · 2 years ago
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The primary goal is to improve quality of life. Family medicine specialists believe in treating the person as a whole. We offer comprehensive and continuing health care and preventive services for the entire family. In addition to diagnosing and treating illnesses, we provide personalized counseling on maintaining a healthy lifestyle. We also manage chronic illnesses often coordinating with other sub-specialists.
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star-hospitals · 1 month ago
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Choose Star Hospitals for Bone & Joint Care
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Finest orthopaedic surgeons specialising in Bone & Joint Care
Latest surgical techniques & state-of-the-art technology with high success rate
Comprehensive care from pre-surgery assessments to post-operative rehabilitation
Personalised treatment plans tailored to your specific needs
Maintaining highest standards of cleanliness 01 and sterility, minimising the risk of infections & ensuring a safe surgical environment
24/7 Accident &Trauma Care
For any queries, To book an appointment consult our Orthopaedic experts or Visit www.starhospitals.in.
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womencarecorner · 3 months ago
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Understanding Orthopedic Care: Why It Matters
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Orthopedics is a medical specialty focused on diagnosing, treating, and preventing conditions affecting the muscles, bones, and joints. This includes bones, joints, ligaments, tendons, and muscles. Whether it's a fracture, joint pain, or a more complex condition like arthritis or osteoporosis, orthopedic care plays a crucial role in restoring mobility and improving the quality of life.
Common Orthopedic Conditions
Fractures and Dislocations: Accidents can lead to bone fractures or joint dislocations, requiring immediate medical attention. Orthopedic surgeons are trained to treat these injuries effectively, ensuring proper healing and rehabilitation.
Arthritis: A condition that causes inflammation of the joints, arthritis can significantly impact daily activities. Orthopedic specialists provide both surgical and non-surgical treatments to manage arthritis symptoms and improve joint function.
Sports Injuries: Athletes often suffer from injuries like torn ligaments, sprains, and fractures. Orthopedic care is essential for quick recovery and preventing long-term damage.
Spinal Disorders: Conditions like herniated discs or spinal stenosis can cause severe pain and limit mobility. Orthopedic experts offer treatments that range from physical therapy to minimally invasive surgeries.
Why Choosing the Right Orthopedic Hospital Matters
Selecting the right orthopedic hospital is crucial for ensuring effective treatment and a smooth recovery. The Best Orthopedic Hospital in Bargarh offers comprehensive services that address a wide range of orthopedic needs, from minor injuries to complex conditions. With advanced diagnostic tools, skilled surgeons, and personalized rehabilitation programs, patients receive exceptional care tailored to their specific needs.
By opting for the best orthopedic facility in Bargarh, patients can trust that they will receive the highest standard of care, provided by experienced professionals dedicated to restoring mobility and alleviating pain.
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srmkpcardiac · 5 months ago
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Knee pain is a common issue affecting individuals of all ages. Whether it stems from an injury, arthritis, or other medical conditions, knee pain can significantly impact your quality of life.
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Migraine Treatment in Indore | Vivek Memorial Hospital Pvt. Ltd.
If you want to treat your migraines One of the top migraine treatment hospitals in Indore is Vivek Memorial Hospital, which also provides care for a range of neurological illnesses, including spasticity and Parkinson's disease as well as movement disorders including essential tremor and dystonia. for additional details. Go to us: https://vivekmemorialhospital.com/blog/service/neurology/
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kaijutegu · 11 months ago
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So. Now that she's home and safe and gonna be ok, I can talk about this.
I almost lost Kaiju. Christmas Day. I was woken up by a phone call from Allison, who will be referred to a LOT in this story. Allison runs the pet store where I board Kaiju. She called to tell me that Kaiju had lost a LOT of blood. (As it turns out, half her blood volume. Humans die when we lose 40%, just so you know. She lost 50%.)
There were no visible injuries, and she had passed a bloody stool. Or rather, a blood clot with some poop in it. She continued to pass only blood when they put her in the bathtub to clean her up. If I'd taken her anywhere else, that... would have been it, probably.
But Allison is an actual miracle worker and knew an emergency vet who was open- on Christmas Day- and could see reptiles. As soon as she called me, she took her to the e vet, where they gave her fluids and oxygen and got her stable. They did some x rays and found... nothing.
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In fact, the e vet actually complimented me on her bone density and how nice her toe joints look. Whatever this mysterious haemorrhage was, it was in the soft tissue.
The immediate thoughts were:
Impaction
Cancer invading an artery
Aneurism
Reproductive issues
However, the emergency vet couldn't figure it out, and my vet was out of the country. The e vet consulted with a lot of vets and it was decided she'd go into Chicago Exotics for care the next day- they were willing to see her on immediate notice. Allison drove her over and they did an ultrasound... and couldn't differentiate the mass they found.
So, exploratory surgery it was.
But... she didn't have enough blood for that. She wouldn't have survived... if Allison hadn't found blood for her. Tegu donors were found, the transfusion happened, and was completely successful.
And what the surgery found was completely unexpected. No cancer. No repro issues. No typical impaction.
Instead? Weird white things in her muscles and a partial impaction that seems to be related to a reduction in her ability to properly digest. There are two possible diagnoses at this point. One is visceral gout. This is very strange because in reptiles, articular gout basically always happens first, and her kidneys are fine.
The other option? Weird, potentially cross species parasite she picked up when she was in the Everglades. Something she's likely had all her life, something that was dormant until recently.
I'll know when the pathology report comes back in a week or so.
Anyways! She is doing very well. She is alert and interested in things. She has an incredible appetite, even though she can't have solid food yet. She's on three meds, including one I have to inject. At her three week recheck, we will add a fourth- either the correct anti-parasitic or a medication to improve kidney function, depending on the diagnosis. Currently she's in a hospital cage and she hates it- she can't have any substrate because of the stitches.
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The vet says it should take about three months until she makes her full blood volume. Her pack cell count should be at 35%. It was at 7% on the 26th. But by the 28th, it was at 10%. She's gonna be ok. She's tough. My little girl is a fighter, always has been. You have to be scrappy to survive in the wild.
And throughout this entire experience, everybody has told me how lovely her personality is. Through the injections and cloacal probing and everything, she never bit or even tried to. The vet didn't think she even wanted to bite. Like it wasn't a question of wanting to bite and not being strong enough- it's just not something in her behavioural repertoire. She doesn't bite because she doesn't want to. Because even at her most scared, at her most painful, she's still Kaiju, the best tegu to ever live. Love is stored in the tegu, and it continues to be stored in the tegu. We have a long road ahead of us, but she's out of the woods and is going to be ok. We both are.
Also, consider this a MAJOR plug for Curious Creatures in Chicago. I'm never going to board my animals anywhere else.
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mothiepixie · 3 months ago
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Okay, so my father was a welder (ironworker specifically)... so how would you gauge Blue's vision as of now? There's of course all the other long-term health hazards- and the fact that he's a Skeleton monster, but is there a difference?
Blue being a monster doesn't always have the same health hazards that affect humans. His eyes are not made of tissues, so UV or infrared light wouldn't burn in the same way it does a human.
The magic that makes up his eyelights may cause his eye lights to dim over time due to long exposure and he can still be blinded temporarily from flashes of light, but his eyelights would not suffer burns, just weaken. Blue's sight is okayish at the moment since he does take extra precautions; wearing the appropriate glasses with the right shade range per the type of work he's performing.
Fumes and gasses may not give him cancer or kill the type of monster he is, but it could affect the magic that makes up his body/bones. Long exposure could possibly cause damage to his bone mass and joints. His bones could even suffer or mimic a condition similar to skeletal fluorosis, a bone disease caused by long exposure of fluoride that weakens bones or even causes them to warp.
The biggest factor Blue will have to be more careful of in present time is burns, crushing fingers/limbs, or electrical shock.
Electrical shock is a huge hazard and can disrupt the stabilization of his magic; knocking him out cold similar to how a human would from being electrocuted. The heat can disrupt and strip the magic from his bones, retreating into his soul leaving his bones vulnerable to electrical burns and if not careful can cause fusion of his joints. Worst case scenario is that the area is burnt beyond saving and, depending how hot or deep, will dust away (like an amputation.)
Blue has suffered many injuries since he started welding, and even once electrocuted himself so bad that it landed him in the hospital. Scared the dickens outta Motti and Stretch.
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matchingbatbites · 4 months ago
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i hold your hand in mine, dear
For @steddie-week Day 1: Secret Relationship AND Day 2: Hands
Rating: M || CW: temporary character death, brief description of minor dismemberment, unhealthy coping mechanisms || Divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics
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Steve doesn't know why he did it.
It's just- It was beyond painful, the mere thought of leaving behind the love of his life - because that's what Eddie was, even if no one else knew. And he knew there was no way they'd be able to get him back up through a gate before El closed them off.
So while Robin helped Dustin hobble away and Nancy went out ahead of them, Steve took a chance to just. Grab a souvenir. Just something tangible to remind him that - even for just a short time - he had Eddie. They had something real.
He doesn't know why he chose to take Eddie's hand.
It was easier than expected; the knife he had was sharp enough that it sliced through skin and muscle quickly, it wedged between bone and split the joint of his wrist with ease.
The limb sat heavy in his pocket as they escaped that hellhole, as they got Dustin to the hospital to get his ankle checked out, as they reunited with their friends to talk about what happened.
Steve doesn't dare to even touch it until he gets home, until he's by himself. Waits until he's showered and cared for his own wounds before he grabs the jacket and finally pulls it free.
It should be concerning that his first instinct was to take Eddie's hand - specifically, his right hand. It's not the one usually covered in rings, but it's the one he usually touched Steve with - when he brushed a thumb over Steve's lips or cupped Steve's face in his palm.
It's the one he used whenever they held hands, always leaving Steve's own right hand free so he could still do things while they clung together.
Maybe that's why. Even with all of the stuff in Eddie's room, all of the physical mementos he could have taken for himself, Steve just couldn't live knowing he'd never hold Eddie's hand again.
The limb itself is a bit dirty, with grit and blood marring the skin, trapped under the edge of his nails. That doesn't stop him from bringing it to his lips, from pressing a gentle kiss to the tips of the fingers.
It's cold, and for some reason that's the thing that finally breaks Steve, that has him sobbing into the stillness of his room. All he can think about is the man that brought so much warmth and life to Steve's existence, laying cold and forsaken in that fucking wasteland.
That's the thought that follows him into sleep that night, that lives in the back of his mind for days. It makes him truly grateful for his morbid memento, that he's able to keep a piece of his love, able to give some of his own warmth as he holds Eddie's hand in his own.
Steve makes a habit of pulling it from the drawer every night and giving a soft kiss to fingertips that are slowly turning black. He never wonders why the fingers still bend so well, why it never smells like rot.
He doesn't even think about it until he's awoken one night by the sound of soft scratching.
It takes Steve a second to hone in on the source, everything in him on edge and ready to jump on any possible threat. But nothing else in the room shifts; there's only the gentle scraping sound continuing from his left.
He turns on the lamp and looks at his nightstand, heart pounding in his chest as he reaches over and slowly tugs the drawer open. The noise stops, and Steve just looks down at Eddie's hand.
It's not in the bandana he usually wraps it in - something he did end up pilfering from Eddie's room, along with a few shirts that he sleeps in.
It's just there, laying in the bottom of the mostly-empty drawer, innocent as anything.
Steve watches it for a moment, waiting - praying - before reaching out and just. Touching it. Just a gentle brush along the knuckles.
It flinches, and Steve gasps.
He picks the hand up and it writhes in his grip, like a feral creature attempting to escape a predator. It only makes him hold on tighter, until he's able to shift it and lace their fingers together, their favorite way of holding hands.
The hand freezes, and he gives it a gentle squeeze, can't help the soft "Eddie?" that escapes him. It squeezes back tightly, ink black fingertips pressing into his skin, and Steve knows.
Not the how or the why, but those are worries for the future. For now, he cradles Eddie's hand in his own as he lays back down, crying happy tears for once. Because it seems that, by some miracle, Eddie is alive.
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bubblegumgothglados · 1 month ago
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So you want to break one of your victims bones
The cheek bone is a good option, nothing a doctor can do to fix that so no need to go to a hospital after, plus it'll leave a permanent mark on their face to remind them of the pain every time they look in the mirror
You could probably do it with your first, sit on their chest, hold their head between your knees, grab their head, hit them, hard, repeatedly, until you hear a crack. But I'd be worried about breaking your knuckles
You could smash their face into a wall. Pin their arms behind their back, get a good hold of their hair and grip tight, press their cheek against the wall, get your aim, pull their head back and smash it, once, twice, thrice, hard against the wall. But a concussion is a concern
The ribs are a good option, again nothing a doctor can do to set them or fix them so no need to go to a hospital. Plus every time they breath it'll hurt and they'll be reminded how much you care about them.
Anything heavy would work, a hammer, baseball bat, steal pipe. But in my opinion the best option is four favorite pair of boots, kick them until they're screaming and crying and begging you to stop, and then once more for fun. But there's a slight chance you snap one of their ribs and the sharp bone pierces an organ almost certainly killing them
Fingers aren't as easy. Most of the time when someone says they broke their finger they actually broke a knuckle not a bone, but it is possible. Pin their hand to a table, bolt it down if you can, keep it immobile. Position it so their pinky is hanging over the edge just between their first and second joint. Break it with a hammer. Enjoy their screams of pain and terror. Then enjoy their screams again as you crunch it back into position and bind it to a splint. But they might not be able to use the finger again, ever
If you're really evil, if you really want them to suffer, break their shin. Remember to gag them first so they don't bite their tongue off. Sit them on a bench, bind their leg to it real tight so there's no chance of it moving at all. Position it so their shin is half way off the bench. Hit it with all your strength, or maybe jump on it with all your weight. And then, yeah, get them to a hospital. But they might never be able to walk again
(Everything I said here is technically true but please don't take it as advice. Go read my heavy impact primer)
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belivers · 2 years ago
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Anasthesiology-Believers Medical College Hospital
The speciality of Anaesthesia is changing quickly due to the complexity of the cases seen and the technology available for patient care. The demands with regard to the skills necessary for the management of clinical practice, exceed those which were needed in the past.
know more...
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nightmarekilljoy · 3 months ago
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Never thought this would happen but thought that this was my normal up until last year. I thought it was my normal that mild infections sent me to the hospital. I thought it was my normal to have me struggle with digestion, going to the bathroom, eating (not in an ed sort of way), cramps, back pain, joint pain, bone pain, nose bleeds, dizziness, nausea, bladder pain, tinnitus, hand tremors, near fainting experiences, fainting, bleeding, shooting pain, stabbing pain, weak legs, malabsorption, abnormal blood test.
No. Its not normal. It should not be normal.
I am angry.
I am angry at everyone who told me to just exercise, to just eat healthy, to just drink tea, to just try yoga, to just try anything that has never helped me.
I am angry at every misdiagnosis. At every hospital visit spent in pain while doctors did nothing to prevent that pain. At every doctor that said I was too young. At every doctor that dismissed even the concerns of my mother who knew my problems since birth. At every hospital stay spent in pain and without conclusive diagnosis.
I am angry at every family member who called me an attention seeker, who told me my pain was all in my head, who told me my pain was only minor and that everyone else's pain is more important because they're older and I'm young and don't know anything.
I am angry. Terribly angry. It takes too long to be taken seriously and to get a diagnosis. My pain shouldn't last this long. I should have got treatment as a child. I should have been treated.
Its not normal to be in pain every day. Please take care of yourselves.
-Amber (she/they/it/star/shine/rot)
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respectthepetty · 4 months ago
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@italianpersonwithashippersheart and @slayerkitty, I think Dee will win the scholarship too because he is a winner and will burn the hospital down if he loses, but I think he going to stay because he has to make a decision and even if he wins the scholarship, he'd still lose.
Follow me down Wild Ass Theory Road:
The director said all the money and high-tech equipment is pointless if they don't have component doctors in the hospital.
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Dee took personal responsibility for his youngest patient's care.
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And Dee is here for the patients.
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Dee is a doer rather than a thinker like Ter, so he likes to be hands-on. Ter is compiling a lit review and filming videos, which is valid.
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But Dee is conducting original research and coordinating activities.
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Dee also doesn't like presenting.
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Ter likes brushing shoulders with the big wigs.
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Dee, strangely, isn't about that life, and really just wants to do his job, very well.
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He could've been a face (dermatology), but he didn't want to do that.
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He wanted to flex some knuckles, break some bones, and get the joints poppin'!
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Dee is (fake) dating the boxer that the hospital, specifically his department, is sponsoring, and if the rumor mill was doing the rounds before when news spread that he was only applying for the scholarship because Ter rejected him, if he wins, I think the rumors will spread that he only got it because the hospital wanted to please their World Champion Boxer.
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I'm blind when it comes to Ter, so I think this would be a good chance for him to redeem himself and step up to defend Dee which is something he DID NOT DO last time.
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Dee is going to win, but he doesn't want to really study abroad. He wants to be in the hospital, doing his job, helping his patients, and doing his own research. Ter wants to study more and be a nice prop for the hospital, so let him.
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Give the real loser his dream while also rubbing salt in his loser wounds letting him know that he is only getting this because Dee, the winner, is letting him.
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Also, when Yak was busy with training, Dee sent Yak a message first.
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Then, when Yak went to training, Dee drove four hours round-trip to see him.
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Dee didn't even want to stay longer in Japan and he checked in on Yak's fight while he was out of the country. Also note that Dee didn't want to present on their work from the previous year, while Ter was quick to state they would once again proving that Dee isn't trying to rehash the past but build on it so he can keep making advancements. Also, the director is Team DeeYak.
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Never once during these events did Dee admit he missed Yak first because Dee. Must. Win. And admitting he misses Yak makes him a loser.
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So would Dee really study abroad and leave Yak in Thailand when he misses him so much even after a few days? Or would it be better for Dee to finally admit that even if he won the scholarship, he doesn't want to be away from Yak? He wins, but he loses.
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Finally, a wedding IS coming. Last Twilight already gave us a breakup and time jump before a wedding brought the couple back together. That could happen here, but it shouldn't have happened the first time, and it'd be hella weird for it to happen twice, from the same company, in the same year. This isn't the Japanese BL run. We don't need two nickles for this.
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And Dee is wearing Yak's chain in the BTS image, so they are still together, and considering how much Thailand makes a WHOLE THING over couples trying to stay together when one is abroad (Never Let Me Go, Bad Buddy, 23.5), they are together at that wedding.
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Therefore, my Wild Ass Theory is that Dee will win the scholarship and will have to leave before Yak's big fight or Cher and Yei's wedding, so Green Flag Yak will say, "take the opportunity because you deserve it" but Dee will say "NO!" to the scholarship, make it to Yak's fight or the wedding at the final moment paralleling this scene,
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Then, he'll scream "YAK, I MISS YOU" and *scene*
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Dee has gotta lose eventually, so let it be in the finale admitting the one thing he refuses to admit - Winning doesn't matter if he loses Yak.
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AMEN!
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wheelie-sick · 11 months ago
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Basic dislocation/subluxation first aid
Keep in mind I am not a doctor, this is information I've gathered from medical sources and personal experience. I've done my best to link sources.
Some vocabulary first:
Dislocation - A bone is out of place to the extent that the bones are no longer touching
Subluxation - A bone is partially out of place but still touching the other bone
Dangers
When dealing with frequent dislocations and subluxations it's important to note that dislocating some joints is more dangerous than dislocating other joints. While all dislocations are medical emergencies some people choose not to go to the hospital for all dislocations and subluxations they experience however there are some that absolutely require emergency attention. In particular:
Vertebrae - Dislocating or subluxating a vertebra will cause a spinal cord injury. It's important that you seek emergency care to evaluate the extent of the damage and prevent further damage as severing your spinal cord completely can be fatal.
Collarbone - If your collarbone dislocates inwards it's important to seek emergency care to prevent further damage. A dislocated collarbone can cause life threatening problems with breathing and blood flow.
Knee - If your knee (not kneecap) dislocates it's important to seek emergency care as up to 40% of knee dislocations cause vascular injury that can threaten the entire limb if untreated
And while not all dislocations and subluxations are life or limb threatening all will damage your soft tissues in the surrounding area. A joint popping out of place is bludgeoning in all the surrounding structures in the process. That's why it's important to take care of your dislocations and subluxations correctly.
Improperly healing a dislocation or subluxation also poses its own risks. When dislocations and subluxations first happen the tissues holding the joint in are damaged making it easier to dislocate/subluxate a joint again. Not allowing these tissues to heal poses risk of additional dislocations and subluxations and can create a vicious cycle of tissue damage.
Reduction (Relocation)
Jaw
Vertebra - Go to the ER
Collarbone - Requires medical assistance
Shoulder
Elbow
Finger
Hip
Knee
Kneecap
Ankle
Toe
There were no available guides on reduction for wrists and ribs
What to do following a dislocation/subluxation
Reduce the joint
Apply a brace or splint to the joint. This brace will need to stay on for several weeks-months to allow the soft tissues to heal. This brace is more than a day-long commitment. Bracing is important because it stabilizes the joint while soft tissues heal and prevents further dislocations/subluxations.
Take weight off of the joint/avoid using the joint for 1-2 weeks. When people have been dealing with chronic pain it's easy to try to continue using a recently dislocated/subluxated joint. That joint needs time to heal and that healing will only happen with rest.
-> "I dislocate/subluxate joints so frequently that I cannot possibly do this"
I would make sure that what you're experiencing are actually dislocations/subluxations. A lot of people with disorders that cause subluxations/dislocations mistake ligaments and tendons popping for subluxations and mistake subluxations for dislocations. This causes people to think they are subluxating/dislocating many more joints than they actually are.
If you are truly experiencing that many dislocations/subluxations I would strongly recommend speaking to an orthopedist to discuss bracing and/or surgery for your joints.
If you aren't able to see an orthopedist it's still worth trying the above steps to the best of your ability.
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marleyybluu · 1 year ago
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Thinkin’ Bout You
Spooky Diaz x fem!reader
Word count: 1.2k
Content warning: 18+, gets a little hot at the end, overall fluff and mush, everyone’s in love and high, reader smokes weed, reader described to have thick thighs (of course tf), pretty sure I'm missing some sorry
A/N: I took a break from my break to post this lol I was gonna leave this as a stand-alone(it can still be read as such) but honestly? it’s giving two and counting lore… so I’ll put it as a part of that series.
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(not mine, got it off pinterest but awooogaa!)
Friday. What a glorious day to be off work. You slept in, hell you'd say you deserved putting up all those work hours at the hospital, and after finally crawling out of bed you rolled a small joint for the morning, and smoked it on the balcony outside your bedroom. The neighbourhood was quiet, the air was crisp and a bit cold but it's nothing one of Spooky's sweaters couldn't fix. You wrap your arms around you, the sweater is warm and it smelt like his cologne, you close your eyes and smile at just the mere thought of him. You always think about him it was crazy how one man consumed your entire being but you were so glad it was him.
You wished he was home, wished he was here to smoke with you but he got called into work earlier than usual, you didn't even get a goodbye kiss which you were missing right now, the vacancy of those lips— soft as a cloud and always on top of yours so delicately— depending on the context of course.
Without him here the day seemed to pass on slower, you checked the time what seemed like every ten minutes which also didn't help. To distract yourself you clean and cook, call your mom until she is ready to, quote, "Go and do her own thing." And hung up on you.
You lay upside down on the couch, feet crossed as they hang over the back of the couch and your head hangs off the seat cushions, Living Single reruns consumed your screen. You were well distracted until you heard a car door slam and various keys jingling together, you sat up and gripped the back of the couch for dear life.
The lock turns. The door opens. And there he is. You scream with excitement. "Hi, babyyyyy."
He chuckles, not even ten seconds inside and you already had him smiling. "Hola mi corazón."
You roll off the sofa and run over to your man, leaping and wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He squeezes you so tightly you swear he'd crack a few bones but in the name of love, you wouldn't care. You pepper his face with kisses before you finally land on his lips and you mould into him, his hands firmly grasping your ass that barely fits in your shorts.
He smiles in the middle of your kiss and it's an instant chain reaction. "Missed me that much?"
"You have no idea."
He gives you another small kiss before he puts you down and you fight the urge to pout and demand to be picked back up, you just want to live in his skin 24/7, but you let him catch his breath. Let him put away his things, grab a Corona while you ogle him and the way his enormous arms flexed when he twisted the cap off and the foaming bubbles sliding their way to the top... almost spilling over... but then he saves it with tongue. You lick your bottom lip and zoom in on the involuntarily sexual act, oh, and the way his Adam's apple bobbed with every sip... fuck.
"Bebita," He calls. You slowly nod, still in your love-stricken daze. "You're droolin' a little bit ma."
You rub your chin and frown at him, there is no drool. He winks at you and you turn your face to the side to avoid any more butterflies in your stomach. "You smoke already?"
You nod. "Wanna smoke again or you good?" He sat his blunt, which magically appeared from his jeans, between his lips and nodded to the back door. "Nah, I'll smoke with you."
"Good, vamos."
••••• Your head lays in his lap, his hand cupped your cheek and his thumb caressed your skin. After you two smoked, you ate and had a blissfully shared shower, now you were sprawled out on the sofa still high as fuck watching Bridget Jones's Diary, he remembered you uttered something about wanting to watch a rom-com for once. You were in the mood to watch a love story, "or something."
But you were hardly paying attention to the screen, so lost in your own world of love, you pinch his chin aiming his at an angle so he'd look down at you. Make eye contact.
"Do you think about me?" A question asked so innocently. "Course I do, baby."
You run your finger down the column of his neck, over the lump of his Adam's apple. "What do you think about?"
He pauses the movie and focuses on you. "What's this about?"
"Nothing."
"You pregnant?"
You hit him. "Spooky! No!" He was obsessed with the idea of a baby. "Just answer my question."
He sighs, nostrils flair, he hated telling his deepest feelings but, "I think about you... and me, and what our life could be like. We could get married, could have a couple of kids. I always thought about gettin' like a summer house or something. Hit it every summer with them."
You smiled. "You think about all that?"
"Fuck yeah. I see us dropping them off on their tío, he watches them... we still get to have some us time, dates, trips...whatever you want."
You swear he makes you fall in love with him all over again at least once a week. "You think I haven't pictured the wedding? I know what I'll say in my vows already."
"Liar," You teased.
"Mi amor, the day I saw you-"
You quickly cover his mouth it'd be like spoiling a movie you hadn't seen yet. He licked your palm but you were quick to wipe it on his face. "Puta." He muttered. "Bastardo." You retaliated. "So how many kids do we have?" You sit up and adjust yourself so that you are now sitting with your back against the support of the couch and drape your legs over his thighs, the cold metal of his rings hits your hot skin when his hand contacts your leg. "Five."
"Are you out of your fucking mind?" You exclaim. "I've seen childbirth live and I think we can have one and a dog." He rolls his eyes. "Fine, whatever."
He leans over to kiss your forehead. "You think about me?"
"Once in a while." You joke, his jaw drops. "Once in a while!? That's how you feel? Ay, cariño, you're breaking mi corazón."
You place your hand over his and offer him a side smile before you kiss his cheek. "The way I jumped on you when you came home isn't proof enough."
He pulls you on top of him, your legs now sitting on each side of him with his hands gleefully squeezing every pound of flesh that makes up your thunder thighs that spread every time you sit and it makes him call them pancakes sometimes. "I might need a refresher."
"Oh, getting short-term memory already, Diaz?" You hum pressing your lips to his. "Just a little bit." He answers. Your hands fumble with the bottom of his shirt, he raises his arms and you break the kiss for just a second before you're back with tongues in each others throats and you're making out as if you're life depended on it, as if he's being shipped off to war and you don't know if he's coming back. Now it was your turn to pull back in need of some air. His smile is shaky, almost like a shy expression.
"Still kinda hazy."
You rid yourself of your top, with nothing under it.
"Oh don't worry," You lean in. "I'm about to make it real clear."
Not tagging anyone in this, I'm just testing something. if you liked this fic, feel free to like this fic, reblogs and comments are appreciated. peace and love, see you in the next one🤙🏾
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hisunshiine · 1 year ago
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—i must be favored to know ya [5/7]
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Part 5 of 7 of the Seven Days Series ↣ series masterlist
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🗓️ pairing: nurse!jungkook x teacher!reader 🗓️ au/genre: non-idol au, brother’s friend au, fwb, age-gap(reader is older), f2l, fluff, angst, smut, 🗓️ rating: M 🗓️ wc: 5,665 🗓️ warnings: emotionally constipated pairing, again Kim Seokjin MEDDLING, drunk feelings in a good way, nudes, misinterpretation of messages, drunk feelings in a bad way, arguing, saying hurtful things  explicit sexual content: making out in the club, potential exhibitionism/voyeurism, shower sex  🗓️ an: Sorry if this one is angsty y’all! We’ve been slowly building to it, and it had to come to a head at some point, right? Plus, we only have the weekend left! Hospital Vocab: 🏥 A MICU is a medical intensive care unit that deals with less critical conditions such as pneumonia, infections or other problems that require intensive monitoring but don't necessarily require emergency. 🏥 The NICU is a nursery in a hospital that provides around-the-clock care to sick or preterm babies.  🏥 Gastric refers to the unit of Gastroenterology, which cares for issues with the esophagus, stomach, small intestine, colon and rectum, pancreas, gallbladder, bile ducts and liver. 🗓️ summary: “I must be favored to know ya.” Having Jungkook in your life is so much sweeter than you ever thought. It would be great if you could just tell him, but showing him is as good as it gets for now…until you slip up and let the cat out of the bag. But it turns out, you aren’t the only one who has feelings for him, and you definitely aren’t the only one who wants to ride him. When your biggest fears come to light, knowing Jungkook the way that you do might become a thing of the past. 
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Taglist: @sizzlingfestpeach @mochminnie @jungkooksmytype @kookslastbutton @taebangtanbabe @bbtsficrecs @jk97bam it's not letting me tag you (if joining the taglist, please think about reblogging with tags/leaving feedback!)
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“Doctor Cho to room 324, Doctor Cho to room 324.” A nurse's tired voice plays over the loudspeaker as Jungkook follows Jimin into the staff locker room at the end of their shift.
“Bro, why was today so tiring?” Jimin drops effortlessly into the chair across from his locker, as if all of his bones and joints have given out.
Jungkook reaches behind his neck to fist at his scrub top, pulling the polyester material over his head. “It was tiring because we had to change Mr. Lee’s sheets four times today. Why are we working in the MICU again?”
“Because we wanted to take time off next week after the wedding, so we picked up this shift instead of enjoying our usual Friday off,” Jimin reminds as he toes off his sneakers. 
“Next time, tell me to check who I’m covering for. I forgot Sara works the gastric rounds, and while I don’t mind a little incontinence, Mr. Lee is not a small man and four times is more than a little, you know?”
Jimin nods as he finally begins to remove his own scrubs before heading to the showers in the back of the locker room with his small shower pouch in tow. Jungkook follows his lead, towel thrown over his shoulder, his own pouch in hand.
“You know what?” Jimin asks as he steps into one of the small shower stalls. “I think we should go out tonight. Octagon or CakeShop—you know they have the best music and drinks.”
“Mmm, I don’t know…I’m still covering Sara’s shift tomorrow, and if Mr. Lee is still having bowel issues,” Jungkook steps into the privacy of his own stall to step out of his boxer briefs and into the water, enjoying the heat as it envelops his body, “I might not be at my best if I go out tonight.”
“C’mon, man! We should go out because of Mr. Lee! We can invite the teachers, it’s summer break for them anyways, and the four of us always turn up on Fridays. We can invite the whole crew.”
Jungkook makes sure to scrub his hands extra before washing the rest of his body with his green Italy Towel to exfoliate his skin. “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I ask for, man.” 
The two continue their shower routine, meeting again in the locker room to change into clothes to go home in.
Jimin grabs his phone as soon as he’s dressed. Jungkook follows Jimin’s movements as he paces back and forth with the phone on speaker, dialtone echoing through the room. 
“Hey, Jimin,” Taehyung answers the phone, sounding as if he just took a bite of food.
“You’re on speaker. Tae, we’re going out tonight. Octagon or CakeShop?”
There’s a pause before he answers; Jungkook assumes Taehyung is swallowing his food. “Let’s do CakeShop, it’s a bit more cozy. You’re on speaker too, Hoseok and I are grabbing a late lunch.”
“Hey, Jimin!” Hoseok’s voice filters through the mobile.
“Sounds good. Ready at 11?”
“Yeah. I’ll text Woo Shik, see if he can reserve a table. See you later, I’m eating right now.”
Taehyung’s annoyance at his meal being disturbed rings loud and clear as the phone clicks, and Jimin throws the phone into his open backpack. “Can you call your girl? Let her know we’re going at 11?”
Jungkook’s movements stutter as he rolls deodorant on, raised arm freezing in the air. “My girl?” He eyes Jimin from his peripherals, trying to read his face.
“Yeah, she’s like, your best friend. Joined at the hip all the time, sometimes I wonder whether you or Yoongi is her actual brother.”
“Oh, haha, yeah, I’ll—yeah, I’ll call her once we get out of here.”
“Cool, so let’s go, see if we can catch the hyungs before they leave.” Jimin closes his backpack, lifting it over his shoulder. Jungkook follows suit, carrying his bag by the small handle at the top instead as they leave the room. 
“Hyung!” Jimin spots Seokjin as he leaves one of the rooms across from the nurses’ station. The jovial man smiles as he passes a clipboard off to the Resident shadowing him.
“Hey, you guys off for the day?” Seokjin asks as he checks his watch.
“Yeah, we’re headed out to CakeShop tonight at 11 if you and Joon want to come with?”
“I don’t think I can swing it. Joon’s covering the NICU the rest of the week, so I doubt he’ll be down to go.”
“No worries, just wanted to extend the offer.”
“I appreciate it. We’ll have fun Sunday, right? Open bar at the reception and all.”
“Definitely.” Jimin wraps an arm around Jungkook’s neck and begins to tug him down the hallway. “See ya!”
Seokjin just shakes his head, watching as the two men head out.
“What’s got Jungkook so happy?” SoHee appears at Seokjin’s elbow, holding a binder to her chest.
“Oh, he’s probably off to go see his—uh, probably hanging with one of our friends.”
“One of your friends? He must be a pretty cool guy if Jungkook is that excited to go hang out.” SoHee says, a smile on her face as she watches both men bounce happily around the corner, her eyes focused mostly on the tattooed, floppy haired one until they’re finally out of sight. 
“Yeah…she’s pretty cool. They’re like best friends—spend every waking moment together when not working.” Seokjin glances at SoHee, searching for a reaction. He’s not doing it to be mean—in his mind, it’s more mean to string someone along when your heart belongs to someone else.
“Oh. I didn’t realize the person was a ‘she’. Do you, uh, think that they like each other? As more than friends?”
Seokjin makes eye contact with SoHee, trying to express more with his eyes than his response gives. “If you hope to date JK, you have some pretty fierce competition, and she isn’t afraid of using her feminine wiles.” 
—————
The lights in CakePop glow a harsh red as the fluorescent, buzzing tubes shine across Jungkook’s face. You admire the slope of his nose, the angles of his jaw and the way his hair frames his face as he orders a round of drinks from the bar. He chose to wear jeans you’ve never seen him in before: baggy as hell with large cuts horizontally going up the back of them. With a white sleeveless tank and white, tiger-print long sleeve covering his tattoos, his look is complete with a new chain earring he’s showing off. 
Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok dressed up as well, each one showcasing their different style but just as handsome. They sit at the table reserved for your group, chatting as their heads bob to the music. He’s busy paying for the tab when you feel a tap on your shoulder.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
You look over your shoulder at the man who’s sidled up close to you while your attention is elsewhere.
“No, but thank you,” you reply as loud as you can over the music without drawing too much attention to the rejection. You watch as the man’s eyes bounce from you to Jungkook as you take a step closer to him.
“Oh, this you?” he asks, understanding morphing through his pupils. You don’t know how to respond, since it’s very much so complicated, but Jungkook saves you the trouble.
“Yeah, she’s with me.” Jungkook’s arm wraps itself heavily around your waist, fingers on the meat of your hip as he tucks you into his side. He eyes the man, who is slightly taller than him, but seems to deem him as not a threat. “C’mon, babe,” he says into your ear, “our drinks are ready.” 
You smile up at him, moving to grab your drink as he takes the small platter that holds the other four drinks over to the table. His hand never leaves your skin, transferring from holding your hip to holding your hand as he navigates through the dancing bodies and back to your group of friends.
“Finally! Let’s down these and get on the dance floor!” Hoseok says. As the P.E. Teacher at the school you work at, he’s really fit. You know he also works at a dance studio in the evenings and during the summer, so as far as this scene goes, Hoseok was ready to show off his moves. The others agree, so you throw your drink back before excusing yourself to the bathroom. Best to pee now, instead of breaking the seal later. 
“We aren’t waiting for you!” Taehyung teases as he adjusts his thin, silky red shirt, the opening around his neck unbuttoned and angled to show off delicate collarbones and a thin gold chain, but you know that it would be easy enough to find the four of them in the crowd; eyes often gravitate to watch them when they’re together as a group. Especially with Jimin in his all-black outfit, baggy jeans and combat boots put together with a leather jacket, and Hoseok in ripped jeans, jean jacket, black tee and sunglasses? There was no way you could miss them. Jungkook might be the one you’re fucking night after night, but the rest of the guys are also great to look at. Being the only girl out with them tonight will be fun. 
In the bathroom, you see a few texts from your brother, on your lock screen, but you ignore him, because it doesn’t matter. Jungkook is going home with you tonight, so there’s no need to make it weird. You know he’s only looking out for you, in the way that Yoongi does, but tonight you just want to shut your brain off for a while.     
Washing your hands, you check yourself out in the mirror, loving how your jeans fit your ass and your shirt shows just the right amount of cleavage. If you’re already getting hit on so boldly at the bar, you can only imagine how the rest of the night is going to go, and your self-confidence excites you. It’s twisted, but you feel good knowing other guys are showing their interest in you, in front of Jungkook. It’s like…showing Jungkook that you’re a good catch, if others also want you. Plus, having Jungkook step in and turn them away, saying you’re with him is a huge turn-on and confidence boost for you. In a way, you feel like Yoongi’s concerns shouldn’t matter too much because Jungkook already claimed you once tonight to someone else. Do you really need to do more? Your thoughts go quiet as more women filter into the bathroom, talking loudly. 
“But did you see the one in all black? He’s so hot.”
“Okay, but the one with dance moves? In ripped jeans? Even hotter.”
You laugh to yourself as you fix your hair before heading to the door.
“I’m set on the one in white. I’m taking him home if it’s the last thing I do.”
If they had been paying attention to you, they would have seen the stutter in your step and the way you almost miss the handle to the door, but as luck would have it, no one notices the almost stumble as you head back into the dark of the club. 
As you expect, finding the group is easy, but pushing through the onlookers is slightly difficult, as some of the women do not want to move to let you through, thinking you’re simply another fan of the men dancing to the grooving house music. Once you find a break between bodies however, Jungkook spots you and reaches his hands out to you, pulling you through in time to the rhythm. He’s face to face with you, hips moving with each beat that thumps through the speakers as you settle into the space created by the disappointment of the gravitating spectators.
He drops one of his hands, allowing him to spin you around with the one still holding onto you after a few moments and then stepping into your space so you’re able to meld your body into his and face the other guys in the group. You wind your hips back into his pelvis and Jungkook catches every beat, hands resting on your hips as you work him. You want to see his face, see if he’s watching you or not, but when you feel his fingers tighten almost imperceptibly in response to a rather suggestive body roll, you guess you know he’s paying attention to you more than anything else. 
Typically, when the songs change, you also change partners, liking to spread the wealth that is your dancing among the others, but tonight, Jungkook doesn’t let go, and you don’t try to leave him. The others don’t seem to mind, spending their time choosing random people from the crowd to dance with or weaving back and forth to get drinks from the bar. Eventually, the group of girls from the bathroom comes near, you turn to face Jungkook, wrapping your arms around his neck. 
“I’m staying with you tonight, right?” you ask on tippy toes, mouth ghosting the shell of his ear tipsily to ask something you already know the answer to, but wanting to lay your claim. Your teeth nip lightly at the earlobe without the new chain earring, and you leave a soft kiss where the lobe meets his neck just so the other girl can see. 
He responds in kind after a shiver races down his spine, pulling you closer as the heat from his mouth spreads lower through your body. “You better be—I’ll kidnap you if I have to.” He bites your neck playfully, causing you to squirm in his hold but he doesn’t loosen his grip on you, just apologizes for the bite with a tongue-wetted kiss that promises so much more to come when you get home. Turning back around in his hold, you watch as Taehyung looks between you and his friend, and can only smile knowingly to yourself when it dawns on him what must be going on. Now that Yoongi knows, you don’t really care if the others find out or not. 
Jimin returns to the group with drinks for you and Jungkook fisted in his hands, and you thank him before drinking half of it in one gulp. “Slow down, baby, we have plans for tonight, so we shouldn’t drink too much more, okay?” Jungkook’s eyes are wide and pleading when you look over your shoulder at him, and it’s almost heart-stopping how good he looks, tongue swiping his bottom lip and messing with his lip piercings. It should be illegal for him to ask for anything from you while giving you that look.
“Yeah, this is my last one,” you promise, and he smiles as he finishes the beer Jimin gave him. 
“I’ll get you some water, okay? Can’t have my baby with a hangover tomorrow.” 
Your mixed drinks are more potent than his beers, and it’s cute that he’s thinking of taking care of you. You feel warmth in your chest at his consideration and actions, not to mention his use of the claiming endearment leaving you all hot and bothered as he heads off the dancefloor towards the bar. 
“What time are we staying ‘til?” you ask Hoseok, who eyes his watch.
“Probably not much longer, it’s almost one. Thirty minutes sound good?”
“Yeah, I think I can do another thirty to forty-five minutes.”
Hoseok nods, but his smile then turns mischievous. “You and Jungkook sharing a taxi tonight?” He takes both of your hands, swinging them as if going to draw you in to dance with him, and a part of you wants to pull away; as if you can’t dance with Hoseok because you have a boyfr—or because you have plans to fuck someone in an hour or so and it would be disrespectful. Right?
“We always share a taxi, Hobi,” you answer coyly, evading his question and not stepping closer to him, politely declining to dance. 
Hoseok just grins wider, hips swaying to the beat as he steps away from you, dropping your hands. “She’s all yours,” he says over your head, and a moment later you feel the heat of Jungkook as he envelops you back into his body. 
“Here, make sure to drink all of it,” Jungkook places the bottle of water into your hand as he turns you to face him, the lid already twisted off for you. His voice drops, in volume and in tone, as he adds, “Only good girls get what they want tonight.”
You have to hold yourself back from responding with a “Yes, Daddy,”—the alcohol making you much more submissive to the younger man—so you bring the bottle to your lips instead, making sure you hold his eye contact as you wrap your pout around the rim and swallow the first gulp. The water is so quenching, you close your eyes as you take subsequent swallows, a little bit leaking from the corners of your mouth to run down your cheeks, neck, and disappear between your breasts.
“Woah, careful baby, I want you wet, but this water is for drinking,” he says as he pulls the water bottle back slightly from your mouth to slow the flow down, and you’re grateful, but also now horny as your eyes take in the way he’s looking at you. “Fuck it,” he intones mostly to himself, before dipping his face down into your chest. His tongue traces the path of the water back up to your neck where he keeps his mouth to suckle at your sensitive skin.
Neither of you cares that you’re in a packed club, that people are watching, that your friends—who didn’t know until tonight that there was anything more between the two of you—are watching and are also close enough to hear the sound you let out, the cross between a whimper and a moan as you cling to Jungkook’s shirt, hands fisted near his waist wanting him closer.
“Maybe we should get those taxis now?” Hoseok says aloud, mostly to Jimin and Taehyung in an attempt to pull their eyes away from the sight in front of them. The two just nod, and Hoseok pulls out his phone and opens his app. He can’t help but look up every few seconds though, not when you’re pressing your chest into Jungkook’s as he kisses you openly, his tattooed hand grabbing at your ass as he grinds into you in time to the music. 
The sounds Hoseok can hear from you between the music pounding out of the speakers have his dick jumping—as if straight out of his favorite porn flicks—but you’re Yoongi’s older sister, and apparently have been fucking the youngest in the group and Hoseok is now putting three and four together to realize the friend with benefits who he’s been fucking seven nights a week (per his text messages) is you.  
The crowd surrounding their group is beginning to stare now too, and Hoseok feels mildly uncomfortable—not because you have your tongue in Jungkook’s mouth (no, the sight is quite hot)—because the women who were circling like vultures all night are staring daggers at your head. Despite you two dry-humping on beat, Hoseok can see the annoyed looks on some of the other dancers' faces, so he’s more than happy to unceremoniously pull your mobile device from your back pocket (the one without Jungkook’s hand all over it) so he can order your taxi to keep you and Jungkook from getting arrested for indecent exposure.
He hates being the person to interrupt the two of you when the taxis are about to arrive, but the shine in your eyes is full of gratitude as he leads your group outside. He suspects it’s because you were probably in need of oxygen, and a small part of him assumes it’s because you were just caught acting like a couple of young teenagers. Hoseok hands you your cell phone back as you all stand at the curb, and you smile sheepishly at Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung, as if to say ‘Surprise! It’s me!’.
Jungkook still has his arms wrapped around you, lips kissing your neck and exposed shoulder—any place his mouth can reach from his spot behind you—and when the first taxi pulls up, Jimin has to pull Taehyung along to go with him and Hoseok. 
“But, can I go with them? I wanna watch some more,” Taehyung doesn’t sound like he’s joking at all, and only decides to climb into his taxi when Jungkook shoots him a glare that you can’t see.
“Be safe, text me when you all get home!” you say as they settle in the backseat. They all give you skeptical looks, knowing you’ll probably be too busy to even see the messages, but they’ll do it anyway. Your phone alerts you that your taxi is also there, so you wave as you lead a seemingly lovesick, doe-eyed, muscle bunny to another car pulling up behind the first. 
Climbing into the vehicle, you’re practically sitting on Jungkook’s lap the entire ride home, where he’s quietly feeling you up the whole way to his apartment. His hand is between your thighs, pressing into you in a way that makes the seam of your jeans press against your clit. He feels the way you roll your hips as he leaves wet pecks on your neck and whispers dirty things into your ear.
“Wanna fill you up when we get home,” he murmurs, “can’t wait to feel you wrap around me.”
Your breathing is shaky, and the taxi driver asks if you’re okay as he speeds down the road.
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Your back is against the cold shower wall, Jungkook’s strong arms hold your legs at the knees as he thrusts inside of you. His body pins you in place, your hands clawing at his back as you try to find purchase against his slick skin. You bounce on his hardened cock as he drills it deeper inside of you, hips rutting for friction against his pelvis, your swollen clit aching for more.
“Fuck, baby, you’re perfect.” Jungkook’s mouth moves against your collarbones as he speaks, switching between biting and kissing from the pleasure your walls give him. The pain as he marks you only makes you wetter, makes you crave him more. 
“Jungkook, feels so good,” you whine out, tangling your fingers into the wet hair curling at the nape of his neck. “Love it,” you chant out, repeating the phrase several times. “Fuck me, baby, don’t stop, love how you feel.”
Jungkook’s brain can barely handle the way you’re sending all of his senses into overdrive. The feel of you sliding up and down, so slick and warm on his cock as you tug at his hair, your words flowing through his mind, that you love it, love it, love it, so close to saying you love more than just the way he fucks you, maybe you could even love…him?
“Fuck, baby, keep saying it, don’t stop, you ride me so good, fucking love your pussy.”
“Love your cock, fuck Jungkook, love how you fuck me, need more, need you deeper.”
Jungkook lets your legs down one by one so he can turn you to face the glass of the shower, allowing both of you to feel the hot water streaming onto your bodies as he enters you from behind. Your hands lay flat on the glass as he begins to pound into you, the clapping of his thighs into your ass echoing off the walls of the bathroom, mixing with your breathy moans as he reaches that spot inside of you. 
“Tell me you love it, tell me how good my cock feels, splitting your pussy open like this,” Jungkook’s voice is whiny as he begs for your praise, secretly seeking more than he asks for. When he wraps his tattooed hand around your waist, fingers dipping between your legs in search of your clit, you give everything he’s hoping to hear and more as you climax. 
“Oh, fuck, right there, Jungkook, fuck, fuck, I love you, don’t stop, please don’t stop, you feel so good, Jungkook, fucking love you, you make me feel so good.”
His head—the one currently buried deep inside you—loses all senses as his other head processes your words, and he’s losing himself as he empties inside of you. Your legs shake, wanting to give out if not for his strong arms holding you up. 
“You’re so perfect, baby,” Jungkook whispers as he kisses the back of your head. “My perfect baby.”
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Drying off, you shiver slightly as Jungkook walks out of the bathroom to grab some clothes for you both and leaves the door ajar. Your phone sits on the sink counter, a little foggy from the steam, but you can still see messages waiting for you. You click through them each one by one, not bothering to respond since it’s much later than the time they were sent, and all of the senders are probably deep in an alcohol-induced sleep. You glance at the time, noting it's now almost 2:30 AM. 
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You’re glad the three men made it safely, but kind of hate the way Hoseok refers to you and Jungkook as teenagers. Were your actions at the club tonight…immature? What did he mean by that? Did he think you weren’t smart enough to make sure to use protection? Jungkook’s young, but he’s not that young! Plenty of people under twenty-six have children. Would it be so bad if you and Jungkook were to become pregnant, based solely on your ages?
Then there’s Taehyung, pointing out yet again how ‘young’ Jungkook is—and why is he sending you thirst traps? You know it’s harmless, he’s just drunk and wants your attention, but it still makes you upset that he feels that your choice was wrong because of age. 
Are you some old crone or hag that can’t fuck with someone younger than you? What makes this age gap so bad? You just want someone to make sense of what they’re saying to you, because the way you’re interpreting it, they think you and Jungkook are too different in age to be together. Your biggest fears come to light in the messages across your screen, from your own friends no less, just when you’re coming to terms with the one fact that should be the only one that matters: You want to be with Jungkook. You want to date him—want him to be yours, for real.  
Jungkook returns with a large black shirt for you, his own lower body covered with a clean pair of red Calvin Klein boxer briefs. You pull the shirt over your head, and in the dark, you hear his phone chime with a text message. 
“Who’s even up at this time?” he mutters, and you have to agree, It’s late, but you assume it’s a message from one of the guys; he probably texted them each back and one wasn’t asleep just yet. Your head and arms are pushed hurriedly through the holes, and you see Jungkook barely get a chance to glance at his phone before he’s setting it down next to yours and instead grabbing your towel to finish drying your hair.  
The action is sweet, warming your heart and you know that this is the moment. It’s time to tell Jungkook exactly how you feel, regardless of the post-sex high and in spite of being still tipsy on alcohol—you’re sure what you want to say will come out how you intend. How hard can it be to tell someone you like them? But his phone chimes again and you can’t help but to glance down at it. The sight makes your blood run cold. SoHee, clearly shirtless, sending a booty call text at 2:33 AM. 
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To YOUR Jungkook. To the same Jungkook who you just professed your love to while taking raw backshots in his shower; the same Jungkook who just finished emptying his cum inside of you. 
Your thoughts run wild; did he send nudes to her too? Did he take one when he left the bathroom to get clothes for you both? You want to scroll through the thread, see for yourself that he isn’t sending nudes to someone else, when he’s been fucking you every night, calling you his baby, his princess…No. Your eyes prick with tears at the thought, the alcohol still running through your veins making your ability to think logically about this situation a bit cloudy.
“Seriously, Jungkook? Fucking me and texting other bitches back to back? While I’m still here?” you scoff, shaking your head as you step away from him. 
“What?” he glances down at his phone, seeing the screen lit up with the message from SoHee. His eyes take in the picture and the message, growing wide in fear. “No, baby, it’s not what you think—” He picks up the phone, wants to show you the truth but you don’t let him speak.
“Jungkook, do I look stupid to you? I can literally see the messages and can still feel the ache between my thighs from you. This might work on girls your age, but please, do not insult my intelligence.”
“Girls my age? What are you talking about?”
“You! I’m talking about you pulling a stunt like this!” 
“Baby, c’mon. You’re just drunk, I promise you, this is nothing.”
His words only add to your ire. He’s downplaying what happened, but you know what you saw. It was right there in front of your eyes, but he’s trying to placate you and you can’t stand to feel like this. Like you can easily fall for some bullshit just because a hot, younger guy is showing interest in you. It’s exactly what people expect, right? That older women put up with shit because they’re afraid no one will want them, that they’re past their expiration date for romance.
“Don’t ‘you’re just drunk’ me! I literally just told you how I feel about you, to then see that picture and message! I honestly should’ve expected something like this from you, I chose to fuck the youngest in the group, what did I expect?” You say this last part more to yourself than to Jungkook, but he hears you just the same. 
“Hold on. What are you even fucking saying right now? You chose to fuck the youngest in the group? What, would you have decided to fuck someone else, like Jin or Namjoon? Because they’re older than me?”
“They probably wouldn’t be sending nudes to other bitches at 2 AM after fucking me in their shower and inviting me to stay the night. Maybe my coworker was right about you.”
“That’s not what the fuck even happened! God, you know, you’re so stupid sometimes, I swear. I’ve always wanted you, but you’re the one acting immature, like you’re so great because you’re older than me? Age doesn’t fucking matter, our age gap isn’t even that big! But you’re acting like you know more because you’re older than me?”
“Jungkook,” you sigh out, bringing your finger to your temples, “you don’t fucking get it, you’re too young to—”
“Don’t you even finish that fucking sentence.”
“Seriously, Jungkook. You can’t possibly feel—”
“Are you actually trying to tell me how I feel!? You’re certifiably insane.” Jungkook laughs, but there is no humor in his tone. He paces out of the bathroom, fingers raking through his hair as he tries to make sense of what’s happening. “You know what? You’re the only one who has ever worried about our age difference. Because of what other people say, right? Because I’ve never said anything about it. Not negatively, at least. I’ve…” Jungkook’s voice cracks as he tries to express how he feels to you, but he’s so disappointed that he can’t look at you. “You know I’ve literally been here for you, for anything you fucking needed. My age never mattered when it benefitted you. Your coworker doesn’t know shit about me and you. But apparently her opinion matters more than hearing me out.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying—”
“Actually, I can’t deal with this right now,” he says, adding your name to the end of his sentence like a finality. He turns towards your discarded jeans and shoes. You can see him opening his phone, KakaoTaxi open on the screen. “I have to get up early for my shift, and I really think I should sleep alone tonight.”
“Jungkook, wait,” you start to speak, to try and take back what you’ve said, but for Jungkook, it’s literally and figuratively too late. He walks you back into the bathroom, passing you your jeans from where he’s picked them up off of the floor.
“Your taxi will be here in less than five minutes. Text me when you get home safely.”
Jungkook drops the phone back on the counter and disappears out of the bathroom, and you don’t bother trying to follow him. His phone lies abandoned next to yours, and you can’t help yourself. You swipe sideways to his messages and scroll up through the thread with SoHee quickly, but there’s nothing in it from Jungkook showing he’s sent nudes, barely any messages sent from him at all. 
You blink away the tears that are forming, step into your jeans and grab your phone. His phone chimes from the Taxi notification, and you don’t bother to say goodbye, since you don’t see him on your way through his apartment to his front door. You linger, closing the door slowly but he never appears, and you’re hit with a sobering moment of reality of what your future could look like without him in it. The way home is quiet and lonely at this hour, the roads a sea of black, white, and grey, and you aren’t sure if Jungkook will ever color your doorstep—or your life—again.
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stay tuned for “i kiss your waist and ease your mind” coming 8-?-2023!
↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2023. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.
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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years ago
Note
I’m probably asking too much with this one, but if you’re willing to may I request a second part to see no evil? Where price and reader deal with the aftermath of what happened, just price being overprotective and worried about reader and not wanting to leave her side snd somehow blaming himself for what happened to her, you’re the best💖
Origami Boats
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Pairing: John Price x F!Reader
Synopsis: Wounds of the mind are harder to heal than wounds of the body. But can John ever stop blaming himself?
Word Count: 3.7k
Warnings: Referenced past stalking, past injuries & bodily trauma, blood, stitches, angst, protective!Price, eventual fluff, hurt/comfort
A/N: Loosely connected to See No Evil, can still be read as a stand-alone. Enjoy, Anon!
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
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The bandages came off one after the other, but the thick wrappings around your ribs and abdomen stayed. Tight. Constricting. Incredibly difficult to walk around with and even worse to try and sleep on. But the stitches still hadn’t dissolved yet—and thus, there they would stay for two more weeks. 
“Erm,” you grunt, struggling into one of John’s old t-shirts and feeling the pull of irritated flesh. Gritting your teeth, your head slips through the top, arms following after like a turtle popping out of its shell as the scent of your boyfriend’s beard oil sticks to your nostrils. 
You’d been discharged from the hospital seven days ago; John as well, though he had been able to leave a while before due to the less severe shot to his right shoulder. No one was really surprised when he’d stubbornly proclaimed that he’d be staying behind to watch over you—the doctors and nurses had tried to intervene, though you can only sway a Captain so far from the people he cares about. 
Truth be told if he hadn’t been there you don’t know if you’d be as alright as you were now. 
“What did I say about straining yourself?” The voice in the bedroom doorway makes you freeze, fingers twitching as a swift inhale causes your lungs to burn. 
But the shadow, accented by the hallway light like a silhouette of some old spartan warrior was familiar down to the make-up of his bones. The great size of a wide chest and shoulders—a brunette beard and thick hair. 
“It’s a shirt, John,” you whisper, voice still fragile. Doctors had advised it was unwise to raise your tone too high. Muscle tears and injuries to the joints in between your vertebrae were only the beginning of the effects of being strangled. It leads to dizziness some days; facial pain as well as horrible headaches. Smiling, you flatten the fabric and turn. “I won’t break.”
“Hm,” John comes out of the light, stoic facial features subdued in your presence. “Never said you would.” 
His warm grip finds your waist, pulling you carefully to him. The man’s shoulder was still sensitive, nothing he’d not gone through before, but Laswell had insisted on him taking Leave. John wasn’t going to say no. Not when it gave him more time to care for you. 
He breathes into you now, a great heaving sigh that echoes off the walls of the far-removed safehouse that he’d secured for the two of you. 
“You should be in bed. It’s early.” John’s large head nuzzles into yours, and your fingers delve under the loose material of his top, content to flatten your hand over his abdomen and feel the heat of blood. A pulse. 
Your digits massage the flesh slowly, and if the Brit could purr he would.
Rolling your eyes at his muffled comment you huff, “I spend too much time in bed. If you had your way you’d have me anchored to it.” 
The short bout of deep chuckles makes your eyes flicker shut in contentment; fingers go over the back of your spine, filtering over the bulge of wrappings. 
“Negative. I quite enjoy seein’ my girl up and about.” Great muscles move as John pulls back, hand cupping your cheeks. You stare up into his baby blue eyes; shade like a storm at sea with flecks of lighting trapped like mist. His gaze flickers over your old cuts—the tiny ones from pieces of glass that had healed incredibly fast. An expression filters over his face so quickly you nearly miss it as it’s gone the next second. John sighs, speaking lowly. “But you need to heal, eh? Keep your strength.”
“Then I suppose it would be the perfect time to tell you I want to walk around the back trail?” Your digits grip his iron wrists softly, thumbs along the backs as they brush back and forth as if his scarred flesh was made of the most expensive silk. 
John’s lips tighten, eyes going half-narrowed in a display of refusal. You’re the only person who he’d let interrupt him, and just so, you do before he can get a word out.
“Ten minutes.” You tilt your head and kiss his palm—hopeful that your wide, melted, eyes will gain favor. The Brit's frown deepens with a pull of his eyebrows, watching downward as his hips trade weight. You lean closer. “I promise.” 
The house holds its breath.
“...You’ll be the end of me, you will.” It’s a grumbled reply of gravel and gargoyle speech, but the blue that darts away to your shoes in contemplation was a sign you’d already won. 
John could never really say no to you.
Carefully giggles wafted through the open bedroom door, carting over the living room where books and loose paper sit in piles on a coffee table; a week’s worth of activities used to pass the time shown in the dented pillows on the couch. A collection of fresh bandages and gauze in the bathroom. Cleaned plates in the kitchen and forks sitting to dry in the sink, dripping water in the bright light of a morning filled with orange and yellow light. 
The Captain pulls a hand away, jokingly pointing it into your face—though his face was serious. You stare with a wide smile. 
“Ten minutes on the back trail. First limp I see I’m carrying you back. Willing or not.”
“Deal.” You slither out of his hold and hurry out the hallway, ignoring the stern call to be careful from behind you. 
You’d been unable to leave the safehouse for more than a breath of fresh air since being discharged—John himself an ever-present shadow to hold onto your elbow as if a bolder would come and take your legs out. This switch-up wasn’t a surprise to you. 
A Captain is still a Captain, on and off the field. He takes care of his own; it was his nature to be protective of the people he loved. Even if John was injured himself and stayed up at night with a sharp eye on the windows and doors. 
“Easy with it!” Blue eyes stare heavily at the wall outside the bedroom door, ears twitching to the sound of shoes being grabbed and small puffs of exerted air. 
John let his lashes flutter over his cheeks, a hand coming up to rub at the bags that live on his face like black and blue bruises. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been pushing his defense of you to another level—some nights he never fell asleep because the house was settling too much; creaks on the floor or flickering from the hallway’s bathroom light that he keeps on. 
But you’d been hurt because he had been too late. Nearly bled out. 
“Christ…” John sighs, hand going to brush his bloated shoulder. The reminder of the bullet going through his flesh was but a distant memory like all the others, though the feeling of your dead weight in his arms as he crashed to the ground would never leave him. Like a mountain on his chest. A curse. 
He could feel your heartbeat….slowing. Failing like a faulty wire. 
His fault.
“John?” Your voice snaps him back—away from pouring rain and a blood-stained puddle on soggy ground. The Captain tilts his head downward and lightly shakes it, glaring at the floor. “Come on! Maybe we can see some of those birds we’ve been hearing.” 
“Yes, Love.” 
Laswell had given him the location of the most rural safehouse she could under the guise of saying it would help get your mind off of everything. The paranoia of being hunted down in the very city you’d lived in for years like an animal. 
As John exited the bedroom and he made his way to the foyer, he silently blessed the Agent with every fiber of his being. Not only did the smile on your face make his own aches and pains fade but this also gave him the opportunity to look for a new house for the two of you to share. No way was he making you go back to the location where crimson was still soaked into the hardwood and brain matter was stuck to the walls. 
That just wasn't an option.
“Eager, then?” A flicker of a grin peels back his beard as he grabs a light jacket and his beanie from the coat rack. You only grab into the meat of John’s arm and drag him outside, shouldering open the door with delicate giggles as your eyes watch the brunette’s grunt of surprise and widening lids.
The sun streams with new dawn; long grass copper in a fire of translucent wisps and a fog that stays ankle-high. Flowers in shades of deep mauve and the color of the old blue teapot that sits on the kitchen counter—delicate petals that corral a dirt path and trap the car in the natural driveway. 
“C’mon!” You say again, not brushing off the arms that grab your waist and help you down the double steps, but still throwing an exasperated glare into a pair of eyes that narrow right back amusingly. 
An infection of joy hits your heart and you’re laying a peck on John’s nose right as his cheeks go red, eyebrows peeling upwards. Loftiness reminiscent of flying lays a sheen over his gaze and a hum of content meets morning-chilled air. 
“Hmm. You missed.” 
“Oh,” your head tilts, the Captain guiding you slowly down the road where the walking trail extends back into a fairly extensive copse of trees. “Did I?” 
Leaning into his chest as he grunts in mock annoyance, your head nudges into John with a heat on the tips of your ears; laughing softly as the scents of dew and dirt get trapped in your nostrils. This far out from the city, you wonder how you ever lived with the sound of cars and construction. People shouting over one another.
A pair of lips meet your scalp, feeling adoring eyes stuck to your form as the trees shroud you in a nymph’s shadow. Delicate footprints walking over the same ground. 
“Everything feelin’ alright?” John asks a few minutes in, maneuvering you around a fallen log as you stare off and watch a pair of Roe deer disappear into the foliage, black eyes for a moment locking with your own. 
A distant nod is all you give, blinking and re-focusing only to find the leaves rustling from a fleeing body of coarse reddish-brown fur. You turn to John, admitting, “Just a little sore. You?”
“We’ll head back in a bit, eh?” The hand on your waist squeezes carefully for a second, only dull thumps of blood making themselves known to your vulnerable state. “Change the bandages and fix breakfast.” 
Staring up at John you’re about to ask how his own shoulder is—as he’d totally glossed over your concern—when you see it just past his visage. Your feet slow to a stop and automatically your Lover’s does as well, sending a concerned gleam your way. 
“Love?” Your lips pull into a tight frown. 
Across the way, placed into a small patch of creeping sunlight and surrounded by the long arms of ferns sits a single growth of flowering orchids. They were white, glowing nearly with how they caught the rays. 
It wasn’t like you wanted to respond the way you did, your arms coming up to wrap your chest and body going to drop a few degrees, but wounds of the mind weren’t as easy to heal as the physical ones. Perhaps that was another reason Laswell had shown her insistence. The country meant quiet; peace. 
But no one could account for a fear of flowers. Specifically white orchids.
John’s head immediately snaps to where you look, body tense, but when his eyes fall to the small plant his thoughts go back to the flora you’d described getting at work. 
The ones that always kept coming week after week. The cards stuck to a small metal holder with red ink poems. 
Lightly pushing you back, your body is enshrouded in a jacket quicker than you can breathe down stiff breaths; the weight forming on your shoulders. It had to be more than a coincidence then, that the smell of rain clouds came in from the North as John tries to calm you.
Rainstorms and flowers. 
Your chest was burning as a hand captured your cheek, dragging back your black-shrowded vision like a wave. Mouth dry and limbs shaking.
“Hey,” John whispers, gruff but patient. 
“It’s alright.” Your fingers tighten over the coat sides, drawing comfort from the familiar scents of oil and smoke. “I’m okay, John. R-really.”
Blue eyes flicker over yours and lips fall into a still line as a pause leaves the bushes dancing in a fast breeze. A stiff inhalation lets you know what the man thought of your blatant lie.
“Just look at me, copy? I’m right here, Sweetheart.” A quiet sigh caresses your flesh. The sound makes your nose sting, heat trapped around your neck and pulsing in your abdomen that borders on painful. “We’re both right here. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”
You nod weakly, feet almost wobbly with a horrible rush of adrenaline. Your stomach flips like a roller coaster.
John’s eyebrows crease tightly, and he’s guiding you back down the trail with a hand on your back not milliseconds later. A final comment trapped on his breath as you shove yourself into him for comfort. 
“Bloody count on it, alright? Not while I’m still standing.” 
But his hand can still feel you shaking, and the small droplets of rain pelting the ground only make it worse. No thinking, he drops his beanie on your head as well to keep your head dry, hurrying you back as he glares at his feet with a stone jaw. 
So much for fresh fuckin’ air. 
Poison eyes turn behind him to find stark white entrapped by green. If looks could light fire…
Back at the house, you fiddle with your fingers on the couch, wrapped in a thin linen blanket John had found in one of the closets—subtly flinching at the pound of rain as clinking cups echo from the kitchen. You catalog the scars over your flesh. The long and crude ones from glass; circular blemishes near your wrists from burst blisters and desperate struggling. 
John watches from the doorway, tea tray in his hands and wound muscles that leave his digits clenching over it like a vise. 
It wasn’t fair, he thought, that you should have to feel like this. Having to relearn your own skin like it was a foreign entity clothing you; a new shirt or a pair of pants. Fibers of strung injuries that intertwine to weave a story that he can’t but blame himself for. 
If he’d just gotten home quicker than he…
“John…?” He realizes he’d been staring when you tilt your head at him quizzically, those tender vocal cords still scratchy in a way that makes the Brit cringe in pain as if it was his own. Lord, the Bastard had wrapped his hands around your throat. His girl’s throat. “Why are you just standing there?”
“Sorry, Love.” He utters, avoiding your gaze as he walks over on firm feet. Clearing his throat. “Must’ve been off for a minute.” 
“...You’re not going to stay up all night again, are you?” Your question has him freezing, tray just about to hit the coffee table before John delicately lowers it the rest of the way after a swift pause. His eyes blink quickly in surprise, side-eyeing you. “You look tired.”
Your face is grim. You…you shouldn’t be concerned about him.
“Didn’t know you knew about that.” He settles, grunting before he sits back and pours you a cup of Chamomile. “You were supposed to be sleeping.”
“I hear you check the locks every night at twelve. Dragging yourself away from bed and coming back only to stay up and listen to every noise. Your gun is only a quick movement away on the nightstand.” Your body shifts, moving yourself to straddle the Brit’s lap and forcing his arms back to his chest. His form huffs quietly as you settle, eyes locking on his wrapped shoulder and the shirt that lets white peak from behind textile. “Don’t try and act like I’m not seeing it for what it is.” Tone drops, and the walls of the house close in with dim lights; fingers flinching forward with every pitter-patter of droplets from beyond the barriers. “You… you don’t answer me when I ask how you’re feeling. It’s like…you’re punishing yourself.” 
“I’m—” John cuts himself off, silently baffled at how much you noticed. He had thought he was being discreet. A minute later and the weight on his chest is crushing him, eyes closing with a harsh sigh and causing his head to shake back and forth; his neck craning to the side. 
You stare in agony, fingers going to brush John’s beard and calling him back to you like a ghost of smoke and calluses. “Please, John, don’t blame yourself for this. I can’t stand it anymore.” 
“My job was to protect you.” He speaks like he’s confessing sins. Head high but optics stuck to your neck, hands going to sit on the swell of your hips as the world outside floods. Failing lights play off the strands of brown hair atop his head and you go to brush them into submission. “I couldn’t.”
Pressing your lips to his forehead, John can’t find it in himself to pull back. He falls into you with fatigued eyes and can finally admit to the burning pain in his shoulder. The sutures had been aggravated for days, but he’d never taken the time to check them. 
As if sensing this—by instinct or by startling intuition, John knew not—you pull back and tug at his shirt. Obediently, the Captain takes the article from his form and lets you unwrap the bloody gauze from the wound. He listens when you speak, shivering at the brush of your nails as they catch on his skin like a glorious knife. 
Forehead to your neck and nose under your chin, you take your free hand and push him deeper into you. 
“Your job was never to take care of me, Love. Our job is to take care of each other. And we…we’re just doing the best that we can right now.” The bandages fall to the side, and he feels your breath get caught. John’s eyes flutter shut, jaw clenching. “That’s all that we can do. That’s all anyone can do. We’re not machines—no matter what you tell yourself when you should be sleeping. What you are,” you move to look down at him, and his lid peels back just a fraction to show you cerulean and ocean storms. Smiling at him softly, your eyes are sticky with love and dripping liquid affection, “is who I want to spend the rest of my life with, John. But we have to get better first.”
He wonders how someone like you can still stand to be around him. How could you still love him? But your words do something—brings something back into focus. 
John stares with unabashed devotion. Unbridled tenderness that defines worship of the purest form. Your finger hooks his chin and he lets you move him as he stares with parted lips.
Head tilting, your opposite thumb massages red flesh until the pain lessons like it was never there to begin with. The Captain practically melts.
“Okay?” His lips softly meeting yours is all the answer you get, but it’s also all you need. 
When new bandages are re-wrapped and captivating words are exchanged in the warm lights of the living room, you find yourself stuffed into the clutch of the man’s good arm, watching his large fingers fold white paper as he hums a song under his breath. 
“What is it?” Your voice breaks the silence, calm finally settling in your bones. John wouldn’t leave you tonight, nor any night after. 
The brunette takes a glance down at you and smirks, his shirt left on the coffee table. Your blanket covers the both of you in a cocoon of warmth that the man simply exudes naturally.
“Origami boat.” John pauses his rapid movements, tilting the piece so you can see the folds and sharp edges. You blink in curiosity. “My father showed me how to make them a long time ago. Ages now. Haven't made ‘em in years.” 
“Does it work?” A small sound echoes from the back of his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Not a clue. Let's see then, shall we, Love?” 
Standing on the porch, you watch John’s form get soaked as he carries the small object to the stream at the end of the road, laughing gleefully when his re-situated shirt gets stuck to his skin and shows off his muscles. 
Placing it down, the brunette lightly jogs back, hopping the steps and coming up to wrap an arm over you.
“Hey!” You huff, shucking off the heavy limb from your banket. “You’ll get me soaked.”
“So you don’t want my arm ‘round you, eh?” His cheeky expression makes you hold back a grin, looking away for a moment before rolling your eyes and moving under him. 
You feel his deep chest-chuckles and roll your eyes.
“You’re doing the laundry.”
“It’s rainwater, Dear.” 
“I wasn’t asking, Dear.” 
You both watch the small object as it flows down the muddy stream; white paper going gray with water as it soaks up into the microscopic fibers. For a moment it amused you to think about John and yourself on that boat. Two tiny forms like ants surrounded by a sea of roaring water, raindrops enough to capsize with only one another to help tread water. In many ways, it was hard not to imagine it. 
Your upturned lips part. 
“John?” you ask.
“Hm?” A nose digs into your scalp, fingers tightening over your hidden flesh as the flowers flinch from the downpour and nitrogen sticks to your nose hairs. He breathes you in and watches the Origami boat fall onto its side—swept away with little more than a whisper.
“We’re going to be okay.” It’s not a question. 
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