bakerstreet | hurt / comfort

hurt / comfort

Hurt/comfort is a fan fiction genre that involves the physical pain or emotional distress of one character, who is cared for by another character. The injury, sickness or other kind of hurt allows an exploration of the characters and their relationship.

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1. INJURY. You've been injured. Broken bones or bleeding out or maybe just a tiny little papercut. The choice is yours.
2. SICKNESS. You're sick and laid up in bed, at home or in a hospital. The severity is up to you.
3. FEAR/ANXIETY. Something is happening and you're scared beyond belief.
4. LOSS OF SENSES. Sight, touch, taste, hearing, smell, etc. You've lost some important sense or ability and now you're left to deal with it.
5. DESPAIR. Nothing is good or right anymore and you can't shake the depression. Maybe that friend of yours can help though...
6. BREAKUP. You've been dumped. You need someone to comfort you, possibly by the one who dumped you.
7. MAKE UP. Fight or break up, it's time to makeup.
8. RESCUED. You've just been held captive and/or tortured for however long and finally, someone has come to the rescue.
9. BAD ROMANCE. Fight, cheated on, abused, whatever the case is, someone else can clearly see you need comfort from someone who isn't your terrible lover tonight.
10. LOSS. You've experience a loss of some kind and need help getting through it.
11. INSANITY. You're seeing things that aren't really there, hearing voices, or you're just convinced you're at your wit's end finally and you're going to crack. Maybe someone can give you a helping hand.
12. TIRED. You've had a heard life recently and you're just worn too thin to really care anymore. There's no fight left in you anymore. Can someone help change your mind?
13. ADDICTION. Drugs, alcohol, sex, gambling, or any other type of addiction has got you in its grasp. First time or relapse. Will someone be able to save you?
14. INSOMNIA. You can't sleep anymore, no matter how hard you try. Maybe someone can give you company.
15. NIGHTMARES. Or, on the other end of the spectrum, you can't sleep without gruesome, horrible nightmares. Either someone is stuck in your dream with you, witnessing it or they're just waking you up, soothing you out of it.
16. BLACKMAIL. You've been caught doing something you shouldn't and you were blackmailed because of it
17. SEPARATION. You're going to be separated for awhile or were separated for a long time. Either make up for lost time or try to spend every last moment together.
18. VIOLATED. You've been violated in some way. Can include sexual overtones or not. Can someone help you through it?
19. STRANDED. You've been stranded somewhere remote, with no help of anyone finding you for awhile. Can you survive this together?
20. SINS. You're feeling the weight of your sins and guilt clearer than ever. Can someone give you absolution or lessen the ache any?
21. SECRET. It's difficult having to keep that secret of yours, be it a relationship or something you just don't want to share with anybody else. Maybe it's okay to talk about it now though...
22. ADDITION. Babies should be joyous things unless you're in a situation where you know you won't be able to care for them. Either you've adopted or found out you're pregnant.

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Well, that is odd. It's so typical for Miu-chan, to draw your attention in this manner even when you're trying not to care about her too much. About what she has to say or what she might be thinking. But it is a funny request all the same, something that requires the typical discourse between them to be different, somehow and Ayako can't help feeling curious about it. This sudden change and why it's happening. They're never very personal with each other. Not because Ayako is withdrawn, not as such. However. Reluctant? Yeah, kind of. When it comes to Miu-chan, she is both reluctant and harsh in equal measures.

"Just ask, I guess." She zips up her bag and stretches out her legs. Her ankles hurt a lot today but that's only fair. "If I don't want to answer, you'll know."

Ayako-chan is always like this. So direct. It isn't that Miu is ever necessarily trying to avoid anything in their relation - in any relation, really - but it seems such a harsh approach in comparison to her own. When all comes down to it, it may simply be a clash of personality types and that could easily be resolved by keeping your distance. Except Miu doesn't like to keep something in that state, leave the negatives to breed with each other. It's not healthy. It's really not! Grabbing her own bag, she places it on her lap. Rests her elbows on it. And her chin in her hands. When she speaks, her voice is carefully neutral. Not passing judgement of any kind. There can be a thousand reasons. She just... wants to know whether Ayako-chan's might be the same as her own.

"Why don't you have a boyfriend, Ayako-chan?"

I have no reason to be anywhere else...

[He lethargically tucked his arms under his head, closing his eyes. He felt so miserable, he couldn't explain it.]

Okay. Ayako can't help it, that she's once again humouring Miu-chan - she turns and stares at her, hands freezing a few inches above the closed bag. People rarely ask her anything like this, not because it's too personal (at her age, it is a even a sensible question) but because... because her friends have long since decided that Ayako-chan is too preoccupied with her shining career to bother with boys. Or perhaps too preoccupied all in all. In either case, she turns her gaze away after a long moment of silence, wondering why this information would even matter to Miu-chan. Oh-so-perfect, adorable Miu-chan.

"Yeah, that's pretty personal." Her hands feel too idle now, despite the calmness of her voice. And she's packed away everything already so there's nothing left for them to do. She clasps them together in her lap instead. "What's with such a question anyway?"

[Allison groans at the pun. Too early for that.]

No sushi puns. Please.

Impossibly wonderful, you mean. [ her huff earns a cocky grin from him, but he keeps going. it's actually used to be something of a game, with him and the rest of the marauders. who could find the quickest, easiest, and simplest way down to the kitchens. and when that was found, it was longest, most dangerous, exciting, etc. he decides on the simpler route, if only because he can't be showing lily evans all of his secrets.

just yet. ]

If that were true, then you wouldn't have asked me to come with you. If we're being honest, I think it's because you're not really comfortable with the whole sneaking out bit yet. Need someone who knows the ropes to show you the way.

[ a shrug, and he's heading around the corner, stepping off a ledge just as the staircase moves to meet his foot. comfortable really doesn't even begin to describe how james feels when it comes to this castle, and it's even more obvious now that there aren't people to force his paths. he waves to a painting of a group of women, some dinner party scene he's sure, and looks back over to lily when they erupt into giggles and whispers. ]

He hasn't caught me for- actually, no, there was one time in second year that he did catch me. Saddled me with detention for a month, cleaning up rat dung. [ he shivers at the memory, even if he sounds just the tiniest bit fond. ] But it's fact, you know. He might work here, but I know the castle much better. Know him better. He's down at the dungeons, and then he'll move out down the main hall. Up this staircase, and then down the hall for the Ravenclaw dorm. [ james leans in a little closer to her, looking around at the paintings around them as his voice drops down into a whisper. ] He fancies the paintings down that hall more, only reason he walks down there.

[ Emma tries to keep herself from crying, but it's so very hard when her leg hurtshurtshurtshurtshurtshurts. Tears start down her cheek. There's a hiccup in her voice. ]

I -- I was climbing and -- and I fell!

[ She cries. ]

Mommy, it really hurts!

Miu glances at Ayako-chan's clasped hands in her lap. It's such a demure gesture, one she's used to from the feminine roles of Takarazuka and one she thinks of mostly in those terms, so it seems foreign now. Here. In this context, especially with Ayako-chan as the actor. Tall, brass Ayako-chan. Who's nothing like a musumeyaku, not even in style of dancing.

What's with such a question anyway? Well. It was never really about the question in the first place. It was about the answer and since she isn't getting one, she can make her own assumptions much more freely, right? And tell Ayako-chan what needs to be told on those grounds. Those same grounds - why Miu didn't have a boyfriend either, before she met Tomomin again.

That's how she'd like to think about it, because it's safer.

She reaches out slowly, anyway. And pushes her hand in between Ayako-chan's two clasped ones. In order to take one hand, the left, with her own. Not interlacing their fingers or anything, just... holding it. "I'm not pointing fingers or anything," Miu says. "It's not like I have someone special either."

Anymore.

[ captain america isn't supposed to get kidnapped, so steve figures it opens a new set of leeways for shield. he's not used to getting saved, if he's being honest. he's most used to do the saving.

( not since the ice or bucky - but that's a whole slew of things he doesn't want to touch. )

steve is barely conscious. world blurred and sharp at the same time. there's a dull ache pumping in his head. he hasn't been on the ropes for a while. but this event has certainly knocked down any ideas of durability by a peg. he's weaker and slowed. he doesn't know what they've done, but he doesn't have enough strength to break out of tight restraints.

so when her voice fills the silence of the room, and steve sees her up close there's an instinctive thought in his head that runs: peggy, peggy, peggy and he can't help but see her.

( he's tried not to think about peggy. not to think about a girl who's waited for him to turn up for a dance. he's tried not to think about his definition of the 'right partner' ).

he lifts himself up, when the restrains are untied. balance being difficult to muster. ]

Thank you, Agent. I'm normally not used to getting an entourage. [ he's dizzy but he manages to choke out the words hoarsely. ]

Someone special. She glances down, at Miu's hand holding her own. It's a warm touch, light and unassuming - like everything about Kotori Miu, honestly. She leaves an impression but it doesn't feel like it's truly meant to settle with you in any fashion. Here's my magic, more amazing than most; it's useless to us both. And this conversation is the same, she thinks, though she doesn't pull her hand away.

"I don't care about that. About having someone, I mean." She looks away, feeling weirdly self-conscious. Like her swollen legs are visible to the entire world right now, her bad technique and her ceaseless attempts to improve. "But Miu-chan is a different type of person." She smiles, effortlessly, her voice turning less restricted by habit while she turns the subject away from herself again; after all, there's literally nothing to tell. "So there's a story here, I bet. For you."

There's no letting go. No pulling away angrily. There's nothing of the sort at all. From Ayako-chan. Miu feels a sense of relief which is as foreign to her as the musumeyaku style seems to be to the other girl. Because regret ranks amongst the emotions that she doesn't generally bother with, doesn't it? It's much too troublesome, built on all the negative relations that she doesn't nurse, but still - it's natural that without regret there's no catalyst for relief either. No need for it. Therefore, it's a totally new feeling. One that she doesn't know how best to handle.

"I had someone..." she begins. Falters. Wriggling her fingers against Ayako-chan's palm. "But they died. A year ago."

[He wastes no time. Deft and clever, his hands go to the fastening of Lucifer's trousers and opens them, draws the angel's length out into his palm with a gentleness that speaks of reverence. He pauses just a moment, looking at it heavy and thickening in front of him, feeling its warmth and smelling the hot musk of Lucifer's body like the strike of iron. He presses his cheek to one side, caressing the other with the devoted brush of his palm and then sets his mouth on that flesh - turning his head and lapping at the underside.

His eyes shut. Lucifer tastes like no mortal man he's sampled but there's still some similarity in that it is skin he licks, swelled flesh growing firmer and firmer under his lips. It's heady, intoxicating. Mavros' first lick is controlled, testing, but the one that follows after betrays a start of unfamiliar hunger.

He will worship every inch that he may reach. He wets him from base to crown, eyes shut and his cheeks giving to the rare burn of embarrassed flush. When he pulls back it's to suckle the tip. He licks at the bit of wetness that hasn't come from his own mouth and a shudder runs through him, finally tasting Lucifer's passion. If that is what his clear desire tastes like (sweet, sweet) then he needs the full spill. He wants...

...he has to bring him to that cresting point. Surely that is what Lucifer desires him to do in the first place.

Mavros' lips part wide and he begins guiding Lucifer's mouth into the heat of his mouth. His hands have gone back to grasping at his slacks and now his eyes remain close for focus, to help him fight back he urge to gag because he refuses to relent until there is no more to take. But his throat protests and he has to draw back despite his wishes, smothering the coughs that burn in his throat with his hand. Damn it all, the Night Court's adepts made it seem far easier...]

It's definitely different, this talk. This atmosphere. Months ago, Rie-chan came to her apartment in the middle of the night, crying about her parents, about her Relative and his wandering hands. Such news are hard to take and react to, but with Rie-chan it was a natural reaction; to comfort quietly and to wait for the mood to pass. With Miu-chan, Ayako doesn't have a lot of compassion prepared in advance. She can't react to this confession in her usual manner. Though Miu-chan has always struck her as a girl with many secrets, it has been hard to imagine sympathy in relation to her. To feel sorry for a girl who is always so bright and who can't bear the thought of difficult feelings.

So it takes Ayako a long time to reply, searching for alternatives that aren't readily available. Miu's fingers tickle the inside of her palm and she draws her hand away slowly, calmly, the movement devoid of any real emotion. Straightens up a bit on the bench as she watches the shadows play on the far end of the training room wall. "It makes sense, I guess. For Miu-chan to carry such a dark story around like this." And finally, she looks at the other girl, her expression close enough to blankness to seem almost cold. "I'm very sorry."

"Mmn." Another non-verbal confirmation. Miu meets Ayako-chan's eyes directly when the other girl looks at her, withdrawing her hand equally slowly and stretching out her legs in front of her. Her sweatpants clinging to her shins, clammy from hours of hard work. Ayako-chan was right before, no matter if she meant it or not - Miu had come very close today. To getting it perfect. The kind of perfection Tomomin had danced... "They were a dancer with the Tokyo Ballet. That special someone."

Even if Ayako-chan has her reasons not to have a boyfriend, Miu doesn't reveal it yet. Her own reasons for not having dated men. Along with the fact that Tomomin was a girl. The two are mutually dependent, right? One can't exist without the other. So she keeps both of them secret still, saying only that she was seeing a dancer and that her dancer died. If Ayako-chan has been following the news of the dance scene, she might guess anyway and Miu won't have to actually say the words.

A dancer with the... She freezes again, mind suddenly confused between the rational conclusion and the memories conjured up by that simple sentence. Of course, many dancers could have died within the year - and if they were unknown, no one unrelated would be aware of it. So maybe she doesn't know. This person. Miu-chan carries her secrets, though, how could she not? And this is a secret worth keeping from others.

Mixed with this realisation - maybe, maybe not - is a very simple image of Michan's couch, of a late night in October when the bags were all packed and no one tried to stop the front door from falling shut. A life left behind, surely, completely unconnected to Miu-chan. With all her secrets and lies and false facades. Yet the connection springs clear anyway and Ayako's tone of voice turns harder with it, with what's beneath it.

"Miu-chan. Tell me what you're really saying." There is one conversation here that she can have. A secret that she'll definitely keep. The other one... The other one, she can't be sure about.

[ he's giving her the half-lopsided grin look as he pops off the cap against the side counter. ]

Ah well. You know me. I like living on the rough side of danger. Your mom around?

[ He takes a swig, careful to keep his tone even. After all, he'd really rather not have Ellen digging into his sordid past. At least with Jo he knows he'll have a good conversation and then a slap across the cheek if he gets too fresh. ]

[It sounds a bit cruel to him to make the man that just woke up from the nightmare prepare his own tea, so he'll fumble about it. As unlikely as it sounds, Mavros isn't a complete failure at preparing a few dishes (only the ones he's been shown and they are simple at best) but he does this infrequently due to detesting cleaning any more than he must and that he must at all is insult in the first place.

But if Simon knows how to best prepare this variety, he'll yield to that wisdom.]

No? [Two simple mugs are pulled out along with the box, which is unopened so Mavros gets to fuss with opening it correctly.] Tell me when you think it close enough, then.

What do you usually do with yourself in the middle of the night? Fix something or stare at the wall?

Real talk: totally unintentional, but my deepest apologies.

[ Chuckling, she pushes the door open and holds it out for her to take. ]

[ he doesn't make much comment; a simple breathless laugh that's more of an exhale than anything. the effort, however, is appreciated. he doesn't want to see the fear or the anger or the worry or anything else that isn't a happy emotion lingering in nasir's eyes. what he hates even more is that he's the cause of this.

the next part, however, has his heart clenching in his chest.

agron wants to grip nasir's hand and bring it to his mouth to kiss the fingers that help heal and bring him unknown pleasure from just a simple touch. he wants to grab hold of him and roll around on this cot until no air remains left in their lungs. he wants to fuck until neither one of them can move.

of course, he does none of those things and laments in his uselessness. instead his eyes squeeze shut momentarily as the burn settles into the open wounds and a breath is hissed through his teeth. then, he's looking over at nasir with a tight smile on his lips, but a fierce determination in his eyes. ]

And I you. Never forget that nor doubt that my heart beats for you.

Errr, no, actually, that's not at all what I mean. [James Potter you are on something.] And I didn't ask you, you said you were coming with me and I was kind enough to allow you to join me.

[She's going to ignore the idea of her not being comfortable sneaking out. Mostly because it was true, and she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being right. That just wasn't an option. Sorry, James.

She keeps up with him, but as they approach the staircase she slows, noticing it wasn't there. James, apparently has no such luck and before she can help herself:] James! [She shrieks, reaching a hand out to grab on to the back of his robes. But oh, hey staircase. Hastily, she lets go of him and tries to pretend that whole thing didn't happen at all. Save some face. Or something.

God damn it.

Let's just walk down the stairs and gossip about Filch and--] You're joking.

It's cool. You know it's a good pun because I groaned.

[She takes the door from her and makes her way out.]

[Nasir looks back with just the same amount of fire, giving a soft nod.]

Well we will have to make sure it keeps beating, then.

[He had never known what love, to choose someone, and be chosen in kind, could feel like. And he never wanted to experience it with anyone other than the man before him, who needed his attention so desperately now.

Hands moving as soft as possible across injured skin, Nasir moved to place salve in the wounds; they did not look bad enough to need to be seered as his own had, but still infection could set. He would look after the wrists last.]

Do not worry. We will have you fighting again, soon enough.

[The red fades from her masked vision at the sound of his voice. That voice which is becoming the whole of her world and replacing each and every other one she's ever known. It is not just that he is treating her as a instrument worth being played by the gods, it is that he is taking over every part of her and she cannot stop him and she loves him for it which she cannot stop either. There is glory in what passes between them and there is horror un

His touch sets her gasping anew, brings fresh tears dampening the cloth that covers her eyes. She has just crested and her thighs are freshly slick with her release but she stirs and tightens again, she begins to burn for him again and there is no rest from it or him. Perhaps she is fine match for he can have this until her body gives out completely and only then. The only limitation between them is that she is mortal. He could use her to her last breath and even in that breath he would have some drip of her conflicted love with her crying despair. And his lips, his lips, she's graced with followed by the itching peculiarity of her accumulated wounds closing behind the sweet pass of them. Because her skin has sewn itself shut does not mean she's spared from the pain of the open cuts. They work beneath the surface and paint into her muscle the pattern, drawing soft moans ,begging moans.]

It covers everything... [A whisper. Her marque, an expensive piece that cost not only patron-gifts of coin and diamonds but also life-blood of others. That which presents her as a Servant of Naamah. He claims everything of her. Perhaps the ink is still there but surely it is obscured; she feels how her skin raises stiffer where it is freshly healed.] From the base of my spine, up to my shoulders...

[She grieves the destruction of her original marque. It drags in her voice.] It is detailed, my lord. The lines twist like they are vines.

[ he can't stand that he feels so helpless and useless. that all he can do is lie here and do nothing. it's annoying and he can't stand it. part of him wants to fuss and turn this away because he's not so weak and can do these things himself... except for the part where he really can't do any of this himself. and where normally he might shove someone off from doing this sort of thing to him, he can't do that to nasir.

it's just a fucked up place he's in right now.

another hiss as the salve begins to permeate his skin deeply and he can feel the burn. it feels good even through the pain. agron closes his eyes and lets his head list to the side with a sigh. ]

Not soon enough.

[ but the way he says it, sounds unusually empty. ]

[Nasir frowns, and drops his hands from what he is doing to look at Agron seriously.]

Stop this!

[He lets some of his anger show then; he knows it is perhaps misplaced, but he hates to see Agron like this--]

You are alive. Do not speak as if you have given up! You will get better, and you will fight again, sword in hand. I will not have had Spartacus save your life, only to allow you to let you finish what the Romans started!

[He looks away then, moving to clean his reddened cloth in the water, moving to prepare the strips to bind his chest wounds.]

You are better than this. The Agron I know would spit in the face of the Gods, and be thankful to still be able to attack the Romans again.

[He knows there is more than this, that there is damage that has been done, that they need to heal. But it can not be done until they are safe, until they are free from the Romans; they are not that now.]

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