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eat-limes-bitches · 3 months

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Attitude Adjustment

PAIRING: Female! Chiropractor! Reader x Avenger!Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: Pain affects everyone. Even 106-year-old assassins

WARNINGS: Smidge of Angst, mostly Fluff. Grumpy! Bucky. Some of Bucky's negative self-image but very little. Talks of chiropractic adjustment so cracking joints but nothing too bad. Sam's a little shit. Probably poorly written but oh well.

Word Count: 1006

A/N: Hey guys! I know the last two posts have been really heart-wrenching so here is something a little light-hearted to counteract what I'm gonna be posting next. I am going to be starting chiropractic school in the fall and I know that it has really helped me with some chronic pain stuff that I have going on even with my crazy high pain tolerance so thought Bucky could use some adjustments too!

Enjoy! <3

Dividers by Rookthorne

Y/n watched Bucky from across the gym, analyzing his movements as he tried to continue his set. There was a slight dip in his step as he walked over to the weight plates and a subtle clench of his jaw as he lifted the plate onto the bar. Maybe he’s just sore, she mused as she returned to her stretches. The room around her was slowly disappearing when there was a loud bang and a shout. She jumped, eyes flying open as she shot her gaze across the room where Bucky held his ribs under his left arm while Sam laughed.

“What’s wrong, tin man? Age finally catching up to you?” Bucky shot a nasty glare at the man,

“You won’t be laughing when I drown you in the creek,” Bucky growled as he took a threatening step toward Sam.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Sam placated as he took a step backward. “I was just messin’ with ya man!” Bucky just glared at him again and knocked his metallic shoulder against Sam’s as he stormed off towards the exit. Sam made eye contact with Y/n, shrugging his shoulders and motioning towards the door as if he were saying, ‘Get a load of that guy’. Y/n shook her head and made a mental note to check on him later.

Sometime later after Y/n had finished her workout, she ventured to Bucky’s room, pausing just outside the door. Steadying herself with a breath, she gently rapped on the door. There was a deep groan from the other side of the door, and before Y/n was able to make some space between her and the door, it flew open, revealing a rather disgruntled Bucky, eyes narrowing as he took in her form.

“What.” He grunts out glare unwavering from her smaller form in the doorway. Y/n steadied herself with a reminder that he was in pain and to not let it get to her. She instead matched his gaze.

“You’re in pain.” She stated cooly observing his reaction as he shifted weight off of his left leg, rolling his eyes.

“Right, ‘cause you can tell from across a room.” He scoffed. Y/n let out an indignant huff as she looked him up and down.

“You’re favoring the left side of your body, and anyone can see that. Your hips are crooked from compensating the extra weight on the left side of your body. You have a slight limp which is throwing your body further out of alignment, and since Steve pinned you during training on Tuesday, you’ve been protecting your left ribcage which was then further aggravated from your bench pressing today.”

Bucky stared at her, eyes wide. “H-how do you know all that?” Y/n’s gaze softened as she gave him a gentle smile.

“Buck, I’m a chiropractor, I’m trained to see these things. I can help you feel better if you’d like.” She noticed the hesitance in his eyes as he thought about her offer.

“You know you are allowed help right?” She whispered, placing a hand on his arm.

Bucky searched her eyes for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to pull away and just laugh, tell him it was all a joke, and walk away but it never came, she just stood there, hand spreading warmth through his arm, smile sending butterflies straight to his stomach. Letting out a breath, he nodded, letting Y/n take his hand and lead him to her office.

The room was bright, the afternoon sun coming in through the window painted everything in a golden glow. Y/n motioned to the table in the middle of the room.

“Here, lay face down for me.” She said gently, patting the table. Bucky did as he was told, and melted into the comfortable cushion as Y/n danced her fingers up and down his spine. She paused at the very base of his neck moved her fingers towards his shoulder and gently pressed down. Bucky yelped slightly and jerked away from her touch.

“I’m sorry Buck, I won’t do it again but that just confirmed my suspicion,” Y/n murmured as she walked around the table, placing the heel of her palms on his upper back.

“Yeah, and what's that?” Bucky grumbled, starting to regret his decision.

Y/n gave a sharp thrust, and a satisfying pop rang out through the room, startling Bucky. “Your first rib was out of place.” Bucky pushed himself up to look at Y/n wide-eyed.

“My first rib is out of place!” She just smiled.

“Was. I put it back. That's what that sound was.”

This went on for a few more minutes. Y/n would palpate different parts of his body, there would be a pop, and Bucky make some sort of surprised noise. Eventually, Y/n made the last adjustment and helped Bucky sit up before taking a seat next to him.

“How do you feel?”

Bucky rolled his shoulders before stretching both of his arms above his head. His eyes widened as he snapped his head to meet Y/n’s gaze. Shock was written all over his features as he stood up and wasn’t greeted with the sharp sting that he had grown accustomed to in his lower back.

“Wow, that-that’s amazing!” He sent a heart-stopping grin in Y/n’s direction.

“Thank you, Y/n I feel much better.” He said sincerely, taking Y/n’s hand in his as thanked her. Y/n blushed.

“Of course Bucky. Anytime.”

The pair wandered into the main living room where everyone was gathered. Bucky gave Y/n’s hand one last squeeze before strolling over to Steve and putting him in a headlock, laughing and carrying on. Y/n smiled as she watched them when Sam wandered over.

“What did you do to him?” He asked. Y/n just smiled, not taking her eyes off of Bucky, who was now arm-wrestling Tony who was using his suit.

“Nothing really just gave him an attitude adjustment.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x chiropractor reader #bucky x chiropractor reader

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cowgurrrl · 5 days

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Roll The Bones

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Author’s note: I wrote this in the midst of a flare up so please enjoy and be gentle with your disabled friends <3

Summary: A bad pain day with Joel [1.5k]

Warnings: descriptions of injuries and subsequent chronic pain, medical settings and discussion, I think that’s it??

When Joel finds you, you're in a pitiful state. Your arm is folded over your face, covering your eyes even though the blinds are closed and the room is dark. Your right leg is peeking out from under the bundle of blankets and quilt, elevated with a lukewarm towel surrounding the swelling kneecap. The room smells like the salve someone in the town makes that's supposed to alleviate your pain. So far, it's just given you a headache. Your entire body throbs with pain and frustration. It shouldn't be like this, you think ruefully. I shouldn't feel like this.

Joel lightly pads over to your bedside— his footsteps quiet now that he's discarded his boots by the front door— and perches next to you. His hand finds a home on your afflicted knee and carefully maneuvers his thumb over the tendons to help with the pain. You shift the arm covering your face to reach for him, and he smiles.

"There she is," he murmurs as you take him in. His hair is long and a little unruly in the back, but you think it makes him look soft and domestic. He's shed his work jacket and heavier clothes downstairs and is clad in his soft, well-worn-in flannel. He smells like pine and leather. You want to wrap yourself in his warmth but settle for having him nearby. "Ellie told me you were havin' a rough day." He says. It doesn't surprise you that she did, even though you promised her you were fine and didn't need him. It's become rare that she doesn't update him daily on your health.

About a year ago, you were on patrol with Tommy when a Runner came out of nowhere and charged at your horse. She startled and bucked you off before you could regain control of the reins. The Runner was dead before you could hit the ground, and your horse would be recovered within the day, but the damage was done. You broke your leg in two places and dislocated your knee, in addition to a low-level concussion and cuts on your face and arms. When you came back into Jackson on Tommy's horse, half-conscious, bloody, and delirious with pain, Joel was horrified, Ellie even more so.

You were in the hospital for a month as they used what they could to put you in something akin to a cast and reset the bones. Joel and Ellie took turns being guards at your bed, monitoring what they gave you, when, and how much, and how your healing process was going. They were there with you every day, learning the tips and tricks to support you and keeping you sane as you stared at the white walls.

Six months, the doctor said. Six months is all it would take to be back to normal as long as you did everything you were supposed to. Things have gotten better slower than you would like, but they have gotten better. You have really good days where you don't feel anything other than slight twinges when you move your leg in a weird way. Those days, it's hard to remember that you broke it in the first place. But other days, like today, you can feel every muscle in your leg tightening as stiff pain rockets up and down your body. You thought you could persevere enough to go to the store with Ellie, but your body obviously had other plans.

"My leg gave out on me when I was coming down the stairs. Pretty sure I made the whole house shake when I fell." You explain, and his eyebrows knit together in phantom pain as his thumb works your muscle.

"You hurt anythin'?" He asks. "Other than your pride?" You blow air out of your nose in a half-laugh and shake your head.

"Just some bruises," you say. He finds a tender spot in your knee that makes you hiss and ball up your fists, but he doesn't let up until the muscle releases. It's what he's supposed to do: break up the scar tissue, relax the muscles, and hope for the best. It still hurts like a bitch, and it'll hurt more in the morning. He mumbles apologies under his breath and kisses you to try and distract you, but your brain's been running wild for hours. "I went so long without any pain." You finally say, breaking the reverie and collapsing the unwanted space your pain often creates.

"You've been takin' on a lot these past few weeks. It doesn't surprise me somethin' would flare up." It's an honest assessment. He warned you this would happen, but you ignored him. You thought you knew your body better. You wanted to know your body better. The returning thought and the gentle hand on your knee turn your tongue into sandpaper, and tears prick in the corners of your eyes. Despite the low light in the room, Joel catches it and makes a sympathetic noise.

"Hey, talk to me." He says softly, shifting his hand from your knee to your face to catch a few stray tears. You shake your head and try and fail to form the words. Joel is patient. He always is, but he shouldn't have to be.

"I'm so tired of being like this." You whisper, hating the feel of the words on your tongue and hating the sound of them even more. Joel gives you a confused look and pushes your hair out of your face.

"Bein' like what?"

"Sick," you choke out. Now that the dam is broken, there's no stopping the bitter rush of words from leaving you. "We took her across the country and got rid of anyone who even looked at her wrong. Now, I can't even get on a horse without hurting. And I do all the stupid fucking things the doctor tells me to do. I do the exercises and take the medicine and everything, and nothing is making it better, and I'm so tired."

"Why didn't you tell me that?"

"Because I didn't want you to think I'm broken." It's a thought you've harbored since you were laid up in the hospital, unable to even walk to the bathroom without help, but this is the first time you've expressed it. You secretly hoped if you just didn't say anything about it, maybe Joel wouldn't notice. It's a stupid idea, given that your entire lives have changed since the accident. You just didn't want to get thrown away like all the other broken things in this world. Joel takes a deep breath and gazes at you.

"Honey, you aren't broken. Not even close to it," he says. You want to counter him, but the weight of your emotion is too heavy on your chest. "I wanna know if somethin' is hurtin' you cause when you hurt, I hurt, okay? You're not a burden or somethin' to fix. You just… need a little extra care right now, and that's okay. I wanna take care of you."

"What if it's like this forever?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"It won't be."

"But, what if it is?" More tears fill your eyes as you await his answer. He didn't fall in love with this version of you. You don't know if you could blame him if he never does. But with enough ease and love to take your breath away, Joel kisses your forehead, right where your temple smacked against the cold ground. He kisses your forehead and the white scars littering your cheeks before finally shifting to kiss the knee propped up on pillows and hope. He doesn't flinch at the swelling or the angry spasms. He treats them with care and attention. He treats them as another part of you.

"Takin' care of you has never and will never be on the list of worst things imaginable. Your health is not a sacrifice or a burden on me. If it's like this forever, we'll adapt, but I know you. I know how hard you're workin' to get better. I know we'll find a way to live with this," he says. "But I need you to talk to me when things aren't workin'. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's helpin' and what's not, okay?" You swallow around the lump in your throat and nod.

"Okay."

"Okay," he echoes. "I'm gonna get you an appointment with Dr. Lutton and see if we can't get you on a new treatment plan first thing tomorrow mornin'. Is there anythin' I can do for you until then?" He asks, fully prepared to go to the edge of the earth if you asked him to.

"Can you lay with me?" You ask, and he smiles.

"Of course, baby." He mumbles. He kisses your knee one more time before shuffling to wrap you in his arms. The warmth from his body helps relieve some of your tension and pain, and he kneads calming circles over your shoulders and back. Your focus shifts from the pain in your leg to the song he's humming, the vibrations in his chest a welcome distraction. The pain doesn't go away entirely— you doubt it ever will— but you rest your weary body against his and sleep, finding wholeness in his acceptance of your loss.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller comfort #joel miller hurt/comfort #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel the last of us #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou #joel tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #pedro pascal cinematic universe

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callsign-rogueone · 3 months

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keep her safe - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x Marked!Pacifist!Reader This one is for my fellow tired, chronic pain girls who just want their suffering to serve some purpose, and those who trust everyone they meet, even if they shouldn’t. wc: 4.7k -- the longest work I've ever put on this blog! second chapter is here! 🏷: spoilers for both Fourth Wing books (I’m currently 500 pages into Iron Flame, and y’all... 😭) people refer to you with she/her pronouns, canon-typical violence and torture, mentions of canon character death / death of a family member, bad coping mechanisms, Dain and his memory reading (I tried to make him more tolerable), one (1) reference to sex, I gave you a last name (Avan) and Garrick calls you angel as a pet name, because I refuse to use y/n. Your dragon's name is Tab.

Your stomach drops as your name is called for a challenge. “No weapons today.” Emeterrio adds. “I want you to work on your hand-to-hand.”

The pair of you unsheath nearly a dozen knives apiece, you handing yours to Bodhi. Disarmed, you extend a hand to the boy, as is the Tyrrish tradition before a friendly spar, but he doesn’t take it. No unmarked ones ever have.

He charges first, tangles a hand in your hair and pulls, jerking your head back, and the crowd of freshmen gasp, but you plant your feet and move with him, twisting your spine with practiced ease.

That gives you enough distance to kick a leg out at his right knee, hitting him squarely in the back of it. He releases you. Another swift kick to his legs has them sweeping out from under him. You dig a thumb into his collarbone, finding just the right spot, and he crumples, giving you a split second to wrap your arm around his throat.

He claws at your elbow with blunt nails, wasting breath as he attempts to rise to his feet, but you keep him pinned with your body weight, bearing down as hard as you can. He bucks, and your left boot skids against the mat.

You bend your knee to brace yourself in a lunge. Your arm is starting to falter, he can feel the muscle straining around his jaw, but he’s tiring too — running out of air. If neither of you moves, he’s going to die.

“Enough,” Emeterrio commands.

You release him, extending a hand to pull him up, but he smacks it away and dives straight at you, clearly not done. “I’m not letting you off that easily, traitor.”

You squeak in surprise, your back hitting the mat with a thud, and he lands another blow to your jaw. You struggle to take control back, gasping for breath from how hard you’d hit the floor.

He gathers your wrists into one hand easily, the other closing around your throat.

“You are going to die on this mat if you don’t do something, now. Use the failsafe.”

There’s one dagger you hadn’t removed, that you’d won from Garrick in combat your first year, that he’d let you win, really, and promptly ordered that you never remove it from your reach, for situations like this.

He doesn’t have your legs pinned, so you kick out, catching him in the thigh, and his grip falters. You manage to wiggle one arm free to pull the blade from the inside of your jacket, rolling onto your side and holding the point millimeters away from his chest. “Yield,” you order, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You won’t kill me,” He snarls. “Everyone knows you’re all bark and no bite. That’s why you keep him around.”

You drag it down, just enough to tear his shirt. “Yield, or you’ll meet Malek today and you can explain to him what a cheating coward you are.” The words surprise you, but you fight to maintain the hardened look on your face, trying to convince him you’re serious.

“Fine,” he spits, “I yield.”

Heart still pounding, you move to lean against the wall with the other marked ones, Bodhi handing you back your arsenal blade by blade.

“She cheated!” Jason protests as soon as he’s standing again.

“She did what was necessary after you defied a direct order from a superior officer,” Emeterrio says narrowly.

Jason glowers, but returns to his friends without further argument. The rest of the pack takes note of their faces; they’re likely as conniving as him, and as liable to try to kill you, too.

“I’m gonna end that motherfucker,” Garrick mutters, checking you over for injuries as subtly as he can. He hands you a scrap of cloth and you wipe the blood from your nose, wincing, but grateful it isn’t broken.

“He’s been at this for months. One of these days, he’s going to kill you.” Bodhi says quietly, his gaze not moving from the next sparring pair.

“Why not kill him first?” Imogen asks. “You had a knife to his gut, you should have used it.”

“No.” You say firmly. “To kill anyone unmarked, especially an officer’s son, would confirm what everyone else in this army believes about Tyrs; that we are bloodthirsty animals.”

“Let them believe that,” she scoffs. “They’ll never change their mind.”

You sigh. Maybe she’s right.

You don’t see your friends for the next ten hours, when you’re finally excused for dinner.

“Where the hell have you been?” Bodhi asks.

“Medical wing,” you rasp, sliding into a seat at the end of the bench. “Mending infantry with Carr.”

“You should eat,” Liam says softly, pushing a plate toward you, but you shake your head no, every muscle in your body screaming.

You look like your head is going to hit the table, your neck no longer able to hold it up. Bodhi pulls you into his side and you slump against him, boneless. “Her signet isn’t fully developed yet,” you hear him explain to Violet and Liam. “She’ll be okay. She just needs to rest.”

When you wake, it’s dark out, the room nearly pitch black, but you can tell it’s not yours — the furniture is arranged differently.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, gentle one,” Tab greets as soon as you’re cognizant. He can only be this dry about it because he knew you’d pull through. “If he makes you do that again, I’ll eat him.”

You laugh, wincing at the pain in your ribs. Your entire body aches. There’s no way you got up the three flights of stairs here yourself — you didn’t even have it in you to chew food at dinner.

There’s a comforting scent to the room — all the soap and detergent everyone uses is standard issue, but something about the sheets smells like Garrick. Your theory is confirmed when he walks through the door, the hallway light illuminating the hilts of the two swords strapped to his back. “If you want me in your bed, Gare, you just need to ask,” you say in greeting.

He laughs dryly, waving a hand to activate a small mage light. “The damage can’t be too bad if you’re already cracking jokes.”

“I missed physics, didn’t I? Did you carry me up here?”

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about. You can copy Violet’s notes, they’re way better than mine.” He strips some of the weapons off, shedding his flight jacket along with them. It’s something you’ve seen many times before, but it never fails to make your heart flutter.

He sits on the edge of the bed, a gentle hand moving up to lay against your cheek. “And I did carry you. I’d do anything for you, angel. It scares me sometimes.”

He brushes a piece of hair from your face. You’d been freezing cold when you fell asleep, so he’d draped you with every blanket he owned before leaving, and it seems to have worked — your skin is pleasantly warm against his hand.

“Anything, hm?” You ask, a lazy smile on your face.

His eyes sparkle at the mischief in your tone, but he’s responsible enough to think before he acts. “Not until you’ve recovered,” he says sternly.

You yawn. “D’you have section leader stuff to do tonight?”

“That’s what executive officers are for.”

You crack an eye to look at him in disapproval. “Gare, you can’t skip duty. Melgren will have your head.”

He sighs. “Fine. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t. Your bed is more comfortable than mine anyway.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, tugging the jacket back on and strapping in the swords.

/////////

Someone is standing in front of your yoga mat. Dain. “No bodyguard today?” He asks.

You’re silent, your gaze flickering between him and the longsword by your side, the one Garrick had insisted you take with you everywhere when he wasn’t there to protect you.

“You may find this hard to believe, but I don’t want to kill you.” He says with a sigh. “I just need to-”

“Quit talking and join me, or leave.” You interrupt, settling into a deeper stretch, eyes closing as you gesture to the floor next to you with an open hand. By the grace of Amari, Carr had given you enough time off to recover, but he’ll likely be making you work another shift in the infirmary today. This will be your only pocket of calm for the next twelve hours. You aren’t going to skip it for Dain, of all people.

He chooses the first option, surprising you as he drags a mat over beside yours, attempting to copy your movements. “Do you really do this every day?” He asks, uncomfortable.

“Even a soldier must take time to be at peace. Clear your mind. Whatever you’re thinking about is so loud it’s distracting.”

He startles, his foot slipping on the mat.

“No, my signet is not mind-reading.” You say, eyes still closed, though there’s an amused look on your face. “Relax. You’re killing the air in here with that nervous energy.”

For the next five minutes, you both stretch in total silence. “Now,” you decide, bringing your arms back to your body, focusing on your breathing, “what was so important that you needed to find me here?”

He cuts straight to it. “Varrish wants me to… practice on you. He thinks you’re hiding something, that all of you are.” He doesn’t need to specify who he means by you.

You don’t seem to react to the information, instead looking at him with curiosity. “How do you feel about your signet?”

He blinks. Nobody’s ever asked him that before. “I don’t know.” He says quietly. You shift again, but he doesn’t follow you, folding his legs underneath him instead. Your silence presses him to speak, needing to fill the air. “I used to think it was cool, but now… now I’m wondering if it’s really a gift at all.”

“What do you see when you view a memory like that? Are you living it through their eyes, or from above, watching it unfold? How far back can you see?”

“Through their eyes.” He answers, throat dry. Why is he telling you this? “A day, maybe two. It depends. Varrish wants me to learn to push it farther.”

You weigh the consequences. If he’s being honest, he won’t see anything confidential — at worst, a gathering of more than three marked ones to exercise, but is he really petty enough to tell Varrish about that, when he’s giving you a warning in the first place?

“Okay.” You say, opening your eyes. Better it be you than one of the kids who can’t shield their memories yet, or Garrick or Bodhi, who would rip him limb from limb if he tried to touch them.

“What?”

“I’m going to go about my day now as if this conversation never happened,” you say, looking him in the eye, unflinching, “and you’re going to do what you have to do to satisfy Varrish’s demands — with me and only me. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” he stammers, shocked that you’re letting him do this.

“Good.” You pick up the longsword, strapping it back in along your spine. “Dain?” You call over your shoulder. “I won’t make it easy for you.” You say, and he knows that’s a promise.

“That was an incredibly stupid decision, gentle one. A noble decision, but stupid nonetheless.” Tab speaks into your mind on the way back up to your room. “You cannot always assume everyone has good intentions. It would have been your downfall by now, if not for your mate’s protection.”

“Stop calling Garrick my mate. That’s weird.” You deflect, not wanting to unpack his earlier words.

“Forgive me. Dragons do not have a word for a relationship as trivial as a boyfriend.”

You build up a mental wall like Xaden had taught you, ending the argument.

When Varrish calls you into his office that afternoon, you already know what it’s for. “Take a seat,” he says with a smile that you know isn’t meant to be friendly.

He sees the way your eyes immediately narrow at the sight of Dain — everyone knows how the quadrant’s golden boy feels about marked ones, and how you feel about him. You’re going to be doing some very good acting today.

The door closes and locks behind you, and your stomach flips as you feel the sound shield form and press up against the office walls. There’s no escape, and no screaming for help, but you know what you’ve walked into. You signed up for it this morning.

“To what do I owe this meeting, Major?” You ask respectfully, lowering yourself into the chair beside Dain.

“Professor Carr has made me aware that both of your signets have been slow to develop. We’re going to spend your leisure time today practicing, in hopes that you will finally improve.” A very convincing lie, you’ll admit. If Dain hadn’t come to you this morning, you might have believed it. “No objections?” He asks, waiting for you to protest.

“No, sir.” You say calmly, Dain answering the same a beat behind you.

“Good. Aetos, you first.”

It takes every ounce of self control not to squirm as Dain stands, stepping toward you. You lift your chin, closing your eyes -- a gesture of consent small enough to fly under the Vice Commandant’s radar.

You may be letting him try, but you’d told him this wouldn’t be easy. You block him out completely, raising your mental shield and barring the gates.

“What do you see?” Varrish asks.

Dain doesn’t answer. He does not push, does not attempt to kick the door down or dig below the foundation. He stands outside, waiting for you to give him something.

The crack of his nose breaking has your eyes flying open, the coppery scent of blood starting to fill the room immediately as he staggers back into his chair.

“Your turn, Avan."

You stand, laying a gentle hand on Dain’s jaw to tilt it up, stopping the blood from pouring down his shirt.

He looks up at you, stunned, but lets you touch the broken cartilage with your fingertips, and moments later it feels like nothing ever happened. It’s mind-bending.

“Very good. Aetos, try again. What was she doing this morning?”

Dain stands, angling his body between yours and Varrish’s so that the Major can’t see the apology he mouths before his hands touch your forehead. Whether he can see his conversation with you in the gym is unclear. He lies through his teeth either way. “She was alone,” he answers, “on a run to the flight field and back.”

“And then?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes not leaving yours. “A shower, breakfast. Eggs. An apple. Toast. She sat with Tavis and two other marked ones.” He leaves out Violet from the group, not wanting to implicate her. Interesting.

That much is true, but it’s part of your everyday routine — he could have easily gleaned that from watching you across the mess hall. Is he still locked out?

Varrish stands, rounding the corner of his desk. “Let’s make this a little harder, shall we?”

Dain screams as a dagger pierces his arm, thrashing in his chair. Varrish twists the blade as he pulls it out, letting Dain’s blood drip to the floor. This is why he needed the sound shield.

Your eyes widen, and the adrenaline has you leaping to your feet to fix it. You press a hand into the wound, apologizing when he winces. It takes you longer than it should for the muscle to repair itself.

“You care more about him than I thought.” Varrish muses.

You turn to him, anger flickering in your chest. “It is my moral obligation to help the wounded.”

He tuts. “You would have made an excellent healer, had your parents not committed high treason. Aetos, again. Find something older.”

Dain trembles as he stands, and you take pity on him. You push an older memory forward, a happy one, remembering it as vividly as you can.

You watch together as you sprint through the forest, stopping dead in your tracks as you see two cadets fighting. The one losing is a smaller girl in your class whose name Dain can’t remember, a tall, muscled boy towering over her, sword ready to strike.

You spring forward, catching him by surprise and effectively disarming him, and he chooses to abandon the sword and run rather than fight the both of you. You extend a hand to pull the girl to her feet and her eyes widen further, staring up not at you, but behind you.

You feel a burst of heat against your back — not hot enough to be fire. Steam. You bow your head in deference, turning slowly to give the girl time to run… And the dragon bows back. What the fuck?

“You did not kill the boy.” It says directly into your mind.

“I did not.” You answer aloud, not sure if humans can do that.

“Have you ever killed before, gentle one?”

“I haven’t.” Should you be embarrassed? Dragons are violent, surely they would see this as a sign of weakness.

“Not all of us.”

“Holy shit, you can read my mind.”

The girl laughs in disbelief, and you realize you’ve just bonded a dragon.

“In time you’ll learn to control that. But your friend needs to get moving, and so do we.”

You wish her luck before scaling the leg of your dragon and taking a seat.

“Hold on.”

You shriek in happiness like a child as he jumps up, and seconds later you’re thousands of feet in the air, looking down at Basgiath and the valley below. When you return to the flight field, you find Garrick there with a giant brown Scorpiontail, bloodied but happy as he stands next to Xaden and the biggest blue daggertail you’ve ever seen. You pull them both into a hug, just grateful they’re alive.

“Careful, angel,” Garrick warns, grinning into your hair, “we just might make it out of here.”

You cut Dain off there, yanking back the memory before slamming your shields back up. He can have that moment, but only that moment.

“Threshing,” Dain says. Thank the gods. “She helped another cadet who was being attacked. That’s why Tab chose her, for her kindness.”

You both look at Varrish for further instruction. Your shields have been weakening with every injury you repair, but so have Dain’s abilities. You don’t know how many more rounds either of you can take.

“I think that’s enough for today,” He says, sounding pleased. “I’ll see you again on Wednesday morning, to check your progress. You’re dismissed.”

The sound shield dissipates, the door unlocking. The only evidence is Dain’s blood, smeared across his face and arms, drying on the floor and under your nails. You commit the sight to memory, tucking it into the same folder that holds the death of your parents, and slam the drawer shut.

It takes you five minutes to scrub the blood out of the cracks in your palms and from under your nails. Your fingertips are wrinkled when you step into the gym.

“Why did Tab tell Chradh that you were called into Varrish’s office with Aetos?” Garrick asks, remarkably calm as he toys with one of his smaller daggers.

“Because he’s a meddling mother hen.” You answer, avoiding the question.

“Watch it.” Tab warns. “Tell him the truth, or we will.”

You know he’s not bluffing. “He wanted us to practice our signets on each other.”

“Dain practiced his signet, his memory-reading signet, on you?” He asks, already simmering with anger.

“This morning, he came to me to warn me about Varrish’s plan, and I told him it was okay. I used my shields, and I only showed him what I wanted to. We’re supposed to do it again Wednesday.”

Your eyes communicate something else you won’t say aloud, not in front of everyone, and not when you know Dain might be able to see this conversation in two days. I did this to take the heat off of the others. You know I was the safest choice.

Garrick sighs. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I’d like to state for the record that I hate this plan. Literally everything about it. Except for Aetos being stabbed, maybe.” Of course Chradh told him about that. He’d have been delighted by the news, despising both him and Cath.

You give him a look.

“Okay, fine. I take that back.”

He doesn’t.

By Wednesday, the pain in the bridge of your nose is gone, but your arm is still tender where Dain had been stabbed. Bodhi joins you in the gym, stretching with you for a few minutes before he settles into a plank at your side, his eyes never leaving the door.

Dain does not make an appearance at breakfast, notably absent from the leadership table.

Garrick excuses himself as soon as he sees you stand with your tray, catching you by the doors. “Remember that you’re stronger than both of them in all the ways that matter,” he says quietly. “I’ll find you as soon as you’re done.” You both tap your chest twice before parting ways, as has been your tradition for years -- a reminder that even though you’re leaving, you still hold the other in your heart.

Each step up to Varrish’s office is another reminder of what’s to come when you reach the top. “Cadet Avan,” he greets with another sickening smile. “Just in time. We were beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

Your jaw drops at the sight of Dain slumped into the same chair as last time, bloodied and exhausted.

“Nothing fatal,” Varrish reassures. “Not if you act quickly. Go ahead, get started.”

The Vice Commandant’s words have you on edge as you assess him, looking for gaping wounds or broken bones. Dain winces as your hands move over his ribs, and you whisper an apology, pressing in deeper. When your chest starts to ache, you know it’s time to move on. You mend two broken ribs, dissolve a purple bruise on his arm, and fix a split lip, but Dain still hasn’t woken up.

You turn back to Varrish. “One left,” he says. “Use your head.”

Oh, gods. He’d given Dain a concussion, because he knows the migraine it’ll give you will make it harder to shield. You cradle the second-year’s head in your hands, breathing out deeply as you transfer the pain from his body to yours, healing the bruised tissue. Dain blinks himself awake as you stumble, the room suddenly spinning.

“Well done. Aetos?”

You fumble for the arms of your chair, vision blurring at the edges, but you manage to sit back down.

“Say the word, and I get your mate,” Tab offers. He can probably feel your disorientation, concerned you won’t be able to block Dain out in this state.

“No,” you rasp back. “If he shows up, Varrish will have us practice on him instead.”

You need to pick another memory to satisfy Varrish, something older, but your brain isn’t firing on all cylinders. Dain gives you a moment to gather yourself, a small gesture of mercy.

“A moment of pure happiness,” Tab suggests. “Something with the wingleader and your mate.”

You flip back in the book of your life, nearly all the way to the beginning, opening it to the right page to give to Dain and slipping it under the gate with a nod of your head — you’re ready.

Dain’s hands are warm against your freezing cheeks. A boy no older than five that he recognizes as Garrick crouches under a desk across the room, holding a finger to his lips.

“Wherever could those children possibly be?” Someone muses aloud, and you fight laughter as the voice grows closer, thinking it amusing that this adult has no idea you’re hiding in the curtains.

Footsteps retreat, and Garrick signals for you to move. You make it down the hallway before you see someone searching — presumably whatever parent you’d convinced to play with you. Small hands tug you both behind a plush velvet couch. Xaden.

You press yourselves up against it, trying to be as quiet as possible, watching as a shadow forms on the wall in front of you, then a head peers over the back of the couch — that must be your father. He looks just like you, has the same warm smile.

“One more, and then I need to get back to work,” He says, already moving to cover his eyes and starting to count to one hundred. You each run off in a different direction, and the scene fades there.

“A childhood memory,” Dain says. “Playing hide and seek in her father’s office with Riorson and Tavis.”

Not good enough for Varrish. “Give me something I can use,” he snarls, a Freudian slip, but nothing either of you hadn’t known already.

You flip forward in the book, settling on a page you never look at, that you can’t bear to, but that Varrish will revel in. You rip it out, sliding it under the gate. “Bad,” you whisper, the only warning you can manage.

Dain nods in permission, ready to watch whatever memory you’ve pushed forward.

Someone presses a small stone into your hand, an intricate overlap of shapes and lines engraved on one side, the other perfectly smooth.

“Do not put it down, even for a moment,” your father says. He’s aged between now and the last memory, starting to go gray at his temples. “Keep it in your hand until the end. It will protect you when we can’t.”

He looks next to Garrick. “She is everything good about the world.” He says quietly. “Take care of her.”

Garrick promises he will, and your father pulls you into one last embrace before he leaves. Tears blur your vision, Garrick pulling you close. “It’ll be okay,” he soothes. “They’ll come back.”

Hours pass that Dain can’t see, because you don’t remember them.

There’s an ache in your palm from clutching the stone so hard, the rounded corners digging into your skin. Garrick takes your free hand in his, interlocking your fingers. Then there’s only screaming and fire and rage, heat burning up your arm as it’s marked with inky swirls. Until the end, your father had said. This must have been what he meant.

“Her parents’ execution,” Dain says, a note of genuine hurt in his voice. “They gave each child a runestone before they left, as protection.”

Varrish’s eyes rake over to you. He leans forward, yanking on the leather cord that disappears into the neck of your shirt hard enough to pull your body with it. “A runestone like this one?”

“Yes,” you answer before Dain can, saving him the lie. You shut your eyes, wincing as the cold edge of a knife brushes against your neck and the cord breaks, a single drop of warm blood running down your collarbone. You don’t protest, you can’t, your mind still hazy and eyes wet with tears from reliving the memory with Dain.

“That will be all.” Varrish dismisses. He doesn’t make an appointment for you to come back. He has what he needs.

You stand, relying on your knowledge of the office’s layout to navigate your way forward until the door closes behind you.

“I’m so sorry,” Dain breathes once you’re down the hall far enough to avoid being heard. “If I had known,”

“It’s okay. The rune is long dead, and he has no idea how to recreate it. I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you again.” You blink, trying to clear your head. How are you going to get down all these stairs? You can hardly see.

“Here,” he says quietly, extending a hand. You take it, letting him loop an arm over his shoulders — your right, the one that Varrish hadn’t bruised black and blue on Dain — and lead you one step at a time.

You’re halfway down when you hear heavy footsteps running up the stairs. Garrick. He’d promised he’d find you when you were done. He doesn’t spare a glance at Dain, gathering you into his arms and apologizing when he puts pressure on your not-broken ribs.

Dain watches as the older boy carries you down the rest of the stairs, murmuring reassurances to you all the while. Your father’s words echo in his mind. “Take care of her.”

Garrick Tavis is a man of his word.

#garrick tavis #garrick tavis x reader #reader insert #fourth wing fanfic #iron flame fanfic #garrick tavis imagine #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing imagine #throwing this into the void for the three Garrick girlies out there!#liam fic next??#mine #Garrick and Angel

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fourstarsoutofnine · 9 months

Note

I was wondering if you could do something with reader yeeting a weighted blanket at the chain and their reactions? I got reminded of that weighted blanket trend and thought it’d be funny

A/N:HAHAHA ABSOLUTELY OMG this ask made me actually laugh out loud😭 I have a weighted blanket I use sometimes bc it helps with chronic pain(I have arthritis) and anxiety and such—also I’ve always wanted to do that trend w someone but I’ve been to scared bc I don’t wanna hurt anybody :( anyway enjoy!

The chain and a weighted blanket!

(For simplicity’s sake, we’ll say they have weighted blankets in Hyrule lol)

Time:

Is a bit confused with the initial throw(I’d be struggling if I tried tbh) like—why is a blanket being thrown on him, but once it hits him, he stumbles back with a groan and a laugh

“What’s wrong with this thing, great goddesses!”

Totally thinks it’s funny

Will be buying a weighted blanket as soon as possible to get Malon with it…also just cause it feels nice.

Twilight:

Catches it

“Hylia, this is heavy, why is this blanket heavy???”

When you(albeit shocked, cause how did he freaking catch it) explain to him that it has sand(?) in it, and what it can be used for, he’s pleasantly surprised.

“Oh wow! Who would’ve thought of such a thing!”

He accompanies you to go get Wild with it.

Wild:

Body folds like a lawn chair

“OGH-“ and a thunk on the ground 💀

But he’s laughing!

Pokes his head out and just kinda lays there. Twilight’s cackling his head off behind you.

“Why?” He asks with a laugh and you just

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Funny is funny, and it’s nice to have a few pranks here and there, both to keep you on your toes and have a laugh.

Sky:

Also folds like a lawn chair

Except he doesn’t like his head out like wild. When there’s no movement and you peek under, he’s asleep

Mans can fall asleep anywhere anytime in a short amount of time. Sleeping is like second nature to him.

“Sky???”

Nothing. Dead silence. You’re actually beginning to wonder if it knocked him out, but no. He’s snoring, and seems perfectly fine. It’s just comfy and he decided it was time to honk his shoos. Go night night for a bit.

Wars:

You throw it at him from behind and he stumbles forward into the stump he was using as a table for planning their next route.

“Agh! Hey!!!”

Was originally upset but when he saw how hard you were laughing, he can’t seem to make himself stay mad

You were too cute, and far too happy. He didn’t want to ruin that.. and it was a little funny

“Alright Alright, You’ve had your fun…. Now go get the vet.” He said with a soft smile. The effect you had on these boys was remarkable

Legend:

Get ready to run, and run fast

Yeah—he’s… pretty much the only one that didn’t take it well.

You threw it on him and he fell forward and cursed

“Y/n what gives?!”

Though when he saw how upset his yelling made you, he softened.

“It was just a joke, I didn’t mean—“

“No. It’s whatever.” He drops the blanket to the ground with a thud and crossed his arms. “It’s fine. Stop looking like that, though. All…sad. You look like a wet dog… or wet blanket, more appropriately..”

That made you crack a smile, and he huffed and rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth turning up as he turned away.

You can’t figure out if he said the pun with the intention of making you laugh or not, but it worked. (Spoiler alert, yes he did. He’s a softie whether he likes it or not and he has a particular soft spot for you.)

(Totally got the blanket to sleep under it for comfort, but if you told anyone or asked him about it he’d deny everything.)

Hyrule:

“AAH!” He yelled as he flew forward when you threw it on his back.

He’s laughing, which is good.

Like time, he just laughs and holds it out to you, only he’s doing it with a touch of struggle to keep his arms out until you take it.

“That’s so heavy! What the heck! How did it get like that???”

After a long winded explanation, he really likes it!

Definitely asks for it one night, especially after a particularly rough battle.

Four:

Like Wars, he’s a bit upset but laughs it off, because at the end of the day, it is funny

Just make sure to pay attention to when you’re throwing it on him. Make sure he’s not working on any weapons—that’s dangerous ground both in injury and messing the weapon up.

Then, he’d actually be upset(but not for too long. He can’t stay mad at you.)

“Oh cmon!” He laughs, shoving you once he’s out from under the blanket.

Once he gets over his small upset, he’s laughing louder. It starts being real funny to him.

“That’s so dumb, that’s so dumb.” He says through laughter.

Wind:

He goes FLYING

“Hey y/—WAH!”

When you pick it up he’s got the biggest mischievous grin

“THATS CRAZY! LETS GO GET THE OTHERS!”

Thinks it’s the funniest thing known to mankind

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artists-ally · 3 months

Note

Hi! I love your writing and I just wanted to ask if you could make a fic about Azriel and a chronically ill reader? I have Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, and it can be really difficult sometimes. I’m currently in a flare-up and I would love to see what Azriel would be like if he had a partner with a chronic illness 🩵 please and thank you!

{The Fixer} Azriel x Reader

Hi my love!!! While I myself do not know what it's like to live with a chronic illness, my mom has chronic migraines and I was always the one taking care of her. I hope you enjoy and are taking as best care of yourself as you can through this flare-up my love <3 Title and story inspired by this song.

Word Count: 2,193

Warnings: struggles of chronic illness, headaches, vomiting, fluff

Tagging: @cyrygher @thelov3lybookworm @librafairy @blessthepizzaman @needylilgal022 @bubybubsters @harrystylesfan2686 @justdreamstars

Summary: Azriel notices. Even when you try to hide it from him. There is nothing he hates more than seeing you in pain, and it's his mission to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~

Whether it was the dots spreading across my vision or the ache set deep in every bone in my body, I knew I was off. Short of the normal dizziness and weakness I had, I felt like shit.

I rolled over in bed to find Az gone, and I sighed. Getting to the bathroom was going to be tough. Half an hour went by before I could fully open my eyes and not see the world spinning before.

The snow was blinding across Velaris, burning my eyes and making me jerk my neck too hard in the opposite direction. Much like my hips and ankles, the joints in my neck screamed for relief. Just a few steps away was the bathroom. If I could get there, to the cabinet above the sink I could get my-

My sweater pocket caught the post on the bed and I got yanked to the floor. Landing shoulders first, pins and needles raced up and down my left arm. Fingers numb. With more than a groan, I rolled off of it and found a new ache in… well, everywhere.

It took a long time to roll on my hands and knees, but I did it, and now I was on the cold tile. It did wonders for the radiating heat in my freshly injured palms, but it chilled it to the marrow of my bones.

As much as I wanted to, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand. The pounding of my head and the rolling of my stomach was enough to force me to sit against the wall opposite the toilet.

I pulled my head back and tried to breathe.

Those life changing blue pills that Madja gave me would be useless now. They could only prevent a flare-up if caught at the earliest signs. I’ve been able to catch the past few, but I wasn’t expecting this one.

Azriel was right when he told me to take it easy during training yesterday. All I wanted to do was prove to him that I could keep up. I knew I couldn't, and so did he, but that wasn’t the point. He shouldn’t just assume I can’t because I’m sick.

Yet here I am, paying for it on the bathroom floor.

I could feel the circulatory pattern of my pulse. A never ending cycle of pain. Starting in my head, down my neck and in my teeth. To my shoulder, numbness down my arm and tingling in my finger. The surge of agony in my hip, through my leg and in my knee. Gods my ankle, what did I do to my ankle?

A quick check under my sock and I could see the culprit. A huge bruise accompanied by an abundance of swelling. I must’ve kicked the post in the night again. Or it could’ve been from sparring, or our sprint up the stairs.

I gave up trying to keep tabs on all my possible reasons and focused on the fact that I was all alone in the House of Wind. Azriel, Cassian, and Nesta were all away in Illyria for the day to train a group of new recruits. Nuala and Cerridwen were here, but I always feel weird asking them for help.

I can make it to the evening. I’ll get up and I’ll take that pill, even if it will only decrease the length not the strength of this flare-up. Anything. I’ll do anything to get it over quicker so I’ll be back to normal.

On the count of three, I’ll get up. I’ll push with the strength I’ve built up from training with Az. I’ll push myself up and grab the pill and go back to bed.

One.

Two.

Three.

My arms do nothing but scream in pain, and my legs lose feeling. I go nowhere but back on my ass. I try again, after another count of three. Nothing. Holding my breath while doing it only makes the dizziness worse. And the nausea.

I drag myself over to the toilet and empty whatever is left in my stomach. It’s not much, and it burns on the way up. Tears fill my eyes and mucus fills my nose and throat. I know when pain and headaches get so bad you vomit, the episode is going to be particularly brutal.

My skin is damp and I start to shake. Water. I need water.

I flush and manage to make it on the toilet. I turn on the sink with some blind movement and I’m greeted with the lovely sound of water. I can’t lift my left arm any more and I think it might be out of socket. I can’t tell. Doesn’t matter. I scoop some water into my mouth, but most of it makes it down my shirt instead.

I let it run and run and run, letting the cool liquid calm my swimming head.

At some point I laid my head down and didn’t pick it back up. I stayed in this awful state of micro sleep, sometimes drifting off, sometimes thinking I’m dreaming but I’m just letting my mind wander. The bright morning sun turned into the dull brightness of the afternoon. I think.

My heart beat loudly in my ears. Then it would stop, and then it would start again. My pulse was taunting me. It must be. It sounded like Azriel’s wings which only made me miss him more. The memory of his scent blasted through me and the tears started.

I want him so bad. I need him.

“Shhh, it’s okay, just breathe, Yn.”

My eyes snapped open, and through a blurry mess of tears, Azriel kneeled in front of me. “W-What are you doing here?”

“The second you woke up I could feel your pain,” his thumb slid across my cheek. “I turned around when I realized why. You need help.”

I shook my head, or tried to. It just sorta rolled back and forth.

“Squeeze my fingers, Yn.” Azriel placed two of his digits in my palms and I squeezed as hard as I could. Not even the tips of his fingers turned red from the pressure. “Are you going to let me help you or are you going to be difficult?”

“I don't want to be difficult. I’m in so much pain.”

“I know, my shadow. I know.”

As gently as he could, he sat me up and carried me to the bed. He took off his armor somewhere along the way, the bony ridges of the scales not digging into me like they normally do. I was eternally grateful for the small detail he remembered.

Even our mattress hurt just as much as the floor.

“I need to take a look at you. Where are you hurting the most? Did you fall?”

I nodded deliriously, “My ankle’s a mess. And so is my shoulder. M’arms numb.”

As carefully as he could, he propped me against him and peaked around. I didn’t hear him make any gasps, but I could feel that pull on the bond that meant he didn’t like what he saw.

“How bad?”

“Bad enough for me to call Madja. She’s on her way. I told you to take it easy-”

“Don’t.”

Azriel completely disregarded whatever he was going to say next. “I’m sorry.”

“Just get me the pill, please,” I faulty gestured to the bathroom. He didn’t even move, but then a pill and a cup of water was pressed into my lips. Those shadows of his are so helpful.

“I didn’t mean anything by what I said. I just don’t like seeing you in pain. It makes me… it makes me wild.”

“I appreciate it, I do Az, but you can’t protect me from everything. And I don’t want you to. There's a reason why I wanted to train with you in the first place.”

“I know, but there's no need to exert yourself to this just to prove a point. I know how tough you are, Yn. You are the strongest, most resilient soul I’ve ever met. But making yourself like this in spite of me is something I never want you doing.”

I smiled, cheeks heating up as I leaned against his chest. His body radiated heat like a roaring fire, and I soaked up every morsel of it.

With enough pillows and heat packs, I was propped up against the headboard. Soon after, Madja and Nuala came in. I could smell the fresh bread and juice from across the room and my stomach growled.

“It’s cheese bread with a nice tomato and herb soup. Azriel requested the sweet tea just for you.”

I smiled up at him, my eyes suddenly heavy with love and adoration for my Shadowsinger.

I ate as Madja poked and prodded. Az held my hand and kissed the tears away when she had to reset my shoulder. By this point, my body was in so much pain that I couldn’t think of anything else. The healer was kind enough to give a sedative and an injection that did something.

“She’ll be asleep soon,” Madja said across the room to Azriel. “When she wakes, send for me again and I will bring one that doesn’t make her drowsy. Do not let her out of that bed unless she is in your arms, Shadowsinger.”

“Thank you, Madja.” And the door shut. Once again, the bed dipped and he trailed a gentle hand up my legs. “Just go to sleep, my shadow.”

“I hope you know that shot will do nothing, Az.”

“I thought they were working?” He asked, puzzled.

I shook my head, “I thought so too, but they’re not. There isn't anything you can do to ease the pain, Az. No amount of pills or injections or stimulation therapy will do the trick. I just have to wait it out.”

“So you rest until it passes,” Az climbed in beside me. “I will be here when you wake up.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” I hissed, frustrated tears spilling down my face. “I want to train and go to dinner and drink red wine and dance like the rest of you.”

I couldn't bear to look at him. Couldn’t bear to see the sadness in his eyes. After a long silent moment, he took a deep breath.

“It’s okay if you need rest. You’re not expected to work or thrive in the condition you’re in. I could tell last night you weren’t feeling good.”

That made me perk up. “How?”

“You get this hazy, far away look. That's how I know you’re in pain.” Azriel muttered, snuggling in close so I could latch on for warmth. “Let me take care of you. Don’t focus on anything other than healing and my warmth. I will be here when you wake up.”

I didn’t care to read into how much he read into me. My heart blazed with thoughts, all of him and those offhanded looks and questions he always asks. He is such an observer.

“I’m the spy for the Night Court, my shadow. Of course I’m observant. I notice everything about you. What makes you smile, what doesn’t. The foods and drinks that give you headaches and swelling. When your flare-ups are coming and when they’re finally withdrawing. I make it my mission to make sure you are as safe and comfortable as possible. I am sorry I wasn't there to help you this morning, love.”

“I felt fine last night, no need to say sorry.” I kissed his cheek, then he kissed my lips. “Thank you for turning around.”

“Cassian thought I had been shot with an arrow with how hard I dove down to the ground to turn around. I felt this rush of pain from you and I thought for a second it was my own. But don’t feel bad. I want to be here anyway. You’re much better than any of those awful camps.”

“I’m a lot better,” I smiled, nuzzling into his chest.

The glint in his voice was enough to make me swoon, “Yes, my shadow. Everything about you is better than those camps.”

-------

Through the rest of the day, Az laid with me, running hands through my hair, massaging my legs when they cramped up. He got me water, food and snacks. Kept the entertainment up when I was in too much pain to nap. All through the night, Azriel held me steady so I wouldn’t accidentally roll around.

Madja came in the morning with more useless injections, Nuala with a stack of chocolate chip pancakes and fresh bacon.

I made Az eat some because I didn’t see him steal a crumb earlier.

Later, he took me into the bath where he scrubbed my scalp, massaging my temples. I tried to do the same for his back and wings, but he refused to let me move. Just sat me in his lap, chest pressed against my back and let us soak for hours.

As we got out, he sat me on the bed while he gathered clothes for us. Per my request, he kept his shirt off and just through on a set of lounging sweats.

One foot at a time, he put me in the comfiest pair of pants I had. The fleece lined inside keeping out the cold. He put thick socks on my feet and found something to wrap around my top half so I didn't have to move my arm.

We laid back down, me tucked in his arms. I absently stroked the back of his scarred hand.

I was calm. The ache is still present, but ignorable with a few of his stories. I drifted to sleep, in the safest place in Prythian.

"Thank you, Az," I murmured, sleep evident now

He kissed me softly, "Anything for you, my shadow."

~~~~~~

#acotar #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader

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trblsvt · 1 year

Text

wait, what? | wen junhui

summary | it was so stupid. soonyoung insisted your best friend was in love you. no way. wen junhui didn't like you that way, and you definitely didn't like him that way either. right? genre | fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining warnings | swearing (i think maybe once or twice) word count | 1.6k words pairing | wen junhui x gn!reader minli | lowercase intended thank you for the request, it was so cute :) @g00dtimenotlongtim3

"you do realize our good friend wen junhui is hopelessly in love you, right?" jihoon said casually before taking a sip from his cup. you practically spat out your water. what an insane idea. "i have no idea what you're talking about," you rolled your eyes. your friends all glanced at each other. "what's with that?" you asked, noticing the way they were now silent.

"you two are the most oblivious people i know," minghao frowned. you still didn't understand where they were coming from with all this. sure, you liked jun, well more than like, but you were absolutely positive he felt nothing more for you than a best friend. you had quietly been living out your life in the friend zone, and you much preferred that over potentially losing him altogether.

"you guys are crazy," you frowned.

"and you're blind," jihoon shot back. "you both are."

"what?"

"nothing!" he said quickly leaving the room.

minghao was annoying. jun didn't know why, especially since his friend usually kept to himself and didn't try meddling in his business. that was his job. jun had just about enough of his friend's whining and complaining about jun's "non-existent" love life. "it's just really sad," minghao shrugged.

"what exactly is so sad about my love life?" jun asked.

"well the fact that you won't admit to being in love with ___, and that you'll die alone because you won't ever admit it."

jun stared at him. minghao was once again delusional. "okay, harsh. i'm not going to die alone because there's nothing to confess. i am not in love with ___," jun insisted, though something in the way he felt his ears heat up at your name told him differently.

"that's too bad, because they're definitely in love with you."

"no, ___ is definitely not in love with me."

"keep telling yourself that," minghao huffed and left jun to his own devices. jun fiddled with the trinkets on his desk and looked out the window. minghao was delusional, he told himself (although he knew minghao was one of the most logical people he had ever met).

jun didn't know what he was hiding. he expected minghao would've picked up by his crush by now. he also figured the rest of the guys had an idea of his pining for you. he wasn't sure how long he would continue to pine for you, but he would rather die then mess up the friendship you had. he was well aware that idea was cliche, but it was a valid fear in his mind.

he just chose to not do anything, for now at least.

"it's really just painful," soonyoung whined.

"what is?" you asked, rolling over to him on the couch.

"your chronic blindness to love." you groaned and punched his arm. "well now my arm actually hurts, thanks."

"what is up with everyone lately?" you sighed, scrolling through your phone. jihoon and now soonyoung. your friend even texted you about jun, she didn't even know him. "maybe we're all tired of you and jun being blind to your mutual feelings for each other," soonyoung rolled his eyes.

"jun does not like me," you insisted.

"but you like him."

"no."

"yes."

"fine, yeah i like him. what's the big deal?" you admitted exasperatedly. soonyoung got up from the couch and straightened out his shirt. "well, that means the feeling is mutual, so you should probably do something about," he said it like it was apparent.

"tell me, how do you know that jun likes me?" you pushed. soonyoung glanced at you, almost looking tired. he sat back down and crossed his legs. "well for one, he never stops talking about you. two, when he's not with us, he's usually with you. three, he buys your favorite snacks for no good reason. you literally have his card saved in your phone. four, he's always concerned about whether he looks good when he's going to meet up with you. five, he's painfully obviously in love whenever he looks at you. six-"

"okay! i get it!" you cut him off before he can continue. "okay, well, okay i see how that could look like he likes me, but isn't that what friends do?"

"well, i'm not overly concerned about how i look when i visit you and i certainly would not let you save my credit card information."

you had to admit what he was saying seemed to add up, but you were still having a hard time believing it. you know your friends wouldn't purposefully tell you this to get your hopes up if it wasn't true.

you just weren't sure when you should act on it.

funny enough, jihoon and minghao had walked jun through every sign that you were just as into him as he was into you. with enough convincing they got him up and out of his room to finally go confess. "is he coming or not?" soonyoung asked through the phone.

"he's on his way now, so you should probably leave before he shows up," jihoon insisted.

"okay, got it. can't believe we got this plan up and running."

"well they obviously weren't going to get anything done."

"so true, i'm leaving now. hopefully jun doesn't run into me. we don't want him catching on."

"even if he did, he was so blind to his own feelings i doubt he would put two and two together."

"also so true. see you later."

jun shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for your building's elevator to come down to the ground floor. minghao had somehow convinced him to go to your apartment and confess his feelings for you.

this wasn't exactly how he imagined his thursday afternoon to go, and this certainly wasn't the way he was planning on telling you, and he made sure minghao knew that. "just for your information, i had a plan," jun insisted.

"yeah, yeah," minghao grumbled flipping through a magazine.

"i did! a grand plan! with flowers and music and chocolate!"

"music?"

"maybe no music. but flowers and chocolate, yes."

"what if they said no?"

"aren't you the one telling me that ___ is in love with me and i should confess my feelings because the feeling is mutual?"

"yes, but i'm talking about this hypothetical plan."

"yeah whatever. i'll just go, but it will be way less romantic," jun called as he left to go. minghao rolled his eyes at his friend's antics.

"jun?" you answered the door, honestly confused why he was here. though, you did let him without a second thought. his hands were shoved into his pockets and he kicked off his shoes in the doorway. "hi," he said.

"do you want something to drink?" you asked making your way to your kitchen.

"actually i wanted to talk to you," he stopped you. you were hoping that he would sit down so you could compose yourself, but seeing him here after everything soonyoung said had you second-guessing everything. maybe he caught on, perhaps he knew how you felt and was here to tell you to knock it off. "oh okay, yeah, go for it," you mumbled.

"so i heard from someone that you like someone," he said.

oh god, he knew. "well yeah, i guess, yeah i do," you scrambled.

"and you didn't tell me?" he asked quirking an eyebrow at you. he definitely knew. "it never came up in conversation," you defended yourself.

"aren't i your best friend though? don't best friends tell each other everything?" he continued.

"yes. i suppose so."

"well, i guess i'm not being a very good friend either because i failed to mention that i also have a crush on someone."

your heart dropped. what was going on? "that's nice, jun. i'm sure whoever they are, they would be very lucky to have you," you sighed.

"don't you want to hear about them?" he asked. not exactly, "yeah sure."

"well for one, they're beautiful. another they already know me super well. they also like taking my hoodies and my credit card to pay for things. not to mention, our mutual friends opened my eyes to how much i love this person. they told me i should tell this person how i feel as soon as possible," he rambled so eloquently.

"that's really nice, jun. i think you should definitely go tell them," you encouraged him trying to make sure he couldn't hear your heart falling to the pit of your stomach. "oh i already did," he shrugged, a smile gracing his lips.

"really? when?" you were so confused. did he come all the way here just to tell you his new relationship status? "yeah, i did. just now."

oh just now. wait. just now? he laughed when he saw your head whip up at him. "me? you have a crush on me?" you asked, dumbfounded. he took a step closer to you. you could smell his cologne and felt his clothes brush against your skin. "who else, silly?" he asked. "please tell me that you like me too."

"i-" your words died on the tip of your tongue when you opted to kiss him instead. his hands cupped your face and he kissed you back softly. when he pulled away he laughed, "i'm taking that as a yes." you nodded. "for your information i was planning on a romantic confession with flowers and chocolate and a song maybe," he clarified.

"then i guess you owe me," you said. he smiled. maybe your friends were right, the two of you were blind, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

min | not proofread yet! oh no i basically just wrote dialogue! i have to work on my descriptions. also if you want to be added or removed from my taglist let me know, i don't have specific taglists for members or fic types... so let me know if you have a specific preference if any!

tagging: @a-wandering-stay @cinnamoroxie @wonwoosthetic

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jae-bummer · 1 year

Text

The Epitome of Okay

Request: can i get a christopher bang and #12. thank yooou!

Prompt:

12) Your bias needs a fake partner for a family event. Are you up for the task?

Prompt list can be found HERE.

Pairing: Stray Kids Chan x Reader

Genre: Fluff

"Your sister hates me," you muttered, trying to adjust yourself in Chan's bed.

"My sister doesn't haaate you," he hummed from his pallet on the floor beside you. "She just takes awhile to warm up to people."

"She knows, Chris," you grumbled, flopping over moodily so you could face where he was laying. "I don't know how, but she does."

Your stomach felt hollow as you replayed the afternoon's events and how exactly the two of you had landed in this situation. It was nearly a month ago now that Chan had casually asked you over coffee if you wanted to visit home with him for his brother's graduation. After you had kindly declined, he went on to list the reasons why this was such an important thing.

Namely, that he had told his parents that he had a partner in order for them to get off his case about it.

"They feel like I work too much," he grumbled.

"You do," you had agreed knowingly.

Chan shot you a dirty look. "And getting into a relationship would help me take a step back and enjoy myself, but I enjoy myself just fine!"

"Oh yeah, sleeping three hours a night and being in chronic pain is a blast," you muttered, stirring your coffee with a straw.

"So you agree with them," he had smiled. "And therefore, you volunteer?"

And you had. During the ten hour flight, you tried not to think too hard about what you were actually doing, but Chan had made it difficult. Sitting beside you, he rattled off facts and memories of his family that he thought may come up in conversation that you should know. Granted, you were friends, so you had always had at least a surface level understanding of how his family dynamic worked, but now you'd really be put to the test.

It seemed as if as soon as you had set foot on Australian soil, the nightmare had began. Of course his parents were overzealous with excitement that they got to meet you, but his siblings? Not so much. His brother stayed pretty detached, while his sister could only look at you warily. You weren't sure where you went wrong. You had sucked it up and allowed Chan to hold your hand, let him put his hand on your lower back, and even kissed him on the cheek once. All things considered, you should've gotten an Oscar for your performance. It didn't matter if the simple skin to skin contact had repeatedly sent shivers across your body and caused your face to warm. You wouldn't examine that part too closely.

"Maybe we're not laying it on thick enough," you whispered more to yourself than to Chan.

"And how do you suggest we do that?" he chuckled. He rolled over to look up at you from his floor-bed. "More skinship is only going to make her make fun of us, Y/N."

"I'm not talking about skinship..." you said slowly, trying to gather your thoughts. "I'm talking about familiarity."

From the dim lighting of the mood lamps behind the bed, you could see Chan's face contort with confusion. "We are familiar with each other."

Taking a deep breath, you leaned over the edge of the bed to look at him more directly. "Physical familiarity, Chris."

"Why do those two words together make me blush?" he laughed nervously.

You rolled your eyes. "I mean, we don't act fluidly together. We're not used to cuddling, or holding each other's hands, or knowing how to act completely comfortable around one another."

"I get what you're saying," he nodded. "We don't know how to interact when we're sharing the same space."

"Exactly," you said, relieved he had caught up. "What did you think I meant?"

"It would be better if I didn't say it out loud."

You laughed, trying to maintain your courage. "Would you be okay with sharing the bed with me?"

"When you say it like thaaaat," he sang. "I'm not too sure if my first thought was entirely off base."

"I'm not trying to corrupt you!" you gasped. "Not like you need any help in that."

"I am the picture of innocence and purity, thank you very much." You didn't have to look at him to know he was grinning.

"Did those words burn as they were leaving your mouth?"

"Okay, first, rude," he said, finally sitting up. "And two, why am I getting into bed with you then?"

"I, uh," you said quietly. "Want to try something."

"Sounds not suspicious at all," he sighed. Throwing off his covers, he got to his feet, and moved slowly around the bed. Crawling under the blankets, he lay flat on his back, eying you skeptically. "Now what?"

"Umm..." you hummed, totally winging it as you went. "Roll onto your side?"

"Rolling," he confirmed as he faced you. Your bodies were so close at this point, it made the next action easier. Scooting forward, you nestled your body into his.

"Is this okay?" you whispered, refusing to look up. Your eyes remained level with his collarbones and you were going to keep it that way until you could tell your heart to calm down.

"Yep," he said a bit too loud. "Totally fine. Why wouldn't it be?"

You attempted to keep your breathing even, but it was difficult when he was breathing erratically himself.

"I...uh...I don't know what to do with my hands." His voice was a bit more rough than it had been previously.

"Do we cuddle? I assume you've cuddled before?"

"Of course I have!" he said quickly. "And I've had no complaints!"

"Then maybe, you know, we should try doing it?" you winced. You could practically hear Chan's gears spinning as he tried to sort things out.

Swallowing loud enough for you to hear, Chan wrapped his arm around your lower back and pulled you close, eliminating what little space there had been between your bodies.

Your face was now tucked into the crook of his shoulder, and god, did he smell good. Something musky with an undertone of vanilla mingled so well on his skin that you couldn't stop sniffing.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked quietly.

You were more than comfortable. You didn't know if you had ever felt this safe in your entire life. Chan had always been a protective friend who you admired greatly for his work ethic and morality. You had always kept any romantic thoughts at bay because of that. He was your friend, Chan. Not this wildly hot and respectful gentleman, Chris. You could never even fantasize about that side of him because it would never happen like that between the two of you...right?

"Very," you finally answered.

"I can see your point," he continued, his voice barely above a breath.

"My point?" you asked. Your head was swimming with every inappropriate thought you could imagine, not how the two of you had gotten there.

"How realistic can we be if we've never actually been this close? How can I act like I know how your skin feels on mine without actually holding you?"

"Right," you croaked. "This. Totally great idea by me. You're welcome."

You could feel the laugh rumble through Chan's chest. "Are you sure you're okay? If you're uncomfortable, we can-"

"Chris," you whispered. "I am irrationally comfortable right now."

"Oh," he said quietly. His fingers had began to move in small circles on the section of your lower back where your shirt had ridden up. "I was thinking..."

"I didn't see the smoke coming out of your ears," you chuckled.

"You'd have to look at me first," he said, a bit more seriously than you had expected.

Blinking up at him in surprise, you tilted your head back so you could actually hold eye contact.

"Much better," he managed. His voice was more gravelly than you had ever heard it before. "I was thinking maybe I could try something? But I need to make sure you're okay with it first."

"I told you-"

"No," he said finitely. "This is different."

The words you were going to say evaporated from your throat immediately. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay," you confirmed.

"Okay," he repeated.

Tilting his head slowly down, the realization hit you. He was going to kiss you, and you were far more excited than you should be.

Moving your face forward as well, your eyes fluttered closed, waiting for the inevitable contact...until you felt the smallest kiss...

On the tip of your nose.

Letting out a surprise laugh, you opened your eyes again to find him grinning at you.

"I just wanted to see if you were really okay," he laughed.

"You absolute tease!" you groaned, embarrassment flooding you at his small trick.

"Can I try again?" he asked, biting his lip. You could see the amusement and hope bright in his eyes.

"If you must," you nodded.

This time, Chan moved much less slowly as his lips finally met yours. Catching your mouth and tilting your face upward just by the pressure of the kiss, you were surprised to hear a small groan slip from the back of your throat. Seeming to give him the boost of approval that he needed, Chan's hand moved from your waist to your neck. His fingers were a whisper against your skin as he chose that time to deepen the kiss. Pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, it was his turn to groan as he roughly let go and caught your mouth again. You had never been kissed like this. It wasn't casual and it wasn't fevered, but something more certain. Chan wanted you to know what this meant. He wanted to you to realize that if you were going to do this, you really would be. No more pretending. He was staking his claim here and now.

Trading kisses for what could have easily been ten minutes or an hour, you couldn't be sure, Chan finally kissed the corner of your mouth before withdrawing his face from yours.

"So maybe," he hummed, his voice the embodiment of positivity. "We don't have to fake it anymore."

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casuallyimagining · 8 months

Text

Cold Pack || myg

Min Yoongi x Reader with chronic pain

Part of the Hold Me Together series

Summary: When a pain in the night wakes you up, you're thankful for the man who so willingly takes care of you. Genre: fluff, caretaking, established relationship Word Count: 1,071 Notes: thank you to @archivedkookie for the banner. it's so soft and cute 💙

You aren’t sure exactly what wakes you up to begin with–maybe it’s a soft noise outside, or maybe it’s the shifting of your partner in bed beside you–but you find yourself in that groggy, formless place between sleeping and awake. You’re cozy, curled up in your blanket, the air conditioning set to just the correct temperature to keep the muggy Seoul summer air out of your apartment. The arm slung around your wait keeps you close to the body beside you. Your dog is curled up at your feet.

It’s still so early, the bedroom is still dark, there’s almost no sound of the city below outside. You squirm around, attempting to roll over, despite being confined by an arm and a dog–

–you feel a pop, and suddenly, a sharp, stabbing pain shoots through your leg. Your knee shrieks, white-hot as you immediately freeze. You suck in a breath through your teeth and let out a quiet, pained ‘fuck.’

You give it a moment, keeping your leg as still as possible while you try to determine if anything is seriously wrong. Yeah, your knee hurts–it’s calmed now into a stabbing ache instead of the shot of electricity from the initial… whatever happened–but it doesn’t feel permanently damaged. Carefully, you bend your knee, testing the waters to see what’s going on. You breathe through the pain as it flares with the movement. Thankfully, it doesn’t pop again, doesn’t explode. You don’t see stars in the dark. The pain is harsh, but tolerable.

Not serious, you determine, and slowly, carefully, you finally roll over.

Beside you, Yoongi stirs, presumably disturbed by your movement. He hums softly, his arm tightens around you, nuzzles into your hair.

“‘S wrong?” he mumbles, muffled voice groggy and raspy.

“Nothing,” you lie. Though, really, it’s more an omission of truth. You’re fine–or at least, you will be–and there’s no point in disturbing both of your sleep. In the morning, maybe you’ll get him to help you wrap your knee, or get him to grab you an ice pack. But for now? “I’m good.”

Again, he hums. It barely takes a minute for his breathing to even out again, and just like that, he’s back to sleep. There’s a moment where you think that it’ll take you much longer, but then you feel yourself drifting fairly quickly.

You wake again, this time with a groan. It feels like someone’s stabbing you in the knee. It must have popped again, but this time, it’s much worse. The pain lingers far longer this time, and fuck it sucks.

Yoongi’s arm tightens around you. “What’s wrong?” Despite the sleepy rasp in his voice, he’s alert.

“My knee popped,” you say, doing your best to keep your voice steady. “I’m fine.”

He hums, and immediately, you know he doesn’t believe you. Gently, he kisses your shoulder, mumbles a soft ‘I’ll be right back’ and he pushes himself up and out of bed. At your feet, Holly raises his head, blinking sleepily at his master. Yoongi rubs his head on his way out, and you watch his bare back disappear into the darkness of your hallway.

You have no idea what time it is, and you feel terrible. Not just because your knee hurts–the stabbing has started to dissipate, but a throbbing pain remains–but because now Yoongi is awake, too. He has to be up early in the morning, there’s no way he’ll get enough sleep. He would never say anything, but you’re almost certain he’ll be miserable during the day. And that almost makes you feel worse than your knee does.

Almost.

The sound of his bare feet padding against the hardwood floors precedes his emergence from the dark hallway. He carries a cold pack and the brace he’d made you a few months ago. As he walks, he slips the cold pack into the pouch on the brace and separates the velcro.

“Can you lift your leg?” he asks softly, placing his hand lightly just under your knee. His thumb ghosts across your skin.

Honestly, you aren’t sure, but you try anyway. The pain flares when you move, but it’s not as intense as you expect it to be. With practiced skill, Yoongi wraps the brace around your knee and secures the velcro in one motion. “That okay? In the right spot?”

“More right.” You help him adjust the placement, and finally, as the cold of the ice sinks into your knee, you let your head fall back into the pillow.

Holly gets up as Yoongi crawls back under the covers, the little dog hopping down off the bed with a sigh and schlepping his way over to his little bed. Yoongi settles in almost immediately, his arm wrapping around you once again and ever-so-gently pulling you flush against his chest. His skin is soft, and you try to focus on his breathing under your ear and drawing little patterns onto his chest with your finger. His skin goosebumps under your touch and you hum in amusement; his breathing is even, gentle. Not asleep–his thumb is rubbing gentle circles into your hip–but relaxed.

He gives it a few minutes, lets the chill of the cold pack dig its claws into your pain. Finally, he asks, “How does it feel?”

“Not… great.” You pick at a loose string on the blanket that’s draped across the lower half of his body. “But better.”

He hums, kisses your temple, mumbles a soft ‘good’ against your skin.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t,” he agrees, nuzzling against you. “But you were in pain. And I wanted to. So I did.”

You sigh. You’re not quite sure how he’s this understanding, how he’s this chill about everything. But he is. And you’re not entirely sure you deserve it, but you appreciate it nonetheless. You aren’t quite sure where you’d be without his care and rapt attention. Perhaps someday you’ll be able to return the favor, to show him just how much it means that he loves you this much.

But for now, you squeeze him a little tighter, press a delicate kiss to the bare skin just under his collarbone, and snuggle in. You lay in silence, listening to his heartbeat. It calms you, and eventually, you barely notice the pain in your knee. You fall asleep to the sound of him breathing, and to the chill of the cold pack against your skin.

if only we all had a lovely yoongi to care for us when the pain hits... I'd love to know your thoughts on this.

Check out the rest of the Hold Me Together series

#yoongi #min yoongi #suga #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi fluff #min yoongi fluff #suga fluff #bts x reader #bts #bts fluff

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bonefall · 7 months

Note

Since the ask box commands to vote Bumble in that tourament (which I did, cuz she was SCREWED over to the extreme) could you talk a whole lot about BB!Bumble's dyspraxia? Since we are talking about the *everything in canon* she got for the High Crime of being a fat foreigner woman and abuse victm in warrior cats, let's talk about the universe where we add disabled to her list of High Crimes but she isnt done dirty as balls(sorry if all this is worded weird)

Plus, I'm personally having issues writing a dyspraxic character (mostly because i kinda suck at absorbing information about things like disability when not using characters as exemples) and you've really helped me in the past with making characters with BPD, so it would be personally useful in character making

(Sorry if I'm rude, I deeply respect your work and it greatly inspires me, especially Clanmew)

All righty! BB!Bumble's dyspraxia!

First off, for newcomers;

WHY I ADDED DYSPRAXIA TO BUMBLE

In canon, Bumble is called a fat, useless kittypet, before being dragged back to her domestic abuser. She then dies while trying to survive on her own, starved to the point of emaciation before Clear Sky murders her.

A very common fandom response to this is essentially, "shes NOT useless! She could hunt/fight if you taught her!" And a lot of AUs will have her survive, learning how to be Truly Useful with all the same skills as everyone else.

I won't lie; I think that's very disappointing.

You're not refuting the rotten heart of this ideology, you're just doing what DOTC already does with Jagged Peak. You're AGREEING. You're saying she WOULD be useless if she couldn't hunt or fight like a wild cat, giving her Coolgirl Badass moments to haha embarass her bigots, and Actually the only problem here is that they didn't give her a chance.

What if they GAVE her that chance, and she COULDN'T hunt or fight like them? Would it be okay to send the battered housewife back to her domestic abuser? Hopefully fucking not!

Let's be frank; None of the groups in DOTC are starving. Not even after the prey sickness pandemic.

"Starvation Rhetoric" is an excuse, only ever rolled out by monsters like Clear Sky as justification for stealing land, murder, and throwing out cats the groups deem unworthy of life.

Yet, this gets rolled out for Bumble specifically, by the MOOR CATS, who are supposed to be opposing his ideology.

And that's where I'm starting from.

Okay. What if she couldn't perform physically like other cats?

What if she was part of a group that DID have real concerns about not having enough food?

How does Bumble herself cope with her feelings, and her desire to help her friends and contribute to a group that loves her?

Let's go through all that, and attack the heart of the idea. In fact, we're going to be doing a lot of it, with a significant portion of early ThunderClan being disabled cats.

(Thunder Storm has three legs. Bright Storm has asthma. Sunlit Frost loses the use of both front paws and ends up with chronic pain.)

Bumble's Dyspraxia

The first thing to know about dyspraxia (or DCD, Developmental Coordination Disorder) is that it comes in a LOT of different forms. The next thing to know is that it's RIDICULOUSLY common. Some estimates say 5% of the population has it-- 1 in 20 people.

It's heavily associated with autism and ADHD. The "classic" symptoms are general clumsiness and motor control issues, like having a hard time tying shoes. But these are also symptoms of dyspraxia;

Short-term memory issues, but not long-term

Being constantly covered in bumps and bruises

Having a hard time telling lefts and rights

Difficulties holding pencils or writing in general

"Wobbliness" including tripping mid-step or tripping over your own feet

Issues in the acquisition of "muscle memories," being slow to acquire physical skills.

Stuttering and taking long pauses before responding to someone else speaking

Most dyspraxics won't have all of these, these are symptoms. Not a checklist.

My partner describes theirs as like "constantly working with cold hands through a layer of gloves." The stiffness of being in a freezer, paired with the general delay of having a cover over your skin.

Mine is more focused on the mental side, acquiring new skills is unnaturally difficult, my reaction time is delayed, and I stumble into things.

Every person with dyspraxia is different, but what links us is that we're uncoordinated. We can't help it, telling us to try harder or pay more attention doesn't work. We aren't being careless-- our brains don't send signals to our bodies properly.

I'm basing Bumble's off my own. Her mate, Turtle Heart, shows her over and over how to hunt. It never sticks. She tries to pick up battle moves from Thunder Storm to help defend herself from Clear Sky's goons. It doesn't work.

She's really trying, she really is. The Moor group quickly loses patience with her, and Bumble is well aware that she's only tolerated on Turtle Heart's vouch. Her worst fears come true when Tom steals their children, and her mate is killed trying to retreive them.

That messes with her, and makes her believe that she really is worthless and a burden.

ThunderClan was FOUNDED on Thunder Storm's fury, breaking off his supporters to retreive her from exile, and Bumble's struggle with self-worth begins in earnest.

There's one thing she's confident about, and really loves. Bumble is trilingual, outgoing, and confident in her ability to talk to others. That's what she can add, and what she wants to do.

ThunderClan is different. It works with every strength and weakness of its members, and values diplomacy to keep it afloat against the odds. Bumble really is needed, but eventually even her translation work becomes less special as more kits grow up bilingual. Eventually, this too feels taken from her.

And then it's back to square one. Her mate is gone, one of her kits betrayed her, Owl Eyes is a big strong man who doesn't need his mum anymore. She's left with her fumbling paws, taking more from the pile than she puts in.

One can only hope she realizes that ThunderClan was born out of love for her. That it was never about what she could add. She didn't have to confront it in the main story because so much was happening, but as peace settles over the forest, it's time for her to start to unpack that idea.

#better bones au #BB!DOTC #BB!Bumble

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cryoux · 8 months

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Alhaitham with reader who has chronic pain (from Eleazar)

Pain was a constant thing in your life. As far back as you could remember, you'd felt pain every day of your life. Sometimes, it was on the surface, manifesting in an itch that hurt to scratch but was agonizing to leave alone. Or it could come as a pounding headache, threatening to knock you to the ground with each new wave. There was even pain in your very bones, the supposedly solid structure of your skeleton suddenly feeling brittle and frankly useless.

Pondering thusly: if you felt pain each waking hour and even seeping into your sleep, did you really feel the pain at all?

It would be nice to consider these fascinating questions, maybe write an essay about it - if only you could find yourself mobile enough to hold a pen.

Today, it was your wrists. Stiff, brittle, useless. There was no hope of doing anything today, or even tomorrow, for that matter. It was all you could do to lift a cup of water to your lips. Archons, you hated this feeling. Most days were completely fine, you could almost forget about the lifelong agony, the torture of merely existing. Not this time.

Still, you refused to wallow in bed. Instead you unwrapped the binding bandages over your arms, closed all the windows, locked the door, and tried to do anything to pass the time. Solitaire, a game of chess (playing as two nonpartisan people, of course), cleaning dishes (you only broke two!), and sweeping until the floor was spotless. At some point, you'd stupidly tried to wash the floor on your hands and knees, only to be stuck there in agony for fifteen minutes.

Useless. You felt so useless, not only to yourself, but everyone around you. Constantly asking for deadline extensions, unable to finish in-class assignments, incapable of doing the simplest household chores. Here you sat, here you stayed, and only here you allowed the silent tears to fall.

A knock on the door startled you, and you reeled in shock before hurriedly wiping your eyes dry. Could it be your research partner, wondering why you hadn't met with them today? Or maybe it was your neighbor, who saw all the closed blinds and wanted to make sure you were alright.

For some reason, the actual answer surprised you more than the other two unlikely events. You rolled the sleeves of your jacket down before you opened the door and peeked out, but it appeared there was never a need for the secrecy. There at the door stood Alhaitham, solemnly meeting your gaze.

Though he didn't speak, you could feel the questions burning into you. You both loved and loathed how easily he could read you; it made for easy communication on your part, but you could never hide anything.

Maintaining the silence was a simple task. You turned away from him, retreating into the darkened house without even closing the door - you knew Alhaitham would take care of it. Did you particularly want him here right now? No, not like this. Not with how vulnerable you felt.

"You didn't call for me."

You flinched at the sudden rumble of his voice. There was more intrigue than concern in his voice, while his expression gave nothing. The only thing that you could deduce was that he wasn't entirely happy with you.

"No, because I'm fine." A lie. Both of you knew it, and Alhaitham sighed to indicate as such.

"You're not fine. And frankly, it's insulting that you'd assume I would believe that." He wasn't mean about it, he was simply telling you to cut the shit. You knew he wasn't truly insulted; there were plenty of other things to stroke his ego.

You scoffed. "Maybe I am this time. You can't dictate how I'm feeling." The argument was ridiculous as you said it, and you could hear the exasperation building in Alhaitham.

"Your bandages are off, meaning you haven't left the house, nor do you plan to. The blinds are all closed because you don't want to risk anyone seeing you right now, the chess board is one move away from checkmate, you haven't put your books away," Alhaitham strode through the living room as he pointed out each miniscule detail that you had long since given up on. "The counter is wet," he nodded toward the kitchen, where water was sitting all over the counter, "There's this bit you forgot to clean up," he lifted a small piece of the porcelain plate that had met its demise earlier that day. "And there is a straw in your cup." He finished his little walk through, circling back around to stand in front of you. You couldn't quite meet his gaze. "Shall I continue?"

The more he had pointed out, the worse you felt - seeing as you couldn't, he would have to clean most of these things. Adding chores to his schedule was the last thing you wanted to do. You shook your head, unable to keep the words in any longer.

"I didn't mean to leave everything out. I was just trying to pass the time, and everything I tried went wrong. I couldn't even stay asleep long enough for a nap, and the bed isn't made, the laundry is still outside, the floor is half clean, I broke two dishes not just the one, I dropped my hair brush in the bathroom, I can't make food for myself, I'm-"

You were silenced by a firm grasp on your aching wrists - firm, but not the slightest bit harsh, and you dared to raise your eyes up to meet his.

"Honestly," he huffed, "You're impossible." How had he known where you were going with that? How could he tell you were spiraling before even you realized it? Alhaitham gently tugged you to the couch, sitting you both down. The sleeves of your jacket were gently rolled back up, exposing the horrid sight of them. You tried to pull your accursed hands away, but to absolutely no avail. Instead, the green of Alhaitham's Dendro vision began to glow, and a faint light emanated from his hands on your wrists.

Within moments, the pain in your arms began to ebb, and you felt warm as sunlight on a lovely spring day. Shocked, you stared at where he held you, watching the scaly appearance of your skin reverse its effect ever so slightly. What in Teyvat was this?

You opened your mouth to inquire as such, but he silenced you almost immediately. "I encountered Tighnari today. He recently wrote a comprehensive analysis of The Withering occuring throughout Sumeru. Eleazar is linked to it almost directly; it seems he even has some firsthand experience." Alhaitham never met your gaze, as if he was just a little shy. "Since dendro seems to temporarily reverse the effects of Withering, I thought I should try…" in a rare moment of uncertainty, he paused. "...something."

His words were truthfully the only cure you needed.

After a bout of silence disturbed only by internal thought, you cracked a smile. "So you thought if you infused your hands with dendro, you'd take some of the pain away." These words seemed to be correct as Alhaitham's green eyes narrowed, almost reminiscent of a pout. How cute.

"It was only my hypothesis." He grumbled.

"Well it was correct." Your smile was soft, as soft as the grip he had on your hands. Beneath the layers of sarcasm and apathy, every now and then a spark of emotion would shine through, and you lived for each one of those moments, where you could finally see Alhaitham's humanity once more.

#intended romantically but could be platonic #i wrote this at least a year ago sorry #alhaitham #genshin impact #alhaitham x reader #genshin x reader #sumeru #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n

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starlightkun · 3 months

Text

➠ word count: 2.4k ➠ warnings: cursing, explicit pre- and post-coitus descriptions (no smut but this one is definitely 18+, minors back off. you do not need to read this one to understand the rest of the series, i promise), implied unprotected sex (wrap it up, y’all— also reader is totally on birth control i SWEAR it’s just not TALKED ABOUT) ➠ genre: fluff, some minor angst, mature (as said in the warnings, 18+, minors stay out! if you skip this one, you will still understand the rest of the series), established relationship, former hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), shortfic in the buzzer beater series (after garbage goal, before saltwater smiles) ➠ extra info: the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ author’s note: i thought i was done with these two but they really do have me in a chokehold y’all 🤧 ➠ series masterlist

“I’m baby again?” He asked, his eyes sparkling hopefully.

“Oh, my Sungchannie,” you sighed, climbing onto his lap. His hands immediately found their natural place on your waist, looking up at you like he was holding the entire universe between his two palms. You looped your arms around his neck, the cool metal of your bracelet resting on the bare skin of the back of his neck. “You’re always going to be my guy. Don’t think one disagreement is going to free you. You’re stuck with me.”

“I love you so much,” Sungchan sighed, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

“Gross, you’re all sweaty,” you half-heartedly pushed at his bare chest pressed against your back, scooting forward to try to get away from the uncomfortable feeling of your hot skin sticking together. “Let me go.”

He just wrapped his arms around you tighter and pulled you back to him, a playful growl in his throat. “Say it back and I’ll consider it.”

“You’re such a loser,” you sighed, turning your neck to be able to peck the tip of his nose. “I love you, Channie.”

“I love you more, baby.” He connected your lips, earnestly slipping his tongue into your parted mouth. “Love you so much… can’t wait to marry you…” He breathed out between pants, cupping your cheek with one hand as his other traveled down the front of your body again. “And have the most beautiful babies with you… love of my life…”

You squeezed your eyes shut as his words stabbed you right in the chest, turning your head and rolling away from his grasp. “Sungchan, we’ve talked about this.”

There was pain and confusion on his features as he watched you sit up at the edge of the bed. He scrambled to follow you up, sitting next to you.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” He wrapped an arm tightly around your shoulders, pecking your temple. “I know what you said—the migraines are genetic, you don’t want to risk passing them on. I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.”

“But that’s what you want, isn’t it?” You sniffled, feeling tears rise in your eyes and a lump start forming in your throat. “Kids…”

“Baby, I want kids with you, because I love you.” Sungchan grabbed both your hands, squeezing them tightly. “And I mean—would it really be the worst thing for them to possibly get migraines? If they were even half as amazing as you in every other way?”

Your hands went limp in his as you stared him down. “Sungchan. Think about how you feel every time I have a migraine, and you can’t do anything to help. How useless you are. Now picture how you’d feel if our kid had one. Our baby. Twelve, ten, eight years old. Sobbing in your arms because it hurts so bad, begging you, their dad, to make it stop, just make it stop, but you can’t. And I can’t. Maybe they get the nausea part of it too, and they’re throwing up, and they get dehydrated and we have to take them to the ER because they can’t hold anything down and their muscles are cramping up and everything hurts so bad. What if they have to get brain MRIs, Sungchan? Imagine them being all alone in that machine, nobody to hold their hand. Not to mention— I can’t take any of my medications from the day we decide to start trying, while I’m pregnant, and while I’m breastfeeding. So in addition to everything I’d have to go through being pregnant, I could have migraines four or five times a week for… over a year? Two years? But hey, maybe they’ll get my smile and your eyes, at least, right?”

Sungchan’s eyes were brimming with tears, and he swallowed thickly. “I get it, I get it…”

You shook off his hands, standing up and wrapping your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling too cold sitting naked in your bedroom. “I have to go shower… I’m sweaty and have… cum dripping out of me.”

The shower that was usually cramped when the two of you were packed in there together felt oddly big now as you washed up by yourself, harshly scrubbing at your skin. You stared blankly at the water droplets running down the tiles long after you’d finished washing up, standing there as the water turned lukewarm, until it was freezing cold and you were forced out shivering. Turning the spray off, you grabbed a fluffy towel to dry off with, stepping out into the still-steamy bathroom.

You stopped at the vanity, the foggy mirror looking too empty without Sungchan filling it up from behind you, distracting you from your skincare routine under the guise of “helping.” You could hear him still moving around in your bedroom, and part of you wished you didn’t have the sick feeling in your stomach that you did every time you fought so you could pull him in and do his skincare too. You loved your quiet, silly nights when you got to put a fluffy character headband on him and apply a face mask and rub in various moisturizers and the like all while listening to music and sitting in his lap, exchanging pecks on the nose every so often.

It was a rarity when you and Sungchan did anything more than lightheartedly bicker about stupid, inconsequential things—you were sure you could count the number of real fights you’d had in five years on one hand and have extra fingers leftover—but every time you did, it made you feel like you were going to be sick, and you always lost your appetite.

Something sitting on your vanity next to all your bottles and creams caught your attention. Your fingers graced over the corded blue and orange bracelet, tracing the five familiar beads fondly. 27JSC. It was a memento now, of his collegiate hockey career, and the bubbly beginnings of your relationship in your last year of undergrad. As your lives changed, the token no longer coordinated with your professional office wear you had to don day in and day out, something that you thought would have made your clingy boyfriend pout. But instead, he had excitedly gifted you the bracelet you were wearing now, a dainty and stylish silver chain, with five small silver letters—27JSC.

You still put the old bracelet on every so often, when you were invited back to watch the big games along with the other graduated players. The first home game of the season, league rivals, and of course the championship series.

You finished your after-shower skin routine and cautiously treaded back out to the bedroom, towel still wrapped tightly around you to protect you from the cold air. Sungchan was no longer in your bedroom, and you could hear him ransacking the pantry. While you lost your appetite when you fought, Sungchan was the opposite, very much an eat-his-feelings type of guy.

Without hesitation or another thought, you grabbed a pair of panties and shorts from your side of the drawers and a t-shirt from his side, the top covering pretty much all of your bottoms. You stopped at the dresser after getting dressed, grabbing the top and taking a few deep breaths. The image of Sungchan with tears in his eyes flashed in your mind again, and you shook your head. You hated that you had done that. But the conversation that immediately preceded those tears replayed in your mind, and your fingers gripped the furniture tighter. Had he really not listened to you the first time? Did he think he could change your mind about it or something? You wouldn’t wish this on your worst enemy, how could he ask you to risk giving it to your kid, the one person you were supposed to love more than anybody else? More than him? It just struck you as a total misalignment of values... something you needed to talk about more, make sure you really understood where his head and his heart were at.

With one final deep breath, you pushed the bedroom door open wide, and walked out towards the kitchen hesitantly. Sungchan had his hand stuffed in a bag of chips, and you saw several other containers of snacks strewn around on the countertops. As he spotted you, he didn’t bring the handful he had just grabbed out, instead dropping it back in and wiping his mouth with the side of his palm.

“Hey...” You said quietly, stopping at the threshold between the kitchen and living room. “Are you ready to talk? Or do you want some more time?”

“I can talk, yeah,” he nodded, setting the chip bag down. “Let me uh, let me wash my hands and put all this away, then we can sit wherever you want. Kitchen table, couch.”

“Okay.” You gave him a small smile, turning back around to head into the living room. You sat down on one of the central cushions as you heard the sink running, then the crinkle of bags being rolled back up.

When Sungchan finally joined you again, he didn’t sit as close as he normally would’ve, but it wasn’t an awkward amount of distance. Just enough to allow you two to focus on the topic at hand.

He wrung his hands over his lap, offering you a nervous smile. You decided to go first.

“I shouldn’t have called you useless, I’m sorry,” you apologized sincerely, remembering the hurt that had come across his face as soon as the word left your mouth. “That was… just mean of me. You’re not useless. It’s easier to get through the migraines when you’re with me, you make me feel less alone and that makes a big difference.”

Sungchan offered a hand out palm-up in the space between you, and you set yours atop it. He squeezed your hand, his always much bigger and warmer than yours in comparison. “Do you remember that Halloween party? Before we started dating, when you had asked me to stay with you during that migraine.”

“Of course. It was... you were great. I fell for you before I even knew it.”

“The next morning, when we were sitting on Jeno’s bed in that nasty fucking frat house—”

That earned a chuckle from you, and Sungchan smiled bittersweetly, running his thumb over yours.

“—you were telling me about how you just wanted your pain to be real to somebody, because after so long, the word ‘migraine’ had sort of lost all meaning to the people around you. I let that happen to me, too. I was dismissive of all your pain and was even willing to put it on a hypothetical child of ours for a selfish reason. I’m so sorry for doing that to you, for making you feel like that, for becoming one of those people. I’m so, so sorry.”

You brought a hand up to stroke his cheek, his face more manly now than it had been on that Halloween night he had just described. “I forgive you. And I hope you don’t think this is the end of the kids conversation for us. I love the idea of starting a family with you, too. I think you’ll be a great dad. I just… Chronic migraines have a genetic component and I can’t stand the thought of passing on this kind of pain to my kid. You understand that, right? Please tell me you get that?”

“Yeah, of course. And I didn’t even think about you going off your meds either. God, I’m so sorry.” He leaned his head into your touch. “You’ll be the best mom. And I know that because you’re already making the best choices for them and they don’t even exist.”

You smiled softly at that. “I… probably could’ve been less… vivid earlier. It was a bit harsh.”

“No, I needed a reality check. A good slap out of the post-nut haze I was in.”

“Yeah, because you would’ve enjoyed a real slap,” you snickered, pulling on his ear gently.

He pouted at you. “Are you kink-shaming me?”

“No, just teasing you, baby.” You pinched his chin and wiggled his head back and forth.

“I’m baby again?” He asked, his eyes sparkling hopefully.

You leaned down to sink your teeth into the side of his neck, biting and sucking a mark into his skin. He immediately groaned, his hips pushing up into yours and his hands gripping onto you with a bruising strength.

“Nowhere else I want to be, than right here with my girl.” He was already breathing heavily. “God, so obsessed with you, baby. Could stay here and make love to you all day every day.”

“‘Make love?’” You repeated with a giggle, kissing a trail up his neck until you were sitting up straight again, looking him in the eye as you asked, “Not fuck my brains out?”

“Can do both at the same time,” he grinned, scooping you up in his arms bridal style. “Fuck your brains out lovingly.”

You let out a squeal of surprise, throwing your arms around his shoulders as the couch went out from under you. “Gah! Maybe your post-hockey hobby shouldn’t have been weightlifting. You scare the hell out of me every time you do that, Channie.”

“You love it and you know it.” He shook his head at you, looking pointedly at where your hands were gripping his well-defined shoulder and back muscles.

“I’m invoking my right to remain silent.”

“Don’t be too quiet.” He dropped you gently onto the many pillows at the head of your bed, immediately climbing over you. “We don’t have a baby to wake up yet.”

“Slow your roll, you haven’t even proposed,” you teased, sliding down flat on your back, grabbing his collar to bring his lips down to meet yours as you did.

“I’m— mmh— working on it,” he promised between kisses. “My girl deserves the best. Need it to be so special.”

“You’ve been saying that for almost a year,” you reminded him, pulling insistently at his shirt hem.

He obediently yanked his sweatshirt off, tossing it to the side before locking his lips with yours again. “Impatient?”

“To marry you? Mm, maybe,” you hummed, running your hand appreciatively up and down his pecs and abs. “Aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” he moaned just at the thought, latching onto your collarbone. “I’d elope with you right now if you asked me to.”

He paused for a half beat, as if waiting to see if you would, then continued on when you didn’t. “I’m going to make it perfect for you, baby. Promise. Anything for my girl.”

“Well in the meantime…” You reached a hand down, palm out with your fingers spread, and Sungchan immediately laced his fingers with yours. You brought your linked hands up above your head, smiling down at him. “How about you fuck your girl’s brains out lovingly?”

➠ next | series masterlist | blog masterlist

#sungchan x reader #riize x reader #sungchan imagines #riize imagines #sungchan #sungchan imagine #riize imagine #nct x reader #nct imagine #nct imagines #jung sungchan #i: sungchan #f: between two palms #s: buzzer beater #writing #text #mine #bias tag #*100

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alienaiver · 4 months

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"i thought you promised me you'd stop."

you don't mean to sound as angry as you do, nor as accusatory. it's merely a statement. aizawa isn't phased by the harsh sentence, though. he knows you.

he looks up from his laptop, stopping his hands from massaging the part between scalp and neck. he looks like a deer caught in the headlights - or more accurately to him, a cat caught at a crossroad. you can't figure out if he'll try to sneak away before explaining himself. both of you know that you're not going to let him.

you sigh and slump further against the doorframe, lifting a hand to your face. what are you going to do with him? he rolls away from the desk to face you properly, "i was... but it changed..."

you know what he means. it always changes. he promised he'd quit after raising a new generation of heroes; that he just wanted to follow his class to the door as an active pro hero. that he'd become a full-time teacher and retire from being a pro hero when his last class graduated - which they did, two years ago.

and yet, aizawa's filing a report after his afternoon patrol. he'd barely been able to eat dinner, his body not able to stomach much with all the stress and medication it's being put under.

for someone who hates medication, he sure is willing to take a lot in order to overcompensate at an already oversaturated jobmarket.

the stout and strong man you fell in love with has dwindled. he argues that he hasn't diminished nearly as much as all might, and you remind him that it's not a competition. that dealing with chronic pain and then losing a leg and an eye is cause for concern for anyone; his plate is full.

but then, a prodigy came around. one you love and has taken in as your own as well, supporting them both. and although aizawa's argument is always that he does it for the kid, said kid has begged him to retire since his second year in high school.

you sigh and let your arms fall and walk over to him, defeated. you stand in front of his desk chair, in front of him, and look into his eye before you start to run your hands through his hair. you're silent together for a moment.

"i'd like to grow old together."

he hums and leans into your touch, arms reaching out towards you, holding onto the sides of your thighs.

"me too."

a chuckle turns into a sigh for you before you give him a stern look. you understand him; this is his dream after all. this is everything he worked towards. the challenges he faces on a day to day basis are tough; but so is he.

you hold onto his face with your hands, your thumbs dragging over his cheeks, "can you take fewer shifts at least?"

he considers for a moment before his arms travel up to join yours, "i'll try."

try.

that is all you can ask of him, really. and you won't try for more; after all, this is also a part of him you fell in love with. this is also a part you chose to live with when you accepted the ring on your finger. he pulls gently at your hand to kiss said ring while maintaining eye contact and you huff out a breath before you smile.

"i'll hound you about this in another six month's time." you warn and he laughs, low and scratchy, before he nods, "and i'll be there to listen."

#aizawa shouta x reader #bnha x reader #being a pro hero sure is hard. i imagine retirement is not an easy subject with such self sacrificing types #this is a chara study i guess? idk honestly its just word dlow #wanted to sit on the pc today but snøfle is In A Mood due to the guests tjats been here #i think this is JUST at the edge of 500 words sorry if its over and theres no read more !!! dont wanna clog the dash for yall #but i rly dont think this is that long so im not putting one #lmk if it is (im on phone and wrote it on the tungle app) then ill put a read more as to make svrolling the tags easier !!! 🧡🧡🧡#anyways. this is good i think :')#nohr.writing #nohr.bnha

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20dollarlolita · 2 months

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while youre wheelchair posting i wanted to say that you talking about why you decided to continue using one really changed my own perspective on my disability! i get awful chronic join pains usually triggered by standing, and although im taking the physical therapy route (im hypermobile, so thats the first option,) ive recently considered that using something like a wheelchair or a cane wouldnt be so wrong of me if i feel i need it

I tell people that I just want to be able to do the things that other people do. I want to shop in a store for as long as I want, without hurting. I want to walk around the mall and look at things. I want to go somewhere without having to plan ahead where I will sit down and how long we'll be waiting in line. I want to work a full day in my store, walking from the back room to the front, guiding customers to the different areas, and I want to do that without being in pain.

My wheelchair lets me do that. My body does not let me do that.

My advice to literally everyone who thinks they might need it is, "just get the damn cane." Canes are among the cheapest mobility aids out there. They come in insanely cool colors and styles. There are ones that fold up when you don't need them. You can get one for $10 and you can just go into Walgreens and buy one. Worst case, which is also best case, you just spent the cost of a trip to McDonald's on something you don't use. Worst case, which is also best case, you find something that lets you be yourself doing the things you want to do for longer and with less pain. Worst case, which is also best case, you see that it helps you and it is the gateway into getting a more supportive mobility aid that lets you live a better life. Literally every worst case scenario you can think of is also your best case scenario. Get the cane.

I went to Goodwill on my lunch break just now and they had a rollator for $8, so we're going to experiment with Pink+Rollator in the upcoming days. Currently I'm okay with walking short distances but I really can't stand for more than a couple of minutes, so bringing a device that's also a chair with me seems like it'd be a good step in my mobility.

But yeah, to everyone who is going "hey, I think I could benefit from a mobility aid," this is me, a disabled person, telling you to go for it. You didn't need my permission, but you have it anyway. Get the mobility aid!

A wheelchair is just a chair with wheels, and you didn't need anyone's permission to sit down at a rolling desk chair. You were able to look at the options given to you by the world and choose that, in that context, sitting down on a chair with wheels was going to be the best for your body and your personal convenience. You can look at your body and your environment and make statements like, "I should not be standing for 55 minutes in this line. I can only stand for x minutes," and that's normal. Abled people make decisions like "I'm not going to stand for this long" or "I'm not going to walk this far," all the time. But when you add, "so I'm going to bring a special chair with me, so that I can wait 55 minutes in this line, like all the other people in the line," suddenly it feels different. But abled people are allowed to always be making judgements for when they're pushing their body too hard, and they make decisions all the time about when they're going to take advantage of an aid or take a break, so the only thing that changes when you're disabled is when you have to decide to use it, not at all that you have to use it. People get to pick what shoes they want based on where they're going, and that's just picking a device to aid your mobility as needed for a certain environment. Using a mobility aid is a totally normal thing, except that we've artificially labeled them as "normal person accommodations" and "ask for this and you're disabled."

Disclaimer: obviously bring it up with your care team if you are interested in using a mobility aid (and you have a care team). A LOT of doctors are hesitant to tell young people that they should be trying a mobility aid, but will say you'll benefit from it if you bring it up. If you have a PT then they're likely to have input about what are the best options and how to set them up. Also some doctors can get you mobility aids for free. Even if the cane you get from your doctor is black and boring and doesn't fold, you can still go to the store and get a cane that's fun and cool and then use the one the doctor gave you as a size reference to know how to set the one you just got. Hey, free cane.

#i'm in usa so a care team and a luxury car financed at a shitty interest rate cost the same amount of money #20dollarlolita on wheels #i'm in california so I can't get a cane with a SWORD in it and i'm very upset by that #if anyone here has ever wanted to get into illegal smuggling of fashion/weapon based medical supplies then

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possibilistfanfiction · 1 year

Note

avatrice + kiss on the back of the hand?

[ava + some friends, more outside pov (in the future!) for @unicyclehippo]

despite the fact that physical therapy is boring, and not at all your favorite activity, you like your therapist, brian, and at least you’ve gotten to consistently schedule it early enough in the morning you don’t miss your bridge group. and you’ve been compliant — mostly; you did spend more time on your feet last week than you were supposed to, but your grandson was visiting and you would never let him leave without having his favorite brisket and matzoh ball soup — and have done the exercises brian gives you to do at home every day.

the physical therapy gym is mostly boring, more — and you hate to say it — old people, like you, recovering from total knee or total hip replacements, and a few young athletes. your son, ezra, drops you off and picks you up twice a week; sometimes his husband, marcus, fills in and he always takes you to get donuts afterward, your little secret. today you sit at the table you always start at, your walker steady and almost unnecessary at this point, and a young woman, exhausted-looking and the kind of pretty that could easily belong in a party when you were young, sitting in a sleek wheelchair by the table, smiles gently across you. you’re early by a few minutes — ezra is wonderful, but he’s a bit wound up all the time — so you smile back. ‘i’m ruth,’ you say.

‘hi.’ the young woman seems happy to talk, cheerful. ‘i’m ava.’

‘very exciting beginning to your morning, it seems like.’

she groans. ‘ugh, tell me about it. my partner barely woke up in time to drive me here.’

you laugh. ‘not a morning person?’

ava rolls her eyes. ‘no, not at all. i love mornings though, even if they’re at physical therapy.’

‘it’s not so bad,’ you tell her. ‘have you done it before?’

‘not really.’ she shrugs. ‘i have some chronic spine stuff from a car accident when i was younger, and my doctors have tried… a lot, so we’re hoping this helps everything.’

‘i hope it’ll help.’ you gesture to your walker. ‘total hip replacement. from being old.’

ava’s smile is bright. ‘kinda cool, to get old, though, huh? and to have as cool of clothes as you do? i can only hope the same for myself, one day.’

it’s sweet, and sincere, and aching under the surface. ‘it is wonderful, to get to grow old. and —‘ you wink — ‘to get to be better dressed than everyone around you.’

‘hell yeah.’ she looks at her own hoodie and joggers. ‘i usually am better dressed than this, or, at least, more fun; i just had surgery last week.’

‘well, when you’re feeling better, i’m sure i’ll be very impressed.’

‘i don’t know about that.’ ava blushes a little, and you’re delighted. ‘i think my partner is probably the better dressed of the two of us; she’s very chic. but i’m fun!’

‘fun is the most important part. especially when you’re an old lady.’

she laughs and then brian walks up, says hi to you, and you wave. ‘good luck, ava. i’ll talk to you soon.’

‘for sure,’ she tells you enthusiastically.

you’re waiting on a bench in front of the physical therapy gym in the warm sunshine — not too hot, not too cold, perfect — when ava walks toward you, slowly and with a cane, but walking.

‘is this seat taken?’

‘for a pretty girl like you? absolutely not.’

she laughs, bright and warm. ‘ruth, you flirt.’

‘i’m old.’ she sits gingerly and it makes you hurt for her, just a little — not that she needs any mobility aids, but because it’s clear she’s in pain. ‘i get to flirt whenever i want.’

‘oh, is that how it works?’

‘absolutely,’ you tell her sagely.

‘well, other than me, of course, let me know if there are any crushes i should know about? i love drama, and my life is, both tragically and fortunately, drama free right now.’

‘well, sean in my bridge group, and david from shul. oh, and lee from my favorite cafe i go to for lunch.’

‘hmm, pros and cons? or are we playing the field?’

you laugh, and you tell her about sean’s clever hands, the beautiful way david reads scripture, how lee always offers you half his reuben. ava listens attentively, like she really cares, and, after she asks a thoughtful series of questions about how to play bridge — my girlfriend would probably demolish at this game, honestly — you understand that she really does care; she really does want to know you. so you ask her questions too; her partner’s name is beatrice, and she is, according to ava, beautiful and kind and exacting; ava grew up mostly in spain and is a bartender, which she loves, and they live in a house on the beach because beatrice, apparently, works in consulting all over europe, and also enjoys teaching aikido. ‘she has four black belts,’ ava says, and fans herself. it makes you laugh, and when marcus drives up in his practical, nice bmw hybrid, you pat her hand.

‘see you tuesday, ruth.’

‘enjoy your weekend, ava.’

ava’s walking better on tuesday, and she sits next to you without asking this time, after you’re both finished. she fishes around in her crossbody bag and then holds out her hand, some candy with wrappers in mandarin on her palm. ‘they’re plum candies. they’re beatrice’s favorites, so i thought i was being sweet, but, i kinda went overboard and ordered, like, enough for a small army.’

you laugh but take one — you would never turn down an offered sweet; something of a communion — and open it while ava does the same. it’s wonderful: flavorful and sweet and a little sour, and you tell ava that.

‘ugh, i know,’ she says. ‘i don’t think bea had had them for a really long time; she cried the other day.’ ava smiles, like she’s trying not to laugh. ‘it was very sweet. a little dramatic, but i get it. i kind of go crazy for panellets.’

‘well, i’m making babka tomorrow, how about i bring you both some thursday?’

‘ruth, that’s too much.’

‘i love to share food,’ you say. ‘really, it’s part of the job description of a bubbe. they only let you in if you share your babka.’

ava rolls her eyes but then she nods. ‘i would really love that.’

ezra drives up, and you stand — easily, now, without pain and much stiffness — and wave.

your babka turns out as good as it always does — the best at shul, despite the fact that yael claims hers is better — and you place a few carefully in a tupperware to bring to ava, who seems a little wilted when she sits next to you. she waves you off when you look concerned.

’no big deal,’ she says. ‘just didn’t sleep too well last night. but! now i’m going to eat the world’s best babka and nap after bea drops me off. do you think i could convince her to nap with me?’

‘depends on why you didn’t sleep well last night.’

it takes ava a minute but then she laughs, brightening immediately. ‘ruth!’

‘you’re young, you should be having fun.’

‘oh, we have fun.’ ava grins. ‘don’t worry.’

‘well, speaking of fun,’ you say, ‘a few of my friends and i go to this water aerobics class at the country club together, every wednesday. i’m sorry if i was eavesdropping, but i heard kayvon tell you that some water therapy might be helpful? it’s really quite fun.’

‘that sounds awesome, honestly. i just got cleared to drive myself next week, so i would love that!’

you don’t bother to mention that everyone in the class is over seventy, mostly because you don’t really care, but, also, ava doesn’t seem to care, at all, that you’re at least fifty years older than her: you’re friends, and she’s kind, and bright.

once again, marcus is there to pick her up before her ride, but you give her your number — and you add her on facebook, because that’s easier for you sometimes — before you leave. you send her the details later that day, and she responds with a few emojis you don’t understand, but that your grandson laughs at when you show him. good enough.

‘i didn’t know, really, what to wear to water aerobics,’ ava says, happily sitting on the edge of the pool with you. she has on a simple red one-piece, her hair tied up in a bun, although short pieces escape. the back dips low and you see multiple scars, some faded and one new, and painful looking; ava’s light often makes you forget why you first met.

‘this is great,’ you tell her. you gesture to your brightly colored, polka dotted tankini. ‘you can spice it up however much you want. just wait until you meet angela.’

as if on cue, angela, tall and Black and striking, walks in, with her perpetually perfect close cropped hair, in a pair of heels and draped in an elegant silk coverup over a royal blue bikini. ‘whoa,’ ava says, and it’s so earnest it makes you laugh.

‘listen,’ ava says, ‘i’m bi, queer, and, yeah, i have a partner who is so so so beautiful, like, god, this morning she came home from surfing and used our outdoor shower — thank god for her trust fund, am i right? — but… ruth, i have eyes.’ she looks over to you. ‘you have eyes too, right? like, no offense to sean and david and lee, but… angela is stunning, okay?’

‘she is,’ you grant her, mostly because you’re amused. angela walks over and smiles, gracious and perfect, and you gesture to ava, who gulps. ‘angela, ava. ava, angela.’

‘hello, ava,’ angela says. ‘ruth says that she’s quite fond of you from physical therapy.’

‘yeah,’ ava says, a little stunned. ‘that’s — that’s really kind, ruth.’

‘we don’t invite just anyone to water aerobics. it’s an exclusive club.’

‘other than courtney,’ angela grumbles.

’well, true,’ you admit. ‘but she’s not part of lunch. ava, next week, you should come join us.’

‘i would love that,’ she says. ‘beatrice will too, i’ll make sure of it.’

you laugh, and angela waves to rosa and farha when she sees them. class goes great; ava seems, when you look over at her a few times, to enjoy it a lot. even though you hadn’t really worried that ava would feel out of place, any nagging feelings are assuaged when she gets out of the pool and wraps a towel around her shoulders, carefully moves on the wet floor with a cane.

‘i told bea i’d be home soon,’ she says, ‘and she gets kinda nervous when i’m late. but! i’ll see you at therapy tomorrow, and i’ll definitely plan on lunch next week.’ she hesitates for a moment and then gives you a hug, which fills you with a very particular kind of warmth. ‘thank you, for inviting me.’

‘of course, ava. see you tomorrow.’

you see ava at therapy and you think, for the most part, she’s improving: you haven’t seen her wheelchair in months, and she still uses her cane, but you think it’s mostly because it feels safer, especially if she’s sore. you start going once a week but it doesn’t really matter, because she comes to water aerobics in increasingly fun swimsuits, including a purple stripped bikini that makes even angela whistle. ‘oh, to be young again,’ she had said, and ava had blushed.

‘so, how did you meet beatrice?’ margot asks, back from her annual trip to florida.

ava puts down her fork and smiles, so soft. ‘work, in spain. a job i didn’t even want, even. but, even from when we first met, she’s always just been so kind. we spent a sabbatical together, one summer, and that’s when i really fell in love with her.’

‘love at first sight, then?’ angela grins.

‘maybe not quite,’ ava says, then laughs. ‘i was… difficult, back then. obviously, i’m a total angel now.’

you roll your eyes and farha says, ‘oh, sure.’

‘we’ve been through a lot,’ ava says, softer and very sincere. ‘she’s — she’s the best person i know.’

‘well we need to meet her,’ you decide, even though you’ve been meaning to ask them both to shabbat soon anyway. ‘bring her to lunch friday?’

‘if that’s okay with everyone? i guarantee she has exceedingly good manners, much much better than mine.’

‘low bar,’ rosa says.

‘ha ha, very funny.’ ava tries her best not to smile but then does anyway, brighter than the noon sun overhead outside.

you’re just sitting down at the table, one extra seat this week, when ava perks up and then stands, steady and even, and you see who you know, from pictures ava has shown you, is beatrice, smiling a little nervously. ‘hi, baby,’ ava says, and beatrice takes ava’s hand and gently places a kiss to her knuckles, like a genuine knight.

‘absurd,’ angela whispers from next to you, and you try not to laugh loud enough for them to hear you, because they’re young but they’re not that young: they have a home together, and you know, from the few things ava has mentioned privately, usually on days that are too, too bright, things have been hard, and they’ve had to spend time apart in the past, and ava is thankful.

‘hello, everyone,’ beatrice says, her accent and posture extremely formal, in contrast to her casual but still, somehow, smart black hoodie and white sweatshorts and birkenstocks. her hair is in a messy bun, a few strands escaping that ava happily pushes behind her ears, and a big tattoo sitting above her left knee; she’s muscular and strong, but there are freckles spread across her cheeks and, when ava smiles at her, she softens, entirely. they are young, and, even though ava has shown you pictures, you’re still struck, in the moment, by how much they fit.

there’s a chorus of hi, beatrice and it’s so good to meet you and ava talks about you all the time, but beatrice takes it all in stride, a happy little smile on her face. you understand, quickly, that they fit, the same way you and aaron had, so long ago: ava is loud and overwhelmingly bright, enthusiastic and generous with all of her affection, and beatrice is quietly funny, whip smart, and thoughtfully attentive to ava. she turns and listens, fully, to whoever is talking, and knows about rosa’s birding, and the shrine farha talks about in lahore, and the new podcast angela is listening to. she’s impressive, as a person, and ava seems distinctly aware of it, basking, a little, in being chosen by someone so special.

‘sorry i’m underdressed,’ beatrice says after you order. ‘i was surfing this morning, and then had to jump on a work call, and i didn’t want to be late.’

‘everything okay?’ ava checks.

‘yes,’ beatrice says, soothes a hand along ava’s thigh and then squeezes her knee. ‘nothing of concern.’

ava squints. ’were you just asleep? you wouldn’t lie to me, right?’

beatrice pauses. ‘i was — well, catching up on some sleep, when camila called.’

ava barks a laugh. ‘bea is the sleepiest person i know.’

‘sleep is one of the great pleasures of life,’ angela says, regal and finite in her statement, ‘among other things in bed.’

beatrice grins while ava blushes. ‘now i know why you like coming to these classes and lunches so much,’ beatrice says, shooting angela a wink. ‘you do have a type.’

‘ah, and what a type it is,’ ava says, sighing for effect, seemingly recovered from her momentary emabrassment.

at the end of lunch, you do invite them to shabbat, and beatrice asks your favorite kind of kosher wine.

‘okay, you are all sworn to secrecy,’ ava says, leaning forward at the table. it’s not particularly quiet, because farha’s hearing aides can only do so much, and rosa flat out refuses to wear any, but there’s no on important around you anyway.

‘wonderful,’ angela says.

‘i love a secret,’ you agree.

‘well.’ ava lets out a big breath. ‘beatrice and i are going to switzerland, next week, to the alps, where we spent our first summer together, and i —‘ she shakes her head — ‘this feels so crazy, but i’m going to propose.’

it sends the whole table into a flurry of excitement, asking about ava’s plan — a hike, the one they would go on every tuesday together, slowly and for fun — and the ring ava had picked out — beautiful, and elegant, and perfect, you think — and, ‘do you think she’ll say yes?’

ava gulps. ‘i know she wants to spend her life with me.’ she sounds sure, and calm, despite her fingers nervously fidgeting with her napkin. ‘she was… very religious, for a long time, so, like, she’s always been really accepting of other same sex marriages, but i think it’s taken her a minute to get her to feel ready for, like, our own very queer marriage. sacrament, and all that, i guess.’ she shakes her head. ‘but anyway, yes! i think she’s ready. i think she really wants to get married.’

her smile is gentle, serene, and you had watched beatrice — in neat linen, her hair long and swept over her shoulder, fight her way through eating multiple bites of gefilte fish last friday, even though it was clear she hated it, and say prayers in hebrew, quietly. ava had been in her chair; you hadn’t asked, and neither had anyone from shul or your family, but beatrice had made sure that she had everything she needed, unobtrusive and practiced. ava had been, unexpectedly, the life of the party, charming everyone with her laugh and her silly puns and a very spirited debate with your granddaughter about women’s soccer. they’re a pair, you understood, very clearly: at the end of the night, ava had encouraged beatrice, gently, to take extra kugel along with the challah and chicken you’d already put in tupperware for them; beatrice had gotten their sweaters from the closet and handed ava’s to hers with a kiss to her forehead, tender and private, a moment that had belonged just to them.

‘we’ll all be eagerly awaiting the engagement photographs,’ angela says with sure gravitas.

‘post them on facebook,’ you tell her, and ava laughs, but she promises, later, when you give her a hug, that she will.

‘thank you, for inviting us,’ you tell ava, a bit in awe, if you’re being honest, of their house. she bounces around happily, and angela just looks at you with a raised brow for a moment. there are bright red and gold decorations everywhere, and beatrice walks over with a neat bun and beautiful jacket, embroidered so elegantly even angela seems a little in love with it.

’happy new year,’ she says, and you both give her a hug as you return the sentiment, then shows you to their kitchen, with a spread of chinese food that smell so, so good, and then gestures out to the open-air doors and patio that overlooks the ocean. ‘help yourselves to whatever you want. ruth, there are plenty of dishes that i made sure meet all kosher standards; they should be labeled. and there’s plenty of seating, and come find me if you need anything.’ she pauses. ‘or ava, but she gets a little… activated when we have a lot of people over.’

‘so, did we know how rich they were?’ angela says, loading her plate with everything she can after beatrice walks away to greet more guests.

‘not this rich.’

you both wait a beat and then laugh, and you find seats by the railing; your hip doesn’t hurt at all anymore. ava finds you both eventually and steals an egg roll from your plate with a laugh. ‘i’ll get you another one,’ she promises. ‘and, i just wanted to say, thanks for being my friends. i know it’s silly, but the water aerobics have really helped me feel better — and much less bored — when my mobility has been limited. and i love hearing about your lives, and sharing mine. i just —’ she scrubs her hand along the back of her neck, her hair neatly trimmed to her chin, fluttering in the breeze. ‘i went a long time without great role models.’

it’s so sincere and so touching. angela sniffles and you fish a hanky from your purse and hand it to her; she dabs her eyes.

‘don’t call us old,’ she says, voice breaking, and ava laughs.

‘i could’ve called you my adoptive grandmothers, so count your blessings.’

you roll your eyes when she takes a big, smiling bite of her (your) egg roll. ‘you are a blessing,’ you tell her.

ava swallows her bite and then leans to hug you, tight and sincere. ‘thank you,’ she whispers.

‘happy new year, ava.’

‘yeah,’ she says, a little teary but with a huge smile. ‘happy new year.’

#we have been talking abt ava & her bubbe for... Months !! lol #finally got to it #ava & the gals #ft sleepy bea #wn #warrior nun fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #prompts #also happy lunar new year!!!! this is the new year they're attending fyi if that isn't clear lol #also yes ava's type rly is like exacting smartly dressed women who are in fact taller than her

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