#and frankly if you want to dig up my nasty bitter fucking side I try to keep tamped down

[medicinemane]

I don't know, here's my problem with all that gratitude stuff people are always pushing

I'm here finding myself grateful for the really bad unexplained stomach problems I had for months that randomly flared up so bad I couldn't leave the house safely somedays (literally missed my last doctor's appointment cause it turned out that wasn't a day to be out and about)

Like unprompted, not as some kind of exercise or something, I find myself being like "yeah it may have royally sucked, but it really has helped me get a feel for how my stomach is doing so maybe I appreciate it"

Feel like that's fairly gratitude minded when you can find yourself being grateful for basically months of being sick, you know?

...so fuck off an let me be. If me organically being grateful for a painful time in my life where a lot of nights I'd be worried about going to sleep and dealing with issues so bad I was worried about how I was gonna be able to take this trip unless I got lucky... if I just on my own end up being grateful for that and still want to put a bullet in my head, maybe gratitude isn't a cure all

Maybe piss off with it, you know? I'm the first to say it's good to be grateful for shit, and frankly even walls (even when there's insulation issues) are a fucking blessing and I'll always thank my house for everything it does for me

Still not a magic bullet against depression and I get fucking sick of everyone talking like it is one... like if I just gratituded harder I'd feel better

[kimishima-naomi]

Black-tagged

Credit to @naomixlittleguy, who stayed awake waiting for this.

Warnings: violence, sex, and a mix of both.

“…They really did a number on you, Weaver.”

“Shut up.”

He’d turned the interior lights off in the car, to see the road better, but in the streetlights that they passed her face was visible enough.  And what he could see was pretty messed up. The left eyebrow was split – he could tell it was from a right cross – and blood had still not stopped, trickling down her cheek and jaw, dripping down onto the Delphi coat. She refused to let him help with it.

He wondered how makeup would be able to hide that. Then again, women seemed to have their secrets.

“So, I should just drop you off at your place as usual?”

“Mm.” She was leaning against the window on her, passenger, side – the glass was probably cool. “That would not be ‘as usual’, frankly.”

“What do you…” Oh.

For the two of them, the usual meant finding a parking lot to stop and fuck at. They’ve had this arrangement for a few months already, and it was working out. He complained about having to clean the car each time, but neither of them offered they go to his or her place. Would be too personal.

“Really,” he muttered with disbelief. “How can you still think of sex?”

“And why shouldn’t I?”

He glanced at her again. She was smiling, a bitter smile that looked more like bared teeth.

“I’ve been there, you know.” He was hoping the dim lighting was hiding his expression just as well. “Broken ribs, concussions. It’s kind of hard to do anything strenuous in this state.”

“I’m a doctor, in case you forgot. I know full well what I can and can’t do. And I’m… reasonably sure my state isn’t dangerous.” She had to pause talking for a few shallow breaths. “Do you know what it’s like to come out of a surgery, hours on end, especially with… my gift? Worse than this. Much worse. This, it’s nothing.”

“Right.”

His job was to keep her safe, first and foremost, and content second. But the affair they were having wasn’t forced. For one, Delphi wouldn’t approve of them getting so close.

Hell, it’s what got them in this trouble in the first place.

That damn reporter was now recuperating in a nearby hospital – at least it wasn’t St.Francis – and the higher-ups got word of it. Of course they would. They had their people everywhere.

And she’d covered up for him, and, well, took the brunt of the punishment. And he was expected to drive her home, like nothing’d happened. In front of his superiors, he had to pretend he didn’t give a damn about her, as long she didn’t get her blood on the upholstery.

“Weaver.”

“What is it? Afraid of… getting involved now?”

“I’m not afraid.” He certainly was, but, damn, this wasn’t going to stop him. “Are you certain you want this?”

“If I wasn’t. I wouldn’t ask. Come on.”

Even talking seemed to be tiring her out. He was going to try his best, of course, but this wasn’t going to end well. Then again, leaving her alone was much worse.

“Fine, but we aren’t going to another empty lot. We’re both adults, doctor, so why are we acting like teenagers sneaking their parents?”

“…Point taken.”

They didn’t talk from that moment, until he’d driven to her apartment building and ended up spending a few minutes looking for a place to park. Depending on how things went, he’d need to stay the night. She muttered that the parking spots were out back.

He stopped the engine and got out of the car with unusual haste, to open the door for her. She hadn’t moved much, so he reached to unlock her seatbelt, but was met with a cold glare, made worse by the blood and bruising on her face. Right, that’s something she’d want to do herself. Proud, too proud for her own damn good.

From the way she’d stumbled getting out of the car, something did seem to be wrong with her ribs. Just bruising, hopefully. It healed soon enough, but he knew the kind of hell she’d be in while it did.

“You know what’s unusual?” She slammed the passenger door shut – he winced – and started towards the front door without waiting for him to get by her side. “Lack of control. You don’t normally want the face injured, especially not… like this. Something’s rotten in the kingdom, eh?”

Was Delphi beginning to slip? He almost hoped so, even if it put him at risk of arrest. The alternative would be much worse.

“They know you wouldn’t dare give them away.”

“Ha. Like I care now.”

He couldn’t tell if she was bluffing.

Inside, though, Nozomi stopped next to the stairs, looking at them with dejected anger.

“Which floor?”

“Only second. No elevator here. …I’ll be fine.”

He stood next to her and waited for her to wrap her arm around his shoulders. “Of course you will.”

At least he didn’t have to carry her. She’d kill him as an eyewitness to that.

Nozomi tossed down her coat and kicked her heels off as soon as she was into her apartment, but forgot to lock the door behind her, which he did, leaving her keys on the dresser. She’d probably look for them come next morning.

“What’s taking you so long?” She was next to him the second he followed her in the living room, her hands clenching his coat lapels tight. “Don’t back out of it now. I don’t let people in my place unless they’re… here for a reason.”

Under the harsh light bulb, the full extent of the damage was clear. Her hands were bloodstained as well, and the right index finger was stiff and unflexing. Her left eye was bloodshot, bruising darkening on the cheekbone under.

She noticed his staring and shot him a look of contempt.

“Pretty sight, isn’t it? They say scars make a man beautiful, but god forbid a woman… Come on. The couch will do.”

“Aren’t you going to clean up at least?”

She barked out a laugh. “Like you care about anything but the cunt.”

The word was jarring. Well, English wasn’t her first language, but you’d think she would know not to use it. Unless she had spat it at him on purpose, of course.

He didn’t want it to be like this - didn’t want her to be like this. It felt like she was throwing herself to him like a piece of meat.

But he let her shove the coat down off his shoulders, let her lead him to the couch roughly by his tie and shove him down.

“Fix your hand, at least. It’s no good to leave it like this.”

She looked over her hand for a second, frowning from either concern or pain, then, with a nasty-looking move, yanked the finger back into place.

“Just a dislocation.” You’d think a surgeon would care more. “Well? Shirt, off.”

“Yours or mine?”

She didn’t even react to the attempt of a joke, and he undid his shirt buttons deliberately, then tossed the garment over the back of the couch and onto the floor.

He didn’t love looking at himself in the mirror – skinny and wiry – but she seemed to like the way his chest looked, and now she trailed her hands down his body, as she almost always did. Her fingers left bloodstains, but that at least could be washed off.

He wanted to reach up and help her clothes off her, as well, but it seemed like she’d hate any initiative from him now. Meanwhile, her hands went down to his belt and below, rubbing at the fabric. He felt his body respond, slightly, but his mind wasn’t really fully there.

“You’re more eager, usually.”

He didn’t reply.

“Fine. If you’re going to be quiet today, might as well put your tongue to some use.” But she hesitated visibly then: “If you want it... want me.”

He did, but he was vary of hurting her further - and in her state, it was far too easy. What she was offering was safer.

“Of course I do, Weaver. You take the lead today.”

Her hands tangled in his hair for a moment – so that meant blood there too – before she forced him off the couch and on his knees in front of her. Her skirt hit the floor – he noticed more bruising on her hip – she pushed his head between her legs, and he began with all the eagerness as he could manage. On any other day, he would have loved it – though that was something he’d never admit – enjoying everything, the taste and the heat and the sounds she’d make… Right now, though? Well, he was hoping he could take her mind off the pain, at least, let her forget what happened just a few hours earlier. It was the least he could do.

She lasted a few minutes only – at least, so he assumed – before she had to move away and take a careful seat on the couch, head bowed and shoulders tense.

“Doctor.” Awkward, damn it, but somehow first name wasn’t something he’d use with her. “…You okay?”

“…Fuck.” Just as carefully, she lowered herself down on the fake leather, half-lying down. “Ah, hell, just… do whatever. Then leave me alone.”

He got up slowly. He hadn’t taken his shoes off, so he did that now. Then he undid his belt, pulled it out and left it half-coiled on the floor. The buckle would dig in otherwise.

It would be good to get out a med kit, too, but he wasn’t about to rummage about her apartment looking for one. So he stretched out next to her – the couch was wide enough to let them, with some difficulty – careful not to press against her body.

She didn’t react instantly. Only when he placed his arm around her shoulders, mindful of its weight. Scrawny, he now felt like a giant to himself.

“…what?”

“Just get comfortable, Weaver.”

“Like I could. You’re skin and bone…” but she did move slowly, resting her head onto his shoulder and leaning her body against him. She felt cold. He settled in, trying not to jolt her in any way.

Some time passed like that, her shallow breathing against his neck – at least the bleeding on her brow had stopped. He thought they would fall asleep like that.

“Well?”

“Huh?”

“I appreciate the… warmth… but I want to come today. Are you going to move, or do I need to pull your dick out myself?”

“I’d thought you’d want to be the one fucking me today.”

Her hand was on his shoulder – he felt her fingers clutch down hard, and he knew she was going to bruise him.

“You aren’t wrong. Oh, you certainly aren’t wrong.”

“Do what you want to, then.”

Nozomi jolted upright, eyes furious, straddling him and pinning him down, hands on shoulders. He didn’t react. He waited.

“I want – I’d make you pay if I could! Make all you bastards pay likewise!”

“Well, I’m here. Take it out on me if you need to.” He knew Nozomi well to assume she wouldn’t hurt him. “It doesn’t help.”

Her nails dug in his skin. “How’d you know?! Maybe if I-”

It was a careless movement or something like it, but she collapsed on him, arms tight to her chest, coughing harshly, spitting out what sounded like curses in Japanese.

“You should hug a pillow,” he suggested after she’d managed to calm down. “And, uh, take your top off probably.”

He didn’t expect her to reply, but she did. “Med kit’s in the bathroom. Just get the scissors.”

He moved her off himself as carefully as he could before standing up. Right, it was pretty tight on her. Pulling it off would just hurt.

The med kit was pretty extensive, even more so than he’d expect from a doctor. He’s never used trauma scissors before, but they were easy enough, with blunted ends.

Nozomi buried her chest in a pillow as soon as he was done. She had no qualms being naked in front of him, but, well, this was different.

He noticed now that her wrists were torn by what seemed like handcuffs. That explained the bloody hands. Arms cuffed behind back, and then they beat on her when she couldn’t shield herself. Some cowards. A doctor wouldn’t be much of a fighter anyway.

“I could rub your shoulders, I guess,” he said without much thinking.

“…What?” She sounded amused, at least.

“I’ve done some boxing in college. Wasn’t good at it, but I learned how to recover from a beating, at least. I know how to-“

“Fine. …Thanks.”

He didn’t know much, to be honest, and he couldn’t do much anyway – hell, something like this needed a stay in a hospital. But her shoulders were bound to be sore from having her arms twisted back like that. So he just kept his hands to her upper back, not pressing in too hard, tracing what muscles he could. It took a while – likely longer than this entire attempt at sex – but gradually, he felt her breathing in deeper, relaxing somewhat under his touch.

“Enough,” she muttered, eyes closed. “C’mere – wait, get a blanket first.”

He did, and she cuddled up to him again.

“You have gentle hands, you know. Intuitive. You’d have made a good diagnostician.”

“If I had the money not to drop out, maybe. …Do you want me to clean the blood up?”

She sighed. “No. Irrational, but I need a reminder. Something like it.”

So he was sleeping in a bloodstained bed. Well, not like it hasn’t happened before.

“Weaver, do you still want… well…”

“Only if I don’t have to move.”

“I could finger you if you want.”

“Maybe.” Her hand trailed down his flank and his ass, and he felt her pushing his thigh between her legs. “No, don’t do anything. Just let me use you like this, please.”

Awkward… Well, he’d need to change his trousers anyway. They were stained with her blood by now.

He was drifting off to sleep already, but he could feel her moving against him, grinding down on his leg. She was moaning quietly – in pain, not pleasure – and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and safe.

He wondered why she didn’t just use a pillow. It must have been important for her to be with him tonight.

Damn it, what have they gotten themselves into?

She came fast and quietly, tensing up minutely then relaxing into his arms, her breathing now hard and ragged. Her body was trembling.

Carefully, he kissed her forehead – wasn’t anything strange with it, they’ve kissed each other and it was probably the most depraved thing they could have done – then kissed again, her cheek, despite feeling dried blood under her lips.

He thought he felt the corner of her lips move, smiling, but he was probably wrong.

“…Naomi,” he said, impulsively.

“Don’t!” and she opened her eyes for a moment, still clearly hurt. “That… that isn’t me, not now it isn’t…”

But she didn’t move away.

He thought he wasn’t going anywhere. Not for the night, and not for tomorrow. She’d still need taking care of. If Delphi needed an excuse – well, he’d lie about having to clean up the blood in his car. Or something. He was good at lying.