#and his bad knee is getting worse so he will end up needing a cane sooner or later

[queerstudiesnatural]

queering and disabling my blorbos is my passion <3

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference] reacting to their s/o wearing mobility aids

When I said I was prioritizing the illnesses I had, I didn’t expect the hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, but here we are. For those who don’t know what it is: it’s a genetic condition that affects the ligaments, making them longer and/or looser, which cause problems over time. In my case, it affects my legs, so I’ll write about those. As always, if you want to read more of my work, you can click on the coloured texts! here the Tumblr masterlist, and here are the first two chapters of Everytime it Rains.

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 |

Jayce:

He’s well-versed in what to do and not do, being around two people with a similar condition (though he’ll never call it a "disease" out loud for fear of making anyone uncomfortable).

His help is as subtle as possible: he’ll grab your backpack, shoulder bag, or anything else you’re carrying to keep you from overexerting yourself.

During walks, he’s the one who’ll suddenly mention it’s getting cold, too hot, or that he just remembered something, as soon as he senses you’re getting tired, assuming your fatigue is worse than his.

The first time you said, “I’ll pass, my knees are about to bend” he didn’t realize they bent backwards, and when he saw what that actually meant, he went pale.

He felt guilty about his reaction for at least a week.

Viktor:

Tell him something he doesn’t know.

He’s the one who’ll comment, “Where’s your brace?” if he sees you with bare legs and no aid, maybe tapping your foot lightly with his cane to emphasize his disapproval.

On the bad days—when fatigue, cold, or any external factor makes both of your legs useless—you end up helping each other out, spending most of the time on the couch with pillows under his knees and your legs draped over his.

If you have to do something alone while he’s busy, he’ll ask Jayce to accompany you, ensuring you don’t overdo it without realizing.

Ekko:

Honestly, he couldn’t care less. I mean, it’s not a big problem for him

The first time he saw your knees bend weirdly and too much, he just said, “Ouch.”

Other than that, there are hoverboards! If your legs stop cooperating at some point in the day, he’ll just have you balance seated on the hoverboard, saying it’s a gentleman’s duty to escort such an attractive lad/lady around.

He doesn’t ask what you want or need; he just does it, whether it’s bringing you food or removing your knee brace to let your skin breathe.

If he’s going to be away from the house for a while, he leaves a few things ready for you, like water bottles, so you don’t have to strain yourself carrying them up the stairs on your own.

When he sees you’re worn out, he’ll ask if you want a massage, using some body butter to improve circulation, relieve stress, and keep your skin elastic.

Vander:

His first instinct would be to carry you, but since that’s sweet yet sometimes awkward, you both agree that at night ‘it’s a man’s right to carry his wife/husband to bed, disability or not’.

He doesn’t know exactly how to help, so aside from asking if you need anything—like grabbing your aids, bringing them to you, or helping you put them on—he won’t push, knowing you’ll ask for help if you need it.

If you need to go upstairs, he’ll always walk behind you so that if your knees give out, he can catch you and avoid disaster.

At least two rectangular pillows appear in every useful room so you can place them under your knees. The problem is that you forget about them most of the time, so they’re not much help—at least until he comes along, lifts your legs, and places them in a more comfortable position.

"My legs hurt."

"Oh no, I’m sorry, I’m afraid we’ll have to cut them off," he jokes with a mock-serious expression, bursting into laughter when you swat at him in response.

Silco (old man):

Some things you could do on your own but feel more intimate when done together. That’s why you often trot into his office with the fabric sleeve and brace in hand, handing them to him, and he gives you his shimmer syringe in return.

There’s no specific reason beyond the mental closeness and vulnerability of the act.

“Too tight?” will always be his question, even though he knows by now how to adjust it perfectly and doesn’t need to ask.

When you’re together, he’s the one to carefully remove it, stroking your leg while lost in thought.

He never sends anyone to assist you; instead, he asks if you think it would be better to have someone accompany you, making sure you reassure him if you insist you can manage alone.

Silco (Young Man):

Zaun isn’t exactly suitable for crutches or unsteady footing, so as soon as you let him know about your condition, he feels even more compelled to improve the city (or at the very least, smooth out the streets).

He’ll ask questions—few but direct—to understand what it is and how he should act.

If you drop something, he’ll be quick but subtle about picking it up and putting it somewhere easier for you to reach.

“Do you want to go home?” is the question he’ll ask you most often, even if it’s just with a look, despite you explaining multiple times that you’ll let him know if you can’t keep going.

But he knows you push yourself beyond your limits, so he worries.

At night, he’s made it a small ritual to massage your legs when you stretch them out in bed, and it actually helps relieve the tension.

Jinx:

“I can make you a mechanical one.”

When you explain what the condition is and that you don’t need a replacement leg but help for the ones you have, she starts carrying around a notebook, taking notes on the “flaws” of your aid to make you a custom version better suited to your daily life and body.

“I’ll do it!” is her go-to response for anything you need to do that she thinks takes too much effort. She doesn’t even ask; she just throws herself into it with so much enthusiasm it becomes amusing after a while.

You don’t have many intact knee braces or aids left, because according to her, they were “boring,” and she’s customized them—though they still work pretty well.

Even if she won’t admit it, she’s become even more protective of you. For example, if someone bumps into you in the street, she’s ready to jump to your defense immediately.

Vi:

She doesn’t really know how to react or respond because of how versatile the condition is. How does she figure out which days your legs won’t work and which ones they will? Or when they’ll start hurting before it’s too late?

You two agree on a small code: you tap her hand or shoulder three times rhythmically when you start to feel fatigued so that if you’re in public or with company, you don’t have to announce it to everyone if you don’t want to. She’ll immediately understand.

She’s a little scared of doing the wrong thing. She doesn’t know how to handle it and, even though she tries not to, she starts to perceive you as more fragile, moving with a fear of accidentally hurting you.

But she learns over time. She’ll simply ask more often if you need anything when she’s going to the kitchen or the store.

And when you’re cuddling, she’ll pull your legs onto hers.

Caitlyn:

She asks you to explain the condition to her—what you can and can’t do and how she can help.

She’s the ultimate advocate for your aid.

If you skip wearing it one morning because you don’t feel like it or the pain hasn’t started yet, you can bet she’ll notice and say something.

Sure, it can be a bit annoying, but considering it’s a degenerative condition, you know she’s right, so you can’t really get mad at her.

If you’re just not in the mood, she’ll put it on for you herself, with such care that you start to wonder if there’s an instruction manual she got that you didn’t.

Beyond that, she’s not overbearing. She trusts that you’ll communicate when you don’t feel like doing something, and she doesn’t presume to know your limits better than you do.

Mel:

It’s not too much of a problem, considering most of your activities together don’t involve much walking or moving due to her work.

That doesn’t stop her from taking an interest, though. At least once a week, she’ll ask you how your legs are

If they hurt, if you need different support or more comfortable shoes, or if you just need a footrest or a cushion—she’s ready and ensures everything you might need is on hand. If she can’t get it herself, she’ll send someone.

During dinners, she privately asks whoever is in charge of arranging things to provide you with a footrest and an extra cushion on your chair. If you tell her it’s unnecessary, her response will be, “Can’t I spoil my partner a little?”

She knows you’ll let her know if you’re having issues, but she takes all the necessary precautions to ensure no problems arise in the first place.

Sevika:

Again, tell her something she doesn’t know.

The difference between your legs and her arm—besides the fact that yours are still intact—is that they require less messy and time-consuming maintenance than hers. So not only does she not mind helping, but she hardly even notices.

She won’t ask if you need anything unless you say so or show explicit signs of struggling. It’s a deliberate choice to avoid making you feel like she thinks you’re not independent or capable.

On the couch or in bed, she’ll have you rest your legs on hers and prop you up with cushions behind your back, making sure you’re fully supported.

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

Raphael's First Love—A Talk With Splinter

part of the First Love Talk miniseries!

sfw 💫 word count: 1.2k

The old metronome in the corner of the dojo ticked on incessantly as Raphael sat in indignant silence with Master Splinter. After four outbursts, a fight with Leonardo, and days of distance, Splinter had put his foot down and called his son in for a talk about his behavior. Beneath his stern exterior, Splinter was concerned.

"Raphael, explain yourself," Splinter demanded with a calm voice, treading a thin line with his angriest son's temper. Not out of fear—Splinter could and would easily put the giant back in his place even as an old rat. That was no issue. "What has gotten into you?"

Weeks of this crap, that's what, thought Raph bitterly. Weeks of feeling sick to his stomach every time she was around, trying to put up a good front and getting embarrassed by himself or his brothers; he felt stupid. Weak. Utterly at her mercy, and she didn't even know. Good. I don't want her to. Splinter gave him a skeptical eye. He shifted his position multiple times, uncomfortable and trying to look casual. Grunted dismissively. But he knew his father was not going to take that for an answer. He let out a scoff, dodging eye contact, "Things gettin' under my shell like usual."

"But not like usual, because you are worse-off than usual," observed Splinter.

His mental health was actively declining the more he deliberated on the pang in his heart he felt when he thought about her. It made his guts twist to think about why he was so angry, why he was even afraid of her, deep down. The last thing he ever wanted to admit to himself, let alone Splinter, was that he cared what she thought. A lot.

Too much.

All of his brothers seemed so confident, and yet he was self-conscious. Why? Why do I gotta be like this?!

Raph shrugged. "You know me, master. Comes with the whole package, whether all of you like it or not." He was already moody, prone to rapidly-changing emotions. That was never a guess, it was a given. "Look, I'll do us a favor and just end this convo now—I ain't in a bad way. And Leo needs to stay in his lane comin' to you over a little fight." He started to get up, leave the terrible silence of the training room and that god awful ticking metronome. Splinter jabbed his cane into his plastron, knocking him back, and then brought it down hard on his foot. Raph yelped and stumbled down, quickly reassuring his seated position.

"Enough!" Splinter barked. "Sit, Raphael."

Splinter had his full attention, now. The top of his foot ached dully.

Raph was seething on the inside. On the outside, he slumped over his knee, hiding his face behind his thick forearm.

This was all her fault. If she hadn't fallen—literally crashed—into their lives, he would be fine. There would be no question about what to do or what he was feeling. It was always them and the shadows—no people, no complications. He always knew that would never be accepted despite craving it with every ounce of his being. Why change that? Why suddenly bring more emotions into the mix? Before her, it was all straightforward. Now, he worried if he was too brutish, too much of a freak, if his normal habits weren't so "normal". He didn't want to feel like he was under one of Donnie's microscopes, with her eye looking through the lens.

Splinter furrowed his gray brow at him, resting his hands on his cane. "This is about your self esteem, is it not?" he questioned carefully. Prying.

"You couldn't know anything about it!" Raph shouted back. He swung his hand as he spoke. "I'm a six-foot turtle, there's no changing it! No changing me!"

Sighing a light breath, Splinter closed his eyes. This was going to be the challenge for the day. No day was without its challenges. He recentered his thoughts, looking for a different angle. He wanted to speak his son's language.

"Correct, there is no changing you."

Raph stuttered on his response as his face fell almost imperceptibly, but Splinter knew every minute expression of his kids.

If she knows, I'm done for. Raphael's mind was swirling and his thoughts were reaching dead-ends left and right. There was no changing. No hope? He couldn't tell. He'd given up before he'd even tried. Because like his weapon, he was defensive, and did everything possible to protect what? Himself. His big, soft heart in there that needed some serious attention. The thought of telling her made him want to hurl. But like a moth to a flame, he kept coming right back to her, torturing himself with "what-if's" and doubts he had all the while.

"What do you want me to say, Splinter?" Raph spat with a low voice.

"I want you to be honest with yourself," Splinter replied.

Raph poked the tip of his sai into the mat before him, digging it into the material. "Okay, I'll bite," he said, "what do you think I'm lyin' about? Huh?"

He already knew the answer to that. It was everything; he rejected the shyness he felt inexplicably when she was around. He felt dirty next to her, or if he accidentally touched her, it was an ordeal. Because he was a mutant and she was a human. Out of all of her pick of people, he never could have been at the top of her list. He doubted he even made the list as an option.

Knowing Raphael was lying then, too, Splinter simply lifted his chin at him, and waited for the real answer.

The silence was getting to be too much for him. He jammed his sai into the mat, stabbing through it. But in his face was sadness, not anger. He finally admitted, "I just want to be accepted. Even just by her." Fiddling with his sai, he averted his eyes to stare at something random next to him, adding quietly, a little bashfully: "Aaaaaand sometimes I think Leo has a…better shot than me. That's why we were fightin'. I went nuts because he was gettin' along with her and it made me feel some stuff I don't want to feel."

There it was, thought Splinter, bingo. "Well, you are certainly not the first young man to make a fool of yourself over a girl."

"Master, I don't even know what to do with myself. How am I ever gonna know what to do with her?"

"The first step would be to stop ruining my mat," Splinter said as he bonked his son's head with the end of his cane, irked that he was creating a hole in it with his sai. Raph quickly tucked his weapon away. He muttered an apology. Splinter cleared his throat before continuing. "The second step would be for you to face your fears, Raphael. Accept them, conquer them. You are as you are—what humanity thinks of you is not your concern. You know who you are. I would like to think that [y/n] does as well."

Raph shifted, uncomfortable. "Yeah, I don't think she does. I don't really…"

She was all too kind, beautiful, and smart; a deadly, terrifying combination, in his predicament. He'd been plagued with dreams of being with her night after night. Not worrying about a single thing until the moment he woke up—he was stressing every morning. His anxieties always seemed to curse him cropping up in his dreams; not even in sleep could he escape her sphere of influence.

Placing a gentle hand on Raphael's shoulder, Splinter looked down at him, "Then, you show her who you really are. Raphael."

[twst-drabbles]

Heartslabyul 8

Summary: Ace and Deuce are fighting again. You watch from the window how the rest of the plant nymphs handle this, because you’re kinda in pain from a not so good fall, and horrible sleeping posture.

(Every time I imagine these little plant nymphs, I always imagine a kazoo playing in the background. Specifically for Ace and Deuce.)

While you’ve been slowly upping your daily activity, your body is by no means a tough one. Years upon years of just isolating yourself in your house and rarely venturing beyond the needed groceries really put a number on you. You’ve only started hiking, but even with the best safety measures, it was only a matter of time before you ate shit.

It was just real unfortunate that it was your knee that took the brunt of the fall. Never have you despised moist weather and mud more. You did hobble your way back home, and at first it wasn’t really all that bad, but then after a day of rest, the pain just got worse. It’s not enough to warrant a hospital visit, but you definitely can’t stand to put much weight on it.

Today is a day of suffering for you. If you didn’t want to do things before, you definitely don’t want to do anything now. You don’t even want to go outside to do your usual sun bathing routine.

Haa… you’re going to have skip Riddle’s tea party. He’s not going to like that. You really don’t want to do anything.

Which is why you didn’t bother getting up from the sofa when you saw Deuce pounce on Ace’s head. Ace screamed and ran around as a distressed chicken would, arms flapping and trying to pry Deuce off, but Deuce continued to whale on him.

You tapped your cane on the window’s edge. “Hey!”

But they didn’t listen, too caught up in whatever plant nymph arguments they’re having.

You shrugged. Oh well. They’ll probably solve it eventually. It’s happened before, where Deuce tried to use Grim as a steed but ended up crashing into Ace’s tulip garden project. At least this time, they’re not biting each other.

Off to the side, you heard a loud leaf whistle. So loud that it even temporarily stopped Ace and Deuce’s fighting. There was shuffling, lots of shuffling, and then there was a storm of Cater’s, all packed together and kicking up dust as they ran towards Ace and Deuce.

Trey, atop the shoulder of the front most Cater, looked very focused, as though on a hunt to take them down.

Oh. Oh, Ace and Deuce probably did something bad huh?

“Oh wow.” You turned off the TV and adjusted yourself, wincing when your knee twitched. It isn’t as swelled as it could be, but ugh, the muscles within hurt. The burning was horrible when you woke up this morning, but at least it’s stopped now.

To your right, there was a set of sharp clicks and clanks. You take a look and found Riddle to be there besides you, his little table and chair right next to your elbow as he set up his tea set.

Riddle attempted to return your gaze with grace and poise, but the stiffness of his body and the slight frown on his face told you all. He’s grumpy. And annoyed, but is trying so hard to keep it all in via that prince-like attitude.

You chuckled then pointed to the flattened Ace and Deuce after failing to fight off the stampede. “Aren’t you going to do something about that?”

When Riddle looked towards them, both Ace and Deuce’s head popped up and looked upon their main flower with dewy, watery eyes.

Riddle blinked, thinned his eyes, then sat himself on his chair and sipped on his tea, fully and completely ignoring them.

“Guess not, huh?”

Ace and Deuce flattened further, practically sinking into the grass beneath them, probably drowning in misery now.

Oh they definitely did something. Whatever they did, it wasn’t against Riddle but probably Trey or Cater. Or both of them. Either way, Trey is looking down upon them with crossed arms and eyes full of disappointment, now that the battle-fire vanished from him.

Riddle, with the help of his root system, set down your own teacup. One of the newer cups you’ve recently bought and placed in the shelf inside the shed. At the bottom of the teacup, there was an image of a hedgehog, napping the world away.

It was soon filled with Riddle’s own tea mixture. Riddle has stopped sipping his and stared unblinkingly at you. He’s watching, waiting for you to drink it all up. He’s not very good at hiding his concern for you.

You sipped, nice and slow, and laughed when two Cater’s carried off Ace and Deuce towards the little bathtub spring they’ve recently built. Trey followed with his brushes, and comically sized toothbrush on his back.

Riddle sighed and all the tension on his little shoulders left him.

“I’ll be fine.” You relaxed as well. “I just need a few days. I just took a really bad fall, is all.”

There was a light hum from Riddle as he sipped his tea. He grumbled a little, but fell silent upon you lightly patting his head. He huffed in embarrassment, but ultimately didn’t stop you.

[judasgot-it]

There Was Only One Bed

"We tend to get into these situations a lot, now, don't we? Shouldn't the hotel managers have known better at this point?"

Kaldo Gehenna Ver. Here

You and Orter had some sort of curse that had kept you working together for over two years now. Always, without fail, he would end up needing your help - last time it had been a flying mantacor, this time it was a violent unicorn who someone was keeping illegally in their home.

He can stop a violent beast from killing civilians but he couldn't stop property damage appearntly. That was too much work for him, it was just a 'clean up job' for a big and important guy like him. After all, he's the Desert Cane. That job was for the poor.

And for you.

You ran and kicked the back, watching him fold like a chair. He barely gave a shout, he merely stumbled and fell, his palms and knees scrapping against the cobblestone against your feet.

A laugh escaped you. Small revenge for that comment earlier.

”I'm about ready for a nap, I don't know about you.“

You stood over him, watching him search for his glasses. He was practically blind, his hand waving in the air as he searched for his lenses.

He looked pitiful, if only he hadn't said such a rude thing about your job earlier. But you gave him pity anyway, handing him his glasses back and watching as his eyes reappeared, giving you the meanest glare he ever had.

”What are you, an animal?“

He said this as he was still sitting on the ground, truly proper behavior from a stuck up who cared about the rules.

”No. But it's funny and you deserved it.“

You smiled, your face splitting apart in a shit eating grin.

“I don't think people deserve to be kicked.”

“They do when they insult others. You should try it sometime.”

Standing up, you offered your hand. Surprisingly he accepted it, pulling your down if only a little on purpose.

His grip was strong. It felt like he was trying to squeeze your bones out of your hand, and as if he were trying to pull you down with him. Payback.

"Let's go. I booked us rooms so we don't have to travel all night."

He stalked forward, walking ahead of you. There was a rush to catch up, your smaller steps having to leap in order to match up with his strides. He didn't acknowledge it, just nodding and continuing his pace.

What an asshole.

"How far is the inn?"

"Close. I'm not telling you."

Orter kept walking, his eyes focused on the path ahead of you.

"What? Why."

He scoffed, reaching around to flick your forehead. You dodged the onslaught, swatting his hand away.

"You would just kick me and try to get there first. Seriously, you don't have any respect for social decency."

Huffing, you tried to kick him again - your foot only made it halfway there until it was encased in a prison of sand.

Orter looked back at you, adjusting his glasses as his yellow eyes focused on your form. You could swear he was smirking, but it was wiped away in a second - maybe it was the glare you were sending him, who knew.

"Maybe you really are just an animal."

"Or maybe you're just an asshole!"

Stupidly, you pulled out your wand in hopes to cast a small spell at him. It was pointless, seeing as he had you disarmed with his stupid sand.

"You know we're in public, right? This just looks bad on your part."

Orter scoffed, letting you languish in his pile of inescapable sand if only for a little while longer. He reached over, gently hitting his knuckles against your head as he tried to physically knock some sense into you.

"Ow! What the hell!"

"I'm doing you a favor."

He gave a couple more knocks, as if it would make sure that you had some sense knocked into your head. You groaned, rolling your eyes as you felt his knuckles travel across your face, from your brow down to your cheekbones.

"What are you doing?"

You felt your face flush as his eyes traced your figure, golden eyes analyzing your form - it made you feel naked, and you could only escape by averting your gaze. His small huff of amusement made the feeling worse, your cheeks warming underneath his touch.

"Checking to see if you really have a brain underneath that skull. Seems like it's there, but I'm not sure."

There was no chance to retort as he dropped you roughly on the ground, leaving you to sputter and choke on offensive insults while he walked away, heading towards the hotel.

What an asshole.

-

This was a nightmare.

"Just take the bed, I'm not planning on sleeping anyway."

Orter looked at you with a straight face as he said this, pulling out a novel the hotel provided and tucking himself in a corner, as if that would be comfortable enough to be there for eight hours.

"Absolutely not. We can share, can't we?"

The bed was big enough for the two of you - maybe if you squeezed in, but you both paid for it, and it would be impossible to sleep knowing that there would be a man in the corner killing his neck while you laid down comfortably all night.

"I'm the man here. It's only proper that I allow the lady to take the bed."

"Excuse me? Are you really pulling that card right now?"

You took one of the pillows off of the bed, throwing it at the man. He seemed unphased, used to your outbursts.

What the hell was that about? Was he really going to treat you differently just because you were a girl?

"It's just the rules. I don't make them."

"Doesn't mean you have to follow them, ass!"

You slapped another pillow at his face. There was a struggle as he caught it, pushing you towards the bed and trying to subdue you - it had already turned late into the night, and your shouting was most likely disturbing the other guests.

It didn't matter to you. Orter deserved to be embarrassed.

Flipped him over, you tried to shove the plush cotton pillow over his face, struggling against his force. You felt him shift underneath you, his arms blocking your assault and preventing you from playfully suffocating him.

Your defense had been weak, perhaps too playful against your opponent. It was swiftly that he had worked to subdue you, his palm pressing against your shoulder while his knees worked against you, pinning you down against the soft bed.

The pillow was forgotten, with Orter merely staring down at you with his wasp-like eyes.

"This is rather improper of you-"

Growling, you threw your hand up, not really aiming for anything. It was with a shock that you felt your palm connect with his nose, and his weight fall against you as he took the hit on his face.

It was a moment later that blood began to drip down, making you cringe at the moment.

"Oh gods, I'm sorry."

Orter sat up, his hand attempting to cover the blood that began to drip from his nose. It was futile as it fell onto your shirt - the feeling was unpleasant, but you ignored it in favor of overwhelming guilt.

"Here. Um..."

There was nothing to aid him, besides your already soiled shirt. You handed the fabric to him, taking his bloody hands away from his face and trying to stop the bleeding that you caused.

He glanced at you, batting his dark eyelashes as he tilted his head down and ruined your shirt further. The fabric pulled against your ribcage as you both held it in place - at this point, it would be easier to take it off and hand it to him.

"fhanks."

"Thank you. For ruining my shirt."

"Is' nod my fauld' thad you hid' me." Orter's words were muffled by the shirt, and it was with a horrible ruttering sound, like an old rusty engine, that he tried to breathe in through his clouded and bloody nostrils.

Still ruining your shirt.

"You deserved it!" You deflected like it was breathing, "You're an asshole, manhandling me like that."

Drawing the fabric over your head, you shoved it in his face the best you could, still feeling his weight pinning you down at your hips. You would kick him if you could, but clearly, he had planned for this, not having moved from his position on top of you.

It took a moment to sink in the mistake you made, making eye contact with the man as he stared at you - making great effort to stay on your face and not look anywhere else.

He got off of you quickly, looking to the side and avoiding looking at you as if you had the plague. For once, you didn't shove his face for his perceived misdeed, instead taking the opportunity to cover your chest with the forgotten pillow, staring as Orter sat on the farthest edge of the bed, his warmth now sorely missed.

It had now gotten colder as it moved on in the night, no thanks to also having lost a shirt. There was nothing to say about that, as you would have to get up in order to get your day clothes - exposing yourself further to the man.

"Don't look at me." There was a crack in your voice as you said this, but you hoped that he would have been too distracted to really care about your state.

He glanced at you. The usual dull look on his face was painted red, his eyes wide as he turned away again, finding the floor much more interesting.

For once, he was speechless. No annoying taunts or a lecture about society - it was as if seeing your chest made him silent for once in his life.

Silently, he got up, his eyes still trailed downward. It was an awkward few minutes as you debated between getting up while shirtless and he struggled with forcing his bloody nose away with a pure force of will.

Despite being a double-liner, the man hadn't learned any spells to dispel such a pesty and annoying problem. How unfortunate.

It wasn't until a shirt was thrust into you direction were you broken out of your thoughts.

"Here. Sorry, just," Orter placed the shirt on your lap, turning to look back at the wall again as fast as he could "Take mine."

There was a long moment of silence.

It was a nice gesture. And you did feel bare, even underneath the pillow.

But this was Orter's shirt.

"Thanks. Um...we should go to sleep now."

You threw it on, trying your hardest to not focus on anything as you tried your best to straighten the fabric around you best you could. The shoulders were too large for your frame, making the buttoned collar fall too low on your skin.

It was better than nothing. At least you weren't forced to wear your dirtied shirt, which you assumed was somewhere off on the floor at the moment.

Silently, you forced yourself to lay down, going through the motions as you pushed the pillow underneath your head.

There was no body lying next to you. Instead, there was light breathing just below - it seemed like the asshole was still stubborn.

"Orter. I said we can share."

"I'd rather not. It's improper."

"I am literally wearing your shirt, what could possibly be more improper?"

"Sharing a bed."

You groaned, frustrated.

"Shut up, virgin."

That got the man up, unlike any other insult you had said. He crawled up onto the bed silently, his form dropping itself with a huff down onto the soft mattress.

"You are insufferable."

"Now that is improper."

The lights in the room went off, and you felt a light smack against your face.

"You should sleep."

"I am, Orter."

"Right."

His hand went up, feeling your face, as if to physically check for signs of your rest. His fingers trailed up and down your skin, tracing your nose and cheeks gently in the dark.

You could feel his thumb caressing your lips, as if you weren't still awake.

What a strange, strange man.

Anon asked for either or but I thought I could make it funny with Orter since he seems like such a rule guy. The vision is here. No confession and reader is kinda a tsundere cause idk...the vibes match.

Hope y'all enjoyed it. This is for my Valentine's event, it's still open and has slots open. go. ask away. do what you please.

[meirimerens]

the pathologic cane using as i see it...

MARK IMMORTELL canonically. he has a cane canonically, now whether or not the game wants us to believe he uses it for real or it's an accessory... for real to me. in my mind's eye he has sciatica. it acts up on and off so sometimes he'll be prancing around like a goat swaying his cane like he's trying to hit people with it, sometimes he uses it for real, and sometimes he has a fanciful little wheelchair when the pain's too bad to stand on his two legs. in which case he still holds his cane for hitting people purposes. his cane is a constant thing.

Yulia... she also mentions Leg Problem in P2 so Joy the cane be upon ye. i think her deal is a repetitive strain injury of tendinitis in the knee & ankle, and she never got enough rest for it to heal properly, never did physical therapy, so now, like other types of tendinitis, it flares up from use & some movements/postures. as the rainy & cold season approach, she gets more and more sedentary because the weather makes tendinitis worse by stiffening the tendons, so it gets in vicious cycles of Stiff tendons from the cold -> even less easy to do some stretches to help with the pain -> tendons get stiffer from no stretchin -> even less easy to do some stretches... her cane is an on and off thing, but becomes regular as fall & winter roll around

Notkin as he grows up. in p1 & 2 his spoken dialog mentions (a) bad leg(s); considering his mom died in childbirth (likely His birth) in my mind's eye his bad leg(s) is attributed to having been pulled out of there Fucked Uply. mom didn't make it through a complicated birth and baby got a leg messed up when they hurried to get him outta here. adolescence and getting taller gets him apophysitis (a bone + cartilage inflammation/strain injury often seen in teens because the bones grow faster than the muscles around them) in his knee and he never gets to have the rest needed for it to heal properly so as an adult, while the pain is mostly gone, it flares up sometimes. he's way past giving a fuck what anyone might think about seeing him limp with a cane in hand so he periodically, but quite often uses one. also might use it to hit people.

Khan occasionally once he gets into his mind that it's not a big deal & if he needs it he needs it. he already has a messed up knee as a kid (p2 model bandage) but i'm still deciding how extansive of a wound that is. more than what that is i think this guy gets inflammatory arthritis as a plague residual symptom, and while most of it is concentrated in his hands, fingers and wrists, it sometimes, rarely, attacks his ankles & knees, which is when he gets on his legs wobbly like a newborn foal. while his coping mechanism for it is to lie down and suffer through gritted teeth because he still has in mind that showing pain is showing weakness and is undignified of a man of his rank (the imaginary kingdom he once had) he eventually, from being yelled at "hey moron CATCH" and thrown a cane at, gets into his mind that he should use one for such moments and not even his Mortal Enemy* will care. his own would be a fanciful thing, black-lacquered wood, silver rings, a silver dog's head at the end of the handle. too proud and proper to hit people with it but he can't say he doesn't think about it.

Burakh, later in his life (his 40s). he also has a bad leg as of Being In His Twenties, but copes and manages without a physical aid for a while. he's on homemade painkillers and various rest regiments (when he can). when it gets too bad & arthritis sets in around 40s he's on that wood and bone tool in a blink and keeps it. maybe his father used on in his old(er) age... he reuses it...

[kit-kat-katie]

At dusk, the nightmares and monsters start to play

A/N: two fics (barely) in a month??? haven't done this since September (god it's been a long three months, thank you all for bearing with me through the end of the year). hope everyone has had a good holiday season and is looking forward to the new year! (there's gonna be more action in the next part, this is the set up dw 🫶)

as a future heads-up, most of the chapters will be smaller in size so I can have the time to complete one a month while I'm working on school work. I'm aiming for 1.5-2k words a chapter, but there may be more depending on what I have due at that time.

TW: medical trauma, trauma in general, sad vibes, reader has a knee injury

Pairing: Finnick x GN! Reader (romantic)

Summary: You pay Katniss a visit in the infirmary, only to find that she's more remorseful than revenge-filled, which is a good sign for your other knee. Afterwards, you seek your room and find a comforting memory there, along with Finnick.

(<- Previous Part | Next Part -> | Series Masterlist)

Nightmares.

That was something you had grown to live with, as a victor of the Hunger Games. Your mentors had your back when it came to the nightmares, at first - all you saw when you went to sleep were the dead tributes that you had killed or seen killed. Why were you the one to live, out of all of them?

You were hesitate to approach Katniss after she had a bad nightmare and ran off - she was probably one of the last people that wanted to see you. The last time she saw you, she put an arrow into your knee that gave you the cane and limp that you’re known for in District 13.

Although you tried to tell Haymitch it wasn’t a good idea, he insisted.

“What harm could it cause you to see her?” Haymitch asks before his eyes land on your cane. “…that doesn’t count, Sunny.”

“You’re lucky I still like both of you after that happened.” You vaguely gesture to your knee before grabbing your cane and standing up. “I’ll go find her when she needs me.”

You were sure that Katniss didn’t trust you, but you were positive that she trusted the nurses around you even less. You couldn’t blame her - you were the exact same way. President Snow had insisted that his victors were in the best shape possible, so you had to go to routine doctor’s visits. The prodding and poking was enough to drive anyone nuts, but the vague memory of needles and surgeries sends a shudder down your back as you quicken your pace.

It’s better if she kills me than some poor nurse or doctor.

~

Once you approach the hospital ward, you slowly make your way to Katniss’s room. You peak inside her room to see her sitting up in bed with a younger girl brushing her hair.

You lightly knock, as to not startle the two girls, before making your way into the room.

“Sorry about your knee.” Katniss grumbles as you collapse into a nearby chair and let out an exhausted sigh.

“It’s okay. I probably would’ve done a lot worse in your scenario.” You shrug before leaning your cane against the hospital bed.

“It’s not okay-“ She tries to argue, but you aren’t having any of it.

“What’s done is done, and I have to live with the consequences. You should save your care for a much more worthy cause.” You see her fidgeting with the pearl that Peeta gave her. “We’ll get him back, I promise.”

“They won’t want to.”

“Does it matter what they want? You have more power than you think, Katniss.” The girl behind Katniss starts to look familiar as your eyes glance between the two girls. “You’re Primrose Everdeen, right?”

The girl doesn’t say anything until Katniss lightly bumps her shoulder.

“I am.” She quietly answers while continuing to brush Katniss’s hair.

The three of you linger in the room with contemplative silence before a man comes to bring Katniss to President Coin and Plutarch.

Primrose sets the hairbrush aside as you fetch your cane from the side of the bed.

“Those are nurse scrubs, right?” You ask as you grab the bed’s railing in order to get onto your feet.

“I’m trying to help out, as much as I can.” She answers before starting to make the hospital bed.

“If you’re anything like your sister, you’ll be a great nurse.” You offer her a warm smile that she quickly replicates.

Perhaps the future isn’t as messed up as I thought it was.

~

You return to the living quarters side of District 13, only to be bombarded by a few small children. The younger kids always ran up to you when they hear the click click click of your cane hitting the floor, as you often had squirreled away treats or extra bits of food from meals. You were willing to share, so you offered them a few small candies that you had snatched from the front desk of the hospital ward.

“Don’t give yourselves a stomach ache,” You warn them with a wagging finger, “otherwise, you’ll end up back there.”

The kids promise to be careful before running off, and you continue your journey back to your room. You had been discharged from the hospital ward, after your strong insistence that you were fine, which you were, but you had to have daily check-ups to make sure that your knee was alright.

You had the appointments in the morning - it wasn’t like you were getting any sleep, anyways - but your progress continued to be positive. You weren’t going to be in fighting shape for a long time, and you might limp for the rest of your life, but the cane may get to be retired in another week or two.

Your bed can’t be found soon enough, and when you do find it, you set your cane on the ground before laying down on the bed. 

You had given so much effort into your capital duties - being a “model citizen”, doing exactly as President Snow asked - but you had never been as tired as you were now. The simple act of movement left you exhausted, the injury be damned, and all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep.

You couldn’t. Although you weren’t physically strong, your determination to keep going kept you mentally well. You had to be strong, you had to be sunny, for the District 12 children, for Katniss, and for Finnick.

Finnick had a rough adjustment to life in District 13, due to the absence of Mags and Annie as well as your injury. Despite being drugged up, once he heard that you were going under for surgery, he knocked out two guards and nearly stabbed a third with a pair of scissors before Haymitch pulled him off of the guard. Finnick had stayed by your side for days after he had been discharged and you were recovering. 

He didn’t leave your side after you were discharged from the hospital wing. He was the one who helped you back onto your feet and he encouraged you to keep going, even when you felt like giving up. 

Finnick was quiet when you weren’t around, however. He would lock himself in his room for hours, only coming out to talk with Haymitch or to get the next meal. He was never like that with you - his smile was never so bright as he carefully embraced you. The two of you would talk for hours about anything and everything - it reminded you of your days back in the Victor’s Village in District 4.

Cooking for four was a learned habit of yours - you didn’t want Mags to have to cook or eat alone, Annie struggled to take care of herself, and Finnick was so busy that he didn’t often have the time to have good meals. 

You quickly distributed the food into four different containers. Two went straight into your refrigerator - Finnick would be home late on a flight from the Capitol, so you wanted to have dinner with him. You sealed up the other two meals, placed them into a small satchel, and began your trip to Mags’ house.

She warmly welcomed you in before putting a kettle on. You handed her the meal, which she took with a gracious smile. Mags grabbed two forks out of her silverware drawer, and you took one of them before joining her in the dining room.

You couldn’t stay long, as you had another meal to deliver, but you did enjoy a nice glass of tea and a few bites of food. With Mags waving you off, you ventured across the way to Annie’s home.

You softly knock on the door, as to not startle her, before the door slams open. Annie appears while rapidly wiping the tears off of her face. She tries to speak, but you shake her head before handing her the food.

“Don’t worry about getting the container back, I have plenty.” You gently reassure her as she nods before shakily closing the door.

With a soft breath, you go back to your own house to enjoy a bit of well-earned peace and quiet. A couple hours go by before someone knocks on your door.

You open the door, only to see Finnick standing there, all dressed up in Capital wear. Despite everything he’s wearing, he still is your charming, very attractive mentor.

“Are you in the mood for company?” He asks with an irresistible smile.

“You’re lucky I made extras, pretty boy.” You tease before letting him in.

“Sunny?”

You sit up at the sound of his voice, albeit slowly so you don’t injury yourself.

“Finnick!” You break out of your thoughts to greet him as you gesture for him to sit next to you on your bed.

“Are you alright?” His eyebrows scrunch as he inspects you for injuries before gently sitting next to you.

His hand finds yours, and your fingers intertwine as you softly kiss his cheek.

“I’m good, I promise. Haymitch wanted me to see Katniss in the hospital ward.”

“She didn’t have a bow and arrow this time, right?” A teasing smile rests on his face as you lightly shove him away.

“Very funny, Finnick.” You roll your eyes before looking over at him. “How are you doing?”

“Better now that I’m with you, honey.” He leans in to kiss you, and you indulge him in one kiss before locking eyes with him.

He lies to you about how he feels at times. You know it’s because he doesn’t want you to worry, but you end up worrying more because of it. This time, you only see merriment and a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as he looks at you.

That’s Finnick being Finnick.

“Isn’t it almost meal time?” You ask before grabbing your cane.

“It’s getting close, but we should get going if we want to make it there on time.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” You poke Finnick with the bottom of your cane as he happily laughs.

You rest your head on his shoulder as you enjoy this moment of tranquility and happiness. You don’t know what tomorrow’s going to look like, but you can only hope that it’ll be just as good, if not better, than today.

tagging ->  @yokolesbianism , @avoxrising, @honethatty12, @sweetybuzz25, @catvader101, @sollum, @emerald-valkyrie, @randomgurl2326, @caitsymichelle13, @bcbci, @iris1587 (send a request or comment on this fic to be added to the taglist!)

[ghostr0tz]

HEY. HEY. Val headcanons?

Sure :3 ! I'm assuming you mean from my disabled vox hc post,, sorry this took a few days I've been a little low on spoons DISABLED VAL HCS BELOW THE CUT:

Val has both chronic joint/back pain and is visually impaired.

I can't imagine having four limbs can be comfortable in any way. Definitely makes you get back pain WAYYY easier I think. At least Valentino's tall, his muscles can be spread out more but like damn.

Idk why but I feel like Vox can make himself run hot by like. overworking his body (safely). Vox uses Valentino as a weighted blanket, so Val uses Vox as a glorified heat pack.

Probably has arthritis. And gets VERY irritable when hes in pain (SHOCKINGLY even more so than usual)

I feel like he had bad sight before dying and it just manifested like way worse after he got sent to Hell.

USED to have a service animal when his vison started REALLY getting bad and he caved. But he got annoyed with it and Vox ended up giving it away to an employee who needed one.

Valentino gives amazing massages, but Vox is awful when it comes to giving them back on Val's bad days. He just doesn't have The Touch. If Vox sucks too bad Velvette steps in.

Vox has made Valentino a selection of canes to choose from. He make Val a lineup of choices only because how much Val would complain about canes not fitting his outfit enough.

He knees are a little bad and he definitely uses it for walkign support sometimes, his canes are most for guiding him (YES it can withstand Val's weight. they are VERY sustainable and hard to break since Val's original one. He doesn't usually bother with taking one out with him if Vox is with him though.

Smokes because he loves smoking but also becuase FUCK he'd rather be high than deal with the hell that is his bodily anatomy and pain. Self Medicates a lot to deal with it all with almost everything.

Vox doesn't intervene too often unless it gets Too Bad. He more than understands wanting to escape out of your body if even just for a few minutes. Will occasionally join Val but not usually.

Okay thats all :3 ! thank you for reading if you got this far :] !

[mxchineherald]

[drabble.]

 Loosely crossing his legs, with one knee propped up against his chest, he sat down to test the Dauntless once more. He needed to wind it up first, pressing the key into its slot and twisting until the internal coils and gears were all pulled taut. The current of the pools was headed south, today, probably from the new drainage pipes installed by Topside. It was a little annoying, since the pools seemed to drain a few inches, leaving several previous testing areas as nothing more than puddles. He needed at least four inches of water to properly test the hydrodynamics of his replica ship.

 He pulled the key, and the toy came to life with clicking rotations of its paddle wheels. He lowered it into the water, then watched it start to trudge along with the current. Making sure that the path was clear, he stood up with his cane, walking after the Dauntless. He kept his eyes on it, each step carefully planted to make sure he didn’t fall. It wasn’t going to be like last time.

 The distant sound of a roar echoed through the rock walls behind him, catching his attention.

 In that time, the Dauntless was pushed further into the open water, like something was gently pulling on the current. It was out of his reach now, ten feet from the ‘shore’, where it stopped and started to circle. Viktor knew enough about hydrodynamics to understand what that meant. It was about to get sucked under. He couldn’t let that happen! It was his favorite invention. He looked down at his feet, then to the Dauntless. It was now or never.

 He stepped into the water, good leg first, then his cane, then his bad leg. He repeated the pattern of steps, approaching the swirl of water cautiously, but quickly as he could manage. The water grew deeper with each encroaching step, until he was up to his waist. His mother wouldn’t be happy with him coming home soaking wet, but at least he wouldn’t be without the Dauntless. He tried to lean forward, reaching out with the crook of his cane to hook around the invention and pull it toward him.

 Then, his foot slipped into what felt like loose, sticky sand, sinking lower than his other, worse leg. He yelped, unable to pull his good leg out of the silt, no matter how hard he tried. His hand lost its grip on his cane, and the Dauntless with it. Panicked, he grabbed onto his leg with both hands, trying to struggle and yank himself free, but he only ended up sinking lower. The swirl of water was growing rapidly, and the more he sank, the closer it got to him. The ground was literally falling out from beneath his feet.

 He tried to scream, but a cough strangled him instead. Up to his chest in the water, now, his hands let go of his leg to quickly splash and push through the current. He’d never learned to swim. He was barely able to walk, as it was. “H-help!” he finally called out just was the water flooded over his neck and shoulders. Finally, he felt his legs get loose from the sand and clay. Now free, but caught in the swirl, himself, he padded opposite to the pushing waters, trying to reach for the solid rock shelf just out of his reach.

 Bitter, oil tainted water rushed into his mouth, forcing more coughs and gasps for air. He could barely make a sound past the gurgling and sputtering. His limbs flailed, his eyes shut tight, and his lungs seized up. A cold wash overtook his head, and it became so much harder to fight the rushing waters. He started to fall limp, too exhausted to carry on. All thought went to empty, frigid fear. Everything faded to black as he tried to hold his breath.

 Then there were hands under his arms, and a hard pull to the surface. He was against the ground, wet and cold, and it was bright enough to make his eyes harshly squint. Silhouetted above him was his savior, and as his eyes adjusted, he took in the sight of dark hair, tan skin, and above all else, an orange glow from the left side of his face. “Still amongst the living, I see.” he heard the man say in a low voice, gravely and even-toned.

 When his blurry vision focused, he realized the source of the glow was the man’s eye – his unlidded, transmuted eye. His gaze darted between the man’s normal side and his disfigured one, wide-eyed and intimidated. Coughs rattled his chest, loosening the last bits of water that must have been in his lungs. He half-rolled onto his side, and a splash of mucus-laced water left his lips. He felt a couple of pats against his back from the man, who was trying to help the process. He looked back, still caught between which eye to focus on.

 The man looked less than enthused, bluntly saying, “Pick one and stare, boy. I don’t care which.” With the invitation, he furrowed his brow slightly, choosing the disfigured side to look at. The skin was tainted black, just like the sclera, and the iris was a fiery orange color, misshapen and luminescent even in daylight. A small smirk formed on the man’s face, and he gave a single nod. “I appreciate your candor.” He reached behind him, pulling Viktor’s cane into his eyeline. “I assume this is yours?” He tried to sit up and grab the cane, but he was still too tired from having fought for his life. A soft grunt escaped as he flopped onto his back again, closing his eyes tight. He felt the cane get placed gently in his hand, and he gripped it for dear life. “What’s your name, son?” the man asked.

 “V-Viktor,” usually, he wouldn’t be so keen on sharing his name with a complete stranger, but he’d just been saved by the man, so he felt he owed him honesty, at least.

 “Viktor. Now there’s a strong name,” the man mused. “Do you have parents, Viktor?”

 “… Mama,” he grunted out while again trying to sit up. This time the man helped him by putting a hand at his back. “The Dauntless… I was trying to get…”

 “Whatever ‘the Dauntless’ was, it’s gone now.” The man shook his head, then jutted his chin to direct Viktor’s sight toward the rushing swirl of water, still going strong. “Best leave it in there.” With the reality of his loss sinking in, as well as the stress of having just almost died, he couldn’t stop himself from beginning to cry. The weeping was punctuated by a wet cough, and the man let out a sigh. “You have your life. Don’t let the loss of some frivolous thing keep you from this moment.”

 “M-moment?” Viktor said with a hitched breath, wiping at his teary eyes with the back of his hands.

 “The moment you cheated death,” the man said with a wry grin. “Can’t you feel it? The rush of having been that close?”

 He didn’t feel any sort of rush, he only felt the weight of having been a hare’s breath from dying. He coughed again, his chest growing sore from the exertion. “I…I feel numb. And stupid.” He glowered down at his bad leg, pushing the blame onto it. In anger, he banged his fists on his thigh a few times, stopped by the man taking his hands by the wrists.

 “No sense in punishing yourself. Learn your lesson, and live your life more wisely.” The man let his hands go, and pulled his messy brown hair out of his face with a sweep across his forehead.

 He shied from the touch, pulling his head away. Another cough. “I…I want to go home, now.”

 “Ah, yes. To hide away and nurse your ego. I did the same thing.” The man pushed himself to a stand, holding his hand out for Viktor to take.

 Hesitant, he looked at the hand for a few seconds, then took it. He was pulled up o his feet, and got his cane under him before the man let him go. He tugged his shirt to fix it, and took a few shaky breaths. “What do you mean, you did the same thing?” Curiosity got the better of his mouth before his brain could stop him.

 “Drowning,” the man said flatly. “The River Pilt almost had me, but I survived.” He smirked with a dry chuckle. Viktor’s eyes were pinned on his eye again. “Oh, yes, I was sore about it. I locked myself away and mulled over why I was still alive. But then I found my purpose. I became something greater from it.” What a strange man. Viktor shrunk away from him a little, but still listened with some level of intrigue. “One day, you’ll look back on this, and realize it was all a part of your story. A building block in the foundation of who you are. Let it be a strong one, otherwise it will crack under pressure.”

 Viktor looked him up and down, swallowing. “How did you know what your purpose was?”

 The man’s smirk grew back into a grin, and he said, “Do you believe in fate?” Viktor stared silently. “Well, I do. My brush with death was the catalyst to enlightenment. It fueled me with anger. That anger pointed me to my purpose, showing me what I owed the world for my serendipitous survival.” He leaned down to be eye-level with Viktor, which made him draw into his shoulders. “Think about what you owe the world for surviving.” He stood straight again, turning for the opening in the caves near by. “Now run along home, Viktor. Tell your mother. Or don’t. Who am I to say?”

 Viktor watched him closely as he sauntered away, noticing the direction he was taking. That was the direction of the doctor’s lab. It clicked. The reason the doctor had told him to go play for the day was because he had a meeting with that strange man. His eyes narrowed slightly as he saw the man vanish into the crags, then he let out a nervous sigh. Stifling another cough, he started his walk home, soaking wet and without his precious Dauntless. This would turn into a flare, for sure, and he wasn’t looking forward to the bed rest and fussing his mother would insist upon.

                      [silco version here.]

[dragonmuse]

When read gets stabbed, she kicked out eddys knee and we see her using the cane for a bit after, Id love to see stede taking care of her after

(you got it! I had another request today from an anon that wanted more Eddy and Stede h/c so that's folded into this one.)

“Don’t move,” Eddy barked. “Little idiot.” 

Her hands were already slick with blood, but knew how to compress a wound. It wasn't the first life she'd held in her hands.

Someone was on the phone, their voice buzzing with emergency services. Read was still conscious or something near to it, her eyes half-lidded.

"You're okay," Eddy lied to her, knowing it was the tone that mattered more than the words. She kept it low, confident, and easy. "This is nothing. I've gotten worse shaving."

Read blinked, uncomprehending, but listening. So Eddy went on talking until professionals took over and gathered Read up and onto a stretcher.

Relief flooded through Eddy. The kid would be fine. It was all going to to be fine. She started to get up and had muffle a biting scream.

"Are you all right, honey?" Leda was suddenly there, holding out both hands.

"I'm bloody."

"I don't like these gloves anyway," Leda sniffed. "Come on."

Eddy grasped hold of her and staggered upward. The pain was hot and thick.

"She kicked me in the fucking knee," Eddy told her.

"For a good cause," Leda held Eddy's hands tightly. "Can you walk?"

"No," Eddy admitted. "This is...almost as bad as when it first happened."

"Oh no," Leda grimaced. "Well. The good news is, we're all already headed to a hospital."

"No," Eddy groaned.

"Yes."

"In full drag?"

"I suppose we can take a moment."

So it was Eddy and Stede that arrived at the hospital, not Leda and the Kraken. Which was for the best as Eddy endured getting x-ray'd and only getting information third hand about Read. Who really was going to be fine. She hadn't made a liar out of Eddy after all.

"Give me my phone," she held out her hand while they waited for the results.

"Why?" Stede handed it over.

"Iz'll want to know."

"Oh, yes. I suppose he is also her employer."

Eddy snorted, "Yeah that's why."

The phone only had to ring once.

"It's 1 AM, someone better be dead," Izzy growled.

"Bite your tongue," Eddy snapped. "Read isn't dead, but she did get stabbed."

"Shit," noises on the other end, clothes being pulled back on. "What's happening?"

"Last we heard, she was in surgery. Stede and I are in the E.R., but Pete is up there waiting to hear news. Everyone else is trying to get the bar closed for the night so they can get here."

"Yeah, that's what she needs, the whole fucking circus," Izzy muttered, then paused. "Why are you in the E.R.?"

"She took the knife for me," Eddy tried to keep to her reporting tone, the old one they used to rattle at each other, but it was nearly impossible. "Kicked me in my shitty fucking knee to get me out of the way."

"That fucking kid," Izzy said brokenly.

"Yeah, tell me about it. Which hospital? I can be to either of them in ten minutes."

"St. Sebastian."

"Fine."

Not long after that, Eddy got the news that,

"Nothing is broken, but it's a very deep bruise on already scarred tissue. You'll want to take it easy for a few days."

"Should we ice it?" Stede asked.

"Newer research says that can actually damage tissue. I would say if the pain or swelling becomes worse, a few minutes of ice wouldn't be the end of the world. I'm going to write you something for the pain, but elevation and staying off of it for a few days will help more than anything else. Then maybe some P.T. afterwards."

"Joy," Eddy grumbled.

"Thank you for the advice," Stede sighed. "We'll...do our best."

When they got out to the waiting room, Eddy found a chair she could sit in sideways and swung her bad leg into Stede's lap. The pain radiated outward. By long habit, his hands started to setting around the joint then backed off when she hissed.

"Sorry, dear girl," he said quietly. "We'll get your script as soon as it's ready."

"Don't need it," Eddy gritted out. "Just make me woozy."

"Suffering needlessly is not required," Stede pointed out. He set his hands on her ankle instead, just resting not rubbing in a way that could accidentally pull something. "Be a little woozy, in our bed."

Eddy stared at him and he looked implacably back at her. In their bed. Usually when Eddy had been truly laid low, she would go to ground, hide in her apartment, getting around as best she could. Izzy wouldn't chase after her, not after the first few years. He'd learned too well how sharp her teeth could be when she was in agony. It had been a long time since something hurt like this. The first time since it had become their bed.

"Okay," Lucius emerged from some hallway. Eddy hadn't even noticed he'd left the cramped waiting room. "Here's the deal. She's cleared to go home, but she clearly needs someone to keep an eye on her, so-"

"We'd be happy to have her," Stede said readily.

"Yeah, that was offered. Along with every other available sleeping surface in the bar's extended radius," Lucius said wryly.

"She's not going to try to go home is she?" Eddy asked. "She can't do that."

"No,"Lucius' smile was the first in many hours. "She wants to stay with Izzy."

"Does she have a concussion?" Stede's nose wrinkled up. "I didn't see her hit her head."

"No, that makes sense," Eddy sagged back into the shitty chair with some relief. "Good for her."

"I don't understand," Stede watched her carefully. "Why...I thought she and I had a bit of a rapport actually."

"You do," Eddy said the ceiling. "But she's scared of me. And she doesn't trust anyone else that much yet."

"Why would she be scared of you?"

"Can I explain later?"

"Whenever you want," Stede assured them. "For now, Lucius, can she have visitors?"

"I think she just wants to sleep. Maybe once she's been settled for a day or two."

"But-" Stede started.

"You heard the man," Izzy appeared behind Lucius' back. He looked grey and tired, but there was a set to his shoulders that Eddy knew well. A man squared up to bear the weight. "Go home."

"Please," Eddy said in Izzy's stead. "I need to lay out or something."

"Yes, of course," Stede reached for her again, this time to help her up. "You should be in bed."

And bed was where Eddy was within the hour. Stretched out and already a little whacked on the good painkillers. It did make her woozy, but she was tucked up in satin sheets with Stede beside her, gently fingercombing her hair. It was so late and the opiates made her drift anyway. She fell asleep before she could tell him anything.

The morning was worse and better. The swelling was horrendous and the pain was a throbbing nuisance, but the warmth of the bed had prevented it from getting too stiff.

"What about a bath?" Stede suggested after he'd brought her breakfast in bed. "To loosen it a little."

"Will you keep me company?"

"Of course, darling."

Eddy sank into the delicately scented water with a groan, submerging her face to scrub the last of the lingering makeup that the hasty removal hadn't managed the night before. Stede sat on a pillow next to the tub, arms crossed over the edge, chin resting on his hands,.

"I ordered a few things for Read," Stede told her. "I'll have Lucius bring them over later. Or Jim, I think they were packing up Read's place."

"I'll take it."

"Eddy," Stede scolded. "How do you intend to do that?"

"Cabs are a thing. I've got a cane somewhere."

"Why?" Stede blinked.

"When it first happened, I bought one. Didn't want one of those steel and rubber things. Pretty thing, red wood, lacquered. I'll tell you where to look for it."

"I don't know if you should be going anywhere."

"It's important."

"Does it have to do with why she's afraid of you?"

"She knows what I was like. No one told her, but someone...someone did something to her once, probably. Someone like I was," Eddy sighed. "So. I need to say some things to her."

"Of course, you don't want her to walk around afraid of you, that's ridiculous."

"Can't fix that with one conversation. I just need to say thanks. Let her know I'm not angry."

"All right," Stede sighed. "We'll find the cane later then. But I'll go with you. I can stay outside, if it's a private conversation, but I'm not interested in your struggling in and out of the back of a car without assistance right now."

"I could do it," Eddy challenged.

"Of course you could," Stede said like he believed her entirely. "But you don't have to. No more suffering just because, honey."

"Yeah," she sighed, all the fight going out of her at once. "You're right."

It was good that Stede was there in the end. She could've managed getting there, but the walk from the elevator back out to the street was brutal. His hand under her arm, steadying her made the transition back into the car possible. Certainly getting out again once they were home would've been a nightmare.

"P.T." Stede floated as they managed to get up the stairs.

"Yeah, fine," they grumbled. "This fucking sucks."

He settled them on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate, then flitted around the apartment on the phone, apparently talking to Jim about something then maybe Lucius. Eventually he hung up and arrived back at their side.

"Should we watch a movie?"

What she wanted, deep in the dark recesses of her soul, was for him to fuck off, so she could get up off the couch and pace, regardless of how it felt. She wanted to drive a knife into the heart of the pain and watch it bleed out. She wanted some impossible things.

But they tried not to listen to the things that lived in that part of them anymore. Hadn't they just said as much to Read?

"Will you read to me?" she asked instead. "Something with a story, no poetry."

"I can do that," Stede leaned down and kissed her sweetly.

They had to get re-settled when he sat down, shuffling until her head was comfortably in his lap with her leg still elevated with some use of pillows.

"What is it?" Eddy didn't recognize the book as one Stede usually gravitated too. It was just a battered old paperback, the cover long since disintegrated away.

"It was one of my favorites when I was a child. I never ready it to Alma or Charlie, it's a bit more religious than I remembered when I revisited, but I think it's still beautiful in some ways."

"You're reading me a kid's story?" They groaned.

"It's for anyone," Stede corrected. "And I found it helpful when I was under the weather at several ages."

"All right, guess we can try it."

"Thank you, honey. If you don't like it we can switch out. Now, let's see...

Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy. This story is about something that happened to them when they were sent away from London during the war because of the air-raids."

The book unraveled around them. Eddy closed her eyes, concentrated on the light touch of Stede's fingers as they glossed over her shoulder, neck and cheek, a circuit of comfort. He took her to Narnia and it didn't sort out her knee or make it hurt any less, but it did make it bearable somehow. Maybe it was all that snow.

[fics-n-stuff]

Deep Breaths

For @inquistitorebony, see request here

Pairing: Kaz Brekker × Reader

Summary: Y/N's anxiety gets the best of them on a job, but thankfully Kaz knows how to handle it.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Panic attacks, brief violence, fake blood, explosions

A/N: Ahh I'm so sorry this took me so long to write!! I had writer's block and I thought I was getting out of my slump but then it just got so much worse again. I had to try so hard to get this finished and I genuinely can't tell if it's good or not, so I really hope you enjoy it 🤞🏽❤

You knew the plan. At least, you thought you knew the plan. You could never be sure with Kaz. Regardless, you were in place where he’d told you to be, weapons concealed in your outfit and Jesper at your side.

“This is crazy. You realise this is crazy, right?” You said, peering around the corner of the alley to get a view of the bridge and the crowds of locals and tourists alike.

“Everything we do is crazy.” Jesper replied with a smirk. “That’s what makes it fun.”

Sometimes you had to wonder how you ended up here, working for Kaz Brekker of all people. The answer to that question was that Jesper had dragged you into it, but then came the question of how the hell you and Jesper had become friends in the first place. That answer was more complicated.

The university of Ketterdam was where your parents had sent you to keep you out of trouble, to get an education so that you could do something useful and conventional with your life. Unfortunately for them, you only succeeded in getting yourself into trouble. Jesper had been the root of that. He was the one who had encouraged you to join him and a group of students on that first night out in East Stave.

You’d managed to stay in university longer than him, but the pull of adventure that the Barrel offered eventually got the better of you. When Jesper fell in deep with the gambling halls and turned to Kaz and the Dregs, you had followed after him for no reason other than the thrill. Which was strange, considering the immense anxiety that you carried through life.

Jesper had questioned it at the time, and sometimes continued to question you on it, but you couldn’t explain it to him. The type of thrill that your exploits with the Dregs provided wasn’t the type that triggered your anxiety, generally speaking. Talking to people was your weak point, fighting or stealing from them was usually fine.

Kaz had been skeptical about you at first, but Jesper was adamant that he should bring you onboard. It wasn’t long before he came to see that you certainly had your uses and you worked in a team, especially with Jesper at your side. He never mentioned your anxiety, but nothing slipped past Kaz. He definitely knew even before he had witnessed the full effect of it, and you had noticed long ago how he tended to keep you off of jobs that might cause you to panic.

“I see the signal from Nina.” Jesper said, eyes on a flash of light coming from a window up the street. “Get ready.”

“Born ready.” You smirked.

“I’ve been rubbing off on you. I’m not sure I like what I’ve created.” He commented, and you rolled your eyes.

“Distraction time, Jes.” You said, bursting a capsule of fake blood between your teeth and slamming another one against you chest before stumbling out of the alleyway. Your nice, white shirt now had a fresh red stain, blood running down you chin, and you looked just like a well-to-do tourist who had run into the wrong crowd.

“Help!” You heard Jesper shout in Zemini right behind you, and eyes began to turn in your direction. “We’ve been attacked!”

“Somebody get help!” You followed up in a fake Zemini accent, which Jesper had earlier remarked upon as being scarily accurate. It was right then that the stadwatch patrol that you had been sent out to distract in the first place rounded the corner. “Guards! Help!”

The stadwatch turned to the source of the commotion, and rushed immediately over to you. That was something that they wouldn’t do if you were dressed in your regular Barrel attire.

“In Ghezen's name, what happened?” One of them exclaimed. Jesper began rambling in Zemini, doing a very good job of acting frantic with his hand on the tailored bruises around his eye and over his cheek. You caught a glimpse of Kaz emerging out of the next street down, completely unnoticed thanks to your distraction.

“Do you speak Kerch?” A guard asked you after being unable to get anything helpful out of Jesper.

“Yes, yes I speak Kerch.” You answered, straining your voice as if you were in pain. “They came out of nowhere, attacked us and stole our things.”

The guard reached out to move your shirt, and you let out a scream of pain to deter him. It worked and he jumped back, eyes wide and afraid.

“We need to get you to a medik.” He said quickly, and you nodded. You turned to Jesper and recited the Zemini sentence that you had practiced all morning, just incase an onlooker happened to actually be Zemini.

“Give me some help, I can't walk like this.” You said. He nodded, shaking his arm out of the grip of the other stadwatch guard and reaching out to pick you up. Practically effortless with all that farmer’s strength.

“Alright, follow us.” The guard said, but as he took the first step there was a deafening bang and a huge plume of smoke from the street around the corner.

Perfect timing, Wylan.

Panic overtook the street, the stadwatch guards turning their attention from you to the smoke rising over the buildings. They started shouting to the people around, trying to keep them calm.

Another blast sounded, and now people were running. Jesper set you down, and you patted over the pistol concealed in your jacket just in case.

“Let’s get moving.” Jesper said, as quietly as he could for you to still hear him over the commotion. You nodded, your heart beating fast as people stormed past you. You didn’t like big crowds, and there were more people here than it had initially appeared. There was a handkerchief in your pocket, and you took it out and wiped the fake blood off of your face.

The two of you began following the flow of the crowd, when suddenly there was a flash of light and a cloud of dust flew towards you as another blast went off up ahead.

That wasn’t part of the plan.

Your heart jumped and your breathing immediately quickened as the people who had been running that way now pressed back towards you. Jesper grabbed your arm, seeing the panic that was beginning to fill your eyes. The explosions weren’t creating any damage, just a loud bang and a lot of smoke, but these people didn’t know that and they wanted to get as far from them as possible as fast as possible.

“We’ll go around.” Jesper said, tugging on your arm to pull you after him as he made a beeline for the nearest alleyway.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as you let Jesper drag you through the alley onto the next street across, which was just as crowded with panicked people. He pulled you along behind him as he wove through the crowd towards the rendezvous point, your mind spinning and your chest tight. You didn’t even realise that you were there until he pushed you back against a wall and moved you to sit down on the ground.

“Hey, Y/N, look at me.” He said, a firm hand on your shoulder. “Deep breaths, okay?” He turned to look over his shoulder at Kaz and Wylan. “What happened? Why was there a third explosion?”

“Things didn’t go exactly according to plan.” Kaz replied. “We had to prolong the distraction to get away.”

“I always keep extra equipment on me; I gave it to Inej and told her to set it off further up from the bridge if we ran into trouble. It was the best option we had.” Wylan added.

“Right, well, tell that to Y/N's anxiety.” Jesper huffed.

“Jesper, you and Wylan have to keep going.” Kaz said.

“What? Look at Y/N, I’m not leaving-"

“Now, Jesper, or all of this has been for nothing.”

“But Y/N was supposed to come with us.” Wylan fretted.

“You’ll make it work. Now go, I’ll deal with Y/N.”

“This is my best friend, Kaz.” Jesper said, leaving your side to approach Kaz, practically squaring up to him. “This isn’t a problem you can solve with planning and scheming, this is a serious human issue and you don’t have a great record with those.”

“I have it handled, Jesper.” Kaz responded firmly.

“Go, Jesper.” You spoke up, elbows rested on drawn up knees, your chest rising and falling heavily. You nodded. “I’ll be fine.” He looked at you, concern on his face, but eventually sighed and nodded back.

“Alright.” He said, stepping back over and lightly patting your head comfortingly. “Come on, merchling.”

Jesper and Wylan moved on to the next step of the plan, leaving you and Kaz alone. He took a seat on the floor against the wall opposite you in the small space, his bad leg outstretched in front of him and his cane resting across his lap. You looked at him, the edges of your vision still blurry.

“I apologise for not warning you ahead of time.” He said after a moment. “I should have accounted for the fact that such a surprise would have a negative impact on you.”

Kaz was generally cold – unaffectionate and pragmatic – but you had a suspicion that he’d always secretly had a soft spot for you. He was considerate of your feelings; he was even almost nice to you when nobody else was around. You quite liked the Kaz that you got to see. It was different to the Kaz that Jesper always complained about.

“What could have possibly given the impression that I was impacted negatively?” You managed to joke, but you choked on your laugh as your body desperately tried to fill your lungs.

“Hey, look at me.” Kaz said before you could start hyperventilating again. “Put your knees down, open up your chest.” You complied, and your body thanked you for the action as some of the strain in your chest alleviated.

“Sometimes I wonder why the hell I put myself in these situations.” You panted.

“I did warn you against it, but you seemed determined to follow in Jesper's footsteps.” He replied. “You’ve made a pretty good go of it regardless. Hold your breath for a second, you’re still breathing too fast.”

You followed the instruction, drawing a deep breath and holding it in your chest for a few seconds, and when you let it out your breathing was slower.

“This is stupid.” You muttered. “I should be over this by now, it’s pathetic.”

“No it’s not.” Kaz said plainly. “It’s something you’ve experienced for a long time, it’s not just going to go away.”

“No one else let’s their problems get in the way on a job.”

“That’s not true, it just happens differently. You still have some fake blood on your face by the way.” It would be dry by now, no point trying to wipe it off with a handkerchief, so you simply shrugged.

“What does that mean, ‘it happens differently’?”

“If you pay close attention you’ll notice.” He answered vaguely. “Though, I know you’re very aware of the hurdle that the gambling halls pose to Jesper. That’s caused some trouble on jobs in the past.” You chuckled lightly, nodding in agreement.

You sat in silence for a while, focused on evening out your breathing. Kaz wasn’t good at dealing with emotions so you would expect that he wouldn’t be very good at dealing with your panic attacks, but actually his straightforward approach was pretty effective. Maybe his voice was just so commanding that even your anxiety couldn’t help but do what he said.

Generally, Kaz acted like the panic attack wasn’t happening. Just like today, other than to give you an instruction to calm you down he would just talk to you like he normally would. It was usually helpful, a good distraction or something like that.

There was one time, however, that Kaz had been more worried about you than you had thought was possible. It hadn’t been on a job, just a normal night at the Crow Club. You had been trying to drag Jesper away from the cards table when a fight had broken out. Being a member of the Dregs, and so technically a sort-of employee of the gambling hall, you had stepped in to try and break it up.

You weren’t intimidated by the fact that one of the men was at least twice your size, you had held your own against that before, and knowing that there was security that would step in soon had you assured that all would be fine. But when you placed a hand on one of the men’s shoulder – not the big guy, one of the other men in the fight – to try and stop him from going towards the man he had decided was his enemy, he had turned on you with such speed that you had no chance to defend yourself before his hand closed around your neck.

Your memory was a little spotty from that point on. You remembered being slammed against a wall, maybe even lifted off the ground. Jesper drew his gun, and you’re sure that if shooting customers wasn’t so frowned upon that he wouldn’t have hesitated to fire.

It didn’t last long. His outburst had effectively ended the fight that had been taking place and turned the attention of every assisting party to you. The man holding you had been taken down by a few swift hits from the hulking Dregs member that Kaz liked to have as security, and by that point Dirtyhands himself had been drawn out of his little office in the back by the commotion.

To hear Jesper tell it, it was like your body hadn’t realised that your airway was no longer being compressed and you just weren’t really breathing. Kaz had instructed Jesper and the security guard to get you up and into the back office before demanding an explanation from the person closest to him.

You didn’t see Kaz break the man’s hand with his cane, but you remember hearing the scream.

Once it was just you, Kaz and Jesper in the office, Kaz’s demeanor changed instantly. Not that you were really cognizant enough to notice right away, but Jesper wouldn’t shut up about it for a little while. What had seemed, while out on the floor of the gambling hall, just to be a Barrel boss squashing a disruption to his business and doling out payback on behalf of a friend turned into seething rage, which in turn became a constant look of concern as he intently watched Jesper coax you to start breathing properly.

Jesper had business to attend to later that night, so after a while it was just you and Kaz sat in the office. He fetched you a glass of water and sat with you until you were feeling better, never taking his eyes off of you. You had told him about your anxiety, but until then he had never seen it in full effect.

Since that day he had been more in tune with that part of you, learning how to tell when you were having a bad day and remembering what kinds if things made you panic. If he caught you when your anxiety was spiking he would stay and just talk to you. It was nice of him.

“Sit up straight.” Kaz said, and you were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt the tip of his cane pressing gently against your shoulder. You realised how far you had curled in on yourself and leaned back against the wall. Kaz had drilled it into your head that opening up your posture would help you breathe better, but sometimes you needed reminding anyway. “How are feeling?”

“Better.” You mumbled with a slight nod.

“How are the edges of your vision? Still fuzzy?”

“A tiny bit.” You answered, trying not to smile at the fact that he remembered how your vision went fuzzy when you had a panic attack. “If I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you bother with me?” The question had been weighing on your mind for a long time, but in the past few weeks it had felt like it had been pressing for you to actually ask. You thought that Kaz liked you, but at the same you couldn’t think of a reason for that to be true.

“What do you mean by that?” Kaz asked, his head tilting a minuscule amount and his brow furrowing ever so slightly in curiosity.

“I mean, why do you keep me around? Why do you bring me on jobs? Why do you bother learning how to take care of me? Maybe at first it was for Jesper's sake but surely that can’t be the case now, so why?”

Kaz watched you for a moment, folded his hands in his lap and cleared his throat.

“You’re a valuable member of the team.” He answered matter-of-factly. “You work well with others, you’re a fast learner, you seem to genuinely enjoy being a member of the Dregs most of the time. As for why I’ve learned to take care of you, well, what kind of a leader would I be if I didn’t? You know me, I like to know everything that there possibly is to know when it comes to my business and my team.”

“Right.” You nodded. “That makes sense.”

“You don’t like that answer.”

“What?”

“I know you well enough to know what your face does when you’re unhappy.”

“I’m not unhappy.”

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N. What is it that you wanted me to say?” His question made you feel suddenly quite embarrassed, and you averted you eyes with a shrug.

“I don’t know, I guess I just thought that maybe you actually liked me. You know, as a friend.” You mumbled. You glanced back at Kaz long enough to see the corner of his mouth twitch upwards.

“If I told you that I liked you, would it make you feel better?” He asked. He wasn’t being sarcastic or mocking you, but you still became even more embarrassed.

“Forget about it, it doesn’t matter. I’m feeling much better now so we should probably start moving-"

“Y/N.” Kaz interrupted, and you froze mid-motion of standing up. “I do like you, but I don’t have friends.”

He moved to stand up, and you finished getting to your feet. You watched him use his cane as leverage to get up off the floor, and if it had been anyone else but Kaz you would have offered a hand to help him up.

“You do too have friends.” You replied with a tiny smile. “You, Jesper and Inej are a trio of best friends if I’ve ever seen one.”

“I thought Jesper was your best friend.”

“People can have more than one best friend, Kaz.”

“The more friends you have, the more leverage your enemies have against you. That’s why I don’t have any.” He stated, taking the first step. You assumed that you would be heading to where he was supposed to meet Nina and Matthias. He was late – just how late you weren’t sure, the passage of time alluded you during panic attacks – but they probably weren’t all too worried.

“I think you just tell yourself that we’re not your friends so that you feel better about having a weak spot.” You said, teasing slightly. “Do you like me as much as you like Jesper?”

“I like you more than Jesper. You’re less of a thorn in my side.”

“Aw, Kaz! That’s so sweet.” You smiled. He scoffed.

“I take it you’re feeling better?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good.”

“Can I ask you one more question?” You inquired, and Kaz sighed before humming an agreement. “Do you maybe like me for a different reason than that I’m less annoying than Jesper?”

There was a beat of silence, and Kaz inhaled.

“I enjoy having you around.” He answered vaguely, but you could see in his eyes in the sidelong look that he gave you that it was deeper than that. You smiled, satisfied and not needing to push.

“Good. Me too.” You muttered, and the two of you continued walking, side by side.

[flowerbarrel-art]

~ PuffballsUnited, InnerSloth, The Henry Stickmin Collection

~ Terrence Suave AU ~

Previous Part

Next Part

⚠️Content warnings: Some strong language⚠️

(~ Recap: Terrence Suave, having been overthrown as leader of the Toppats, was found by Galeforce and has been working on base for almost two years. Henry infiltrated the airship and captured Reginald, but recently was captured by the Wall. Terrence had infiltrated the Wall previously, so went undercover as a Wall guard with Victoria to rescue Henry. ~ )

~ The Wall ~

“That lasted forever,” Terrence groaned quietly as he and Victoria headed swiftly for the cafeteria.

“Well, it’s over now,” Victoria said. “We’re proper guards now, and we can get some lunch. Smells good.”

They got in line and picked up trays and silverware.

“Stew or something?” Terrence wondered.

“Yup,” a man in front of the two said. “We get warm meals a couple times a week.”

Terrence felt a jolt of alarm, but quickly smiled and nodded.

“Yeah? That’s good.”

The man nodded.

Victoria nudged Terrence, and he gave her an anxious look before glancing briefly at the man ahead of them. She nodded.

When they’d gotten their food they sat down at one of the long tables and began eating quickly.

“The food’s not going anywhere,” the man from the line chuckled, taking a seat with a black-haired man.

Terrence forced himself to keep a straight face.

Pemberton…Smith…

“So you’re the new guards? How d’you like it so far?” the black-haired man asked.

“I’ve had worse jobs,” Victoria said.

The two men chuckled.

“Well, you’ll get used to it here. Anyway, don’t think we got your names,” Gordon said. “I’m Markus, and this is my friend, Hank.”

“Right, yeah,” Veronica said. “I’m Tracey, and this is Chris. Nice to meetcha.”

“I know I started shooting the breeze,” Gordon said, “but we’d better hurry and eat. Not a lot of time for lunch.”

The four ate quickly in silence, then got up from the table and cleared their trays.

“Well, see you around sometime,” Wallace said with a wave.

“Yeah,” Veronica said, while Terrence just nodded.

After they parted ways, Veronica drew Terrence aside.

“So…”

“‘Markus’ is Gordon Smith, and ‘Hank’ is Wallace Pemberton,” Terrence said quietly. “They’ve been working here for almost five years.”

“We’ll keep an eye on them,” Veronica said. “If we get into a bad situation, we might need their help.”

“Hopefully we won’t have to tell them who I am…” Terrence muttered. “Who knows if they’d believe me anyway though.”

“You!” Grigori called from down the hall, and Terrence jumped, but walked towards him. Casting a quick glance back, he saw that Victoria wasn’t following. “The doctor wants to see you about your chronic pain.”

“Oh, uh, alright,” Terrence said, trying not to look back at Veronica. Grigori pointed down the hall.

“Just walk to the end, then right, and you’ll see it,” he said, and Terrence set off, his arms folded tightly.

He found the doctor’s office with little trouble and knocked hesitantly.

“Come in,” the man said, and the door opened. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Terrence mumbled as he took a seat on the examination table. The doctor nodded, then pulled out a few small vials and a small needle.

“Just have to take some blood,” the doctor said, quickly swabbing Terrence’s arm. “How long have you had chronic pain?”

“Uh…for almost two years now,” Terrence said, looking away as the doctor put the needle in his arm.

“What happened?”

Terrence hesitated.

“I, uh…broke my leg a couple times. It healed alright, but you know.”

Stars began to appear in his vision, and he held the table tightly.

“Do you need a cane?”

“No, should be fine,” Terrence said. “I have one, but I forgot it. It hasn’t been too bad lately.”

“Mmm. Too much to remember,” the doctor said while he worked.

“Guess so.”

“Hold that.”

Terrence pressed the cottonball to his arm.

“I have to run this to the lab,” the doctor said. “Just wait here.”

Terrence waited until the man had left to put his head between his knees.

After a while he looked up and was relieved to see that the stars in his vision were gone.

He checked his arm, then glanced at the door.

He should’ve been back by now…

Shrugging, Terrence slid off the examination table and went through cabinets, finally locating a bandage that he quickly stuck on his arm.

With a sigh, he headed back for the table, glancing at the computer monitor along the way.

He bit his lip, glancing at the door and listening for a moment, before moving closer to the computer.

It was open to the doctor’s emails, and Terrence was about to scan the rest of the page when a new email caught his eye.

He listened again for a moment, then clicked on it.

Chris Evans

Hair: Blond

Eyes: Green

Race: Caucasian

Height: 5’7

Weight: 170 pounds

Blood type: O+

Past injuries: Broken leg, broken arm

Conditions: Chronic pain from injuries

Ran tests on the blood samples from the new guard named Chris Evans. Also ran the blood through the system to see if anything came up. Somehow it matched up with…

Terrence’s blood ran cold.

…with the blood sample of former Toppat leader, Terrence Suave. He infiltrated the Wall when he was Sir Wilford IV’s right hand, and was shot while escaping with a Toppat who is currently Reginald Copperbottom’s right hand man.

Footsteps sounded from the hall, and Terrence scrambled to mark the email as unread before going back to the inbox. Then he got back onto the table and quickly laid down, putting an arm over his eyes.

“Are you alright?” the doctor asked, and Terrence felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Just dizzy,” Terrence mumbled.

“Ah. It will go away soon. Just stay there while I check your leg.”

The man put his hands on Terrence’s right leg.

“Where does it hurt the most?”

Terrence stiffened and clenched his fists when the doctor pressed hard on his leg.

“Here?”

Terrence nodded, sweat trailing down his neck.

“I’ve got a leg brace that will help. Use it whenever you like.”

The doctor pulled up Terrence’s pant leg and took a moment to pull the brace on.

“Sit up. How’s that feel?”

“Fine…” Terrence muttered. “Thanks.”

“Do you still feel dizzy?”

“No.”

“Go back to your quarters,” the doctor said. “Get some rest. And if anybody questions you, tell them I gave you the go-ahead.”

He held out a card, and Terrence took and scanned it quickly.

Dr. Daniel Cooper.

“Do you need help getting back?”

“No, I’m fine,” Terrence said, limping for the door. “Thanks though.”

“Of course. If your leg or anything bothers you, just come back.”

Terrence left as quickly as he could, his heart pounding the whole way back to the room he and Victoria shared.

“Vic?” he hissed quietly upon entering, but the room was empty. He sat with a quiet groan and covered his face.

“What’s eating you?”

Terrence looked up at Victoria’s voice, feeling a flood of relief.

“Get in here!”

She hurried in and shut the door, then sat on her bed and stared across at Terrence.

“We’re in trouble,” he whispered. “They did a blood test on me and I didn’t…didn’t think it’d be anything…but they apparently matched it to a file they have about me! They know I’m Terrence Suave.”

“How the hell did you find that out?” Victoria hissed, her eyes wide.

“The doc took his sweet time getting back,” Terrence said, handing Victoria the card. “I saw one of his emails about the test results. When Reg and I came here to rescue Right and some others, apparently I got shot, and they must’ve taken some blood to find out who I was.”

Victoria crossed her arms tightly and clenched her jaw.

“Well, that’s a wrench in the works,” she muttered finally.

“I shouldn’t have let them…” Terrence groaned. “But I didn’t think…I don’t remember being shot…I would’ve said something, I swear.”

Victoria pressed her hands to Terrence’s shoulders.

“I believe you, but calm down. Panic isn’t getting us anywhere.”

“You’re going to be suspect now too,” Terrence said. “What should we do? Has this ever happened on a mission before? We just got here and I already screwed things up!”

“No, things never go wrong,” Victoria said, rolling her eyes. “Of course they have, idiot!”

She looked away, then sighed.

“If you’d refused the test, you’d still have wound up looking suspicious. You need to stay calm right now. Alright?”

“Yeah…yeah…” Terrence muttered, then took a few deep breaths.

“Does the doctor know you read the email?” Victoria asked.

“No, or he didn’t let on he did,” Terrence said quietly. “I marked it as unread and backed out as soon as I could.”

“Great,” Victoria said with a nod. “Listen. I’m going to go talk to some of our guys and let them know what’s going on.”

“What’ll they do?” Terrence questioned, tapping his foot rapidly.

“They’ll make it so that we can get Henry out of here quickly. They were supposed to just monitor us and make sure we had everything under control. But now we just need to get Henry and get out, and Ellie, if we can.”

“Ellie?” Terrence asked, narrowing his eyes.

“She’s been on our watchlist for a while,” Victoria said.

She got up and headed for the door, listening before carefully opening the door and heading out.

“Alright, come on,” she said. “Get your spear.”

They walked quietly down the hall, Terrence following Victoria and glancing around briefly every so often.

They didn’t pass many guards along the way, and only waved back to a couple who greeted them along the way.

“Alright, they’re in here,” Victoria said, gesturing to a door. “Come on. Tell them everything you told me.”

She walked inside, and Terrence followed anxiously.

When he was inside the room, he saw two of the undercover government soldiers there, both dressed in Wall guard uniforms.

“They know who I am,” Terrence said. “I don’t think they know I found out, but…”

“Be quiet,” one of the soldiers hissed, glaring at him.

Terrence stepped back uneasily, then looked at Victoria; he felt a twinge of panic when she quietly closed and locked the door.

“Vic…?”

She folded her arms and sighed.

“You’ll just have to make do for a bit,” she murmured, looking away.

Terrence was abruptly grabbed, and a damp cloth covered his mouth and nose.

He struggled and tried to claw at the person, but his hands were quickly restrained.

He began to feel woozy and was pushed to the floor on his stomach.

Terrence slumped as his strength and vision started to fade, and he felt more hands holding him down.

“We’ll tell Dmitri and take care of the rest. Get back to work and act like nothing happened.”

[yesimwriting]

The Promise of Rain, blurb 2

The Promise of Rain (part 2?? technically) 

A/n I was not originally planning a second part for this but some people wanted it and this idea came to me and it works better with the context of ‘The Promise of Rain’ but it can technically be read as a stand alone :))

Anyways this might turn into a small series of kinda connected blurbs that are all kind of canon with each other but aren’t necessarily connected except for the reader’s background (the reader is a very sunshine-y person and knows Kaz bc she’s a runaway princess that he was hired to bring back home but she managed to convince him to let her work for him instead)

--

The night air had left me with a chill that made me want nothing more than to have my covers draped over me as I read. I’m normally more sociable after a job, especially after such a simple and safe ending, but a lot of tonight had left me wanting to be alone. 

Well, not truly alone. The company of my books is always welcomed, but tonight I can’t seem to find much comfort within the pages. After almost every paragraph, I find myself distracted by gusts of wind and thoughts of the heavy, silver clouds that seem to make up tonight. A part of me longs for the rain. I know it’s ridiculous to expect rain each time I desire some sense of comfort, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. Especially when the sky so clearly implies it. 

“This must be the fifth time I’ve come here and you’ve been reading.” Kaz’s sudden appearance is almost enough to shake away my lingering somberness. 

I roll my eyes slightly, turning my attention back to the page in front of me. “That observation is just a testament to how often you come in here.” 

His glare is half hearted, a look I’d find endearing if I was less annoyed. “Where else am I going to find a reminder that good people exist in Ketterdam?” 

I think he may have a sixth sense that warns him when I’m treading the line between being annoyed and displeased. Everytime I find myself mad at him in a way that makes me want to avoid him instead of yell at him, Kaz makes some ridiculously heart-melting comment. He steps further into the room. I don’t miss the way he eyes my stretched out legs. Ever since the conversation we had after he woke up after an injury, we’ve fallen into the unmentioned habit of silently inviting the other to stay by moving to make room for them. 

It had started the day after the conversation in which Kaz had admitted that he wanted me to stay with him. He had been sitting on the small couch while discussing the details of a job. Shortly after I walked in he made a point of shifting so that he was clearly on one side of the couch. I didn’t think much about sitting down, but Inej and Jesper exchanged a look. 

Now, though, I keep my legs stretched out on the bed. He eyes my position on the bed, something grim crossing his features. 

“It might rain tonight.” 

He knows me so damn well. I hate it. “I hope so.”

I turn my head, analyzing the way the world seems to be on the cusp of something. I stare at the silver clouds until I feel something hard tap my leg. The tap is firm but not painful. I’m quick to look at Kaz as he lowers his cane. The mention of rain had been a distraction. 

“You distracted me on purpose.” 

“The first rule of the Barrel is to always be prepared.” There’s a slight uptilt to his lips, something I’ve learned to interpret as a sign of teasing. 

How is he so easy to be around one second and so cold the next? I resist a smile. “I’ll take notes.” 

Kaz ignores my passive aggressive tone. His focus seems to be on my legs that have still not moved to offer him a place next to me. “You wear your emotions too openly.” Great, he’s going to make us talk about it. “What reason could you possibly have to be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.” It’s a partial truth. 

His expression harshens. “Don’t lie.” 

“I’m not thrilled with you, but I don’t think that’s the same as being mad.” 

Kaz lets out a partial sigh. “No, they’re not the same.” Such an early concession feels like a trap. “With you, the first option is worse.” I don’t have anything to say to that. “Is this because of what I said to Jesper?” 

My posture straightens on instinct. “He wants your validation more than he’d ever admit and I understand that expressing praise isn’t exactly something you do, but would it kill you to not actively insult him?” 

“I didn’t say anything that was wrong. He thinks he’s a gambler but he’s just someone born for losses.” The look I give him must mean something to him, because Kaz is quick to tact on, “That doesn’t make him less valuable of an asset or less relatively dependable.” 

I eye him cautiously, the slightest bit of vulnerability playing at his features. “Don’t look at me like that--and don’t tell me that. Jesper’s the one who could use the occasional reminder from you that you hold him to any regard with positive connotations.” His lips press together like he’s thinking about scolding me for scolding him. “It’s only because I know you care more about Jesper than you’d ever let on.” 

“Jesper’s esteem can handle the blow.” The curtness of his voice is a blow in its own sense. “And he didn’t exactly deserve to be in my good graces after what he did tonight.” 

My sigh is not weighted enough to match Kaz’s newfound fountain of emotion. “We were successful--”

“He left you.” I didn’t know Kaz’s voice was capable of such harshness. “I paired him with you, and he left you--and you almost didn’t make it.” I let the weight of his words take up all the available space in the room, keeping the silence that follows them until some of the heaviness has dissipated. “He could have cost me one of my best people.”

Oh. His harshness, his unwarranted coldness, had been a manifestation of his concern. For me. Guilt knots my stomach. Potential words that may offer Kaz some sort of support raise and die back down in my throat. Kaz turns towards the door. 

“Kaz.” He pauses. There’s a long moment in which I think he won’t turn around, but finally, he does. I tuck my legs beneath me, forcing myself to sit up a little straighter. “I told Jesper to leave because I knew the job would have failed if he had been trapped in that room with me.” I drop my gaze towards the window. “I was right, the job was successful, and I got out in time so it was worth it.”

“You risked your safety?” The harsh facet of his being is making its return in full force. 

“For the job,” I’m careful to keep my words factual, “It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Kaz’s jaw locks. “When I said that keeping you near me would ruin you this is what I meant.” 

Is it really this big of a deal? I made it out. “Kaz.”

“This wasn’t my best idea.” His words are leached of anything. “You’re going back home. Tomorrow I’ll arrange the voyage myse--” 

“Kaz Brekker you may get to live your life doing anything you want but you don’t get to control mine.” My chin raises an inch, an instinctual act of subtle rebellion. “I am not going back there, even if I’m technically indebted to you because you didn’t return me to my father but that does not mean I’ll--”

“I’m not trying to control you.” His words are sharp, boarding on a yell. “A job like that one wasn’t worth you.” 

From Kaz, I know those words are heavy. There’s a lot of things I could say to that. I could tell him that I wanted to do something for him. I could say that I appreciate him telling me that. I could even say that in his own way, Kaz giving Jesper a hard time because he left me, is kind of cute in a misguided way. The thing is I think all of these responses will make things worse. 

“Kaz,” I keep my voice as steady as possible, “I’m fine, you’re fine, it all worked out.” Scratching the back of my arm, I exhale gently. “I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.” 

I watch him carefully, there’s a slight slump to his shoulders as he exhales. Is the fight leaving him so easily? He walks further into the room. “You better.” He sits down in the space I provided for him slowly. “If you’re not you’ll have worse things to worry about than anything that can happen to you on a job.” He moves his cane forward easily, tapping my knee in a swift motion. 

I roll my eyes at the mock threat. “They do say that there’s nothing to fear in the Barrel like the Dirtyhands.” 

“Remember that.” Any edge in his voice is forced. I fight against a smile that seems to always want to break across my face whenever I think I see something resembling lightness in Kaz. 

“I don’t think I could forget anything about you.” 

He turns his head slightly. “You should.” 

“Too bad.” 

Kaz leans his back against the wall, untensing slightly. “I think you just like disagreeing with me.” 

There’s no point in lying about it. “Only because when you argue with me you give me this really particular look.” 

“A look?” 

Adding insult to injury, I smile. “Sometimes you look like you’re too focused on being angry, like you’re compensating for something.” 

Kaz lets out a bitter sigh. “Maybe if you were less of a puppy I wouldn’t have to--”

The laugh that escapes is most definitely a mistake. “Did you just call me a puppy?” I don’t give him a chance to reply, laughter taking over again. “I mean this in the least argumentative way possible--but you’re so weird sometimes.” 

He rolls his eyes, tensing. “I’m leaving.”

I stifle the rest of my laughter. “No. I was--I was kidding!” I keep my eyes on Kaz, expecting some type of annoyed glare, but his expression is a lot more weighted than that. Odd. “Kaz?” 

“You need to be more careful.” I understand Kaz’s pause as something he does before saying something outside of his nature. “I’m not asking you this as a Crow or a Dreg.” 

On instinct, my posture straightens. “I promised and I meant it.” 

“Sometimes I wish I could believe in Saints,” his voice has taken off a distant quality, almost fragile, “That way I could believe something existed to help what matters.” 

Oh. “You never fail, even if I didn’t believe in Saints I’d believe in you.” 

“You’re wasting your faith.” The sound of lightning cracking is almost enough to make me jump. The rain finally came. 

I know I’ll never convince him that that’s not true. “I don’t think so, but that’s why it’s called faith.” 

“I have faith in some things.” His expression is far off. 

“Like what?” 

Kaz’s eyes find the window. “People that find meaning in the rain.” 

Something in my chest swells. “You’re like the rain.”

We sit there in silence, watching raindrops glide down the window. “What were you reading?” 

The question has me dropping my gaze to the forgotten book on my lap. “I stole this book from the palace before I left. It was my mom’s favorite, she’s read it so much the spine’s completely cracked and the cover is practically falling off.” 

“Hm…” He mumbles. “Read some, the books read in a palace must be worthwhile.” 

A part of me wants to tell him that elitism has no place in literature, but his request leaves me frozen. I nod once, turning to the first page of the book. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife--” 

“Your upbringing makes sense--” 

“You can’t judge it off the first sentence,” he’s insufferable, “It’s setting up irony, and if you’re going to complain--” 

He lets out a conceding sigh. “I’m listening, I’m not interrupting.” 

I keep my eyes on him for a second longer than I should. “Okay.” Dropping my gaze back to the book, I adjust my grip on the worn paperback, “Good.” 

And then I keep reading. 

--

@theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry XIX

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, violence, attempted assault, some elements untagged.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The reader finds herself at an impasse.

Note: Things are heating up and we're starting to go full force over here <3

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Days passed in idle anticipation. You kept Elina locked up with you and she grew more restless by the hour. When Lord Zemo came at night, she was happier but your sense of dread and impatience only grew. When the retinue arrived, you only wanted them to leave, but knowing who was roaming just floors below, you were anxious to strike first.

The baron was ever the voice of sense. Zemo was no beacon of morality, you knew that, but his honesty made him respectable. You considered how blatant he was in his intentions as compared to those other noblemen who painted their bad deeds as gifts. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely trustworthy but he didn’t trying to make you think otherwise.

You did your best to keep your daughter occupied with her many toys and quiet songs hummed out of tune. You bounced her on your hip as best you could with your cane in your other hand and crawled around with her like a dog. She was only calm when she slept as she longed for the sunlight that taunted her through the window.

You began to wonder how long the men would stay; how long you would be expected to stay hidden. Zemo mentioned vengeance and you dreamt of it every night. It was the only thing that kept you from quaking in fear and panic.

Tess brought your dinner and you placed it on the low table and sat on the floor with Elina and ate. You gave her tiny morsels to chew on or toss back at you. She was an energetic kid, stubborn and strong, and seemed to find fun in even the most dull tasks. You hoped she would grow up to be happier than you. Surely, she’d be more bold and more blessed.

As you chewed on some chicken, you heard that familiar knock on the door. Tess always gave a tiny tap and called through the wood but Zemo always gave that rhythmic beating. It was the latter, he was early that day. It made you worry as you left Elina to squeeze a piece of sweet potato and stood with your can dug into the wood.

You crossed to the door and turned the latch slowly. You opened the door and leaned heavily on the wooden stick, “well, you are earl--” your voice hung in the air as you stared at the familiar face, though it wasn’t Zemo.

You pushed the door but the man caught it and kept it two inches from the frame as he came closer. Peter’s hand trembled as he clung to the wood and gaped at you. He shook his head and blinked dumbly. The two years had given his face character and his shoulders a little more width.

“You’re alive?” he breathed.

“You can’t-- you have to go,” you pushed the door with a grunt, “please, go.”

“I thought… I thought you were dead,” he croaked, “I thought I--”

“Go away. Please!” you begged, “I can’t talk to you.”

“Or you won’t talk to me?” he challenged as he shoved his foot between the door and the frame, “how--”

“How did you find me?” you gasped.

He lowered his eyes and guiltily and clamped his lips shut. He sniffed and looked at you again, “I thought Zemo was hiding something from us. I followed him last night and listened… I couldn’t hear anything, I only saw him come here and knock.”

“No one else can know,” you said, “you can’t-- please go and don’t tell anyone.”

“I wouldn’t but-- I want to talk to you,” he insisted.

“You can’t. It’s too dangerous,” you argued, “you must go. If Zemo discovers you--”

“I don’t care if he does. Don’t you understand, I--I-- I thought I killed you.”

You were silent as you stared into his face. You saw the pain in his eyes, the shock laced with relief. But it was all tinted with the guilt he’d carried since that day. The false guilt you’d given him.

“I’m sorry, Peter, it was the only way out--”

“My aunt cried everyday for you and she never let me forget what you said to me. I never could forget,” he hissed.

“I know, but you have to--” Elina made a noise as she came over and clung to your leg, smearing food down your skirt. Peter looked at her and his lips parted in surprise, “no one can know about her.”

He nodded and gulped. He looked up and down the corridor. “I wouldn’t tell but I can’t go until we talk, I…” his voice cracked, “I need to tell you I was wrong. I lied.”

“El,” you bent to wipe her face and lifted her, “please, stay here,” you bid Peter as you turned and hobbled across the room.

You placed her in her cot, thought she only began to fuss, but you shoved a stuffed caribou into her hands and left her to poke its eyes. You went back to the door and found Peter staring at your cane.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “that’s my fault,” he nodded to the cane, “and that,” he looked to the scar down your face, “I saw it. I tried to follow you that day but I wasn’t fast enough and you were--”

“No, it wasn’t you. I said it was because I could. I couldn’t tell the man who made me do this so I told you instead. That was unfair and unkind,” you blinked away tears, “and I hurt more than just myself.”

He mulled your words and picked at his sleeve. He dressed finer than the last you’d met, “I didn’t mean what I said to Barnes. You were sweet to me and my aunt told me what you were, he told me you were worse, but I didn’t truly care. I only knew he was hurting you and I was making that worse so I thought if I stayed away, he’d stop.”

“No one can stop him. No one. Those men, they cannot be stopped. They are evil in the flesh, they are borne to greed and cruelty. They only see what they can get, not what they can give because they won’t ever be denied--”

You heard a clamor, the pounding of footsteps from the stairway, and the frantic breathing of whoever was approaching. You opened the door further and pulled Peter inside. You shut the door and leaned against it with him as you listened and watched through the crack.

“Away, away,” you heard Melinda’s airy pleas as she swept past your door, “please, sir, away!”

“I just want to play a little game,” the deep voice made your blood curdle then the realisation of what he was doing made it boil even hotter. You gripped your cane as Peter frowned at you, “come here, pet, I don’t bite.”

Melinda squeaked as Lord Rogers’ footsteps slowed and you heard the struggle that followed. The muffled collision of her body against the wall, the small girl’s broken breath as it was knocked from her, and his lewd growl as he pounced.

You pushed Peter away from you and tore open the door. They were closer than you thought. Just against the wall opposite your room. Lord Rogers’ body shielded the girl’s body almost entirely. You raised your cane without a second thought and brought it down on his shoulders.

As he exclaimed and staggered, you hit him again, the time in the back of the head. You swooped your cane down and banged his knees so that he fell onto the stone. You hit him again in the side as he wheezed and you stood over him.

“Bastard! Bastard!” you hit him as the young maid and the other lord watched in shock, “how dare you? You beast!”

Peter grabbed your arm and stopped you as Rogers rolled onto his back and coughed. He groaned as he reached to his head and you were pulled away from him. You struggled with Peter as you wanted badly to hit him again.

“Melinda,” you said as you struggled, “go fetch the baron. Now!”

She skittered off like a mouse, careful to tiptoe around Rogers as he sat up and gripped his right shoulder where you’d hit him. He chuckled as he looked up at you. He grinned beneath the trickle of blood on his lips.

“Oh, well, what a treat this is,” he mocked, “the whore lives.”

“You’re vile,” you snarled, “I should bash you like the snake you are.”

“Parker,” he spoke to the man at your side, “hold her for me.” He grunted as he pushed himself up and stumbled a little on his feet, “let us remind her of who she is… oh, Barnes might come out of his rooms for this.”

He reached to his belt but Peter let you go. You looked over at him and he crossed his arms and shrugged. You gripped your cane tight and swung it again. The strike caught Lord Rogers across his chin and the next in the tender flesh of his side. You jabbed his chest so he was again on his back but he could barely get his arms up to keep away the storm of blows.

When he was limp and prone before you, you slowly lowered the cane. You quivered as you stared down at what you’d done. His breaths came in rattles. You leaned on your right leg as your left shook and you lifted the carefully carved stick.

You pulled the silver topper until it dislodged and revealed the long silver blade. Peter caught your wrist as you raised the dagger.

“Don’t, it’ll change you. It’ll make you as bad as him,” he whispered.

You looked at him and your hand shook. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks and you heard Elina murmuring, louder and louder as she wondered where you were. You sheathed the knife and plunked your cane down on the stone.

Footsteps drew you back to the end of the corridor as Zemo appeared from the stairwell. His face dropped as he saw you standing over Rogers. He took a breath but did not look angry.

“Well, I did hope to delay this a little longer,” he said as he approached, “but that Rogers was ever the petulant pest.”

“I’m sorry, he--”

“Oh, I can guess at it,” he nodded to Melinda as she followed meekly behind him, “I’d have done it myself if I had the displeasure of witnessing his lechery.” He came up to Peter and stopped, “but I will do what I must.”

“He won’t hurt us,” you said, “Peter… isn’t like them.”

“But he is loyal to his kingdom,” he pointed at Peter’s chest harshly.

“I am a viscount. Not a duke or earl even. I serve men like that on the floor because I have to, not because I want to,” Peter countered, “I have no lealty to the men who leave women like this.” He looked at you and bowed his head, “but I will admit I am not innocent of it.”

Zemo looked at you and stilled your hand as it was still shaking. "Do you vouch for him, lady?"

"He is a good man. If anything, I have drawn him unjustly into this mess," you said, "I knew you wanted to wait longer--"

"No use in apologies," Zemo grasped your shoulder and squeezed, "this stalemate would not have lasted forever. I am not entirely unprepared."

Elina began to bawl and Zemo brushed past you. He returned with her in his arms, rocking her until she quieted. He cradled her cheek with a mournful gaze and his lips curved for just a moment.

"Be quick, we must leave before the moon. We will move the lord out of the corridor and be away before they can discover him," he said, "by the morning, the castle should be empty but for our foreign visitors and it will take them some time to return to their home with news of such catastrophe."

"Is he dead?" you asked as you looked at Rogers' boots.

"An ox like him? Not yet, just annoyingly on the precipice," Zemo replied, "if we're fortunate, he'll have some lingering detriment but we cannot kill him. That would be an unforgivable mistake."

You heard a grumble and a croaky chuckle. Zemo turned and you looked down on the dazed duke.

"That is a beautiful girl," Lord Rogers rasped, "looks like her father."

Zemo's pupils turned to pinpoints and he handed you Elina. He bent and knocked Rogers across the cheek so that his head bounced off the stone. The baron shook out his hand as he stood straight and his nostrils flared.

"Lord Parker, was it?" He looked to Peter, "help me move him. We haven't time to spare."

[imma-potatoo]

Im not sure if you take requests but if you do can I please have some angsty janus HC? if not im sorry for bothering you. have a nice day!

First of all, you aren't bothering me, I love it when people ask about my headcanons. And secondly, *shocked* I'm being ASKED to share my angst?!

We're gonna be here for a while

He picks/scratches at his skin,

he doesn't really know why he does it, but he often spends full nights scratching his arms, chest, and legs. But NEVER at his neck or face, the other sides can see that. It's normally targeted at his scaled half, but he does scratch at the human side too

The scratches typically run very deep, there's a lot of blood, and Janus doesn't always have access to a medkit

Janus is the youngest out of all the sides, around 21-24, but he never really got to have the full childhood that he was supposed to

Virgil is the oldest of the sides, and when they were younger he was around a lot, basically playing mother hen. But once Janus turned 10 or so, Virgil stopped spending as much time with him and Remus

So Janus had to grow up quick. He learned how to cook (not very well, but food is food), spent most of his time reeling Remus in (who is around 15 at this time), and delivering food to Virgil's door, trying to get him to come out

At the end of the day, Janus was too tired to play, read, or do anything really. He just went to bed.

So young Janus' schedule was;

wake up, make Remus/Virgil food, force Remus to eat the food, attempt to keep the house from a disaster fire from Remus, make lunch, talk to Virgil through his door, more babysitting of Remus, make dinner, send Remus to bed, clean up, go to sleep

Hardly time for playing in there

To this day, if you hand him a toy, he'll simply stare at you with wide eyes

Janus can tell when people tell lies

They don't taste nice or anything, he can't even taste them at all. The lies are revealed with a sharp stabbing pain to his chest

Similar to a heart attack.. But worse.. So much worse.

Imagine if you took a long knife, and stabbed it repeatedly, over and over for hours, breathing faulting, and the entire room starts to spin. It hurts

Now imagine that you have to keep a straight face during this pain or get strange looks and get told you're faking

Janus has gotten a little too used to that stabbing pain

Everytime that Janus stumbled in SvS? That was him trying to hide the pain

The dark side is cold, really cold, like Canadian winter cold. But the darks don't have central heating

It's sadly very common for Remus to find Janus passed out, near hypothermic, in random places in their own home

The dark sides home is... a lot less pleasant then someone would prefer. It looks like a prison with concrete walls and floors, bars cover the windows, and the backyard is completely fenced in with 15ft+ high fences.

The sides rooms move when Thomas is willing to accept that they're a part of him and that he needs to work with them

Remus' room moved back in DWIT, because Thomas accepted that he's there and that he can't get rid of him

Janus is still stuck in the dark. Thomas has given him a chance, but he's not completely accepted that he's needed yet

Janus can often be found passed out on the light side's couch, simply because his room is far too cold

Virgil almost always finds him first, he doesn't like Janus by any means, but he knows first hand that the dark half is cold, so he normally just throws a heated blanket over him and calls it a day

Janus is always gone before Virgil can talk to him

His shepards crook is actually a cane

He had to start using it right after Virgil left, Remus ran off to the imagination and Janus chased after him. He ended up getting cornered by a monster, and it punctured his knee almost clean through

Remus only found him because he was screaming so loud. Roman could hear it from his half of the imagination, but thought it was an animal and didn't bother to investigate

Even as an adult, his sleep schedule is horrible

He's coldblooded, makes the dark half so much worse

The closest thing that he's ever had for a friend (when he was younger) was Logan. They would watch documentaries together and talk about them for a bit

Those stopped when Janus had to take care of Remus

Remus is his friend now, but he still spends most of his time looking after him and making sure that he's eating (he tends to forget that he needs to eat)

Remus goes back to the dark half everyday to spend time with Janus

Janus is a really bad cook, he can make half burnt grilled cheese and pasta. Thats about it. It's not from lack of effort really

The other sides are genuinely concerned for his health and well-being. Everytime he shows up he seems paler, his eye bags are larger, and his clothes hang off of him

Janus doesn't actually believe them when they say that they want to help though

Janus gets maybe two hours of sleep daily

He spends the entirety of his free time trying to help Thomas

He would drink coffee to help him stay awake and productive, but he hates the taste of it

The others grow more and more concerned everytime he passes out. Which is a lot. Janus always brushes it off though

Logan is the only one who doesn't believe him

He remembers what Janus was like when they were younger, and it was NOTHING like how Janus acts now. They're completely different.

The Orange side made him show up and impersonate the other sides. The only time that he showed up willingly was in POF

He honestly doesn't know what he did to make Virgil hate him, nor does he know why Virgil locked himself away when he was 10

Janus is angry, he's angry that he had to grow up quickly, he's angry that Virgil abandoned him, he's angry that Remus needs to be constantly supervised, he's angry at Orange, he's angry at himself. He's angry. But doesn't have the energy to do anything

He cries himself to sleep a lot more then you would think

Touch starved. Completely touch starved. He breaks down completely when someone touches his wrist

You would think that self preservation would have better self care, but no. He's really bad at it. The closest he gets is getting 4 hours of sleep instead of the normal 2

Even after Remus left, he spends all of his time trying to help Thomas... Only to get pushed to the side

He normally completely forgets to eat food and only remembers when he's on the verge of passing out

He's gotten super good at makeup to hide the red streaks from crying so much

He loves snakes, but can't own one in the dark half because the temperature would put them in extreme pain or even kill it. Janus doesn't want to put the poor creature in suffering

The only toy he still has from childhood is a stuffed snake, but even that has had extreme mending

He sewed his entire outfit himself, and he was quite proud of it! Every time another side insults it, he withers a bit inside

The other sides have tried to stage an intervention so many times, but Janus can somehow avoid them everytime

He doesn't want their pity, because thats what he thinks it is, pity.

T r u s t I s s u e s

Lots of trust and abandonment issues

He has talked to Emile, but he has a hard time trusting him

Completely avoids Patton. Completely.

You can occasionally see him out of the corner of your eye in the common rooms, but the second you turn around he's gone

He's short as hell

His hair is like curly fries. Complete ringlets. But he hates them, hense the hat

He hates it when the others steal the hat

Everytime they insult his scales, he dies a little inside

Let me know if you want more :)

[buckstaposition]

Don’t wanna miss a thing

Birthday song challenge for @din-damn-djarin (prompt 37)

Marcus Moreno x widowed f!reader, Missy Moreno & reader 

1999 words

summary & warnings: Just days before your wedding to Marcus, your emotions are going a bit haywire. Starts angsty but turns fluffy I promise! Themes of loss and grief, loss of a spouse/family member

Sobbing in the bathtub a couple of days before your wedding was not where you thought this evening was going, but here you were. Bawling your eyes out. You had just meant to take a quick shower to freshen up before bed, as your day had been mostly filled with last minute preparations and you were sweaty from hauling around decorations. Maybe not hiring a wedding planner had been a mistake, in more ways than one.

“Honey? You in there?” Marcus’ voice sounded after a hesitant knock on the bathroom door. You knew you should answer him, but you just didn’t have the strength to at this moment.

“Sweetheart?” He tried again, and you could hear the worry in his tone and it only made you feel worse.

“I’m coming in.” Marcus warned after another two minutes or so. It was endearing how considerate he was of your privacy even though you’d told him it was okay to come into the bathroom with you on numerous occasions. If you really didn’t want anyone to come in you’d lock the door and he was the man you were going to marry in less than 48 hours.

The door creaked open and Marcus padded across the bathmat, slowly pulling aside the shower curtain.

“Darling?” Hesitantly, he reached out his hand to you, gently nudging your shoulder. Still sobbing, you gripped it and held it to your face, kissing his palm between tears and hoping he’d understand. Even if you didn’t.

“Is this about Sean?” He asked softly, thumb caressing your cheekbone. You nodded. Marcus sighed; he hated seeing you upset. Just like Sean had. Marcus nudged your chin up and pressed a kiss to your forehead, not caring that the water got on his glasses.

“If you want to be alone for a bit longer that’s alright, but please let me get you out of the shower? You’re shivering.”

It was true enough. The water had gone cold a while ago and now, taking stock of your body you realized you were freezing. You nodded and let Marcus help you up and wrap you in the big fluffy towels he’d bought the two of you as a house-warming gift when you’d moved in together. You leaned on him as he dried you off, suddenly exhausted from your outburst of emotion. You let him help you dress yourself in your fluffiest pyjamas, the shivers slowly subsiding when he pulled your extra fluffy socks onto your feet.

“Okay?” He asked, kneeling on the ground between your feet while you were sitting on your shared bed. You nodded absently, catching his hand and bringing it up to your face. The tears had stopped but the deep sadness lingered.

“Please stay?” You whispered. He kissed your knee, then your free hand.

“I’ll just tell Missy good night, okay?”

A noise from the hallway drew your attention. Missy stood in the doorframe like summoned, and your heart broke at her anxious expression.

“Hey bunny.” You tried to smile, but it didn’t quiet reach your eyes. Missy looked between you and Marcus in concern, her lip starting to quiver.

“Bunny, what is it?” You patted the space next to you, inviting her to sit. After a look at her father, she rushed over, instantly wrapping her arms around you. You exchanged a worried glance with Marcus, and he rose to sit down at his daughter’s other side.

“What’s wrong, bunny? You know you can tell me.” You coaxed again, your own undefined sorrows forgotten in face of her obvious anguish.

“Diyouchangeyourmindaboutthewedding?” It rushed out of her in one breath and she clung to you harder. You hugged her back, squeezing her smaller frame tightly and caressing her hair.

“Oh sweetie, no! Why would you think that?”

“Cuz I heard you crying and-“ she hiccupped a sob into your shoulder, her voice small when she continued. “Please don’t leave us!”

“Oh bunny!” Your own eyes were starting to water again. “I won’t! I won’t ever leave you! You two are my whole world!”

You squeeze her tightly to you, feel Marcus’ arms enveloping you both and look up briefly to see how he’s doing with all this. The look on his face is heart-breaking, and you lean over quickly to press a reassuring kiss to his lips.

“Then why are you so upset?” Missy sniffled. You sighed and ordered your thoughts, mad at yourself for causing anguish to this girl you’ve grown to love so much.

“It’s sort of a silly thing really.” You began. “You know how I was married before?”

“Yeah.” You’d taken her to see his grave once, just like Marcus and Missy had taken you to meet the previous Mrs Moreno. It felt only right. “You still miss him?”

“Yes. Yes, I do. I always will, but that’s not what made me cry. It was… I feel guilty for being so happy, with you two. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah…no… I don’t know.” Missy scrunched up her nose in thought. She was a smart girl, very mature for her age, but in the end she was still only a twelve-year-old girl.

“You see, when you lose someone you love very much, that grief never really goes away. Like you still miss your mom, right?”

“Every day.” She sniffled a bit less now, and looked up at her father, who nodded silently. “But I’d miss you, too!”

“I know, bunny.” You kissed her forehead, wanting to soothe her. “You won’t ever have to choose between us. Your mom is your mom and that will never change.”

“I don’t want to have to choose.” Missy whispered, wiping her tears away. “But I still want her back.”

“I know, bunny, I know. I want my husband back all the time, too.” You exchanged another glance with Marcus, glad to see that he understood and let you take the lead in this discussion. It warmed your heart to know how unconditionally he trusted you with his daughter. “It’s so unfair, isn’t it? It makes me so angry sometimes that it happened to me.”

“It does?” Missy’s eyes went wide. She turned to her father to confirm and he nodded, mouthing a soft ‘yeah, me too’ to her.

“The point is, it’s okay to feel all these conflicting things. And sometimes they might overwhelm you, like they did me today, and that’s okay too because I have people who are there for me when that happens.”

“You know you can always talk to me, us, about anything. Or grandma. Or your friends.” Marcus hugged her close and wiped away her tears, like he had yours earlier. “And if that’s not enough we will do anything to help you, okay?”

“Okay.” Missy smiled a watery smile, snuggling into her dad while holding your hand close. The three of you huddled together for a few minutes, giving everyone the chance to settle. Missy, being a kid, bounced back fastest.

“Can we have a movie night?” She looked at you both with the big puppy eyes she had inherited from her father and perfected over the course of her young life. You didn’t even need to look at Marcus to know the answer.

“And what movie were you thinking?”

“Mulan!”

“Okay, you prep the TV, I’ll get on the popcorn.” Marcus prompted, motioning for her to go ahead downstairs. She was out of the room with the speed of lightning.

“You sure that kid doesn’t have any powers? Super speed maybe?”

“Positive. You okay, honey?” He cupped your cheek and looked deep into your eyes, gaze searching.

“Positive. This actually really helped.” You smiled and leaned in for a small kiss. “So, I think we’re not too bad at this parenting thing, huh?”

“Are you kidding? You’re amazing at it!” Marcus hugged you close, kissing your forehead and then your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---

The reception was in full swing and everyone was enjoying themselves. There had been no mishaps save for the kind that would make for funny stories later and the cake was almost gone. Almost being the operative word. You were in your seat, relieved to be sitting down for a while and re-braiding Missy’s hair where the decorative ribbons and flowers had come loose during the day. Marcus was weaving his way through the guests back to your table, grinning triumphantly.

“Swiped the last slice of cake while Colin wasn’t looking.” You looked behind him to see Miracle Guy frowning at the now empty cake stand.

“Oh darling, you shouldn’t have!” You protested insincerely. It was your wedding after all. You felt you were entitled to some cake.

“He’s already had two!” Marcus put the plate down in front of you and produced some clean cutlery from his pocket. “Besides, anything for my girls.”

“Awww, you’re the best husband and dad!” You pulled him in by his bowtie to press a kiss to his lips.

“Gross.” Missy commented, snatching up one of the small fancy forks and starting to dig in. The two of you paid her no mind, too engrossed in your new marital bliss. You took turns feeding each other cake in between kisses and whispering sweet things, but really Missy got most of it. You didn’t even notice the band switching to a new song. Or the announcement they had made just before that, apparently. At least not until Anita planted herself right in front of your table and brought her cane down hard on the ground.

“You two! Stop canoodling! It’s time for your dance!”

“Mom!” Marcus whined, mostly for show as he was already pulling his tux jacket back on in the same motion, then holding his hand out to you. “May I have this dance, Mrs Moreno?”

“Gladly, Mr Moreno.” You smiled and rose, letting him lead you to the middle of the dancefloor. The band had been stuck playing an intro to your chosen song for several long moments now and launched into it one last time as you took your positions. Aerosmith – I don’t wanna miss a thing. Your song. Marcus took your hand, smiling softly, and when the vocalists started so did you, twirling around the dancefloor. You felt like you were floating, a moment of near perfect happiness.

“I love you so much.” You mouthed to Marcus as he led you across the dancefloor, his hand warm at your waist. He smiled, spun you out and then reeled you back in, closer this time to press a kiss to your temple.

“I love you.” The song ended and you paused for a moment to receive the applause from your guests. The band faded into another song and people started filling the floor around you while you swayed in place for a moment.

“You know, there’s only one thing missing.”

Marcus’s brow furrowed. “What’s that?”

You nodded towards the table where Missy was still sitting, chin in her hands and looking out towards the dancefloor, a picture both wistful and yet a little forlorn. You waved to get her attention, then motioned for her to join you two once that was accomplished. She started, her brow furrowing in the exact same adorable way as her father, then stood hesitantly.

“Come on, bunny!” You called, letting go of Marcus just enough to make space for her. Her whole face lit up and she came running over, long hair swooshing after her. She all but crashed into the two of you, throwing one arm around your waist and the other around Marcus.

“Wanna dance?” You smiled at her, drawing her as close as the volume of your skirt allowed for a little side hug.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, already starting to sway to the music. Marcus surreptitiously wiped at his eyes before hugging the both of you close. It took you all a moment to adjust your footing, but you managed it soon enough. This was truly, absolutely perfect. You could stay lost in this moment forever.

- - - 

author’s note: I started this whole thing over like five times, with different concepts and characters, and somehow landed on this. It turned more into bonding with Missy than the pairing, but hey. Hope you’ll still enjoy it. 

and yes, I named Miracle Guy Colin. He just looks like a Colin to me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯