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starry-eyes-love · 2 months

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Too Young to Die- Part 1

Masterlist

Part 1 of 3 part Mini Series

Pairing | Massage Therapist Joel Miller x F!Reader with Autoimmune disease, no outbreak, AU (I changed up his timeline a bit).

Summary | You were referred to Dr. Joel Miller, a massage specialist, to help manage your joint and muscle pain with autoimmune disease. What you didn’t know was that Joel was an insanely attractive man, and that you’d be coming undone underneath him before your first appointment was even over with.

Series Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI, Smut!

Age gap (he’s 47, she’s 29), language, Smut (with a capital S, watch out!!), daddy reference, f!(fingering), squirting, female reader has autoimmune disease, Joel is a massage therapist, slight reference of medical stuff, reader verbalizes anxiety with treatment, fluffy Joel, soft Joel, sexy Joel, terms of endearment, Joel asks her out on a date at the end.

A/N: This one is completely self-indulgent and has been sitting in my draft folder since before Christmas. I have autoimmune disease, and treatment hasn’t worked much for me in many areas, so I know some of the troubles and struggles that the reader here has. Not everyone who has autoimmune disease may experience these symptoms, concerns, or struggles. This will be only a three part mini series. Very smutty with story building throughout. Enjoy!

Word Count: 9.1K (we’re establishing a story here)

Fuck you were wrecked, seconds away from crashing through, or into, a brick wall with an orgasm, you thought. This felt different though, so much different than what you’ve ever experienced before. “Joel, fuck, pressure, it’s a lot of pressure and I’m, fuck, I’m, I’m-” “Come f’me sweetheart. Come on baby, fucking soak my fingers.”

Joel Miller sat in his office of his massage studio, looking over the referral paperwork that Dr. Samson, an autoimmune specialist, had sent him. A female patient was being referred to him for treatment of musculoskeletal pain and tenderness.

“Patient has reoccurring musculoskeletal tremors of unknown origin that come and go. Bilateral joint swelling seen in all extremities with positive inflammation noted in laboratory test results and X-rays. Arthritis and arthralgia positive in all joints. According to the patient, anti-inflammatory and arthritis medication only works slightly for pain. Recommended gentle massage therapy to see if joint lubrication and increased joint mobility is plausible, and if pain and muscle tremors will cease. Immediate referral requested.”

When Joel glanced at the bottom of the form a week ago, he had seen that the referral had come in three weeks prior. Now today, four weeks after the initial referral, he was finally able to see you for the first time. When he had inquired with his secretary as to why it took so long before he saw you, she had said that there was a problem with your private healthcare insurance. Delaying treatment was never something that Joel Miller prided himself on. In fact, he was usually the opposite with trying to get his patients in for their first appointment within a week following their referral. Joel, having been a contractor in his previous life before becoming a massage therapist, knew the difficulties with treating joint and muscle pain. The goal was to never delay treatment as it would lead to widespread body inflammation. And once inflammation fully set into muscles and joints, it was harder for someone to find relief of their discomfort.

You were Joel’s next scheduled patient to arrive in 20 minutes. As he waited for your arrival, he went back over your X-rays, lab test results, and dictation notes from your autoimmune specialist. He had already reviewed it previously, but now he was refreshing himself on your in-depth history as he took some last minute notes of things that he wanted to ask you for this particular session. He had booked your first appointment with him to be about 2 hours, instead of the usual hour. Joel always conducted very detailed exams with his patients. He was also very knowledgeable in understanding autoimmune patients, especially knowing that each person was unique. He wanted to tailor a program that was going to help you specifically.

Joel Miller wasn’t just your average run of the mill massage therapist, he had a specialty license in massage. He specialized in patients with pain, joint stiffness and swelling, inflammation, autoimmune disease, injuries, etc. People usually only came to him by doctor referral, which usually meant two things. First, he prided himself on taking his time to get to know his patients and how he could help ease their suffering and pain. And second, he typically charged more money for his services. Most massage therapists would charge people a fee based on how long they performed their massage, Joel charged by the session. The maximum time he would give a client with his hands was 1 hour, but he’d pencil in 1.5 hours of time with them just in case they felt pain. Sometimes he’d have to stop and let patients breathe and relax for a minute before he started massaging their muscles again. Joel had a lot of training and education in the technique that was required, and many patients walked away from him stating that they felt a lot better. By glancing at your history he didn’t think that you’d be a one time only patient. He thinks that you would benefit from regular massages with him to help treat your inflammation and pain.

“Mr. Miller, your 10 AM appointment is here,” his secretary, Ashley, said.

“Thanks Ashley, I’ll be out in a minute. Please take her back to Room 5, and I’ll be along in a minute.” He replied, still studying the notes from your doctor and making notes for himself of the things that he wanted to focus on with you for your first appointment.

When you had arrived at the address for your first massage, you felt a sickly feeling in your stomach. Your doctor had reassured you that Mr. Miller would be the person to help you feel better. But just like all the other promises that your primary care provider gave you, and how none of them worked the way that you hoped, you were very skeptical at this new treatment option. Nothing helped you feel better, and you were beyond frustrated. It took you a bit to convince yourself this morning to come here, telling yourself that Dr. Miller was an expert at this, and that you should give him a try. What could hurt, you thought. Worst case scenario, it didn't do anything, which sadly was the norm for you these days.

For the last several years, your body had been poked and prodded more times than you would care to admit. Each time there was a promise of a better understanding or discovery of why this was all happening. But with each test, came more conflicting and confusing results, and you were exhausted from it all. You have been giving more blood for the sake of medical testing than what you’d think was truly normal. As ridiculous as it sounded, you felt that if Dracula was actually a real being, that he would be impressed with the amount of blood that you've donated for the sake of medical science.

With shaky hands, you got out of your car, locked it, and then entered the facility. When you entered you noticed that the space was calm. There was pale muted colors that covered the walls, colors that often helped people relax. But it did nothing for your nerves. You were shaking and not wanting to do any of this anymore. You felt like you had a huge lump in your throat, and that you couldn't fully swallow. Of all the things that you had to be afraid of in this world, you were the most afraid of medical treatment. Yet, that was the one thing that you were blessed with in having to always do. ‘Thanks body for betraying me with autoimmune,’ you thought.

As you walked up to the registration window, you found the secretary typing away on her keyboard while looking at her computer screen. You tried to settle your nerves before opening your mouth, but you felt like you were drowning in a pool of despair. Anxiety was getting the better of you again, and you felt like you wanted to run away and hide from everything. But where could you go when autoimmune always seemed to follow you, especially with the pain that came along with it.

“Um, excuse me,” you said meekly, after standing at the window for a brief moment.

The secretary continued to type away, not looking at you nor acknowledging your presence. You went to clear your voice again when she abruptly stopped and said, “what can I do for you hun?”

“I- uh, I have an appointment, with um, with Dr. Miller I think,” you said softly.

“Oh, hun it's just Mr. Miller, or Joel for short. He doesn't like being called Doctor. He always says he has a doctorate degree in massage, not in medicine. Yet they're kinda the same thing if you ask me.” The secretary said, shaking her head with a slight laugh. You stood there in silence, looking at her as she continued to ramble on. You were trying to listen to what she was saying, but all you could feel was your heart racing in your chest at the prospect of once again meeting a new person with the promise of helping you.

After listening to the woman who you thought was named Ashley ramble on for 15 minutes, as that was the name that you noticed on her name tag, you were finally sitting down in the general waiting area. You were slowly trying to calm down and relax while staring outside and watching the birds hunt for bugs in the grass. You didn't know how long you were waiting there, just staring outside, before you heard Ashley call your name again to take you back to Room 5. You didn’t know what to expect when you entered the room, but what you saw shocked you.

The room was softly lit, with soft music playing in the background, music that you liked. You also heard running waterfalls, sounds that came from the little fountains scattered all around the room. There was also a hint of cinnamon and slight vanilla aroma in the air, your favorite scents that would usually calm you. You tried racking your brain as to how, by chance, these scents and sounds were present when Ashley said, “it was on your intake survey. Your favorite classical music, scents, and sounds. Joel's very thorough, focusing on relaxation as much as muscle and joint relief.”

You stood there shocked. You thought those questions were just asked of people to try to ease the tension of how you were going to let a stranger put their hands on you. You had no idea that your answers would actually be taken seriously. Usually doctors, when they’ve asked those questions, never really did anything with the answers. Well, Dr. Miller was definitely different. It was at this moment that you were grateful that someone actually listened to you. You just hoped that he would continue with the same dedication while speaking with you, and not ignore what you said like everyone else seemed to do. You were frustrated with the medical field. You’d tell them something hurt, or something was happening and they only looked at your lab tests and X-rays and made decisions based on that, never actually listening to what you were truly telling them. You had only been in the room for maybe 5 minutes when you heard a gentle knock on the door, and the entrance of who you only could have suggested was Dr. Miller.

“Good day, I'm Dr. Miller but you can call me Joel.” He said while holding out his hand for you to shake. You shook his hand, and as you did, you felt how rough his hands were. They were calloused and strong, very sturdy hands. Not something that you'd expect to see from a massage therapist. This intrigued you, as you've always loved a man with rough hands.

After you introduced yourself, Joel walked over to the small desk in the room and sat down on the rolling stool. A typical doctor stool that you’ve seen countless times in exam rooms. He grabbed a piece of paper and then sat there for a moment writing a few notes, things that you thought were probably dealing with your medical file. After a moment he finally looked up at you and then asked with a slight Southern drawl, “How are y’feeling today?”

“I- I’m ok” you said meekly as you slowly looked over Joel. Joel was a gorgeous man, clearly in his later 40s with chocolate brown curly hair. He had a mustache and a slight beard by his jaw, one that had a slight sprinkling of gray in it. He also had glasses on his face with gentle eyes behind the glasses, ones that you could easily get lost in. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt, framing his broad shoulders perfectly. He had a slight tan on his arms, and hands that once again you couldn't wait to touch you. By looking at him, you didn’t think that massage was the only thing that Joel has done in his life. Something told you that he had spent many years doing hard work with his hands. As you continued your exploration, you then noticed that he was wearing a nice pair of black pants that hugged his hips perfectly. As you continued, you saw that Dr. Miller was definitely someone who was a decent sized man in the bedroom, seeing the soft bulge in his pants as he sat down with his legs slightly spread on the stool by the desk. You couldn’t help yourself but you stared at his package, wondering what it’d look like outside of the confines of his pants, and what it would feel like fully aroused inside of you. The longer you stared, the more you felt heat rise up the back of your neck. When you noticed the awkward moment of him looking at you, clearly having asked you a question that you didn't hear, you shook your head slightly, looking down fully at the floor while saying “sorry” out loud.

“It's ok darlin',” he said, giving you a small little smirk at the fact that he caught you checking him out. You were hoping that he didn’t see what you were checking out the longest though. You didn’t want to explain to your massage therapist that you were fantasizing about his package, and what types of moans or grunts he’d make while fucking your brains out.

Joel continued to talk to you, explaining why you were here, and how his services could help you. You were only half listening to him, embarrassed about how you had behaved previously. Joel was devilishly handsome, the type of guy that you were into. You were, however, internally scolding yourself at the importance of having proper social etiquette, and not eye fucking your massage therapist, which is what you were doing every time you looked at him.

As Joel continued to talk with you, he slowly moved around the room, grabbing different things off from the shelves. He instantly noticed your meek and shy attitude, even though he had caught you checking him out earlier. He had to admit, you were very cute, but Joel was a professional. He couldn’t allow himself the joys of thinking about you in a different sort of way. Nevermind, that if he wasn’t your massage therapist, he would definitely want to explore those other possibilities with you. What he did notice though was how you turned inward at the mentions of pain, autoimmune disease, and how your doctor said you didn’t have much abilities to do activities that your peers could do. You were 29, and he knew what the world did to 29 year olds who didn’t, or couldn’t, do the same things that their peers could. The world would ignore you. Joel, himself, remembered those days when he was 29 and worked construction when Sarah and Ellie, his daughters, were younger. All his friends went out partying after work, when he went home and raised a 10 year old and a 2 year old all on his own, Sarah and Ellie’s mom were already out of the picture. Joel was lost in his own head, remembering those earlier days, when all of a sudden he heard you speak up in an irritated tone.

“Mr. Miller, no disrespect, but I don’t think you understand what it’s like to not be able to do things that most 29 year olds can do.” You didn’t think he understood. So once again you found yourself trying to explain to a medical professional how much autoimmune has negatively impacted your life at such a young age, and how agitated you were at the fact that no one seemed to help you or listen to you. Joel, being the attentive man that he was, sat across from you on the stool and listened to every word that you had said.

Once you were finished, Joel took a deep inhale, then followed by a long exhale and then said “I am so sorry that people haven’t listened to you, or have taken you seriously about your concerns with your body. You’re right, I don’t know what it's like f’ya as I’m not you. But, I do know what it’s like to not be able to do everything a 29 year old can do. I may not have autoimmune, but I had different responsibilities that didn’t allow me the joys of doing everything that I wanted, including the joys of being with a beautiful woman like yourself at that age. That’s why I want to help you.”

As soon as Joel called you beautiful, he saw your reaction. You started to blush on your cheeks from the compliment. You felt flattered by the older man that was in front of you. Meanwhile, Joel internally scolded himself at how his statement wasn't proper patient-doctor etiquette. Joel had vowed to himself that he wouldn't cross that line again, especially with you, no matter how drop dead gorgeous he thought you were.

Joel began to run a few tests with you, checking your reflexes and testing your mobility. You didn’t say anything else to him after his statement. You felt embarrassed by your actions and assumptions that he didn't care or understand, when you could clearly see that he did. The longer you looked at him, the more you could see that he was someone who truly did care about helping others. You silently wondered if his treatment would actually help.

“Dr. Miller?” you asked, wanting to scratch the itch of your curiosity in understanding the treatment that he was suggesting.

“Joel” he said as he pushed on your shoulder blades. When you winced he said “are you tender here?” as he pushed on the same spot again, but this time with a little less force.

“Yeah. I’m tender there, and everywhere,” you said with a hiss as he moved his hand down to your biceps. “It’s tender inside every joint, and sometimes muscles. Winter’s in Minnesota aren’t too nice for people like me,” you said, head hanging low as a tear slipped down your cheeks.

You felt Joel stop testing your joints and muscles, hands still on your arms when he placed his finger gently under your chin, slightly tilting your head up so you could look him in the eyes. After a moment he said, “Well, we’ll try to rectify that now won’t we. Massage is more than just relaxin’, it helps a lot of people in ways that can-”

“Can it cure me?” you said, interrupting him, with wide eyes. “Cause if it can cure me, I’ll do anything. But don’t tell me that it’ll work miracles. Don't get my hopes up and then have it fail. I-I can’t take it anymore with all of the disappointment” you said, closing your eyes to take a steadying breath as tears gathered at your waterline. It has been a very long and exhausting road these past three years with your autoimmune journey. You found out early on that your body couldn’t tolerate medication, and nothing else seemed to work.

“I can’t promise that it’ll do miracles by curin’ ya, but I can promise that I’ll try my best to make you feel better. How’s that?” Joel said with a tender voice, trying to soothe your emotional discomfort of years of failed treatments. Joel remembered reading the last line of your referral by Dr. Samson which had stated;

“No treatments have been successful. Patient has voiced wanting to stop trying autoimmune treatments, stating that she didn’t feel like it was working. Patient was informed that if she decided to fully stop taking immunosuppressant medications, that the end result would be major organ damage that could lead to death. Patient agreed to try one more treatment for pain, stating that if the treatment didn’t work, then she’d stop autoimmune treatments altogether and ‘let whatever happens, happen’.”

‘Fuck,’ Joel had thought when he first read that last line in your medical file. Someone giving up, especially at such a young age, didn't sit well with him. Being 29, your entire world was still in front of you. You had a lot more years and possibilities of life in front of you. Giving up wasn't something that Joel did, and the fact that you had voiced wanting to stop treatments to your doctor bothered him immensely. Truly, it wasn't necessarily the fact that you had wanted to stop treatments that upset him. It was your willingness to allow death to potentially consume you that truly got to him. You were too young to die.

20 minutes later, you were lying on your stomach with a sheet covering your lower half. You were completely naked, scolding yourself internally that you didn’t wear underware today with your pants. Joel was slowly massaging your back, trying to work out the knots that he felt in your muscles. As his hands continued to work out the knots and tension, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief. His touch was not only skilled, but carried a reassurance that echoed through your body. You felt safe with him, safe in a way that you haven’t for a long time. You felt like if you were near him, that he’d take all the bad in the world away for you. And if you were being honest, this comfort was something that you haven't felt in a very long time from anyone.

"You're doing great, darlin’," Joel whispered, sensing your vulnerability and turmoil you had been feeling. Joel could tell that you were working through something major in your head, just like most of his patients did. Most of the time he focused on trying to distract people from their internal thoughts, giving them a break when they were here. But there was something about the silence between the two of you right now that he felt like you desperately needed. Every time he’d open his mouth to ask you a question, he’d feel you tense up, and that was the last thing he wanted you to do. So he slowly worked your sore muscles and joints, giving them the tenderness and affection that they needed, while allowing you to stay seated in silence.

Throughout the session, Joel maintained an empathetic connection with you. He explained each technique when he’d switch it up, providing you with the most gentle sense of comfort. He’d tell you what he was going to do, if he moved down your body or up, giving you moments to breathe when he felt like it was too much. But most of all, he gave you that warmth and unawkward silence that you craved. He wanted you to just live and feel, to just be in the moment with him.

As Joel's tender touch continued, you felt a warmth spread throughout your body, slightly dissipating the pain that had lingered there for so long. His words became a comforting melody, echoing a promise to you of relief. “You’re doing so good f’me, gentle breaths in and out, there y’go.” He said, encouraging you to stay centered and remain in the moment. That was the key in pain relief, staying grounded and living within the moment. When we just allow our body to feel, and not force anything, we can find peace and calmness. These feelings of peace and calmness are what leads us to having pain relief.

As Joel moved down to your lower back, you let out a hiss in pain, followed by an “ouch that hurts.”

“What hurts darlin’?” Joel said, slowing his deep strokes on your lower back, right above your tailbone area. He doesn’t remember reading in your file that you had lower back pain, so this was something new that caught him a little off guard.

“Right there, low” you said, hissing again as he pressed his finger into the lower part of your back, on your left side, by your hip.

After you hissed a second time, Joel immediately stopped and walked around to the other side of the massage table. He gently pressed on your lower back and hip joint on the other side, saying, “how ‘bout over here, does this hurt?”

“No, not as bad,” you said. “It's my left side, god that hurts.” You said, as he reached over and lightly pressed on your left side once again.

“Ok, let’s try somethin’,'' Joel said, moving completely over to your left side now. “I’m gonna hold up the blanket, where you still are covered, and I want you to flip completely on your back, okay? I wanna see if your pain continues in a different position.”

You nodded your head and then gently felt the blankets pull off from you. Joel was completely looking away from you, giving you privacy as you turned to lay on your back instead of your stomach. When you finally settled, you told him that you were ready. He then informed you that he was only going to uncover your left leg, to the mid thigh region. As he did, he explained how he was going to test your leg's range of motion to see if it was your hip joint that had caused you pain.

With only doing simple joint motions with your leg, Joel noticed that nothing was painful. When he bent your knee, pointing your knee outwards towards the left, followed by gently lifting your leg higher, to open up your pelvis more, he didn’t see any outward signs of pain from you.

“If I do this, does it hurt?” He said, placing a little weight on your leg.

As soon as your knee got about level with your pelvis you hissed again. Joel tried pushing down on your pelvic joint to determine where it hurt, but all you did was whimper. The pain wasn’t coming from your joint, it was coming from someplace else deep inside of you. When he returned your leg back down he said “I’m sorry darlin’, I can’t determine where your pain is coming from. Have you had it-”

“Just forget about it” you said, turning your head to the opposite side, closing your eyes as you felt the tears start to stream down your face.

“Hey, none of that, '' Joel said, gently turning your chin towards him so he could see your face in its entirety. “If somethin’ is hurting ya, I wanna hear about it. Help me out, where does it hurt?” When you didn’t respond right away he said, “does it hurt here” as he gently pressed on your hip bone. He watched you shake your head no. “How about here?” He asked, moving slightly inward, towards the inside of your pelvic bone.

With a shaky breath you said, “no, but it hurts straight down, but lower and inward more.”

“Here” he said, moving down about halfway where your hip joint was, towards the inside of your pelvis. You let out another shaky breath, closing your eyes as tears fell more from your cheeks, shaking your head no to him.

It took Joel a second to figure it out. But when he did, he finally understood why you were crying. You were embarrassed about what was happening inside of your body. When he moved his hand down towards the lower left side quadrant of your abdomen, and gently pushed where your ovaries were, he asked, “does it hurt here darlin’?” As soon as he applied a little bit of pressure to your left ovary area, you let out a stuttered breath, nodding your head up and down.

Joel flattened his hand on your tummy, where the sensation was, knowing what the culprit was. You were probably mid cycle and ovulating with an ovarian cyst. He didn’t remember you being pregnant, but he wanted to make sure that it wasn't an ectopic pregnancy before he ruled it as an ovarian problem.

“If I press over here, does it hurt?” Joel said, pressing on the other side in the lower abdomen. You had your eyes closed, tears lightly falling, shaking your head no.

“Ok, ok, darlin’. I know, I know. Deep breaths for me though, ok?” he said, as he watched tears stream down your face. He gave you a moment to collect yourself, before he asked his next question.

“Is there any chance you could be pregnant?” He said, slowly stroking your tummy where a baby would be laying. He knew he shouldn’t, but somehow imagining you having a swollen tummy where a baby would lay was giving him fantasies that he didn’t even know existed.

You let out a sarcastic laugh, saying, “no, it’s not that.”

Puzzled, Joel looked at you and said, “y’know, if an ectopic pregnancy happened, y’still could have a normal period. If there’s any chance that you could be pregnant, like having unprotected sex, or even if the condom broke, you probably should-”

“Joel, I haven’t had sex in 3 years,” you said, barely above a whisper. When you noticed the shocked look on his face you turned your head away from him adding, “guys really don’t want to have sex with a woman like me.”

“What’d y’mean, a woman like you?” He said, furrowing his brows at your odd phrasing.

“A woman who’s sick with autoimmune, Joel.” You said, closing your eyes and trying to pull back the tears that were threatening to fall again. You didn't want to have this conversation, and you sure as hell didn't want to admit how the act of even having orgasms were difficult for you. There were just some autoimmune embarrassments that you wanted to keep to yourself, no matter how much it shattered your soul inside. You didn't feel like a beautiful, young, sexy, attractive woman that you knew all the other single 29 year old ladies felt. You felt like you couldn’t offer anything to the male race that wasn't medical tests, sickness, and heartache combined.

Immediately Joel felt irritation and anger at your careless comment of how men wouldn't find you attractive or want to be with you. Without dwelling on it, Joel did the one thing that he knew he shouldn't, he opened his mouth to speak more on the issue. He hoped he could get you to understand that not all men were like this, that he sure as hell wasn't like this.

“Darlin’, boys, not real men, are like that. A real man wouldn’t allow sickness to stop him from wantin’ a beautiful woman like yourself. A real man would enjoy making you feel good. Real men, honey, not boys.”

Once he said it, Joel knew that he shouldn’t have opened his mouth, especially with the look that you were giving him. You looked back at him, shocked, and taken aback by his forward statement. But he couldn’t just stand there and listen to you accuse men, like him, of not caring. He would do anything to be with a beautiful woman like yourself, whether or not you were sick with a permanent illness.

After your head caught up with Joel's statement on men, you just shook your head. You then gave him a genuine, honest to god, belly laugh. “Yeah, well, Mr. Miller, show me where a real man is who wouldn’t care about all of that. Tell me who he is, because honestly, I haven’t found one single guy out there who’d be willing to have a real relationship with me because of this illness. And for the record, I can’t even get a guy to fuck me with no strings attached either. Not that I’d want that, cause I don’t do the casual sex thing, but still, you get it.” You said, snapping right back at him.

It was Joel's turn this time to look shocked. He thought to himself, why the hell has no one treated you right? He could see that you were exhausted with your own body and with your own life. He could tell that you were exhausted at the reminder of what you didn't have, of what your autoimmune disease had taken from you. He wondered if you ever truly tried, or if you just gave up right away. The longer he looked at you, the more he realized that you had tried, but obviously you weren't successful.

As you sat there partially propped up onto your forearms, you felt the tears well up into your eyes once again as you watched Joel look at you. You were embarrassed at what you had said. At admitting how easy it was for everyone else in the world to have relationships, everyone except you. Hell your own family even disowned you after your diagnosis stating that it was “too hard for them to handle.” So you've been doing this on your own, all alone, for the past 3 years. Exhausted didn't even come close to describing the way that you felt.

As you gently laid back down at this realization of loneliness once again, silently scolding yourself for opening your mouth, you accidentally hit the back of your head on the table, muttering “shit” under your breath. After a moment, you heard Joel let out another long sigh and then he gently grabbed your chin and said, “hey, look at me.”

When you looked into Joel’s eyes, he was staring back at you with concern and tenderness lacing his features. Joel saw your frustration and array of emotions, and he felt like it was important for him to take away all those insecurities by telling you that he wasn't like all those other boys you were with. With a slight smile, he gently cupped your cheek and said, “darlin’, a real man, like me, doesn’t fucking care if you’re sick or not. Men, like me honey, would take care of you regardless of the problems that you have. And honestly, it’s a damn shame that no one has ever taken their time with you, making sure your needs were met. If I was with you, I'd make damn sure you were enjoying it the entire time.”

Joel then removed his hand and placed both hands on the side of the massage table, stepping back and exhaling through his mouth as he looked down at the ground. He knew he needed to end this session right now. He's already stepped over far too many lines, and if he didn't watch it, he'd cross an even bigger one of showing you how a real man gave a beautiful woman pleasure.

You laid there watching the turmoil unfold on Joel's face. He wouldn't look up at you, kept staring down at the floor, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet periodically. He had checked his watch several times, attempted to clear his throat once, and had quickly glanced out the window. You knew those signs, he was trying to find a nice way to end the session or end the conversation. The more you watched him, the more upset you got.

After Joel stood there staring outside for a while, he finally cleared his throat again. “I- uh, I think Dr. Anderson can probably help you better, she’s very good with this type of stuff,” he said, waving his arm at you, but not looking at you.

When he straightened up to walk away you closed your eyes and said in a soft voice, “Please, please, help me.” You wanted to keep your voice steady, but you found that it slightly cracked at the end, which made you internally scold yourself. You weren't a weak person by nature, you couldn't afford to be with a disease that was slowly destroying your organs and killing you from the inside out. But somehow you felt like you were weak, like you were just a shell of the person that you once were. At first, when you asked for his help, you didn't know what exactly you were asking for. But as the seconds ticked by, with him not answering, you realized that you were pleading for him to see you.

Without looking at you, Joel asked in a gentle tone, “what do y’need help with?” When he turned back around towards you, his eyes were closed, and he was taking several steadying breaths. He was trying to calm his nerves and to silence the war that was going on in his mind. His mind was screaming at him, reminding him that this was inappropriate patient-doctor conversation or relations. He knew he needed to stop. So it shocked him to hear himself say a little louder, “Darlin’, what do you need help with?”

You just stared up at him, searching his face to see if what you wanted to voice was okay for you to do. You wanted him, as a man, to find you attractive and to touch you. But how could you ask him to go against all of his code of ethics as a medical provider just to touch you like a husband would touch a wife, desperately and passionately. You didn’t even know if he was married, or even in a relationship with someone else.

As Joel opened his eyes, he looked down at you, and it was then that he knew what you wanted. You were looking at him the same way his ex-wife used to look at him from time to time. When she’d plead with him to fuck her, to silence all her insecurities in her head. He hasn't seen a woman look at him like that for almost 20 years, and it did something to him. It made his resolve crumble instantly where he said ‘fuck it' in his own head, and he gave in to his primal instinct of helping you as a man, not as your doctor.

“Baby, come on. I ain’t gonna ask y’again. What is it that you need, honey? Tell me, and I'll do it.”

“Joel, please,” was all you could say, begging him with your eyes, trying to tell him what you wanted.

“No, now, come on. Y'gotta use your words for me. Be a good girl and tell Daddy what he can do to help you and make you feel better.”

As soon as Joel had said the word daddy, he instantly scolded himself. But when he saw your eyes glaze over with arousal at the name, he knew what you wanted. You lightly whimpered and started squeezing your thighs tight together.

Joel felt dizzy for a moment as blood rushed fast to his cock at your whimper, his cock hardening to the point of being painful. But this wasn't about him. This was about you, about showing you that a real man, like him, could give you affection and attention like you so desperately needed.

He walked towards you, gently placing his hand onto your thigh, lightly stroking it. He was trying to center you and help you communicate with him in what you wanted and needed. He knew all of this was wrong, but he couldn't help himself, especially when you begged him to touch you.

“Joel, please, touch me,” you said, while grabbing his hand and guiding it to below the blanket to where you were practically throbbing.

“F-fuck,” Joel slightly moaned, closing his eyes at the feeling of you not wearing any underwear as he touched your slick velvet folds underneath the blanket with his hand. Your lips were slightly swollen, aroused, and desperately needing attention. You were making a mess on his table, slick pouring out of you from your needy little hole. You wanted Joel to help soothe the ache deep within you, to take your pain away.

Joel slowly moved his finger down to your center. Feeling your pussy spasm and clench around nothing. He rested his finger at your opening, not pushing his finger inside of you just yet, but slowly stroking it with feather-like touches. “Baby, we shouldn’t do this” he said, still slowly circling your opening, and not stopping or pushing his finger in. He needed to hear your verbal confession that you wanted this, that you wanted him. As Joel felt your hole clench a second time at nothing, he said, “baby, please, say somethin’.”

You moaned slightly while opening your hips up to allow him better access to you. “More” was the only audible thing that you could say at the moment. And that's when Joel’s resolve fully crumbled, and he pushed two fingers knuckle deep inside of you, stretching you perfectly around him.

“Fuck baby, that's tight. Ya squeezing my fingers in a goddamn vice.” He said, growling low, followed by a soft grunt.

You willed yourself to relax, to allow Joel in more. To allow him to get deeper within you, to where you knew that you needed him. To say his fingers were a stretch was an understatement. His fingers were longer and thicker than what you were used to. It was a comfortable stretch, but almost borderline on being painful. You've never been stretched out this much with just fingers alone. If you had to guess by his slow movements he was doing right now, you thought that Joel was a very experienced man, especially when he curled his fingers and found that spot deep within you that you've never found before. As soon as he hit it, your eyes rolled back in your head and you softly moaned “fuuuck.”

“There she is, right there huh, baby?” He said, angling his hand a bit more to get a little deeper as he started to stroke your g-spot with those perfected come hither movements.

Joel was good at three things: First, he was a very hard worker. He had the perfect street smarts to own and operate two successful businesses in his lifetime. Second, he was an amazing father. Always listening and being there for his girls. And finally, he was an attentive lover. He listened, and found what worked for every woman that he’s ever been with. He knew how to fuck a woman just right, and how to bring her the most and best pleasure. And that was something that he made sure you understood at the moment with his fingers.

As Joel continued to work his magic with his fingers, pushing them a little deeper inside of you, and picking up the pace in stroking you, you felt your walls spasm more. You let out a low moan, breathing starting to become erratic as the sensation of pleasure took over your body. You were right, you obviously hadn't had a good fuck for a long time, especially considering that you were not far from coming undone on just his fingers alone with no clit stimulation whatsoever. And if you could describe the feeling that you were feeling right now with his fingers moving inside of you, you would describe it as being ‘fucking fantastic.’

Joel found himself matching your small moan with a groan of his own, especially when he looked down and noticed your pussy was dripping all over him. He slowly started withdrawing his fingers, giving you time to adjust, before pushing them back in. It was obscene, the wet squelching noises that your beautiful cunt was making for him. You were biting your lip, eyes casted away from him. He gently grabbed your chin with his other hand, turning you towards him while saying “no darlin’, eyes right here. Ya keep ‘em on me, ok?” He said, as he slowly kept pushing his fingers in and out of you. He kept up the slow pace for a bit, working you up, not wanting to fully tip you over the edge just yet. He knew that you needed this, that you needed to enjoy the experience.

“Joel, it feels- fuck, it feels, it feels,” you were at a loss for words at the moment. You were struggling to keep your eyes on him right now, fighting them from wanting to roll back into your head at the sensation of pleasure.

“I know baby. Fuck, just listen to her, she needs this huh? Your pussy needs this, doesn’t she? This. Nice. Slow. Finger. Fuck, huh?” He said, slowing down more and thrusting harder with his fingers at every word he said, drawing out your pleasure more. The longer he fucked you slow with his fingers, the more your pussy gripped him hard, sucking him in, not wanting him to leave. You were panting, starting to squirm, getting lost in the pleasure. Joel wanted to tease you a little longer, but he figured you weren’t used to this kind of play. Something he intended to do next time he had you alone, preferably in his bed with you begging for his cock.

When Joel saw you start to match his thrusts with your own, he knew it was time for him to tip you over the edge. So Joel really started to finger fuck you you now, the way that he knew women liked. When he did that, you cried out at the stimulation and surprise of his actions.

“Shhh baby, it's alright,” he said, cooing at you to quiet you down. “Now, darlin’, you’re gonna be a good girl and come all over these fingers, ok? Then you're getting a full refund today. I don't charge money to finger fuck my clients.”

You nodded your head, trying to keep your eyes open as Joel massaged the inside of your velvety warm walls, getting closer to the edge. Your toes were starting to curl, breathing was very erratic. You were getting very close to cumming.

“And lastly sweetheart,” he said, putting pressure down on your lower abdomen, and curling his fingers in a way that he knew would make your vision go blurry, while building a firm pressure sensation inside of your abdomen. “You must communicate with me with your words when something doesn't feel good, or if you want me to do something differently. You know your body better than me honey. I don't, so help me make you feel good. Okay?”

“Come f’me sweetheart. Come on baby, fucking soak my fingers” Joel growled in your ear as the rubberband inside of you snapped hard. When it did, your cunt seized around his fingers as you felt the gush of fluid come out of you, he made you squirt for the first time. Your vision went white, ears ringing, legs shaking from the intensity of it all. You’ve never come so hard ever in your life, and you couldn’t help the loud moan that escaped your lips around Joel’s hand that was now covering your mouth. He continued to fuck you through your orgasm, whispering “good fucking girl” with a strained voice as he watched you come undone. His own pupils were blown wide, eyes impossibly dark with lust, wanting nothing more than to bury his cock deep inside of you, to feel you spasm around him hard like this. But that would have to happen at a later time. Today was about you, about giving you something that you needed, attention from a man. You were a beautiful woman, and you deserved to have a man take care of you in this way, and other ways too, even if you did have autoimmune disease.

Joel continued to slowly work you through your high, pumping his fingers gently in and out of you. When you finally came back to Earth, he removed his soaked fingers from your cunt and then he slammed his lips hard against your mouth, kissing you fervently. You licked the seam of his lips, asking for access into his mouth, which he quickly granted. You two were wrestling your tongues together, each seeking dominance over the other. Joel has never been kissed like this, with so much passion that he hated pulling away from you mere moments later, gasping for breath as his heart raced out of control in his chest.

“Fuck woman, no one’s ever kissed me like that,” he said, gasping for breath. Joel placed his forehead gently against yours, eyes closed, breathing you in as his heart rate slowed in his chest.

“Do you want me to take care of you?” you asked, laying your hand gently on his crotch, feeling him buck slightly into your touch beneath you.

“No baby, I wanna do this right, take ya out first, if y’don’t mind.”

“You don't have to if you don't want to, I mean-”

Joel snapped open his eyes and stood up looking at you, furrowing his brows. He then shook his head and said “don't”, and walked over to the sink in the corner of the room to wash his hands. You sat up, chewing on your lip, overthinking things once again. After a moment of silence you heard him speak when he shut the water off.

“I'm not some 20 year old punk ass boy who only cares about getting his own rocks off, darlin'. I don't do that sort of thing. Now, if you don't want to have dinner with me, then that's fine. But I'd really like to take y’out.”

“Like a date?” You asked, looking into his eyes hopeful.

“Yes baby, like a date.” He said, standing in front of you, holding a robe up for you to take to cover your naked body up.

“Yeah, but what happens when I- when we- when it's done? Or what happens if I can't because of this- because of autoimmune?” you say, motioning your hand up and down at your body.

Joel took a big breath in, and then slowly let it out through his nose. He then cupped your face with both hands and said, “ok, I'm gonna stop you right there. First, I don't fuck on the first date, ok, so don't worry your pretty lil’ head about it. And second, I don't give a damn if we have to reschedule. I understand you have autoimmune disease, remember I've read your file.” Joel immediately winced at that reminder, of how he has crossed every line in the sand with his actions. He didn't know how he was going to explain to Dr. Samson that his treatment wouldn't work with you and that he was going to refer you to Dr. Anderson. It was going to cost him big time, he knew that. Dr. Linda Anderson wouldn't just drop it, she'd want an explanation. But Joel couldn't think about that right now, he'd deal with it and her later.

“But Joel it's-”

“Do you not want to go out to dinner with me?” He asked, the color draining from him face. Did he read you wrong? Were you just looking for a quick orgasm and nothing more? He rubbed his neck in embarrassment, thinking he completely fucked up at your signals once again. “You-uh, you don't have to say yes if you don't want to. I mean, if I read you wrong you can- uh, no pressure to say no.” He was internally scolding himself at this entire situation, of how much he's fucked up today. His ex-wife was right, he thought, he definitely doesn’t understand what women need nor want. Proof was here, right in front of him, with your reluctance to say yes to just dinner.

Joel turned to walk out, mumbling “I'll give you some privacy to get dressed. I'll tell Ashley to give you a refund when I see her tomorrow, don’t worry, she’s already left for the day. And you can just forget about today if you want, if I made you feel uncomfortable. I’ll sorry, I just-”

“Stop, please,” you said, grabbing his arm. “Don't leave. Everyone does, everyone leaves me. I-I want you to stay with me right now, please.”

Joel stopped and looked at you, seeing the gears in your head turning. After a moment he said, “please honey, ya gotta tell me what you're thinking. I can't-”

“I want to go out on a date with you Joel, it's just, don't have high expectations or hopes for me, ok? Men do, and then as they get to know me they- they get mad when I don't meet something that they wanted. I- this- it’s hard ok? It’s hard ‘cause I have a gorgeous man in front of me that I've been attracted to since the moment I saw him, and all I want is for him to see me. To really see me. And I- I don’t wanna fuck that all up where you hate me, or think I’m a failure and I- I should just really stop talking.” You said, laughing at yourself and blushing at the fact that you just spilled all of your insecurities in the air to a stranger. A very hot stranger, but a stranger nevertheless.

“Honey,” he said, grabbing your hand softly. “I want all that too and, if I'm being honest, I'm a little scared of a date too as it's been a long time since I've done this. The whole dating thing, it hasn’t been a priority of mine for a while. But I wanna do it f’you, with you. We can take it slow, we can figure it out together, ok? How does that sound?” Joel then leaned in and gave you a soft, delicate kiss on your lips, one that immediately calmed your nerves.

“Ok, yes. Dinner would be great,” you said, a tad breathless after Joel pulled away from kissing you. You took a moment to compose yourself, to will the butterflies to calm down in your tummy at the thought of getting a chance to have a date with this man.

Joel watched the blush rise up in your cheeks, and if he was being honest, it flattered the hell out of him. That a simple gentle kiss could get you all hot and bothered, where you were blushing for him. “Ok, good,” he said, smiling. “How about I pick you up around 6pm this Saturday?”

You nodded your head, and noticed that Joel furrowed his brows at the lack of your speaking to him again. You quickly said, “Saturday would be perfect.”

Joel stood there for a moment, glancing over your features, looking at you intently, making sure that you in fact truly wanted this. Once he found what he was looking for, he stepped back and gave you a small smirk.

“Ok, darlin’. Now for life's biggest, and most important question. What toppings do y’like on your Pizza?” Joel decided to take you to his favorite pizza place on Saturday. When he saw you smile, he knew that he picked a good choice.

“Well Miller,” you said, while giving him your best playful smirk. “You’re just going to have to take me out to find out.”

End of Part 1

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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superhaught · 1 month

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Incurable Cravings (Chapter Four)

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: none really, just angsty

Word Count: 2200, Part 4/?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Continuation of Incurable Cravings series!

Little author's note: I made a small edit to Chapter 2 to fix a plot hole that I created for myself. Regina and Leighton have been living in separate homes for five years as opposed to the original ten.

Regina and reader begin to navigate their first day at school in light of their newfound relationship. Reader learns more about the history between Janis, Regina and Leighton.

Regina’s family was complex.

You knew that Ms. George used to be married to Regina’s father. Together, they had twin daughters, Regina and Leighton. You were all around 13 years old when they divorced. The resulting custody arrangement was unusual. Ms. George kept Regina and the house, while Leighton went with their dad and moved to the east coast. You vaguely knew that the father, Henry, got remarried to his college sweetheart, who had an older son from her previous marriage. Ms. George kept her maiden name and changed Regina’s last name to match, and has since also remarried and had Regina’s half-sister, Kylie. Regina’s stepdad, from what you knew, was a high-ranking military official. He didn’t see combat, but he was almost never home. All of them seemed to prefer it that way.

Regina and her stepdad famously did not get along well, so his frequent absence was appreciated by her. And Ms. George enjoyed being able to maintain her independence. She often referred to herself as a single mom, even though she, objectively, was married.

You hadn’t seen Leighton since she moved away, and based on what Regina had said, she had rarely seen her twin either. You were positive that the distance must be hard on them both. Regina and Leighton had always been each other's' best friend when you were younger. They were practically joined at the hip. You remember that when Leighton moved away, Regina didn’t come to school for almost two weeks and she wouldn’t see anyone.

The divorce, and your small friend group falling apart, all happened within the span of a year. And now, as Regina slept peacefully in your arms, you wondered just how much pain she had been carrying.

It broke your heart.

In spite of your racing thoughts, you eventually gave in to sleep yourself and were able to get a few hours shuteye before Regina’s alarm was going off and waking you for school. Regina groaned and snoozed the alarm once before turning over and curling up against your chest.

You giggled at how cute she was being and took to kissing her head and playing with her hair for those ten extra minutes. You felt her press a few soft kisses onto your neck and then the alarm went off again.

You reached over her and turned the alarm off and then rubbed your palm over her upper arm.

The blonde smiled and whispered, “good morning…”

“Good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling this morning?”

Regina yawned and stretched her arms out a little before responding, “better than I’ve felt in a while.”

“Good.”

She met your eyes, “am I remembering last night correctly?”

“What do you remember?”

She hesitated for a moment, examining your expression, maybe considering dropping it, “I remember you saying that you love me…”

You nodded your head, “I did, Gina,” you tucked some hair behind her ear, “I said ‘I love you.’”

She nodded back and bit down on her bottom lip. You could see the anxiety mounting in her through her tensing muscles and rapid eye movements.

“I…” she began.

“Shhh…” you leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss.

She melted at the contact and let her hand travel over your shoulder and up the back of your neck to hold you close. Regina held you in that kiss for a long while and then just silently nodded again as she pulled away.

“Thank you…” she whispered.

And thus, only a fraction of your conversation actually took place out loud. You never really imagined having a bond like that with someone, not after the years you had lost of growing with Regina and Janis as your closest friends. But right here, in this moment, Regina knew without a shadow of a doubt that you had meant what you said. And you knew that she felt the same way about you in return.

You both took a minute more to play with each other’s fingers as you held hands in the bed.

The blonde kissed your hand and whispered, “I wish we had time to enjoy more of each other instead of going to school…”

“I do too, trust me.”

“I just want this gorgeous body of yours all to myself, all the time…”

You smirked, “you are such a temptress… but don’t worry, Gina. I’m all yours.” You kissed her cheek and then her lips again, obliging her when she grazed your lip with her tongue to deepen the kiss. You shared a few more kisses like this before Regina finally forced herself to sit up.

She looked sore and stiff in her movements. You reached out to gently touch her back after she sat up and you asked, “do you want help getting up?”

“No, no… I’ll be okay. Thank you baby.”

You got ready for the day together. Regina happily let you borrow some of her clothes that she reserved for wearing only around the house. No one would likely be able to tell that they were hers, not that it mattered to you.

Ms. George had fixed you both a quick breakfast and offered you free reign of the pantry to make yourself a lunch.

Regina, with a little bit of encouragement from you, managed to eat a cup of yogurt with granola.

“I’m gonna go start the car, you coming?” Regina asked you when she finished eating.

“Yeah, go ahead, I’ll be right out.”

Regina nodded and left through the front door of her house. You heard the engine of her Jeep start and you turned to Ms. George, who was scrolling Facebook on her phone while eating her own bowl of yogurt.

“Ms. George?”

She looked up at you, “what’s up, sugar?”

“Do you have Leighton’s phone number?”

Regina held your hand the whole car ride to school and walked inside with you, only dropping your hand once you were in the presence of others.

Regina saw Gretchen and Karen waiting for her at her locker so she turned to you and gave you a sweet goodbye with a quick, stolen kiss to your cheek before she split off from you and resumed her normal.

You realized that the two of you hadn’t discussed this part. You didn’t know how long it would be this secret between the two of you, but you hoped not long.

But you were greeted with your own smack in the face from reality when you walked up to your locker. Janis stood there, waiting for you.

You took a deep breath, “hey.”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, “hey. I want to try this again.”

She stepped out of your way as you opened up your locker and she continued when you didn’t really say anything in response, “yesterday, I know I approached you about Regina in the wrong way, and I’m sorry.”

You grabbed one of your textbooks, “thank you. I forgive you.”

“But… I’d really like to talk to you about this. I saw you leave that storage closet with her. And I saw you go home with her after school yesterday. And, oh my god, you’re wearing her sweatshirt.”

Shit. Of course Janis would recognize it.

“And? What exactly do you want to know?”

“I… well, like what are you guys doing together? Are you hanging out again?”

“I guess we are… yeah. We’re hanging out.”

“Why?! Why would you do that?”

“Janis…” your voice betrayed your sadness and frustration.

“No seriously, come on! You’re one of the only people who knows the truth about what Regina has put me through! I thought you would be on my side!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and inhaled, “Janis, it’s more complicated than sides… and, and I don’t know that I do know the truth!”

“What do you mean? You were at that party! You were there!”

“I mean, why does Regina think that something happened between you and Leighton?”

Janis’ jaw dropped, “what?”

“What happened between you and Leighton?”

“What did Regina say?”

“She didn’t say anything specific, only that you hurt Leighton somehow.”

“I…” Janis clenched her hands into fists, “that has nothing to do with me and Regina! I don’t even… you knew how I felt about Regina… you don’t really think I deserved what she did, do you?”

“Janis, no. I don’t think you deserved it. I don’t think any of us deserved anything that happened, Regina included. I think we were kids with a lot of complicated feelings.”

Janis stared at you incredulously.

“Didn’t you guys make up at the dance last year?”

“No. We didn’t. She was high on pain medication. She didn’t forgive me and I didn’t forgive her.”

You sighed, “Look, right now, I know that Regina wants me around and I’m okay with putting things behind me so that I can be there for her. But you don’t have to do that. Just don’t get mad at me for trying.”

She stared at you again.

You closed your locker door, “you weren’t the only one of us who was in love with her, Janis. You weren’t the only one who lost her, okay?”

You walked away from Janis for the second time, once again, unsure whether you were making the right choices in navigating this whole thing. You couldn’t exactly tell Janis the whole truth about your relationship, not without consulting Regina about it first. But you knew it wasn’t fair to leave Janis completely in the dark either.

You sat through your math class unable to pay attention to a single word out of Mrs. Norbury’s mouth because you were so caught up in how complicated this all was.

On your way out, Mrs. Norbury called you up to her desk and you obliged.

“Hey, you doing okay?”

You nodded, “yeah, I’m just having a weird week. I’m sorry for spacing out.”

She gave you a half smile, “look, I know your grades are going to be fine, that’s not what I’m worried about. I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“It’s just friend stuff.”

“Alright, well, just remember that graduation is right around the corner. You need to make sure that you’re thinking about what you want.” She smiled at you as if what she said wasn’t annoyingly vague.

“Have you told anyone else about your acceptance letter yet?” She continued.

“No… still only you and my parents know. I’m not ready to tell anyone else yet.”

“It’s been a few months now, you’ll have to start telling people eventually.”

“I know… I just…”

Mrs. Norbury waited patiently for you to finish.

“It hasn’t really sunk in for me yet.”

She raised an eyebrow. You knew she was suspicious of your answer but she let it go, “okay. Well, if you need anything, just let me know.”

You nodded and left her classroom. Your heart was pounding.

Until yesterday, there was no one that you were overly concerned to talk to about your college acceptance. But now… you’d have to find a way to tell Regina that in just a few short months, you’d be moving to Boston for college.

You hustled to your next class and pulled your phone out as you sat down in your seat. You quickly started a new message to the number that Ms. George gave you.

When you left that class, you checked your phone first thing and you had a text back.

“Is Regina okay?”

You typed your response as you walked, “Regina is okay, but there’s a lot going on right now and I could use your help. I’m sorry to text you out of the blue like this. Your mom gave me your number.”

“So, you and Regina are friends again?”

“Yes.”

“Janis, too?”

“That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about… what happened? If you don't mind me asking…”

It took a minute for Leighton to respond. You watched the little bubble that indicated she was typing until her message back finally came through.

Leighton wrote, “honestly? Looking back, it’s stupid and I’m p sure Regina overreacted.”

Leighton tells you that when you were all kids, Janis confided in her that she had a crush on Regina. Janis begged Leighton not to tell Regina, and Leighton agreed, not seeing any reason to hurt Janis and ruin the friendship between the girls. But sometime later, Regina came to know the truth and talked to Janis and turned her down kindly. Janis was still mortified, but beyond that, she was pissed. Janis assumed that Leighton told Regina and wanted to get back at her for it. Janis knew that Leighton had a big class presentation coming up and she came to school wearing a beautifully pressed, matching white suit jacket and skirt. Janis loaded up her lunch tray with everything that the cafeteria had to offer that would stain and then “bumped” right into Leighton, dumping her entire tray onto Leighton.

It was petty. It was stupid. It was misinformed. But it made Leighton cry in the bathroom, and that was something Regina couldn’t abide. Regina planned her revenge, and that’s how the spin-the-bottle party happened. Janis embarrassed Leighton, so Regina embarrassed Janis with the best ammo she had in her arsenal.

Next Chapter

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fanoftheimagines · 9 days

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My Breath through the Deep Water

Pairing: (pre-relationship) Edwin Payne/Charles Rowlan/Ghost!Reader

Reader Gender: AFAB Trans Masc / Non-Binary

CW: pre-canon, reader is dead, neglectful/abusive parents, chronic illness & anemia, implied periods, yearning (everyone is yearning, everyone is oblivious), discussion of spousal murder & abuse, supernatural activity, Death & Dream cameo, you can pry Y/N from my cold dead hands

Word Count: 3,098

Summary: Dying in your sleep was supposed to guarantee your spot in the Dreaming. But when you end up stuck as a ghost on the mortal plane, you go to the only ghosts who can help: the Dead Boy Detectives.

A/N: I have fallen for the dead sad bois. This show is perfect and I am attached to them now. Title from Deep Water by American Authors. The reader’s backstory is based off my chronically ill childhood. Reader is meant to be around the boys’ age. I think this probably the longest one-shot I’ve ever written, so cheers to that!

Shout out to lilacclorceta for beta reading this for me!

Masterlist | AO3 Link

--- 1992 ---

The wooden door with a windowpane stood right in front of you. You took in a deep breath – one you arguably didn’t need anymore – and walked through. There were two ghostly teenage boys inside, one sitting at the desk in the middle of the room and one fiddling with the clearly-marked cases board. A nervous ball wadded in your stomach. Asking for help was never your forte, but you were at your wits end.

“Um…” You mumbled, “Excuse me?” The two boys looked up. The one in a suit and bowtie raised an eyebrow while the one in red gave you a welcoming smile. “Are you the Dead Boy Detectives?”

“That we are!” The one in red said, before turning to look at the other. He nodded. “Come in. I’m Charles, this is Edwin. How can we help you?”

You stepped further in carefully. “I… um… I need your help figuring out why I’m here…”

Edwin – the one in the suit and bowtie – nodded and gestured to the spot in front of the desk. “Please, we’ll need to know everything.”

Charles walked around and sat on the edge of the desk, angled toward Edwin. Again, you took a breath you didn’t need. “Death never came for me and I… I have no idea why…” Charles’ face flooded with sympathy. Edwin’s remained blank. “Thing is,” you hesitated, looking over their heads as you spoke, “I know where I was supposed to go, technically speaking. But I just… didn’t.”

Edwin quirked a brow in intrigue. “And you do not have any unfinished business? You’re positive?”

“No, that’s the thing. If I do, I don’t know what it is.” You responded, looking to him.

“So, what happened?” Charles probed. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is, how’d you die?”

You sighed and looked at your hands. Death never came for you. Just another sad occurrence in your already depressing life. A sick, painful, lonely life. You’d died as you’d lived: alone. Neglectful parents combined with a severe bleeding disorder left you sickly and weak until the very end. No one rushed to help you, always taking their time to try anything. Months before any medication to help with your heavy bleeding, and months more until a single blood transfusion, losing more and more lifeblood every day. As you grew weaker, you spent more time sleeping. It’s there you discovered an escape: the Dreaming. You spent your short years stuck at home, visiting the Dreaming to help with the ache. Your friends – if you could call them that, given they were dreams – said you’d stay in the Dreaming were you to die there. It was a hopeful outlook, given your rotten luck in life.

And then you died in your sleep. You were in the Dreaming at the time. You blinked, felt a strange tug at your core, then opened your eyes to your bedroom, your pale corpse lifeless under the covers.

A lone tear rolled down your cheek as you told them your story. You quickly wiped it away with your thumb. “Sorry, still fresh.”

“Hey, don’t worry. Only natural, isn’t it? Dying alone sounds scary, I’m sorry you went through that.” Charles said.

Edwin’s face was twisted in fascination and curiosity. “Charles, a word?” He interrupted, facing Charles.

He dragged him into the closet before he could respond. Their voices were muffled through the door. You fiddled with your fingers, anxiety swelling in your throat. “I can pay!” You suddenly burst, voice just loud enough you hoped they could hear you.

Charles stepped out first and sat back on the desk. Edwin stood straight – his hands clasped all proper – next to him. “We’ll take your case.”

“Oh, thank you.” A relieved breath left you.

“Now, you said you could pay?” He continued inquisitively.

You nodded. “Right, well I inherited a collection of rare books on the supernatural from my grandmother. The books are still there. I don’t think my parents are ready to move on yet, honestly. They’re yours, if you help me.”

“Oh, brills! Edwin’s always looking to add more to his collection, right Edwin?” Charles smiled – almost smitten, if you didn’t know any better – at Edwin.

Edwin fought back a smile. “Yes, Charles, thank you.” He nodded his head toward you. “Now, let us get started.”

--- 1999 ---

“I come bearing gifts, my friends!” You smiled widely as you walked through the office mirror. A thick manila file was in your hand.

“You are aces, you are!” Charles laughed, taking the file from your hand. “Oh, look at this, old Mr. Brewer’s got some nasty skeletons, eh?” Edwin peered over his shoulder.

“Interesting. So, he caused the death of a young woman 48 years ago, and yet she didn’t seek revenge until now?” Edwin remarked before looking up at you. “Well done.”

Charles handed the file to him and swung an arm around your shoulder. “That’s a compliment in Edwin’s book, right there.” He squeezed you against him. The comforting pressure had you leaning in further.

“Thank you. I’m glad I could help.” You smiled, glancing at the pretty boy with his arm around you. “Gotta give you a reason to keep me around, right?” It was a half-joke – something frankly pitiful if you were honest with yourself.

“Nah, none of that,” he chuckled, squeezing you again, “we like you, don’t we? Besides, your case isn’t solved. Not a good look, if you ask me.”

“Yes, you’ve become a valuable member of the Dead Boy Detective Agency. We’d both be completely lost without you.” Edwin snarked, half sarcastically. “Now, did you happen to learn anything else from this source of yours?”

You smirked. “Apparently, Brewer’s nephew bought a typewriter from a seller of supernatural artifacts last year.”

“And, let me guess, she was the original owner? Oh, that’s brills.” Charles leaned over Edwin, practically resting his chin on his shoulder. His chocolate brown eyes scanned the page. “Haunted objects are practically our bread and butter.”

Your gaze rested on him for a moment before you tore it away. You dug out a scrap of paper out of your inner jacket pocket. “Yeah. My source, as you so called her, said this would help with sorting it out.” You handed it to Edwin.

He nodded and scanned it. “Wonderful, I’ll get to work on this. You two do some leg work, find out what you can about this scorned woman.”

--- SKELETONS IN THE CLOSET ---

Charles and you walked into the house. It had been abandoned after Thomas Brewer’s death. His only living family was his nephew, who didn’t want to live in the city. The only ones hanging around seemed to be Brewer himself and this unknown woman. It was dark. The windows were drawn to keep out street light. The furniture was covered with white tarps. Blood stains surrounded the single armchair in the living room. Other than that, nothing out of the ordinary.

The two of you split up. You took to the main floor, Charles upstairs. You skirted around the red-stained floor. The bookcase left of the telly was practically overflowing with books. The old man had clearly collected. And there, sitting right in the middle of the fourth shelf, was the typewriter. It looked normal, just a regular typewriter. You really wouldn’t know it was haunted by an apparently malicious ghost. You didn’t touch it – you wouldn’t hear the end of it if you did. Instead, you went to the office off the living room.

The large wooden desk was covered in a thick layer of dust. The right drawer was locked. You opened all the others. Nothing of note on the woman, unfortunately. Behind the desk, a painting of a lakefront. You pulled it off the wall to reveal a wall safe. Typical.

“Found something!” You called, leaving the room to find Charles.

He was in the main bedroom. His back was to the door as he read a leather-bound book. He tilted his head to you as you walked in. “He definitely killed her.”

“Diary?” You asked, sitting next to him.

He hummed and shifted the book for you to read too. “Her name was Mary. She was his wife.” He paused and closed his eyes. “He pushed her down the stairs when she tried to leave him.”

“Oh,” you muttered, forcing your eyes away from the book. “Then, I suppose he deserved it.”

“Yeah…” His voice dropped slightly and you could sense his anger rising. Your hand slid easy into his and gave it a comforting squeeze. His shoulder slumped against yours. His past was coming back to him – you could tell in the way his shoulders drew in and his mask slipped slightly. A solacing silence settled over the two of you. The pressure and proximity were a comfort for both of you.

“We should go.” He eventually broke the silence.

“There’s a safe and a locked drawer we should deal with first.” You replied as you stood up. It was as if the moment hadn’t happened. And well, you were both professionals, after all.

“The client lied to us. He did know her.” Charles told Edwin. You’d returned to the office to find Edwin in a state of undress you rarely saw him – that is, without his suit jacket – knee deep in research. He was surrounded by piles of books mostly regarding object hauntings. A small smile formed at the sight. He was perfect in his own way, something that made butterflies flutter in your stomach in the same way Charles did sometimes.

You zoned out of the conversation. The two boys – your boys – were easy on the eyes. They were both so damn pretty. The kind of pretty that stalled your breath and made your heart skip a beat. And on top of that, they were the perfect duo. A verifiable old married couple if you’d ever seen one. And they made you feel more alive than you ever did before. Somehow, Death had granted you a gift. The realization was almost a shock to the system. They were your best friends, your family. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey!” Charles’ hand suddenly waved in front of your face. “You still in there, mate?”

It jerked you out of your stupor. “Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.” You looked up to him. His brown eyes were full of concern. “What’d I miss?”

Edwin raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. “Your friend was right. I have the spell I need to unbind Mary Brewer from the typewriter. Once she’s free, her and Thomas should be able to move on. Get ready. We leave in an hour.”

--- A WOMAN SCORNED ---

Why did nothing ever go to plan? A spectral claw dug further into your shoulder. No pain followed, but a heavy feeling of pressure followed. Mary’s elongated, horrific form screamed eerily into your face. You turned reflexively. Edwin’s voice came somewhere behind you. His Latin was just barely audible. Charles’ cricket bat thwacked the enraged spirit, but she only tightened her grip on you.

“Please hurry up!” You yelled; voice tinged with panic. “Charles!”

“I’ve got you!” He said. You could just barely hear him riffling through his bag. Mary drooled over you as she bared down on you. Then, she screamed loudly. Charles had swung on her with his knife. She reared back. Her claws released you. You dropped and scrambled. “Yeah, that’s right. Leave them alone.”

“Any time now, Edwin!”

With a final word, Mary’s ghostly form glowed blue then settled. There on the floor sat a sobbing woman dressed in sixties traveling ware. The three of you panted in relief. Edwin helped you to your feet and turned to Charles.

“You okay?”

Charles nodded, picked up his backpack, and tucked his iron knife away. “Aces, but we should get out of here. Now that she’s free, Death’ll come.”

--- CASE CLOSED ---

It hadn’t ended the way you expected, sure, but the case was still closed. The client had turned out to be a no-good murderer but you’d freed his late wife. Plus, you got paid before the case. Edwin spent the rest of the night reshelving his books. Charles smiled softly at him occasionally and busied himself with filing away the case.

You leaned against the wall, just watching them. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but wonder what your afterlife would be like if you’d stayed in the Dreaming. But times like this made you want to hide away from Death forever.

That wonderful fluttering feeling returned. An easy smile fell on your lips. And after a moment of relishing in the saccharine feeling, you gently reached to take the stack of books from Edwin’s arms. “Let me help?”

He hummed pleasantly and shifted them into your arms. “Thank you.”

--- 2022 ---

Twenty-something years later, your case was on indefinite hiatus. The years passed pleasantly. The Dead Boy Detective Agency was a shining beacon in your postmortem life. Together, you closed probably hundreds of cases.

This one was simple, but with lots of detective work. A client came in, an older woman who just wanted to know who stole her mother’s engagement ring before she’d died. Her and her family lived on the other side of town – an hour away by the tube. Of course, that meant Edwin insisted on you practicing mirror travel on your way back. To get cases done faster, he claimed. Charles smirked at him knowingly when he’d said that and you couldn’t help but laugh under your breath too.

Which led you here, in the client’s bedroom, staring at the unreflective mirror. Edwin stood uncharacteristically close behind you. His proximity made your metaphorical heart race. He gently placed your hand on the mirror. It rippled under your touch.

“Focus on the office.” He whispered close to your ear. “You need to remain focused on where you want to go. Think of the mirror as a doorway.” You took a deep breath and did as he said. Desperately not focusing on his nearness and trust, on this need to just… touch him. You did your best to focus on the office. “Now, step through.”

You didn’t end up in the office. It was a back alley with a mirror leaning against a garbage bin. Whimpering came from a bit further in. Followed by a blue light. Dread grasped your throat. No…

“Well?” Edwin asked, poking his head out.

You quickly turned. Not him. “Death is here. Go!” You whispered, pushing him back through.

A voice stopped you from following. You couldn’t lead her back to them. Not them. Anyone but them. “Hello, Y/N.”

You turned around slowly this time. “Hello, Death. Are you finally here to take me?

She was beautiful and her face was kind. Her brown eyes sympathetic. “Do you want me to?”

You shook your head. No, that was the last thing you wanted. A man – his hair dark and wild, his eyes silver and galactic – dressed in all black walked up behind her. He felt familiar, in a similar way Death did. “Dream,” you whispered, almost reverently. He was here, somehow. Missing all those years you’d visited the Dreaming, watching as it decayed. “You’re here…”

“You know me?” His voice was smooth, reverberating deep in your chest even despite your lack of physical feeling.

“I spent years in your realm. It welcomed me when I had nowhere else.” You smiled wistfully.

Death glanced at Dream. “They can go back, if you’ll take them. They died there a long time ago.” She turned back to you. “Do you want that?”

This was it. The moment you’d wanted all those years ago. It was here. All you had to do was nod and take her hand and you could go back to the Dreaming with your friends and see its beauty like you were always meant to. But then you thought of Charles’ smile. His golden earring and Rude Boys jacket and red shirt. Edwin’s quiet concern and fancy suit. Your friends, the people you’d risked your existence for over and over again.

“No.”

Dream’s stare pierced your very being. “No? You dare deny your destiny? My realm?”

“I would have said yes, if you’d come 30 years ago. But then I made a home here, with a family of my own. And I’m happier than I ever was when I was alive or in the Dreaming.” You glanced at Death. Fear knotted in your gut. What if she took you anyway?

But she just nodded and smiled kindly. “Good, I’m glad you found your place. And when you’re ready, I will come.”

She turned to him. A moment later, he nodded. “You are always welcome in the Dreaming.”

A sigh left you involuntarily. “Thank you.”

The second you walked back through the mirror you were engulfed in their arms. Edwin – who didn’t like touch most days – held you tight in relief. Charles tugged you both close. If tears came, no one mentioned them. You sagged into their arms.

Then, Edwin slapped your arm. “Are you completely stupid?” He yelled, pulling away. His voice was high with residual anxiety.

“Easy, Edwin. They’re still here.” Charles smiled, squeezing you again before releasing you. “What happened, then? How’d you get away?”

A soft smile – saccharine and easy – graced your lips. “Death let me go.”

“What?” Edwin asked. Confusion all over his face. “That’s not possible.”

You grinned. Happiness swelled. “She said I found my place and when I was ready, she’d come for me.”

“Oh, that’s brills!” Charles laughed, picking you up in a crushing hug.

Edwin smiled – properly smiled, for possibly the first time since you’d met him. “Let’s go home then. This case can wait, what with Death around.”

Life hadn’t been kind to you. Neither had death. Then you’d met two incredible detectives. All your pain and suffering didn’t matter anymore, not really, when you had them to lean on. It still ached like a bruise on occasion. Yet you wouldn’t trade it for anything if it meant you ended up here. You’d gotten what you’d always wanted in the most unlikely of ways. You were tied to them forever now. Three souls bound together through pain and friendship. They were a safe place to rest your head when it all was too much. Just as you were for them. When Edwin had flashbacks of Hell or Charles got quiet and repressive. You don’t know what your future holds, but you knew that no matter what, you’d found where you belonged.

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scarlett-ink · 1 month

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Eclipse of the Valley Chapter 1:

The Eclipse

You are in desperate need of a change of pace, an out of the mentally draining life you found yourself in. With the combined inspiration of a total solar eclipse and letter you probably waited too long to have opened, you find yourself moving to the tiny community of Pelican Town nestled in Stardew Valley.

But what happens when there's more magic to this town than you thought, and you realize that you weren't the only one to move into the farm? With nowhere else for your surprise, animatronic roommate to go, it seems like he'll be staying with you for the foreseeable future and he isn't as alone as he first appears. Hopefully, you'll be able to come to terms with your new roommates and maybe if you play your cards right you might just get them to open up to you.

———

(Please ignore how bad the pixel art is it was my first time ever trying it)

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kiestrokes · 8 months

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i like had this thought in the back of my head of like what ateez would be like with an S/O who has a physical illness bcs i actually have one which causes a lot of pain to my bones and i'm like in a constant state of pain and discomfort, been going on for about 12 years HELL YA ✊🏻, if i don't keep up on my meds (currently don't have the proper meds so it only tides me over for a little while-) then im basically fucked so IDK i feel like there isn't a lot of stuff written about this kind of stuff (im a sucker for shit i hardly ever am able to read abt) ALSO IM NOT 100% SURE IF YOUR REQS WERE OPEN BCS I DIDNT SEE ANYTHING POSTED ABT IT SO- YA- if you don't want to write it obviously you don't have to !! no pressure at all lovely

ATEEZ Caring for You: Chronic Illness Edition | SFW

Pairing: ATEEZ x Gender Neutral!Reader/You/Yn Rating: SFW Genre: fluff, slice of life, headcanons, imagines, scenarios. Warnings: chronic illness + immunocompromised talk.

🗝️ Note: Hey atiny anon! You actually asked the right person; I have fibromyalgia combined with a few other annoying chronic illnesses. Because you can't just have one 😓 I hope that you can find a decent fucking doctor and get on the proper medication soon. That's the biggest part of the struggle, finding a physician that will listen and is competent enough. I hope this was enough, I tried to assign each member a caring task that I felt fit them! Has not been beta-ed.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

Seonghwa

He’s here to help you prevent all the chronic pain that he can. Booking you massage visits. Trips to the hot springs. All the arnica rubs. Silly little games the two of you play, to keep your mind off the pain and depression spirals. His favorite is seeing who can build their new Lego set the quickest. Hwa is the biggest advocate for you, he would never return a dish at the restaurant when its wrong. But he will fight for you at every appointment, every pharmacy, wherever you need him to. Because he knows you've grown tired of fighting all the time.

Hongjoong

HJ's specialty is flexibility. You have a sudden burst of energy? He’s down to go explore that new pop-up market with you. You’ve come down with a bout of bone numbing pain? That’s cool, you’re getting changed into comfy clothes and piled up on the couch. Swaddled in your heating pad with all the snacks. Where he falls asleep on your shoulder. HJ never gets frustrated with your rapid change in mood or plans. Nothing but the most understanding partner you could ever have asked for, and boy is he so cute and snuggly when dozing on you. Small hands seeking your face for drowsy kisses that soothe your aches just a smidge.

Yunho

The quiet presence, the one who knows what you need before you say it. Passing you tissues, making you a cup of tea and most importantly holding you so that you can cry. Shedding angry tears about how frustrated you are with your own body for betraying you. For feeling weak. For missing out on things. He's gently calming every frayed nerve in your brain. Reassuring you that you're exactly where you need to be in this moment, and he will bring all of the fun to you. And he does, in small, manageable doses.

Yeosang

His way of caring for you is through caring for your outside. All the skin masks, hair treatments, skin softening lotions because if you feel cruddy, at least he can make you feel cute and comfortable. They do heal though, in their own way. The extra moisture of the humidifier and every cream and essence he buffs into your skin helps keep some of the aches away. Subsiding the itchiness of the nerve pain, just a little. And you can’t get over how cute Yeosang looks in each animal themed headband or with his hair tied back into teeny space buns or how nice his hands feel every time they glide over your skin.

San

Where Yunho is quietly attentive, San is passionately attentive. You cry, he cries (while holding you). Quite literally your pain, is his pain and he’s here to be with you through each step. No judgment is ever passed when he has to pick up your extra chores around the house. Because to him, that is the smallest act of service he can perform for you. San is the one who wishes he could take on your pain, that he could fight it and destroy it and it pains him that he cannot. So he will simply have to do everything else.

Mingi

He thrives on making you laugh and smile through tough days, because he understands feeling burdensome. Mingi never wants you to feel that way, he wants to make sure you verbally know that your presence is needed and welcome. His favorite thing is cuddled up in bed with you wrapped in your heated blanket watching shows. You looking so small in his arms, giving him the feeling of protecting something. He reassures you constantly, because he himself seeks constant reassurance. Mingi never tires of this, he will reaffirm every single self deprecating thought with a compliment even on his worst days.

Wooyoung

He cares for you with his skinship, which is incredibly healing. His happy heartbeat encourages yours. His strong hands make you feel loved and needed. Who would cuddle him if not you? Woo often reminds you, whispering the phrase into your ear as he traces his nails through your hair, or while rhythmically drawing circles on your spine. Making you float into dream land and anchoring you in the moment with him at the same time. Woo also loves making you whatever dish you’re craving, knowing you need energy to fight off fatigue and pain. And cooking is one of his many, many love languages.

Jongho

Needing to hoard all the extra rest you can get; you seek out solace at Jongho’s place for nap time. Jongho has taken notice, he’s also taken inventory as to which blankets of his you prefer, the pillows that keep you asleep the longest, what temperature you prefer the room to be based on what you’re wearing. All your favorite snacks before or after. New blackout curtains. He’s made his place your ultimate nap zone. New heated blankets. Duplicates of your fave lounge wear and socks. And he takes his payment in cuddles. Holding you tightly in his bed or sprawled on the couch. Sometimes he falls asleep himself and flips you onto your back to bury into your side like a full-sized teddy bear.

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armyangxls · 2 months

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The girliness to become obsessed with a character from a movie you're literally repulsed by and wanna throw up when seeing clips of it! And haven't even seen the movie! hahaha 😍🥰🫣💜 Bo Sinclair <<<<<33333333

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bratzforchris · 3 months

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In Sickness and In Health

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Summary: In which Tara and Jake discover Johnnie has a chronic illness, but know they'll always be with him, no matter what <3

Pairing: (platonic! I do not ship the trio in any way) Johnnie x Tara x Jake

Warnings: Chronic illness (nothing graphic and no bodily fluids :)), Jake and Tara are still dating here

Word Count: 2k

A/N: In this fic, Johnnie has a chronic illness called PFAPA. You can read more about it here for more background :). I also have this chronic illness, so it's based on my experience <3 Thank you for reading!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Chronic illness was the worst thing to hit Johnnie’s life since, well, ever. His condition was especially painful and rendering, and he hated being bound to the couch or his bed for days on end, zapped of all energy. You see, Johnnie had PFAPA, which caused him to have extremely high fevers, sore throats, and just overall feelings of being unwell. Although it was mostly a childhood syndrome, he was one of the rare but very unlucky few that it had lasted into his adult life.

Johnnie had learned early on in life that being a sick kid meant being a pitied kid. He hated the pitying looks people gave him and the quiet “you’re so strong” murmurs. They made him feel like a zoo animal, separated from the rest of the world, with people cooing at him in sympathy and then going about their day. It wasn’t even just the adults, though. Right up until the time he dropped out of high school to pursue his YouTube career, the other kids had stared at him and whispered about “the boy that was always absent” whenever he walked down the hall.

And so, he hid it. The only people that knew of his illness were his mother and siblings, and his ex-girlfriend when they had been together. Even then, the only reason Johnnie had told her was because she questioned why a) he was so warm and b) why he wasn’t getting up, especially when it was a repeat occurrence. He was very lucky that his chronic illness wasn’t terrible. He still had some symptoms from day to day, like a weakened immune system and joint pains. But it was the periodic flare ups that practically killed him. It was one week out of every month, almost like a period. Johnnie would run insanely high fevers, getting up to 105 F (40.5 C), have awful joint pain to the point it hurt to move, have a pounding head and a sloshing stomach, and an extremely sore throat to top it all off.

Fast forward to now, and Johnnie was currently living with Jake and Tara. He loved his best friends with everything in him, but at the same time, he didn’t want them to view him as weak or childish. Stupid logic? Yes, but there was no arguing with Johnnie. He was good at hiding his flare ups at first. He would coat his face in foundation and eyeliner to hide the dark eyebags from restless nights, and he would take enough ibuprofen to subdue a horse. He still didn’t feel great, but it was manageable enough to hide from the two. This, on top of his usual “emo” personality and occasional mental health struggles that kept him in bed for days at time was enough to make Jake and Tara not have a clue.

All secrets get found out eventually, though. You see, Jake was a loving, wonderful boyfriend; whenever Tara would ask for pain medicine for her period, there he was, already in the car and speeding to the local pharmacy. He was also a great friend, and would buy an additional bottle for Johnnie, who claimed he “liked” having an extra bottle of tablets on hand so he didn’t have to go into Tara’s bathroom should he need pain reliever. At first, Jake brushed it off, knowing Johnnie was definitely a tummy ache boy. However, after about three months of this, he realized Johnnie would ask for the pain reliever almost at the exact same time Tara would need it for her period. Like clockwork.

“Eh, whatever,” he thought to himself, entering their house with a CVS bag. He had seen Johnnie naked more times than he’d like to admit. His best friend definitely didn’t have a period. “I’m back.” he called, entering the living room.

Tara and Johnnie were sat on the couch, watching some sort of trashy reality show. Tara was curled up in fetal position from the awful cramps she was currently experiencing, while Johnnie was huddled up under a huge blanket, currently experiencing one of his worst flares up in over six months. Neither seemed particularly interested until Jake dropped the bottles of medicine into their hands. Johnnie immediately ripped into his, dropping three tablets into his hand and swallowing them dry.

“Someone’s in pain.” Jake raised a brow at his friend while he opened the bottle for Tara, handing it to her along with her water and a kiss on the head.

“...stomach ache…” Johnnie mumbled, not thinking Jake was going to call him out on it.

“I can’t find my fucking heating pad.” Tara whined as Jake began to hold her, sitting between the two.

Johnnie winced, biting his bottom lip and holding the warm fabric closer to his body under the blanket. He felt awful for taking Tara’s heating pad, but he had been desperate for relief from his aching joints. Thank goodness Jake had become focused on massaging Tara’s stomach so neither one of his friends would see his guilty face.

The boy immediately stood up, clutching the blanket and heating pad to his chest. “I’m in pain and I’m going to bed. Night.” he said rather grumpily, already stalking to his room.

Tara was pulled out of her pain induced haze to giggle. “It’s like Johnnie has a period.”

“Something like that.” he called back.

Morning had come for the household and Tara was on a mission. She was going to find her heating pad. As much as Jake’s massages had helped last night, he would be gone today to film something with Scuff, so she needed the warm glory. She had searched high and low in every part of the house except Johnnie’s room.

“Johnnie? Can I come in?” she asked, rapping her knuckles lightly on his closed door. “I need to look for something.”

No answer. Tara knocked again, and then waited. Had he gone with Jake to film? Finally, she twisted the door knob, speaking before she stepped inside. “If you’re in there, I’m coming in!”

The sight Tara saw made her heart shatter. Johnnie was curled up in bed, making sure her heating pad was placed strategically on his knees and wrists. Although the boy had three different fans blowing on him, he was wrapped in heavy blankets, snoring softly. The icing on the cake, though, was the look on Johnnie’s face. He just looked sick. His skin was more pale and ghostly than normal, save for a few, red acne spots. His eyes were ringed with purple and despite his heating pad and blankets, he was shivering. He looked overall unwell.

Tara bit her lip, debating what to do. She really, really wanted her heating pad, but at the same time, Johnnie looked so comfortable. However, as she turned on her heel to leave Johnnie’s room, the floorboards squeaked under her feet and Johnnie groaned.

It only took a few moments for the boy to blink open his eyes, and when he did, he flipped shit. “Get out.” Johnnie snapped, his voice hoarse from the flare up.

“I’m not mad about the heating pad, Johnnie,” Tara said softly. “We all get sick. I’ll get a new one.”

“‘M fine. Get out.” he snapped again, clearly grumpy from the lack of sleep his condition was causing.

“Are you sure?” Tara moved closer towards the bed, examining his sick form. “You don’t seem fine…”

“Tara, seriously. I’m fine. Just get out.”

As much as Tara put out a nonchalant attitude to the world, she really cared about her friends, and seeing Johnnie clearly in a lot of pain was hurting her. She gently moved to lay a hand on his forehead, but before Johnnie could swat it away, she recoiled and cursed.

“Shit, Johnnie. You’re burning up.”

“I know,” Johnnie groaned, reaching over and grabbing a thermometer from his nightstand. Based on the way it looked, it was clear Johnnie had been flaring or ‘feeling sick’ for a while. There were empty popsicle wrappers and tea mugs, water bottles, vapo rub, and a variety of medicines and thermometers. Johnnie quickly took his temperature and then shrugged. “104.2 (40.1 C). Lower than last night.”

“Dude,” Tara looked almost dumbfounded. “You gotta get to a hospital. That’s like, scary high.”

Because of the fever and lack of sleep, Johnnie rolled his eyes, a sour tone pouring off his tongue. “I’ll be fine,” he rolled towards the wall. “Just gotta sleep it off.”

“Johnnie,” Tara said firmly. “You are not sleeping this off. You’re going to a hospital.”

“I’ll be fine. ‘M just cold. Maybe I’ll break my own fever record.” he groaned, using his arm to shield his eyes from the sun.

“That’s it. I’m calling Jake.” she said, whipping out her phone.

Johnnie bolted up, cursing softly at his aching joints. “Do not call Jake. I swear to god, Tara. Do not call Jake.”

“Johnnie, you’re clearly extremely ill. You need medical attention or you’ll get super sick…more than you are now,” she added, turning to leave. “I’ll come get you when he’s here.”

“I haven’t gotten super sick in 25 years and my fever’s been higher than this.” Johnnie mumbled.

“What do you mean?” Tara stopped in her tracks.

Johnnie groaned, cuddling back under his comforter. “Since I was born. I’m chronically ill. Google it or some shit. I’m too tired to explain now.”

“...oh.” Tara whispered quietly. “I didn’t know. Is this like an all the time thing or?”

“It’s called PFAPA. Go look it up,” Johnnie already sounded almost asleep again until his voice suddenly wobbled. “But please, don’t tell Jake.”

Tara sat down on Johnnie’s bed, rubbing his thigh. That’s how she knew he must’ve been feeling pretty bad. Johnnie rarely liked physical contact unless he was feeling sick. “Is there a specific reason you kept it from us? It’s okay if you don’t wanna share.” she whispered, taking on a motherly role that few people ever saw.

“Because you’ll pity me and I hate that shit.”

Tara frowned. “I understand. Thank you for telling me; that’s probably really hard. Do you need anything?”

Johnnie hesitated for a few moments before speaking quietly. “I want a popsicle. For my throat.”

His friend smiled, standing up and pulling the blanket further over him. “Specific flavor?”

“Grape.”

Tara smiled as she left Johnnie’s room, going into the kitchen. She decided to put the kettle on to make Johnnie some tea, knowing tea helped her own sore throats. As the water boiled, Tara pulled out her phone, googling the syndrome Johnnie had mentioned. She grimaced as she read the WebMD article; it sounded extremely painful, like having the flu every single month. Once the water had boiled, Tara made Johnnie a mug of tea and then pulled the freezer open for a popsicle. Her heart practically shattered when she saw a surplus of popsicles, shoved to the back of the freezer.

Bringing Johnnie’s sickness spread upstairs, Tara saw that he was practically asleep when she opened his bedroom door. But as she handed him the popsicle and tea, he sleepily mumbled “You can tell Jake.”

“Are you sure?”

Johnnie nodded tiredly, already sucking on the popsicle. “Mhm.”

“Huh,” Tara said, but she didn’t question it. “Okay.”

She sent Jake a quick text, hoping he and Scuff were near done. Although his temperature was “normal” for Johnnie, she didn’t feel very good about letting him lay here and burn up. Surprisingly, Johnnie didn’t protest when she sat down at the chair at his streaming desk. He just continued to softly sip the mug of tea.

“Jake’s on his way.” Tara whispered softly.

The sick boy just nodded, laying his fluffy, black, bedhead back on the pillow. Tara didn’t hear anything more for a few minutes, until soft snores wafted from Johnnie’s bed. It seemed like it was only a few minutes later when she finally heard Jake come into the house.

“I’m bac-” Jake was practically yelling until Tara shushed him.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jake asked, tipping his head towards Johnnie.

“He has a chronic illness,” Tara explained softly. “We can talk then.”

And until then, Jake and Tara would be there to support their best friend, sitting quietly and watching over him as Johnnie slept.

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paranormalactivity5 · 1 month

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Hiiii, quick question, I’d really like to start a Eddie Munson x reader series but with a chronically ill reader, but I wanna know if anyone would read it. It would be very angsty but also fluffy and maybe some smut here and there but it would delve very deep in to the truth that a lot of disabled people feel unloveable, even tho we 100000% are it’s still a thought that hangs in many of our heads that we are “too much”. Basically the premise of the series is Eddie proving to reader that he loves her so fucking much, and that he loves loving her and everything that includes. At first reader would push him away because of her self deprecating beliefs but Eddie is relentless in proving that she is just as worthy and deserving of love as anyone else. I would try and be as non-descript as possible with what illness reader has. I personally have pots, eds, fibro, fnd, and Endo and feel Eddie would be the best boyfriend and care taker. Let me know if y’all would read!

#paranormalactivity5 #fanfic #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #chronic illness #chronic pain #disability #chronically ill #potsie #hypermobile eds #fnd #fibromyalgia #endometriosis #x chronically ill reader #x reader #disabled writer #Eddie Munson x chronically ill!reader

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imaginethezeldaverse · 6 months

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Hello! I don't know if you write for the more obscure characters in Botw/Totk but I figured I'd ask just in case ☺️ Could you please write something about Tauro, Purah, Sidon and Zelda dating a Sheikah s/o who's chronically ill/disabled? It'd be great if you could make them specifically have weak bones and be really short too, and they're often upset how people keep babying them because they might fracture or break something. But if you want to keep it more open-ended that's fine too!

Thank you so so much, you're probably my favorite Zelda blog on Tumblr! Your writing and ideas are always like *chefs kiss* 😘! Have a good day and drink lots of water!

Whenever people tell me I'm their favorite anything it literally shocks me because there are SO many fantastic zelda fic blogs on here that I feel are vastly superior - but I thank you nonetheless! 🥰

I'll write for pretty much any character - I just keep romance and nsfw content for adults. So I'd be happy to!

Tauro, as well-mannered and good-natured he is, is amongst the mass where he needs to be reminded that while you are disabled, you aren't incapable of doing normal things. He tries his best to remember that, but his rambunctious and steadfast nature leads him to be righteous and helpful, even when it's not needed. Plus given his height, he always just assumes that people tend to need help to reach things in tall places if he's ever around. He does try his best to be sensitive to your needs and wants, however, tapping his hand to his chest when he catches himself doing too much. Instead, he makes an effort to remind himself to wait for you to ask him should you need anything. Very affectionate, otherwise - he enjoys making you smile and wrapping his big ol' bear arms around you (albeit, he's careful not to actually squeeze you too hard because he does NOT know his own strength) and is very attentive on the days that you specifically don't feel well and your body leaves you in a weaker state than normal.

Purah, being the research fanatic and accomplished scientist that she is, is already aware and well read on your illness. That, however, has never stopped her from being absolutely smitten with you. Where she is boisterous and outlandish, there is a careful resilience to you that she keeps close to her heart. She sees your frustration often with the townsfolk who treat you with unnecessary delicacy, and while she understands the "good-intent", she feels as you do: chronic illness should not beget differential treatment. When you express your frustrations, she's an open ear always. Purah is never one to explain why the people of your community act this way that leans in their favor, but rather why their attitudes should not portray you under a fragile light when you are anything but. She empathizes with you greatly, knowing exactly what it's like for your own people to treat you like you're something you're not (her experiences with de-aging left quite the mark), but she assures you that you've always got her on your side.

“I’ve never much like everyone else…and neither have you,” Purah muses, tapping her recorder in her hand. She lifts her glasses, her crimson eyes blazing in your direction with admiration and sincerity, “I guess that makes us a cut above the rest, now doesn’t it?”

Sidon is about as bubbly with you as you can imagine. That sharp smile completely alight when you're with him. His height difference compared to yours doesn't bother him considering he towers greatly over just about everyone he meets, so as long as you don’t care (which he secretly hopes you don’t!) then all is well. When he learns about your chronic illness, he’s at first admittedly worried, but he sees how much you value your independence and doesn’t push you to do less than anything you’re up for. Sidon, having learned his healing capabilities from Mipha, will actually offer to “bathe” with you whenever you’re not feeling especially strong, letting the softness of his magically imbued water immerse your body and take any pain or pressure off of your form for a while and bring you some ease. You don’t take him up on it often, half because you don’t feel it’s always necessary, and half because you don’t want to impose - though of course Sidon would refute you ever being an imposition upon him. He chooses his words very carefully, making sure to give you the impression that he’s willing to do whatever you need should you need something from him, but without overstepping and making you feel incapable.

“You’ll never be without, my darling,” Sidon whispers, taking your hand, those slit-pupiled eyes softening as he brushes back a lock of your silver-white hair, “But I will never claim to know you better than yourself.”

Zelda has always been a ball of curiosity, that’s one of the things you love about her. She has an awfully curious mind, so when you explain to her about your chronic illness for the first time, she of course asks you a lot of questions. You laugh thinking about back then, how she felt terrible for borderline prying into your life though she wanted to know everything about you at that time. You remember assuring her that it was fine, and it made you incredibly grateful that Impa had introduced you before she stepped down - it allowed you two to get close. The times that you’ve gone to town together, Zelda takes notice of how people tend to treat you akin to porcelain: delicate, fragile, some even giving off the impression that you’re a lost cause because of your Sheikah heritage. Combined with your stature (with Zelda herself being on the shorter side of an average Hylian’s height), it’s enough to infuriate you both. You two tend to bounce off of one another: shes sticks up for you when you feel like someone’s unnecessarily babying you, and you put your two cents in whenever someone is overly cautious and hovering due to her status, even after proving herself beyond capable. Ultimately she too understands your plight of people looking at you differently because of who are you or what they know about you. She recants the days when her father treated her as helpless and small, hyper focused on keeping her in line rather than letting her be her own person. She takes your hand, intertwining fingers with yours and lending you a genuine smile.

“But we are not weak. We are not frail or easily broken. I am not defined entirely by my title,” Zelda kisses the top of your hand before gently covering it with her other in an endearing move, “And you are not defined by your illness.”

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madamemachikonew · 1 year

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This Mortal Coil - Adeptus Baizhu x Chronically Ill Fem!Reader (3k)

A repost from my old account since I'm not sure how many people actually saw it what with all the visibility glitches. I wrote this for me to commemorate the year anniversary of my MS diagnosis, but sharing with all of you; a lot of Baizhu fans are chronically ill/disabled yet weirdly nobody seems to write for a sick reader...

The frail owner of the Bubu Pharmacy is secretly a snake adeptus, in the final phase of his life. While everyone knows of his quest for immortality, nobody knows the true reason why.

As he watches you, his sick mortal lover, sleep, he is alone with his thoughts and reminisces - both with joy and sadness - on your time together.

+++ Contains much angst and portrayal of degenerative chronic illness +++

It's on AO3 here.

__________

In the still of the night, Baizhu sits perched on the side of your bed as you slumber. With a gentle hand he caresses your brow and head, taking comfort in the feeling of the silky strands of your hair as they run through his fingertips like sand through an hourglass. It reminds him of the precious gift of time. As he watches your steady breathing in the flickering lanternlight, he cannot help but reminisce in this quiet moment of respite from the bustle of the Pharmacy.

Looking down at you through long eyelashes, the glow of the lantern catches his amber eyes, which exude a kindness he shows to nobody else.

As he sits with you, he recalls the first time that you, his favourite patient, had sat in his office and told him “It feels like I’m disappearing.”

He had looked at you with a quizzical expression until you had described your confusion at how your limbs had become numb, tingling and weak, your brain foggy and forgetful. The mysterious numbness had started to creep up your body.

“Like you are disappearing?” he had replied, his voice hollow as he recognised only too well the symptoms you had described.

It had been an apt description, for it was in some respect, true. The incurable illness that was silently ravaging you was destroying your body, and with it, your very essence of self. Not only was it disabling the switches that allowed you to feel and control your body, but your very personality would slowly erode, not just from the weight of your troubles, but because your emotions were also becoming harder to control.

Baizhu’s heart aches at the recollection of how you had wrung your hands in the face of his sombre words that had turned your world upside down. And how his heart had broken that he had been the one to deliver the news that shattered your dreams before his eyes. With a painful look in his eyes, he thinks back to how he had relentlessly tried a multitude of remedies to bring you relief; pushed needles into your supple flesh to release the flow of your Qi energy, given you pills and tinctures, salves and ointments, massaged and stretched your muscles to release their painful tight spasms. And you had borne the discomfort of his treatments without any complaint. Unlike his other patients, not once had you ever complained of the bitterness of his medicines. Over time, he had realised that his desire and passion to heal you was not just that of a doctor, but as someone who loved you.

A loving gaze in his eyes as he beholds your sleeping form, he recalls how you had asked him what his favourite flower was. His heart swells with emotion at the thought of how you had brought him those flowers as a thank you gift for his efforts. He laughs softly to himself at the recollection that he had eaten them because he had not realised that they were a gift to display in his office. His heart had fluttered with joy when, in the course of your frequent charming conversations during your consultations, he had discovered that you enjoyed floral teas and infusions, because it meant that despite him being an Adeptus, you both had something in common.

As the lantern flickers once more in the silent bedroom, he remembers the day he had summoned enough courage to blushingly confess his love for you with soft and quiet words. Back then he had dreamed of you sleeping by his side as you do now, but had never dared to believe that it would one day become a reality.

“You’d love me, even with my illness?” you had replied in shock and disbelief, your eyes filled with tears. “Even knowing what is to come? Even knowing that I will one day lose myself and suffer the indignity of becoming nothing more than a shell?”

Your reaction had startled him, for it had never occurred to him not to love you or take care of you until his dying day. You were no less worthy of love just because your body had decided to destroy itself and it had wounded him deeply to hear you speak that way about yourself, as though there could be people in the world who would see you as a burden.

“You will always be you.” he had replied with misty eyes as he caressed your cheek. “No matter what comes to pass, I will always see you as you are now, radiant and full of life, for that person will always be in here. ” He had pressed a gentle fingertip over your heart before holding your trembling body close as you sobbed on his shoulder at his words, clinging painfully to him as your fingertips dug into his back as though your life had depended on it.

With a slender finger, he wipes his eyes before caressing your head once more, pulling the covers up a little around your neck, around which hangs a protective Adeptus amulet he made for you; his first gift to you that wasn’t medicine.

As he delves further into his vivid memories, he feels the same butterflies as he did on the day that he had revealed that he was in fact an Adeptus. He had done so with apprehension in his heart, for he knew only too well that a snake did not have the beauty or majesty of other Adepti. Unlike a crane or a deer, most people would shudder and recoil at the idea of a snake spirit. And your reaction had startled him once more; you had cupped his face in your hands, repeating his own words to him – that the person you loved was still inside of him, no matter which physical form he took.

A smile blossoms on his face as he recalls the first time he had unveiled his true snake form to you as you had knelt on the grassy mountainside under the moonlight. How you had giggled when he had coiled his large scaly body around you, given your cheek a soft boop with his nose and rested his head in your lap, his flickering tongue tasting your happiness in the air. Instead of running in fear, you had hugged him tightly and called him beautiful. Your gentle hands had given him headpats for hours and scratched under his chin as he purred with blissful contentment and nuzzled against your soft warm body. Your soothing touch, so replete with love, had sent him into a deep, almost hypnotic meditative trance. In this way, chastely holding one another under a blanket of stars, you had spent your first night together, both knowing true peace for the first time in your lives.

That night had been the first time in a long time that he had shown his true spirit to a mortal, and even longer since he had been touched with any degree of affection. He had wept hot happy tears at your unhesitating acceptance of his fearsome form. Since then he had been your constant companion as well as the guardian of your health and your heart.

A warm feeling washes through Baizhu as he thinks of how much he loves coiling around you as you sleep, emanating a healing frequency that vibrates and hums through you, relieving your pain and fatigue, soothing your frayed nerves and easing the tension in your muscles. It brings him so much joy to envelop you in the vibrant purr of pure love, knowing you can feel a sense of peace in the knowledge that you can entrust all of your fears, weariness and anguish to him.

With a soft smile, he remembers how you had excitedly asked him about Adeptus cuisine, wanting to make him something he enjoyed, and the eagerness with which you had been willing to try his dishes, no matter how unconventional to the human palate. He had replied that he liked to eat flowers with a pleasant scent for breakfast, as they bring him a good feeling inside, calming and relaxing his soul. You had laughed melodiously and told him how cute it was. He had never been called cute before and it had made him feel as warm inside as an afternoon nap in the autumn sun. He wondered if you knew how cute you had been in that moment, with your bright and honest smile. You had giggled even more when he had bashfully confessed that he had eaten the flowers you had given him so long ago.

In the days when you were more mobile on your feet, you would go for walks and fill baskets with his favourite flowers for him to eat, or infuse them as a fragrant tea for the two of you to share, or stuff them into his pillow so the calming scent would help you both relax as you slept. The scent and the sight of these flowers would forever remind him of you.

As he continues to caress your head, he recalls the nervous flutter in his heart when he had told you all about the four sacred Adeptus love rituals marking the various stages of commitment to one another and his joy when you had shyly asked if he wanted to perform those rituals with you. To mark the first attraction and your burgeoning connection, you had fed each other orchids and lotus seeds at the Ritual of Pink Clouds, so-named after the clouds at dawn and the satin blush on the cheeks of shy new lovers. The Ritual of Flowing Waters symbolised your intent to deepen your relationship, irrevocably entwining your lives and sharing all your joys and tribulations. You had both gathered purest spring water from two different mountain streams and solemnly poured it into a single cup from which you both drank. Then the handfasting Ritual of the Blossoms, tying a cord he had woven himself from auspicious and medicinal plants and flowers, pledging yourselves to one another in this life and all of the lives to come. And then, after he had meticulously prepared the room with incense, lanterns and ceremonial foods, and you had both bathed to purify yourselves in accordance with the sacred tradition, you became an entanglement of limbs on a soft bed of silk and flowers as you consummated your love with his human form during the Ritual of the Red Moon, bringing each other to the heights of divine pleasure with happy tears as you bonded yourselves to one another for all time, the Blood Moon demurely hiding its face to give you privacy as it eclipsed itself in shades of warm carmine. It had been a moment so intimate, it had felt as though your very souls had touched.

Replaying these memories in his mind, it devastates him that your physical vessel, which houses such a kind, loving and honest heart, is disintegrating before his very eyes. It is being ravaged by an illness that has swept through you like wildfire, bringing untold destruction in its wake as it eats your body, mind and soul from the inside, like an Abyss curse. When he had first met you, the Bad Days were few and far between, but lately they have been increasing in number, and starting to outweigh the Good Days. You are but a prisoner inside your own body, which has become your jailer and your torturer. Your own mortal enemy. It is as though your body is possessed of a maleficent spirit with a mind of its own, hellbent on wreaking some sort of revenge for a sin unknown.

As he looks down at you nestled in the cosy bed and hand-knitted blanket, he reflects on how he had encouraged you to be creative, to preserve your neurological function and manual dexterity and help brighten your mood. So you had learned to knit, and had made a purple scarf for him out of the softest yarn, a physical manifestation of your love that he could wrap around himself to keep warm during the winter months, his snake spirit being sensitive to the cold. With great fondness he had run his fingertip over the irregular stitches, where your fingers had faltered; the imperfections making its charm. He had given you baoding balls to manipulate, and the gentle peals of their magical chimes were a source of comfort to him - as long as you could turn them, it meant that things hadn't gone too far.

And now your loving hands are numb and weak, barely able to grasp a teacup or open a jar. The baoding balls have fallen silent. It pains his heart to relive in his mind how you had cried the day you had irretrievably lost the feeling in them in the space of a few hours, but not because of the loss of function. The biggest woe of your selfless, loving heart was that you could no longer feel him as you caressed him. With a tear in his eye, he remembers how he had coiled helplessly around you to comfort you and how you had both wept as you once again petted his head in your lap, unable to feel his ivory scales rippling beneath your fingertips.

While his fingers continue to absent-mindedly caress you, Baizhu’s eyes glaze and become distant as he recalls how, with despair in his heart, he had prostrated himself before the Lord of Geo himself, begging him for help. The stoic dragon king had looked down at him and told him dispassionately that this pain was a sign that it was a most sincere love indeed. But that the pain was simply a natural consequence of living an immortal life. He recalled how, his forehead pressed into the dirt at Morax’s feet, his tears had fallen, causing glaze lilies to sprout from the ground. In his desperation, he had picked the flowers and brought them home to you to grind into medicine, but their taste was bitter and they had had no therapeutic benefit.

In accordance with his contract, Baizhu had protected the mortals of Liyue in his own way – unlike other Adepti he was never a warrior, but a healer.

But the many centuries spent in service of his obligations have taken their toll, and his body is now weak and decrepit, as frail as the mortals he has served for so long. Even more so. Even Rex Lapis himself is not immune to erosion. And yet, the insolent logic of nightmare had brought you – the woman he had waited an eternity to meet – into his life when he was least equipped to protect you, when his healing magic was at its lowest ebb. He spent every day wracked with regret at his past actions. Perhaps if he had been less selfless, he could protect what he truly loved now.

The cruelty of the world pained him. The cruelty of seeing you suffer, the inability to relieve your sickness or cure you in any meaningful way, the tragedy of only finding you when he was at his most vulnerable and weak. He was not even strong enough to carry you to your bed. All he could do was slow the progression of your illness and keep the inevitable at bay for as long as possible, and each time it would sap his own body of its strength. But he would gladly give every drop of his life essence to preserve your joy of living and bodily integrity just a little while longer. Seeing your smile and hearing your laugh echo in the world for just one more day would be more than worth it. How could he know that you would gladly give up your own health if healing you meant losing him?

And now he finds himself maligned by the citizens of the Harbour, their ungratefulness manifest as they mutter behind their hands and mock him for his quest for immortality, besmirching his name with rumours of experiments and cruelty against the apprentice he sheltered from Director Hu. Being an Adeptus, he had known of Qiqi’s story and had felt indirectly responsible for her plight, having seen her mortal form shivering with cold and fear in that cave so long ago, when even he had been forced to reluctantly pick up arms. And so, despite not being a man of high calibre or courage, he tried to relieve his karmic burden by taking her in. Robbed of her memory in her immortal form, she had no recollection of him.

What the two-faced gossipmongers who kowtow to him whenever they need healing do not know is why he seeks to unlock the elixir of immortality. How he longs for them to understand that it is for his true love, so that her fragile mortal vessel may hold her soul to accompany him for the rest of his days. And it is for himself, so that he may live long enough to find a cure for her suffering and, if he cannot, so he may continue to infuse his essence into her weakened body, to preserve her a little while longer.

Tonight, he curls his frail human form around you, spooning you as you sleep, a look of serenity on your beautiful face. Today had been A Bad Day. But not The Worst Day. The plane of unconsciousness is the only place where you have any respite from the daily struggle. But of course, in the morning you will wake once more. With the sun always comes the painful feeling of dread in his heart. Will today bring more deterioration? Will today be the last day that you can feel a limb or walk unaided? Will today be the day that your sight will finally fail, or you will suffer the indignity of losing control of your bodily functions? Every cursed dawn will herald a day closer to your inevitable fate, which is why you both take refuge in the tranquility of the night.

For now, all this cold-blooded reptile can do is absorb your warmth as he presses his face into your fragrant hair, smelling of the flowers he so adores. And weep bitterly.

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wardenparker · 2 years

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You’re So Vain Masterlist

Dieter Bravo x female Reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Oscar winning star Dieter Bravo’s reputation is suffering after the debacle of “Cliff Beasts 6″ and “Beasts of the Bubble”, so his management team has signed him on to a publicity stunt to find his soulmate and show the world a softer side of the erratic and unpredictable star. The plan quickly go awry, though, when Dieter’s soulmate wants nothing to do with him.

Explicit chapters marked with **

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7**

Chapter 8

Chapter 9**

Chapter 10**

Chapter 11**

Chapter 12** (marked explicit for drug use)

Chapter 13**

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue**

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Dieter Bravo #Dieter Bravo x reader #Dieter Bravo x you #Dieter Bravo x female reader #The Bubble #soulmate au #Trash Can Man #enemies to lovers #chronic illness #addiction #addiction recovery #recovery journey

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kaizdreamz · 8 months

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Watch your step.

1 CHAPTER / ?

High school AU, based on a dream I had reader x alhaitham

Um. So, reader is chronically ill (POTS), BUT still attends in person school part time, Alhaitham is in the other group of students (the grade is split in two, college classes and then normal AP classes)

He's a little bit stuck up. Kaveh is there too. He's nice

i feel like this is will be multiple chapters ngl, this is semi based on what I experienced when I was in highschool before COVID hit.

(Cᴀɴ I ᴀʟsᴏ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I'ᴍ sᴏʀʀʏ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇʟғ ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇɴᴛ ғɪᴄs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴄʜʀᴏɴɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ sᴘᴇᴄɪғɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴛʜɪs ᴏɴᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ POTS,, I ғᴇᴇʟ ʙᴀᴅ ʙᴜᴛ I ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ sᴇᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ɪʟʟɴᴇssᴇs)

You tap your pencil impatiently, glancing at the clock in your free period, you had a project you had to do with your group next period. Required your group to go outside, which... isn't bad, but you dreaded going outside and being watched like a hawk from teachers and... stared at from the boys... you aren't around much in school, you only come when you know you can make it / it's important.

"excuse me.." you hear a voice tap your shoulder. You look up and see one of the teacher's assistants from the B students.

"oh, hi" you study his features unsure whether he looks familiar, or you've just never seen him before.

"hi, so.. uh, I have paperwork I need you to fill out for the student council... this is your name right?" He points at the paper, you nod your head.

"yeah, that's me..."

"great! Okay, um. Come with me, the student council room is booked right now with a meeting so we're going to have to use one of the classrooms, all of them are in session minus one, which is in a free period." He neatly stacks the papers, turning for you to follow him. Red clips pin back his blonde hair, you grab what little stuff you brought to this class and follow him out of the door.

"we could've just used my classroom, y'know?" You ask, He gives you a tired smile.

"I asked your teacher ahead of time if I could use it to help get paperwork finished and she told me that since I'm on the different block of students to just use one of there's," he sighs. "She was really nice about it!"

"oohh" you hum as he opens the heavy metal doors for you, taking the shortest way to the block. The cold chill makes you shiver slightly.

"Mhm.. don't worry! This classroom has a study group in it but we'll be quiet so it's okay."

"I've never been in this part of the school, I bet everyone looks like nerds," you joke, he laughs before opening the other metal door and whispering.

"oh! My name is Kaveh, sorry I didn't introduce myself before... I already know your name, also we need to be kind of quiet.." he leans towards you, you glance into the other classrooms with classes going on and it seems brutal, at least.. you don't think you could comprehend it... to many numbers.

You nod at his statement, reading the board next to the door before accidentally tripping over the heavy mat in front of the metal doors. Kaveh is quick to make sure you don't fall, grasping your arm gently and helping you up.

"sorry!" You whisper, laughing a bit. Your heart hammers in your chest from the sudden burst of adrenaline.

"it's okay! I trip over them all the time!" He smiles laughing a little as you regain your balance. "It's this classroom ahead." He ghosts an arm over your back guiding you to the open classroom.

You glance around the room, there's so many books. A schedule is written on the whiteboard and there's eight students total in the room, ten if you count you and kaveh. As you walk past you glance at their notebook and your brain struggles to understand any of what you saw.

"right here," he whispers, pulling a chair out for you. You thank him and sit down as he hands you one sheet of paperwork. "Oh! I forgot to get you a pencil.. sorry, there should be one at the desk."

You glance at the desk in the front of the room, you smile at kaveh before carefully getting up. Standing still for a few minutes to regulate your blood pressure, he stares at you worryingly as you carefully maneuver throughout the room, accidentally bumping into a chair.

"oh I'm so sorry!" You whisper, the guy sitting there just stares up at you. You can't tell if he's mad or tired, probably both.

He slides his headphones down, setting his pencil down. "It's fine." He mutters, his deep voice catches you off guard.

You avoid eye contact but feel many eyes watching you as you quickly grab a pencil from the teacher's desk and hurriedly make it back to the table kaveh and you shared.

"you alright?" Kaveh mumbles, red eyes meeting your mildly scared ones.

"y-yeah.. just wondering if I already made an enemy here," you whisper, jokingly slightly as the eyes you felt before disappear.

"oh, him? Don't worry about it, he thinks he's better than everyone else, that's all. Did he say anything to you?" Kaveh's expression has changed four times after mentioning the guy you bumped into.

"well, besides after I apologized he said it was fine but he looked so angry." You sigh, sitting down. Everyone in the room, including kaveh looked so... professional.. while you were wearing sweatpants, a sweater that was far too big for you, compression socks, and slides.

'To be fair, anyone could assume you were homeless' you recall one of your friends commenting about your outfit the class prior to this. But who cares? You're comfy, and not even meant to be doing anything "professional" for a highschool student anyway, it must be a sort of dress code or something for B students.

you sigh, glancing behind you, the guy you bumped into went back to work, those headphones back on his head. you squint, as if judging him a bit. Kaveh smiles as he shifts through his own work. you turn back to the paper you have to fill out, probably for classes next semester - you look through it and yeah, that's exactly what it is.

you bounce your leg as you fill the paper out, glancing at the time every now and then. You finish the paperwork and sit there balancing the pencil on the bridge of your nose, the bell rings and everyone starts packing up, you slide back on your slide on shoes handing kaveh the finished paperwork. Kaveh smiles handing you a folded piece of paper in return.

"I'll walk you back to your next class," he offers, you accept the offer, smiling as you stuff the paper in your pocket. You'll look at it later.

"so, do you know everyone who was in that class?" You mumble, stuffing your hands in your pockets as he walks you the long way to your next class.

"I know of them, but I really know only one of them. He's.. well. Ugh." He groans, you smile at Kaveh's reaction to your question.

"you two friends?" You grin teasing as he rolls his eyes.

"I don't know what you call that." He brushes his blonde hair out of his eyes. Pulling his pullover closed to his body the cold breeze coming in through the heavy door being opened. "Why is it so cold.. gah." You snicker before wincing slightly.

"give me a second," you mumble, wobbling to the wall. You slide your sandal off pulling your sweatpant leg up to fix your compression sock.

students who pass you seem to point and laugh or glare down at you as you fix the aching pain from the tightened fabric. "You shouldn't do that here." A deep voice rumbles above you, you look up at the guy in front of you. It was him, from before.

You look up at him your eyes widen, feeling very small compared to him now. "Uh, sorry.. it just hurts sometimes—"

"Al haitham! Don't bully them, they were just fixing their sock." Kaveh walks up to you and him, glaring at the taller male in front of you.

You set your foot down, the coldness of the tiles make you shiver which makes both of the men look at you. You smile awkwardly as you quickly slide back on your thin shoes.

"I was merely telling them to not draw attention to themselves, Kaveh." He mutters, rolling his eyes as Kaveh helps you stabilize from looking down for so long. He glares at the other students who were laughing at you.

"I'm fine.." you mumble to Kaveh as he holds your arm up from your dizzy spell. Alhaitham scoffs. "Sorry, for taking up room in the hall." You apologize sarcastically.

Kaveh glances at you in shock, not expecting that response from you. He snickers slightly, "seems like you two are best of friends friends," Alhaitham scoffs, the 5 minute bell rings. "Remember we have a project today Kaveh." He walks away.

"is he normally like that?" You mutter, walking with Kaveh to your next class.

"yeah, that's Alhaitham for you." He sighs, "sorry, you might be late for class.."

"oh nono, don't worry, I have extra time.. if it wasn't obvious before, I was fixing my compression socks, I have a condition— don't worry! It's not contagious!" Kaveh looks at you confused, "people have assumed that before..."

"oh, is that why you got dizzy?" You nod, shrugging a bit.

"I'm only here for three days of the week, well... most times I am." You sigh, "I have it written in my 504 plan, accomodations and such." He nods.

"oohh, I understand, do people not always know?" You shake your head.

"not always, my class knows obviously and my teachers know but other students don't," you roll your eyes, "the days I don't come, someone from my class who lives nearby will drop off my work so I'm still in the.. uh, what's the word— like zone?" Kaveh nods.

"so you don't fall behind!"

"yeah!"

"That's smart, well I'm glad you're still able to do your schoolwork and take care of yourself at the same time," he gives you a friendly smile. you nod, smiling at kaveh.

The rest of the walk is in comfortable silence, eventually you two make it to your classroom, luckily students were still coming in so you weren't terribly late. Kaveh waves as you enter the classroom, you wave back and sit down. Leaning back in the chair as you try not to gasp for air, you don't want to cause a scene or anything.

"You okay?" The teacher places her hand on your desk, you nod your head as you look at the ceiling breathing deeply through your nose.

"walked a lot, student council needed me last period.." you huff, leaning over and placing your cheek on your hand.

"take your time to get situated." She smiles motherly at you, you nod as the rest of the students come in. She walks to the door.

You close your eyes waiting for the class to start, you remember the slip of paper kaveh gave you when you handed him the sheet back. You slip it out of your pocket, unfolding it carefully to see what it was.

"oh" you look at it in surprise, it was his number. You pull out your phone and quickly type it into it with a quick message. "hi"

You didn't expect a response but when your phone vibrated it was him, he sent back a "hi?". You quickly tell him who it was and his texting behavior changed to a more casual one.

"alright, is everyone here?" The teacher starts and you put your phone back in your pocket with the slip of paper. You nod slightly as everyone else responds. "Great, okay so we're going outside for today's class. It's nothing serious just write down what you see and what you think about what you see, that's really it, everyone has a partner so start pairing up,"

You look at the board, seeing who was your partner, it was the same person who came by to drop off your work. She was nice so it wasn't a total waste.

"alright, once you have your partners, grab a notebook or clipboard and a pencil, and start heading outside. Be mindful of other classes who may be outside. You may use your phones, but nothing inappropriate!" The teacher grabs a chair and leads the students out of the classroom, making sure they were quiet as the group passed other classrooms that were in session.

She props open the heavy metal door with the chair as everyone files out in the courtyard, it had rained a few days prior and the ground was soft. Probably one of the worst days to wear slides honestly.

You walk silently behind the rest of the group, the cold air of the October morning sends chills down your spine, it was partly cloudy too, it wasn't horrible weather it was nice. You look around for something of note as your partner went by the courtyard fence. You notice a tall male with grey hair and other students you don't recognize. Your eyes widen as you scoffed as you realized it was Alhaitham.

You speed walk towards your partner hoping he didn't see you, you sit down on the bar noticing the creek behind you two.

"oh, we could write about that..." you point, tapping the girl's arm.

"we could, but also... eh? What would we write about?" She tilts her head.

You shrug. she goes on her phone and you notice Alhaitham was looking in your direction, you make eye contact with him, which made him immediately turn the other direction. You scrunch your face as you notice a bug crawling on the bar. You scream and then start laughing as you scoot down the fences bar. You and your lab partner laugh and giggle as other kids come by to watch the slug.

You attempt to get up but end up getting your foot stuck which makes you fall. "Ow!—" you hiss, hitting your back on the metal part of the fence, twisting your ankle in the process.

"here wait let me help you-" your friend helps you out of the weird position you were in. Your eyes stung with tears as your foot throbs.

"I think I hurt my ankle," you mutter, your heart skips a beat and knocks the wind out of you. She helps you to your feet, you limp over the ditch, nearly falling again. "I'm fine.." you give your friend a painful smile as you attempt to walk back inside the building to get an ice pack. Realizing the door had been closed, probably moved by someone else, the teacher was so far away you couldn't possibly make it back without fainting.

You sigh, sitting down on the concrete next to the heavy metal door. You were next to the B student's lab work. You bury your head in your arms as the pain throbs through your entire leg.

Alhaitham sighs as he walks over to you, "I can take you inside. Are you able to walk?" He looks down at you, you quickly wipe the tears off your cheeks.

"... I'll be fine." You wince as you bring your leg closer to your chest. He sighs again.

"come on," he crouches down to your height, holding his hand out for you to take, you really just wanted to go inside. You take his hand and he helps you up, scooping you up and carrying you, bridal style, inside through the B door. You wrap your arms around his neck as students stare at you and guys snicker among themselves you want to to disappear.

"Alhaitham! What are you doing?" A teacher growls, glaring at you and him.

"taking them to the nurse, what else?" He responds so casually.

"Have you finished your assignment?" The teacher scoffs crossing his arms.

"hey wait— I'm sorry, I hurt myself outside and I couldn't get inside any other way, I can't walk either—" you gasp, the teacher scowls as he lets you and him past.

"minus the sprained ankle, what's the other reason?" Alhaitham questions, raising an eyebrow at you as you two past the teacher.

"I have a posture problem, which my symptoms are flaring up because I overdid it... again," you mutter bitterly. "It's not some sort of disease that'll spread. It's a nervous system— autonomic nervous system to be exact, defect." He nods as if he was completely understanding.

One of the jocks of the B team teased you and him, "oh lookit! He finally found someone!" They joke, he holds you closer to his chest. "If he doesn't want them I'll gladly swoop them off their feet," Disgusting. He glares at them, the hallway seems to go on forever.

"how do you normally deal with it?" He mumbles, glancing down at you.

"pushing through it— oh, do you mean like, when I have an episode? I just lay down until I feel like I can function again, if I can't then I'll just call home and go home." He makes a grunt noise as if he was listening.

You shiver slightly, the hallways are so cold. He took notice of your shiver and walks a little faster. You notice a certain blonde from the corner of your eye, "Kaveh!" You wave, he turns and sees Alhaitham carrying you. His expressions goes from excited to confused.

"hey!— what happened?" Kaveh runs up to you and Alhaitham.

"sprained their foot. I'm taking them to the nurse." Alhaitham cuts him off slightly.

"I would've never expected that from you.. are you okay?" Kaveh turns to you, worry covering his face.

"I'm okay for the most part, just my foot hurts a lot and I don't feel well, because of ykno.." Kaveh nods, Alhaitham glances down at your features, noticing how pale you've gotten.

"we should hurry.." he mumbles under his breath, it was so loud you couldn't hear what he said. "Kaveh, can you tell the teacher I will be late," kaveh nods, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"yeah yeah, hey, let me know if there's anything I can do," he lowers his voice, before going back into the classroom.

"are you and him friends?" You look up at Alhaitham, he's looking ahead to make sure he doesn't run into anyone or drop you.

"sort of, we're roommates." That answer catches you off guard, you think for a second.

"so... he's 18?" You mumble as if doing math in your head.

"yeah, I'm younger than him." That surprises you even more, your mouth drops open and your eyes widen. "...is it really that surprising?" He mumbles.

"I mean, yes?" You look at him as if he was crazy. "You're much taller and more mature looking than Kaveh— no offense to Kaveh, he is much more approachable than you," he laughs a bit.

The sound of him laughing catches you off guard, it wasn't a mocking laugh it was a good laugh, it sounded nice. When he smiles dimples are visible on his cheeks, he looks so much more different. "I've heard that before, I just never thought people thought kaveh was younger than me though,"

You smile as his small chuckle, before hearing commotion ahead of you. Two jocks throwing a football around and have a tussel in the hallway. You gulp anxiously, worried you're gonna get hit.

"Hey! Catch!" One of them yells at the other who ran behind you two, as the further one throws the ball Alhaitham carefully moves out of the way which makes the ball hit the other Jock in the stomach.

You smirk as the further jock laughs at the other's pain. Alhaitham turns the corner, walking a bit more and knocking on the nurses door, "come in," she responds.

"oh, it's you!" She directs her gaze to your face, "and Alhaitham, well good morning. What happened?" She tilts her head as he gently sets you down, helping you wobbling to the chair.

"they fell, and started breathing harshly. I don't think it would've been a good idea to let them walk by themselves and they hurt their ankle so I just carried them." He says swiftly, checking the clock. Sure enough, he was late. He sighs.

"I'll write a pass for you Alhaitham, don't worry. Could you elaborate on breathing harshly? Did the wind get knocked out of you?" She pulls up a chair to you checking your face. You seemed a lot paler than usual, your breathing was wobbly but you tried not to make it a big deal.

"I fell and hit the ground hard, which made me get my foot caught on the fence... my class was outside during a lab report, and yeah.." you huff, every other word you had to take a deep breath in. "..i dont know if i can make it the rest of the day," you sigh, disappointment written on your expression.

She puts an oxygen meter on your finger watching your heart's bpm and oxygen level, it wasn't reliable but it was better than nothing. She hums, quickly writing a note for alhaitham.

"Mr alhaitham, could you get their stuff from the classroom, I think I'm going to have to call home." She grabs a small baggie and fills it with ice and places it on top of your compression sock to stop the swelling. He nods, turning to you.

"what classroom were you in?" He asks still in the same monotone voice from before.

"um, 23A, the teacher probably heard what happened.." you mumble, sighing. Wincing as you hold the ice pack to your foot.

he nods, "is there anything else?" his gaze held yours a bit longer than it should've.

"that's all, thank you Alhaitham." she smiles as she reaches for her phone to call your parents, Alhaitham gives you a weird glance before exiting the nurses office.

You sigh, feeling even more dizzy. Pulling your knees to your chest, cringing at the pain in your foot. You closed your eyes as the teacher called your parents, Alhaitham stopped by again to see your head buried in your knees. Stopping yourself from crying, he doesn't say anything but leaves your things in the chair next to yours. A sticky note on top of it. Once he closes the door you look up and read the note, "sorry you don't feel well." That was all it said, his handwriting was neat and pretty, delicate cursive in a green pen.

---

., ok so this is definitely more than one chapter, Its roughly 3.5k words, I hope you enjoy :]

#junesl1ght_#female reader #genshin fanfic #male reader #gn reader #al haitham x reader #chronically ill reader #POTS reader #Highschool au genshin #Gn reader x alhaitham #alhaitham x gn reader

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pmak2002 · 10 days

Note

Could you write a sick fic about Timothee Chalamet? Something related to asthma or heart issues, but always non life threatening. Thank you, I came across your work not too long ago and I really like it!

You hated seeing Timothee struggling to breathe when he was dealing with Asthma attacks. You hated how he wheezed a lot at night and the coughing wasn’t much better.

He groaned and leaned against you after once again struggling to breathe properly.

You handed him his inhaler.

“I know it tastes bad but you need it baby.”

He coughs and gags harshly.

“Need to spit out some mucus?”

He shakes his head and swallows hard.

“Come on let’s do your albuterol.”

He whines you know he hates it but he needs it to breathe properly.

You help him take the medicine and after that you hand him a mint to take the taste out of his mouth.

“Good job.”

He leans against you exhausted from feeling so worn out from all the coughing. You cuddle him and rub his back.

“I hate feeling like this. It hurts” he whined

“I know my love.”

He coughed harshly and gagged you immediately grab the puke bowl for him to cough up the mucus from his lungs. Which he does and once it stops he’s crying.

“Oh buddy please don’t cry you’ll only hurt more.”

You hold him tight and try to console him. He had been doing well on the inhalers prescribed but after having a cold. The need for his inhalers doubled. One of which he had to brush his teeth after using it.

Timothee started to cough and wheeze. You gently patted his back and tried to bring him some relief. You were grateful there was meds to help him manage this. But at the same time he still struggled and felt awful. You kissed his head and tried to help him.

Later that night

You help Timothee with both of his inhalers before bed. He then goes and brushes his teeth.

Then crawls into bed beside you and you cuddle him close.

Here it is Anon! Sorry it’s not the best plz forgive me 😅

#timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfiction #thanks anon!#thanks for the ask!#fanfic asks #sick fic #timothee x reader #timothee fanfic #timothee imagine #Timothee chalamet sickfic #chronic illness

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linesfromzaun · 2 years

Text

Pill Bottles (Silco x Chronically Ill!Reader)

Rating: T

Tags: protective Silco, descriptors of pain, Gen!reader, Gen!illness, threat of violence (from Silco), comfort

A/N: I actually just lost my medication bc my prescription ran out and my doc is gone until April. I’m reposting this from AO3 bc I figured you guys would enjoy. I don’t know when I’ll get back into the writing kick but here’s my desperate attempt to re-comfort myself lol

You wrap a blanket around yourself as you head for Silco’s office, feeling the pain in your body become intense. Shuffling down the hallway, your hunched figure avoids eye contact with everyone.

You hear voices behind the door and you enter, seeing Silco in a very heated meeting. He looks to you, surprised, and let’s go of the collar of the poor man in front of him. “You are supposed to be resting.”

You knew he has a reputation to uphold, so he wasn’t purposefully being distant. “I know. I was just checking if…it came in?”

“That is the exact reason why this gentleman is here. He was smuggling your prescriptions for profit, not caring of the consequence.” Silco’s tone is evil, and it startles you.

You walk beside the tamed beast that is your husband, and you hold a hand up. “May I?” He gives a harsh grunt and goes to grab a cigar. You look down at the man who appears frightened with one foot in the grave. Still, you give a polite smile and begin to explain. “I don’t think you realize why I need those. It’s not for the reason you think it is. You’re already aware that Zaun’s… atmosphere can cause genetic changes and activate certain illnesses hidden in our DNA. I need those, because of how Zaun’s pollution has affected my body. They keep me from extreme pain.” You take the bag out of his hand and he scowls.

“How do I know it’s not a lie?”

“Watch your tongue before I cut it out!” You allow Silco to stand behind you to silence the man further. “You have no reason to demand such things, boy. You are lucky, I would have slit your throat if my spouse was not currently in the room.” Silco grabs his neck and the man begins choking for air. “Next time, you do not delay bringing those here. Otherwise, I will not be this merciful.” He shoves the man to the ground and stands above him, watching as he struggles to take in air. “Now, get out.” The man trips over his own feet as he sprints out the door, slamming it behind him.

Silco’s body drops a majority of the tension and turns to you, scanning over you with concerned eyes. “You are still withdrawing, you need to rest.”

“I got lonely, I don’t want to deal with this alone.” He offers his hand out to you and you take it lightly. Using your conjoined hands, he pulls you into a soft embrace.

“I cannot promise that you will not experience this again. Topside is becoming diligent with what passes through the border.” You give a minuscule smile and cup the scarred side of his face lightly; making sure to leave his foundation undisturbed.

“You’re doing everything you can, and I love you. You’re balancing a family and a growing nation. I’m willing to sacrifice my health to have an independent nation…for you and for Jinx.” He shakes his head and rests his forehead against yours.

“You are in pain. I will not allow that pain to debilitate you. You need these, even if they are of Topside’s making. You need all the care I could offer.” You press your lips to his, and you feel him sink into your body slightly.

“You like to think that man from the past died in the river, but I think that’s untrue. While you came out more scarred, you’re still as gentle and kind. You just only allow those you trust to see that beautiful soul of yours. I have the privilege of receiving that love from you. I have a husband that risks his safety for my well-being, I don’t think I could deserve better than that.”

Silco’s eyes flash with emotion, his breathing slightly heavier at your words. You know it’s what he needs to hear, especially now. You could tell the guilt of you being in pain was eating at him. You don’t want him to feel guilt over something he had no part in. “Every day I feel as if you deserve more than what I can give. Waking up and still seeing you by my side keeps me fighting.” You wrap your arms around his neck and hide your face in his shoulder. “Thank you for believing in me.”

“Of course, my love.” He pulls away from you and holds your hips in his hands.

“I am clearing my schedule for the next 24 hours. I will make sure to monitor you— so you can restart your dosage.” You smile and walk him to the sofa, allowing him to get the idea. He lies down on his back, creating the ideal cuddling position for lying on his chest. “Before then, you need sleep.” You yawn and curl into him, feeling his arms wrap around you.

“Yes, sir.”

#silco #arcane silco #silco my beloved #silco x reader #silco fanfic #silco x female reader #silco x y/n #silco one shot #silco x gender neutral reader #silco x male reader #Silco x chronically ill reader

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uwingdispatch · 2 years

Text

Home

Notes: Cassian Andor/Reader, everyone lives au, post-rebellion, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, disabled reader, domestic fluff

CW: PTSD, chronic illness, disability, implied sexual intimacy, mention of alcohol

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

You were surprised when you woke to find Cassian gone, a note on the counter to let you know he had to go off-world for something unexpected. But that he’d be home tonight, tomorrow at the latest.

“This doesn’t sound good,” you say to yourself before the patio door opens behind you and you find that Cassian has left Kay behind.

“You’re awake,” Kay says. “Arseven and I were tending to the garden. The berries along the fence should be ripe soon—”

You cut the droid off “Where is he?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“He doesn’t want you involved.”

“And he left you home, what, to take care of me?”

Arseven comes through the patio door carrying a basket of fresh vegetables, which she hands to Kay before tapping your leg with one of her little arms, whistling and beeping: I take care of you.

Your heart is beating faster now and you pour yourself a glass of water if only to have something to do with your hands.

“Cassian said I wouldn’t be welcome where he’s going,” Kay says in his usual dry tone. “But I’m not particularly welcome on this planet either, am I?”

Like most days, Kay is wearing a scarf. This one is woven cotton, red and black—something you’d picked up at a local market. You’d given Kay his first scarf not long after you’d started dating Cassian. It was a way for him to signal his independence to the galaxy. To let folks know he wasn’t a danger to them.

“Where is he?” you ask again. “Do I need to be worried?”

You realize Cassian’s jacket—the one with the Rebellion starbird on the shoulder—is hanging on the hook by the door. Where it’s supposed to be. But he never hangs it there. It’s always slung over a chair or the back of the couch. You reach into the pockets of the jacket and pull out his com device.

You hold it up for Kay to see. “What the hell is going on?” you ask.

Arseven chirps at Kay, whistles low. Share why.

“You, too, Seven?”

“She only knows what I’m going to tell you,” Kay says. “A childhood friend of his asked for help. He didn’t know this person was even alive and is worried that it may be a trap. But he felt he had to try.”

“And you let him go?”

“I told him it was a bad idea.”

You feel tears in your eyes. Cassian has told you so many times that he’s not a soldier anymore. Not a spy. Recently you’ve realized he doesn’t even carry a blaster anymore—not most of the time. You go to the garage and punch in the code on the weapons locker, finding it nearly empty. Where could he be that he can’t bring Kay or his com but needs to be heavily armed? Cassian has seen some of the most lawless places in the galaxy, and your heart hurts to think that that’s the kind of place where he might be right now.

“Do you need a hug?” Kay asks.

You turn to the droid, almost as if to check that this is the same K-X droid you’ve been sharing your life with for the past several years. He’s holding his arms out, and it seems so unusual, this posture.

“Since when do you do hugging?”

“Cassian said I had to.”

But you do need a hug, so you let Kay wrap his metal arms around you.

“Can you contact him?”

“Cassian is currently out of range.”

You take a deep breath in, slowly let it out.

Arseven lets out a series of whistles and beeps. Need an activity.

“You’re right,” you say. “There’s something I need to finish, and today is a better day than most to get it done.”

Seven is already rolling into your office—a room that you and Cassian had recently transformed into a space that could almost also serve as something of a studio. Your sewing machine is out on one of the tables, and when you get to it, Seven is already pulling the pieces of your project from a drawer.

“When he does get home,” you tell Seven, “I’m going to be so angry with him. I’m already angry. But it will be worse for him, won’t it? Whatever he’s doing…it sounds overwhelming. Maybe it will be nice for him to have something soft, something that brings back good memories.”

Seven projects the photo of the stuffed bantha, one exactly like the one his mother had given him when he was young, a toy he kept into his adulthood, before things got…complicated. The events that transpired between when he left home and when he joined the rebellion weren’t something he ever really talked about with you. But a few months back, after a few glasses of wine, Cassian saw the toy in an old holofilm, his breath hitching slightly as he said he’d had the same one, that he kept it on a shelf in his room even after he outgrew plush toys.

Arseven pats one of her tiny arms on your materials and chirps: Perfect replica.

“I don’t know about that, Seven,” you said, holding the yet-to-be stuffed toy in you hands, your fingers aching to know if this was the right fabric to choose. Is it too soft? Not soft enough? “It’s not perfect. But it might be close.”

You were startled awake by the sound of someone pounding on your door, your heart already racing when you sat straight up on the sofa. You’d been reading a book last you remembered, maybe resting your eyes a little. And now it sounded like there was a tornado in the hallway outside your apartment.

“I’m coming,” you yelled, easing yourself off the couch as quickly as you could despite the stiff ache in your joints.

When you opened the door, you found Cassian looking disheveled in a hoodie and jeans. He swept you into his arms, kissed your forehead, squeezing you tight as he said, “Thank kriff, I was so worried.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Last night you told me you were feeling strange,” he said. “So when you weren’t answering your com—it’s not like you. I couldn’t stop thinking that maybe you were hurt…or that maybe something—”

“Slow down,” you told him. He released his grip, perhaps just now realizing how tightly he was holding you, giving you the space to take his face in your hands. You swept his messy hair out from out of his eyes. “Look at me. I’m okay. My com link has just been acting up, remember?”

“I remember now.” He pressed his forehead to yours and sighed.

It had only been nine months or so since you’d met Cassian, and there were times when this kind of intensity was a lot for you. But today you didn’t mind. And you lead him to the sofa where you wrapped a blanket around the both of you, cuddling into his chest.

“I just need a new com device,” you said. “And I’m going to get one after I finish work tomorrow.

You sat in the quiet for a while, the sound of children playing outside your building the only thing you could hear other than his heartbeat.

“You get dizzy when you panic,” he said. “When I was on Coruscant for work last month—”

Your anxiety had spiraled after a difficult doctor’s visit followed by a bumpy cab ride home and you’d ended up fainting in your kitchen. It had only been for a second but the way you’d crashed into a chair had left a nasty bruise on your hip.

“I can’t control it. When my body starts in that direction, I just have to try not to fall.”

“I know it’s not your fault,” he said. “I know what it’s like. But I have Kay.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “My heart, I never want you to be hurt and alone ever again.”

“You know, I’ve been alone for a long time, Cass.”

“Not anymore,” he whispered.

He kissed you softly, cradling your jaw in his hand. Something unwound in you as you threaded your fingers through his soft hair, a letting go of trepidation, somehow knowing that if there had ever been any turning back from falling hard for this man, that offramp was no longer an option.

“I never thought I’d let myself get this close to someone again.” Cassian said.

“I’m glad you did,” you replied.

“I should explain.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he said, stroking your cheek. “There were a lot of times that I should have been there for people. People who cared about me even when I was at my worst.” His voice was low and he took a deep breath as he almost unconsciously began to caress your sore back. And then he laughed—a familiar laugh not of joy but discomfort. “I think sometimes about how my mother wouldn’t even turn the heat on unless I was home to make sure she did. And there were a lot of times when I wasn’t home.”

You laid your head back down on his chest and he wrapped both arms around you. Neither of you was particularly good at this kind of conversation. So you listened to the steady beat of his heart as he kissed the top of your head.

“It’s terrifying, isn’t it?” you asked.

“What is?”

“This closeness. How you’ve allowed me to really know you, and to have you. But I know some of the things you did during the war. I try not to think about it but there are definitely beings out there who wish you harm. You might have Kay, but every time you go off-planet I worry that something—”

“Listen to me, my heart” he said. “There is no one in this galaxy that could keep me from coming home to you. Do you understand me?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I will make it that simple.”

When you saw the look in his eyes, you believed him.

It’s after dark when you hear Cassian’s landspeeder pull into the garage, the back door clicking shut, a bag dropping with some weight to the floor. You’re in your office cleaning up, but Cassian is apologizing while he’s still in the kitchen, an ache in his voice apparent as he calls your name.

“I know you’re upset with me,” he says, “but I’m ready to make it up to you, if you’ll allow it.”

You’re standing in the hallway when he sees you, stopping abruptly, beginning his nervous habit of running a hand through his hair only to find he’s tied it back. Even in the dim evening light, you spot an oil stain on the henley he’s wearing, a tear on the sleeve near his elbow that, upon further scrutiny, looks like a blaster burn.

“You were shot at today,” you say.

He rolls up the sleeve and peels back a bacta patch to reveal a small wound that’s mostly healed. “Just a graze,” he says. “My heart, I promise, it’s over.”

“Don’t,” you say. “Not tonight.”

Cassian nods, averting his eyes, eventually saying softly, “I understand.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “Come here.”

He sweeps you into his arms, kissing your hair, your cheek, your neck as he cradles your head against his shoulder. “If there had been any other way.”

“I know.” It’s hard to be angry when you’ve also spent your whole day afraid for him, and now he’s here, holding you tight, an injury perhaps his own natural consequence.

“Where’s Kay?”

“You know how he gets when he has to keep secrets from me—I sent him and Seven on an errand. He’ll be back soon, but you should let him know you’re home if you haven’t already.”

“Right,” he says. “Let me go get my com.”

You settle into the sofa, doing your best to hold back tears. As hard as this is for you, you don’t know what it’s like to have everyone you love taken away from you over and over and over again. To feel like you are responsible for this loss. Cassian has done so much work to heal over the last ten years. But he’s still a man. Whatever he did today, he is carrying it and so much more with him right now.

When he sits next to you on the sofa, he has a blanket with him—it looks like the one he usually keeps for you on his U-Wing.

“You took your own ship today?”

“No,” he says. “But I know how much you love that blanket, I thought you might like one for the house. So I made a stop on the way back, found that artist’s stall.”

He’s pulling you toward him, the blanket wrapped around the both of you when he sees what you’ve set on the living room table for him to find.

“Where did you get that?” he asks, almost panicked for a split second before remembering where he is

“The toy?” you ask, “I made it. It’s not exactly the same, but—”

He reaches for it, taking it in both hands, his fingers running carefully over the different fabrics, the little button eyes.

“Thought you might need a nice memory tonight,” you said. “Even if I’m angry. I know this probably wasn’t an easy day for you.”

“You made this today?” He asks, not taking his eyes off of the plush bantha in his hands.

“I started it a while back,” you said. “But I needed a project today, so I finished it.”

He has tears in his eyes when he looks at you and asks, “I know today was hell for you. Why are you so good to me?”

“Cassian,” you say, “even on our worst days, you’re still everything to me.”

“This is…so much,” he says, struggling for words. “This means…just so much.”

“We’ll talk about today when you’re ready. Right now—”

“Right now I hope you’ll just let me take care of you,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Have you eaten?”

“I thought we could order something when you got home.”

“Okay,” he says, putting the little bantha back on the table. “I’m here. And I don’t care if you want dumplings from Tatooine. You will have them.”

Cassian had come to know your kitchen as well as he knew his in the last few months and was now sautéing vegetables on your stove, having insisted on making you dinner. You’d been a bit surprised the first time he’d cooked for you—he hadn’t seemed like the kind of man who would know how to follow a recipe, let alone work without one. He’d made a quick trip to the local grocer and come back with ingredients for one of your favorite comfort meals.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” you called from your cozy spot on the couch. “I don’t think I’ve even done dishes this week.”

“It’s taken care of,” he said. “After scaring you like that it’s the least I can do. Your neighbors probably think I’m a maniac.”

“They can think what they want. I know who you are.”

He added the vegetables to a large pan, which he then placed in the oven before joining you on the sofa.

“You do, don’t you?” he said.

You took Cassian’s jaw in your hand, caressing his short beard. And he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours for just a moment before kissing you, delicately at first, his lips capturing yours like a promise, before the kiss deepened with a hunger you felt as well, a need to be as physically close as possible to this man.

You ran your hands along the hem of Cassian’s shirt, soon letting your fingers wander over the warm skin of his stomach.

“Right now?” he asked.

“If you want to,” you said. “How long do we have before dinner?”

“Long enough.”

He stood, then pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the sofa and you threw your arms around his neck as you both started down the hall, discarding items of clothing as you went, finally in you bedroom, throwing back the covers and sliding into the sheets together.

“My heart,” Cassian said, his warm brown eyes almost sparkling as he looked at you, almost like he could see your every desire. “I love you so much. And it does frighten me. But I need you to know that there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I know,” you said, lacing your fingers through his hair. “I love you, too, Cassian. More than anything.”

When you wake, for a split second you’re on the edge of panic, sitting straight up as you come out of a nightmare with the gut feeling that you’ve found yourself in an empty bed again, Cassian gone, perhaps never coming back.

But then he’s there, his hand gentle on your shoulder as he eases you back into bed. “I’m right here,” he says.

“What?” you ask, still foggy from sleep.

“You were calling my name,” Cassian says, his sleepy eyes looking straight into yours. He pulls you close. “You feel feverish. Were you having a nightmare?”

“It’s a blur,” you say, “but…you were gone again.”

“I’m so sorry, my heart.” He kisses your forehead. “Yesterday…it won’t ever happen again.”

“Can you promise that?”

“I think so.”

“Okay,” You say. “That’s good enough for now.”

When Cassian kisses you, sweet and soft, a calm washes over you and you let yourself melt into him, snuggling back under the sheets as he holds you close.

“Did you find your friend, Cassian?”

“Yes,” he says. “I did.”

“Is he safe now?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“But I’d rather focus on you now,” Cassian says, pressing another gentle kiss to your lips. “I am yours. All day. Whatever you want to do.”

This, of course, is a hint that he’s not ready to tell you about his friend, or what happened the day before. Your tuck his hair behind his ear, smoothing out his bedhead, caressing his face before running your fingertips over his shoulders and along his bicep. Recently he’d had a feather tattooed along the inside of his left arm, covering an old injury. It was a feather from a bird native to Kenari—a bird that was likely extinct now along with most creatures from the planet where your husband was born. He is a survivor, and with that, you know, comes a heavy burden.

“I'm just so glad you’re here,” you say.

“So am I, my heart,” He says, easing your head onto his shoulder, kissing your forehead. “The weather has been so nice lately. Do you want to take a picnic to the park? Maybe see what’s going on downtown? I think the waffle cart is open on weekends now.”

“That sounds perfect,” you say, even though a part of you wants to stay in bed with Cassian all day, your bodies close and unshared with the rest of the world.

But soon you’ve found the same grassy spot where Cassian proposed to you all those years ago. It’s early fall in your quadrant of Ralltiir, and it’s hard not to notice the butterflies that are everywhere, stopping in your city briefly on their journey south for the winter. One has perched on Cassian’s knee, and he’s frozen in place so as not to disturb it as it flexes its wings open and closed. You offer the butterfly your finger and it quickly climbs on. You bring it closer to your face so you can better see its colors.

“Is there a creature in the world that doesn’t trust you?” Cassian asks.

“You should have met the tooka-cat when I first took him in,” you tell him as the butterfly takes off into the wind. “He hid in the cupboard under the sink for two weeks. Wanted nothing to do with me.”

“But he came around,” he says.

“So did you.”

You lean into Cassian’s embrace as he tips your chin toward him, kissing you like you’re not in a crowded park. Like it’s the first night he kissed you, just inside the doorway of your old apartment, already perhaps knowing this would be the first kiss of so, so many down the years. With your arms around his neck you run your thumb along your wedding ring, thinking only of how complete your life feels with this man in it, even on the days when he exhausts you.

When he rests his forehead against yours, whisps of his hair tickling your cheeks, he says, “My heart, from the moment you let me in, there was no turning back from you.”

“You’re an extraordinary man, Cassian Andor,” you say. “And you owe me a dessert waffle.”

“I owe you so much more,” he says, rising to his feet and then helping you up off the ground. “But if what you want right now is a waffle, I can make that happen.”

With his arm around your waist, you make your way to your favorite waffle cart, parked just down the street. As you’re about to get in line, Cassian kisses your temple, whispers in your ear, “Thank you for being my home.”

And before you can reply, he captures your lips with his, the smile in his eyes also present in his kiss, and you throw your arms around his neck laughing, the smell of sugar in the air, knowing that whatever unfinished business Cassian is dealing with, whatever lead him to take off without warning yesterday—it will be all right. It might take some time to sort out, but you’ve both seen each other through hard things before. One more hard thing won’t break you.

★★★★★★★★

Thank you so much for reading! I really wanted to write something that somehow incorporated some of the elements we have from the first 5 episodes of Andor. I’m sure episode 6 will break my headcanon again, but that’s fine.I’ll just…edit. I hope this fic makes you feel seen and loved!

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