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megalony · 4 months

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A Burden On You

This is an Evan Buckley imagine, based on an anon request. I hope you will all like it, any feedback is always lovely.

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Summary: (Y/n) has a chronic illness and begins to worry that she may be relying on Evan too much. When she has an accident at home, she's too nervous to tell him or ask for help.

Enjoy.

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"Happy birthday," A soft grin lit up (Y/n)'s face and she held out the navy blue and silver striped bag in her hand towards Eddie.

She could feel Evan's arms curve around her waist and a shiver flooded down her spine when he tilted his head to the side and kissed her temple. His fingertips ran up and down her hips and his chest pressed down into her back and shoulders, keeping her pinned against his front.

They both watched Eddie spin on his heels and a glimmer of shock fluttered in his eyes while he formed a bright smile. He happily took the present and leaned to the left to place it down on the table before he reached out for them both. He was careful. He always was when he was around (Y/n), just like the rest of the team. Eddie wanted to hug her but he never knew if he might hurt her or cause her some discomfort.

(Y/n) looped her arms around his shoulders, grinning wider when she became wedged in between them both like they were sardines squashed into a tin.

"You made it. How are you?"

"Good, we're good. I've missed you all, and Chris." (Y/n) patted his shoulder before she sank back into Evan's chest and reached down to hold his wrists that were around her waist.

She hadn't seen anyone from the station in weeks and it always made (Y/n) feel bad when she didn't get to see them or have a catch up.

"He's missed you too."

(Y/n) didn't always like socialising. It wasn't easy to be around people whenever she was in the middle of a flare up. She had fibromyalgia. Chronic pains that affected her in hundreds of different ways; little pains that Evan would barely bat an eyelid at, crippled (Y/n) down in agony. Illnesses flared up her pains and made her feel faint. Cold weather sank into her bones and made her stiff muscles even worse. Headaches felt like hammers tapping away at her head until she was sure her skull was caved in.

When her condition flared, it worsened (Y/n)'s sleep and she had a lot of trouble sleeping. She couldn't usually stay asleep for too long which led her to be tired during the days and if she slept for too long, her muscles seized up and it made walking or bending or any general movement almost impossible.

She had been all ready and lined up to attend the station Christmas party until she has a fall. She had been dosed up on painkillers and on the day of the party, (Y/n) could barely walk. Her leg had shooting pains radiating from her hip to her foot and her leg had seized up for days.

"Where is he?" Evan glanced his eyes around the station while he rested his chin on top of (Y/n)'s head and began swaying them from side to side.

He wanted to see Chris but he couldn't spot him anywhere in the station so far.

They had all decided that since Hen and Bobby were on shift today, they would throw Eddie a big party here at the station. Then at least everyone could be here to celebrate and it was a relaxed atmosphere and there was much more space to party.

"Helping Bobby put the candles on the cake. Which reminds me, I've got a bone to pick with you." Eddie pointed his finger at Evan who was trying his best not to grin.

He squeezed (Y/n)'s hip lightly when she leaned her cheek against his neck. He didn't have to look down to know she was grinning because she knew exactly what Evan had done to wind Eddie up. He couldn't simply turn up to the party and give Eddie a present, Evan had to play some sort of trick on him or mess him about in some way. He had had a quiet word with Chris yesterday ready to wind Eddie up.

"Oh?"

"Thanks for telling him I've just turned forty- which I haven't and you know it. He's been running round telling everyone he can't fit enough candles on my cake."

Eddie hadn't been best pleased this morning when Chris woke him up to wish him a happy birthday and suddenly exclaimed that he was forty. It didn't take long for Eddie to work out where Chris had learned that from. But once they arrived here, Chris gave a handful of candles to Bobby and began telling people he didn't have enough candles for how old his dad was. Eddie wasn't near forty yet, he had a decade to go before he would be forty.

"You're welcome old man."

"Buck we're the same age." The smile slipped from Eddie's face as he planted his hands down on his hips and shook his head.

"I'll go grab us some drinks," Evan kept his voice quiet and hovered his lips over the shell of (Y/n)'s ear. He grinned, brushing his nose against her skin as his grin morphed into a smirk when he knew he had riled Eddie up. He let his lips wander down to (Y/n)'s cheek where he pressed another kiss before he unravelled himself from around her and moved towards the stairs.

"He's just trying to wind you up, don't listen to him." (Y/n) patted Eddie's shoulder before she left him to look through his presents that were steadily piling up on the table.

(Y/n) fluttered around the station floor for a little while and had a quick chat with Hen before she moved towards the stairs. She knew Chris would be up there somewhere and she wanted to see and talk to him. It had been two weeks since Chris had been round to stay with her and Evan and (Y/n) was starting to miss him. He was like their nephew, they were his main babysitters and he regarded them as his aunt and uncle.

It took a while to get herself up the stairs. It didn't matter that her pain was on a very good level today, she still felt stiff today and her legs were barely under her control.

Exercise was one of the main things that helped her condition.

And with Evan being hooked on his training and exercise to help with his job, it was something they did together. Evan would go on runs and do hard training in the morning, but when he wasn't at work, he would train in the afternoon with (Y/n) for a while. They went on a lot of walks as well.

(Y/n) needed to keep moving, if she sat or laid down for too long, her muscles would start to seize up and her pain scale would increase. She was usually on the go from the moment she got up until the moment she went to bed. It didn't matter how slow (Y/n) moved or how little she managed to get done in a day, she was always up and about.

Her eyes found Evan before they scouted round and found Chris. While Chris was trying to fit as many candles on the chocolate cake Bobby made as possible, Evan was stood over near the pool table close by the fire pole.

He had two drinks in hand and his hips were slouched back against the pool table that wasn't being used.

A smile pulled at (Y/n)'s lips as she advanced towards him, she could draw Evan into a game of pool while Chris was busy in the kitchen. He loved a game and whenever he lost, especially to (Y/n), he would get fired up and they would keep going until he won at least one round. And (Y/n) was feeling good tonight, she was having a good day and felt able to try and beat Evan in a game or two.

She advanced towards him and tried to see who he was with. (Y/n) didn't recognise her. She was probably one of the new recruits, Evan said they'd had quite a few new recruits in and out of the station in the last week or so.

Evan tried to force himself to smile as he leaned his hips a little further back into the pool table until he was almost sitting on it.

This was the part of parties he didn't like; getting dragged into conversations with people he'd rather not talk to. And Evan was programmed to be kind and polite, it was in his nature so he didn't find it easy to walk away or find excuses to leave.

He didn't want to be talking to Lucy.

She wasn't someone Evan was very fond of, she was very full of herself and she didn't fit well with the team. She seemed to want to do things her own way and work on her own rather than work with them all as a team. And the last time they had all been out to a club after work, Lucy had tried to kiss him.

That night had been forgotten. Evan had politely declined and hurried away as fast as he could, and from then onwards, Evan did his best to avoid Lucy. They both tried to be polite and pretend it didn't happen but he didn't want to be around her when she always tried to get a bit too close to him and she didn't understand he didn't want to be around her like this.

"So, you've brought you're girlfriend this time?" Lucy took a long sip of her beer and leaned her right arm out on the balcony rail. The way she tilted her head to the side and smiled made Evan shiver uneasily.

"(Y/n) always comes with me to the station parties." Evan's lips quirked into a dazed, slightly confused smile.

Why was she so surprised? This was a party and families and partners were always invited to tag along. And this party was for Eddie. He was Evan's best friend and therefore he was close to (Y/n). Of course she would be here to see Eddie and celebrate with everyone.

"You didn't bring her to the Christmas party, did you?"

"No, she wasn't very well."

Evan bit the corner of his lip and looked down at his feet. Why was she doing this? Where was she going with this conversation?

Christmas had been difficult for everyone. They had numerous emergencies, all of them had been called in for extra shifts at one point or another. Chris hadn't been very well, he had a bad chest infection which meant Eddie was stressed. And then (Y/n)'s condition had flared up and she could barely walk so Evan had been anxious and desperate to stay home with her to look after her.

He turned up for an hour at the Christmas party, then he went home to stay with (Y/n). It felt better to be at home than trying to party and have a good time when he wasn't feeling the festive mood.

"Oh, Hen mentioned she has fibromyalgia. Isn't that a bit, annoying, for you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Something dangerous burned in Evan's eyes and his smile turned into a broken grimace as he looked down at her. Whatever she was thinking, she best not say it to Evan because he wasn't going to hold his tongue or mince his words here if she went down this road. He wasn't in the mood for someone to start disrespecting his partner.

And the way Lucy leaned back and shrugged her shoulders gave off such a casual vibe that made Evan feel worse. She was openly being rude and stood so normal as if she wasn't doing anything wrong.

"I just mean that you're always looking after her, you're not meant to be her carer Buck, you have a life. It makes her quite a burden on you."

A tremor rattled through (Y/n) and she turned around quickly before Evan realised she had been close enough to hear. Tears burned in her eyes but she pushed them away and coiled her arms around her waist. She needed to move; quickly. Before Evan turned or looked over his shoulder and noticed she was here. (Y/n) couldn't deal with the conversation that would follow if he knew she had just heard that.

Her eyes locked on Chris who had finished adding all the candles he had onto the chocolate cake. She made a beeline towards the kitchen and stood next to him and Bobby, leaning down to kiss his temple when he looked up at her with a grin that made her heart swell.

A single tear traced down her cheek but (Y/n) quickly swiped it away and tried to take a steady breath to control herself.

"Dad's cake."

"He's gonna love it… although I don't know how long it will take him to blow out all those candles." Her voice came out oddly steady considering how uneasy and wobbly she felt.

Was she truly a burden on Evan? (Y/n) did her best not to call him if he was at work and she wasn't well or had a problem. She always told him to go out with the guys from work or his friends even if she didn't feel well enough to join. (Y/n) pushed Evan to do things and live his life and not stop or hang around for her.

At least, that's what she thought she did.

Did she hold Evan back? Did she burden him and make him care for her too much? Was he becoming her carer instead of her partner?

Evan was a busy man, he had a very demanding job and (Y/n) would hate to be a demanding girlfriend who stole his attention and all of his free time. Maybe she needed to try and make sure she didn't rely on him as much. Maybe, if she had another flare up, it would be best to keep it from Evan and try to look after herself. He couldn't always be there to help her and do things for her or look after her; (Y/n) needed to look after herself and put less strain on Evan.

"Listen to me," Evan pushed himself up off the pool table and took a step closer until he was towering over Lucy with a menacing look and a fire burning deep within his eyes. "I don't know who gave you the right to judge, but you need to stop. Now. I'm her partner, so whether or not I look after her- which is something I have every right to do- that's none of your business."

How could she stand there and talk to him like that when she didn't know anything about him and (Y/n)?

If Evan wanted to look after (Y/n) and help her when she was ill, he had every reason and right to do that. (Y/n) never asked, Evan didn't even offer, he just looked after her because he loved her and he wanted to. Evan had a deep rooted sense of wanting to be needed and if he felt needed, he would do everything he could to look out for his family and do anything for them.

He loved (Y/n), he loved looking after her and making sure she was alright and Evan would never want (Y/n) to think she had to cope alone when he was right here.

"Don't talk about my girlfriend like that again."

Evan glared down at Lucy until she held her hands up in surrender and looked down at his chest to avoid his furious gaze.

He turned around and left her standing there before he ripped into her even further and caused a scene. The fire burning in his chest simmered down when he looked across at the kitchen and caught sight of (Y/n). She was stood with one arm around Chris in front of a cake with the most amount of candles on that Evan had ever seen.

Evan leaned over and placed the two cups down on the counter beside the cake before he wrapped an arm around (Y/n)'s waist. His arm curved around her middle so his hand could curl over her hip and he tucked his face into her neck.

He felt the way she shivered when he kissed her neck but when he looked down, his brows furrowed. She was tapping her fingers against the counter and he could see her biting down on her lower lip so much she was almost drawing blood. She was anxious about something.

His head tilted up and he pecked her jaw, nuzzling his nose against her cheek.

"Everything okay?"

"Hmm. I'm gonna record you all, Chris wants you to help him give Eddie the cake."

He muttered a quiet 'sounds good' against her jaw and began smoothing his thumb over her hip. He wasn't entirely satisfied that she was alright, it was almost as if Evan could feel the unease radiating off of her and through to him and Evan hated not knowing if something was wrong or upsetting her.

But if she told him everything was alright, Evan wouldn't push the matter. He would take her word for it.

***

Tears streaked down (Y/n)'s face as she raked her hands up and down her thighs and down over her knees. Her eyes were starting to become puffy and sore and it only made her feel worse when she couldn't seem to stop herself from sniffing and letting herself wallow and weep.

Today wasn't a good day.

She had been tired enough to oversleep this morning and while the extra sleep had done her some good, it didn't help her legs. She had woken with knees so stiff they started to throb when she tried to walk about. Pins and needles had raked up and down her left leg from her hip to her knee and had lasted until mid-afternoon.

Everything hurt. (Y/n) didn't know why today she was having a flare up, but everything ached and burned and felt like she was being cut to pieces. Banging her shin on the corner of the couch had left her a crying mess even though it was a light bash. Small pains felt like the end of the world when her fibromyalgia was playing up.

Every hour, (Y/n) had forced herself to get up and move about, just to walk around the apartment and get some movement back. She didn't go on her usual walk outside because she didn't feel up to doing it alone.

Evan was at work until lunchtime tomorrow and when he was at work, (Y/n) usually skipped her daily walk because she hated to go out alone. She knew she wasn't burdening Evan by their daily walk because he loved his exercise so it benefited both of them.

Reaching up, (Y/n) dragged her hands down her face and wiped away the tears as she tried to take a deep breath. She had been laid in bed for just over an hour and she needed to move about. She would be going to sleep soon and sleeping made her stiffness worse so she had to do another lap around the apartment before she settled for the night. (Y/n) already knew she wouldn't be sleeping well tonight, both because she was in too much pain and because Evan wouldn't be here with her.

A silent string of curse words muttered beneath her breath when she started to walk away from the bed.

Her legs were barely moving.

Her left leg had gone back to being numb and useless and her right thigh was shaking when she tried to walk. She was going to have to keep moving for a while now to reduce the pain as much as she could before she went to sleep.

(Y/n)'s left hand grabbed the handrail and her right hand glided down the wall to help ease herself down the stairs.

Sometimes she felt like a little old woman when her legs barely moved and her fingers didn't want to curl or bend or move the right way. She felt like she needed to go up and down the stairs on her bum or her hands and knees. It was utterly humiliating if she was ever at someone else's house during a flare up. Walking and hobbling around like this was bad enough when she had to do this in front of Evan.

It had taken (Y/n) a while to let Evan see her like this, she didn't want him to pity her or look at her any differently.

And he didn't. If she wasn't feeling well, he would walk behind her and hold her hands or her hips and help her up and down the stairs. He would carry her if she asked or if she just gave him that certain look. He loved carrying her around, it was his favourite thing to do.

"No-"

A gasp burned in the back of (Y/n)'s throat when her foot slipped. She barely felt her heel scrape against the lower step but she couldn't hold onto the bannister and hold her weight up to stop her from falling. The pain of her back hitting the stairs blinded her and stopped her breathing but when she slid down to the left and smashed the left side of her chest against three steps, a scream tumbled past her lips.

Her body turned into a trembling, shaking mess on the floor when she finally stopped falling and landed with a horrid slap at the bottom of the stairs.

Her arms shakily coiled into her chest but her breaths burned into another scream and she stretched her arms back out.

Her chest was on fire. It felt like she was laid on hot coals. The pain was horrendous, like a knife stabbing into her ribs. Tingling sensations shot down the base of her spine. She could barely feel her legs except for the spiking pins and needles tearing through her muscles that went right down to her heels which were thudding and felt like pins were prodding at her heels.

Tears began to pour down her face and her wet lips wobbled and bubbled as she tried to breathe but ended up gasping and crying out loudly.

Her fingers were curled into her palms and (Y/n) didn't have enough control or will power to straighten them out. She shuffled her trembling hand around to the right side of her chest beneath her bra strap.

She had broken her ribs.

(Y/n) knew they were broken without having to touch them. She had broken a few bones in her life and she knew her pain levels. Her pain was more concentrated and a lot worse than what other people experienced. Small things were amplified and things like broken bones or torn muscles felt like she had been shredded to pieces.

Inching forwards, (Y/n) tried to slide until her back was no longer wedged against the bottom step.

Moving wasn't going to be easy. She doubted it was even going to be an option right now.

(Y/n) didn't have the energy to drag herself back up the stairs that had now become her enemy.

She wasn't going to crawl into the bathroom around the corner because she couldn't be bothered to dwell in there and cry. There was no energy to try and bandage herself up and patch herself back together.

The sofa was too far away to crawl to and her phone was upstairs on the bed so she couldn't call for help.

No!

No. (Y/n) was not going to call anyone for help. She didn't want paramedics coming round to take her to hospital. She wasn't waiting all through the night in A&E only to have an X-ray and be told she could be bandaged up and sent home with stupid painkillers that never worked to take the edge off. And (Y/n) wasn't calling Maddie and having her friend and sister see her like this. It wouldn't be fair to ruin her night like that.

She couldn't call Evan.

No way could (Y/n) call Evan when he was at work. She wasn't going to panic him and drag him home and make him care for her. He would have to help her back up the stairs and patch her up and console her and (Y/n) was not going to be the burden everyone seemed to think she was. She had to look after herself, Evan wasn't here and he couldn't always come home to look after her.

It didn't matter how much she wanted Evan to come home and hug her right now, she was on her own and that was how things had to stay.

A groan tumbled past her lips when she flopped onto her right ride and heaved herself to lay facing the stairs. Her arms stretched out in front of her so they weren't cocooned to her chest and causing her anymore unnecessary pain. She did what she could to straighten her legs out and stop them from throbbing and aching as much.

Her chin tucked down into her chest and she closed her eyes, despite the tears pouring down her face that would surely flood the apartment soon.

No, (Y/n) would stay here until she felt recovered enough to get herself back upstairs into bed.

***

It took (Y/n) well over fifteen minutes to heave herself up the stairs. It seemed pointless and futile to try getting up during the night when she was throbbing and aching and still drenched in tears. (Y/n) spent the night on the floor. She knew either way she wouldn't be sleeping and she had no effort to climb up the stairs just to lay and cry in bed.

Staying on the floor was easier and let her recover her energy. It was well into the morning by the time she managed to find the will power to start her ascent up the stairs. Her knees bashed and twanged against the steps and it made her whole body shudder each time. Her fingers dug into the steps and she leaned her weight onto the wall as she sat and shuffled up.

When she was up the stairs, She crawled over to the bed and spent another five minutes trying to heave herself up.

It was surprising how quickly sleep overtook (Y/n) once she flopped onto her stomach on the bed. Her body was exhausted. Her chest was in immense agony. Her brain was on last reserves. She had spent the night laid on the floor, unable to sleep and unable to move.

She didn't know what time she managed to get into bed, just that it was late into the morning. And she didn't know how long she slept for, just that it had to of been for a while because she managed to hear the front door opening.

If (Y/n) was more herself and less drained, she would of tried to get up and meet Evan at the door or at the very least, meet him at the top of the stairs. She wanted to get up and move about and stop him from realising something had happened for her to now be in bed at lunchtime. But she was aching and broken and felt too defeated to care.

Her arms curled around Evan's shirt that had been left on the bed and she burrowed her face into his pillow, breathing in his scent to try and stay calm and drowsy. She shuffled down a little until the cover was over her shoulder and mostly hiding her whole body and head from view.

Why couldn't she just disappear?

Why was Evan with her? Why did he love her when she truly was a burden? She was to much effort. Too much hassle. Demanding. In pain. Needy. Everything was wrong with her-

"Babe… baby, where are you?" Evan's sing-song voice rang out through the apartment as he dumped his bag down by the front door and moved towards the living room.

His lips pulled into a frown when he realised the tv wasn't on and (Y/n) wasn't downstairs. He knew her shoes and keys were still by the door along with her bag so she hadn't gone out anywhere. He knew the bathroom and kitchen were empty so he headed up the stairs.

He could feel his heart racing in his chest when he looked around the bedroom. The curtains were still closed; (Y/n) always opened them as soon as she woke up. She loved to look out at the view in the morning, especially on a sunny day like this. The tv was on but it was showing the news. (Y/n) didn't watch the news; she hated it. There was a glass on the floor and juice soaked into the carpet. Clothes and pillows were thrown onto the floor.

What had she been doing?

"Sweetheart, what are you doing? What's up?" Shockwaves rattled through Evan as he moved to kneel down in front of the bed.

He laid his arms out on the bed and carefully peeled back the cover while his chin propped up on his exposed arm. He brushed his finger across (Y/n)'s cheek and swiped his thumb across her lower lip, pulling it gently until she finally opened her eyes to blearily look over at him.

Evan knew her like the back of his hand. Her sleep pattern was always troubled because like Evan struggled to switch off or stay asleep due to his hyperactiveness and his job, (Y/n) struggled due to her fibromyalgia. They had routines to stop her from being in so much pain. She never slept in, especially not this late. She was always up and moving about to keep her muscles loose and working and from seizing up.

"Tired," (Y/n) tilted her head and kissed the palm of Evan's hand which she knew tickled him because his finger twitched against her cheek.

"Couldn't you sleep?" When she shook her head, Evan moved his hand and slowly carded his fingers through her hair. "Well, do you want to get up with me? Maybe a walk will make you feel better?"

They usually had a walk after dinner. Evan knew if (Y/n) stayed in bed for much longer she would feel worse when she eventually tried to get up and he hated to see her in pain. They could have lunch and go for a walk and try to stay busy for the afternoon so she could feel better and sleep well tonight. Evan would be here tonight anyway and she slept better when he was with her, he always knew that.

"Hm."

"Well I'll go grab a shower then we can head out, sound good?" He leaned across to kiss her before he got up and started to rummage around for some fresh clothes.

(Y/n) didn't dare look at her chest when she tried to get changed. Her fingers felt a little less tense than earlier so it was easier to change her shirt but lifting her arms high had her wincing and gasping in pain. She dragged her fingers through her hair and put it up into a loose ponytail but when she dragged her numb feet towards the stairs, shudders ran through her.

What if she fell again? What if she couldn't walk down properly?

(Y/n) didn't want to go downstairs. She didn't want to take the risk and hurt herself again. She didn't want Evan to see her be so stupid and silly and fall like she did last night.

Shivers rolled through her aching muscles and her chest twinged in agony when she looked at the stairs again. Tears welled in her eyes and she suddenly moved to sit down at the top of the stairs. Shuffling down would have to do for now.

She shuffled down one step before she cried out and leaned nearer to the wall. The thumping vibration made her chest jolt and stole the air from her lungs. Her forehead slumped onto the wall and her nails dug into her knees until she was sure she was drawing blood beneath her leggings.

"Baby, you alright up there?" Evan leaned against the bottom of the bannister but his smile faded again when he realised (Y/n) was in tears.

He joggd up the stairs until he was close enough to kneel down in front of her with her knees pressed up into his chest. He smoothed his hands up and down her thighs and kissed her thigh.

"You're really having a bad day, hm? Come on, let's get you down."

(Y/n) didn't want him to help. She didn't want to ask Evan for help, but she wasn't truly asking and he wasn't being put out. The last thing she wanted was to be a burden, but was she being a burden if Evan was only offering to help her down the stairs? He helped her all the time, did that count as being annoying to him?

And she didn't want to go down the stairs on her own. Not after last night. Her body was shaking just at the thought.

(Y/n) momentairely forgot about her damaged ribs until Evan tried to slip his arms around her waist. When he helped her he usually lifted her up and sat her on his hips so he could carry her on his front. He would squeeze her thighs and kiss her neck and tell her he wasn't putting her down until she had kissed him at least a hundred times.

The moment Evan pressed his arms into her sides and placed his hands down on her back, (Y/n) cried out. It was hard not to scream and she choked on a gurgling cry when Evan tensed and froze in front of her.

"What? What did I do?" Panic surged through Evan's voice and he tried to pull back to look down at her but she wouldn't let him.

Her face tucked into his neck and her trembling arms curled around his neck to stop him from trying to move away from her. Evan gulped when he felt (Y/n) begin to whimper into his neck and her shaking broke through into him and made him rock back and forth on the stairs.

"Baby, you're scaring me."

"J-just a bad day… my chest hurts t-that's all."

He didn't believe that, but Evan wasn't going to push the subject here on the stairs. He tried to think how to get her down without touching or hurting her chest.

"Let's try get you down, tell me to stop if you need to." He moved his hands down beneath her bum and cupped the top of her thighs. He leaned his weight backwards and very slowly straightened up to keep his balance so he didn't topple them both backwards down the stairs. Once he was stood up, Evan kept his hands on her bum and turned around to start walking down.

He could still feel the way she was shaking against him and her breaths were fast and shallow against his neck. She wasn't well today and it was worrying him to no end.

(Y/n) braced her hands on his shoulders and slowly uncurled her legs from Evan's hips until she was stood on her feet again.

Her head started to spin and her breaths started to run away without her. Each breath was starting to hurt. It was like taking a proper breath made her ribs splinter and break all over again and the thought had more tears rushing down her face. But she wiped them away and turned towards the door. She needed to put her shoes on and grab her jacket.

A walk would do her some good and hopefully take some of the pain away and make it more bearable. She would grab some painkillers when they came back and dose up so she could breathe and speak and move without worrying Evan. She wasn't going to panic him any more than this.

"We're not going if you're in this much pain. What did you do, bump into the door or something, baby?"

Evan braced his hands on his hips and cocked a hip to the side when (Y/n) looked down at his arm. He knew she tended to focus on his tattoos to distract herself when she couldn't look him in the eye.

"I'm okay. I need to keep moving, let's go on a walk." (Y/n) swiped the remaining tears from her face and tried to take proper breaths to calm herself down.

Anger tore through Evan when he watched (Y/n) turn her back on him and move towards the door. She wasn't well, he could see it. He could see the way she was still breathing fast and shallow and she was shuffling rather than walking. Her legs must be stiff and him touching her chest made her cry. Something wasn't right and she wasn't telling him.

When (Y/n) leaned down to pick up her shoe, Evan saw the way she winced and moved a hand to cradle her side but even her light touch seemed to burn her and make her whimper.

He wasn't playing this game.

Evan kept his steps light and agile and the moment he stood behind (Y/n), he didn't give her chance to argue or try and ward him away.

"Evan-"

A shriek tore past (Y/n)'s lips and she leaned forward to brace her hand on the wall when she felt Evan behind her. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and yanked it up before she could stop him. He pulled it up to her shoulders and let the hem of her shirt fold over her shoulders and neck so he could see what she was trying to hide from him.

"Evan, I- I-"

"What the fuck happened to you?!" His hands hovered over her sides but he didn't dare touch her. He let her turn around in front of him and it let him see the damage more clearly. Bruising had bloomed all along her back and around the left side of her chest. Various colours ranging from black to purple to splotches of red and brown. She was a canvas that had been splattered with paint.

What had she done? What happened while he had been at work? Why on Earth didn't she call him?

A small knock to any part of (Y/n)'s body caused her immense pain so Evan couldn't imagine the agony she was going through with these kinds of bruises.

"What. Happened?" Evan held (Y/n)'s chin between his thumb and finger and tilted her head up so she had no choice but to look him in the eye. He could feel his resolve crumbling when tears started to drench down her face but he wasn't budging until she told him what had gone on here.

"I fell."

"You fell? Fell into what, baby? This is bad… Christ baby girl this is real bad." Evan crouched down in front of her and moved his hands to hold her hips. He kissed her stomach and felt a shiver tear through her abdomen before he looked around her chest. He tried to dance his fingertips along her chest as delicately as he could. Evan knew she was sensitive at the best of times but even more so when she was hurt.

He didn't want to touch her and add any more pain, but he wanted to see the extent of her damage. The way she cringed and cried out and grabbed his shoulders made Evan feel tears welling up in his own eyes.

"I think you've definitely broken a few… come on, talk to me."

(Y/n) stayed silent, rolling her lips together as she moved one hand to point towards the stairs.

"What… oh- fuck no. You fell down the stairs?" Evan pulled back up and dragged his fingers through his hair. "Why the Hell didn't you call me? Baby you've broken your ribs, you could have broken your neck why wouldn't you call me to come home? Why didn't you tell me when I came in?"

Tears traced down (Y/n)'s face before she could stop herself and her hands moved up to cover her face. She could feel each shallow breath panting into the palm of her hands and her tears soaked into her fingers. She didn't want to be doing this. She didn't want to be crying her eyes out in front of Evan like this, but she couldn't stop herself.

She couldn't seem to do anything right. All she did seemed to go wrong or make things worse and now she had panicked and upset Evan when that was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Baby why didn't you call me-"

"Because I'm not being a burden to you!"

(Y/n) dropped her hands back down before she smoothed them up and down her thighs to try and stop them from shaking and sweating. She could feel herself hiccupping through her words and her chest felt like it was shredded to pieces with each fast breath she panted.

But it was the look in Evan's eyes that made her heart drop down to the pit of her stomach.

His blue eyes seemed to turn five shades darker until they were navy blue, bordering on black. Redness swelled beneath his eyes and a sheet of crimson burned along his neck and flushed his face.

His brows furrowed and he seemed to straighten up and become taller at the same time as he took a step back.

Evan didn't understand. What had he done to give her that impression? What did he say to her out of context or in passing or without thinking that made (Y/n) wonder if she had become a burden to him? Whatever he had done, he didn't mean it. Evan never wanted her to have that kind of impression and he thought he had done everything right so she wouldn't ever think like that.

"Why would you say that?" The utter defeat in Evan's voice made a sob burn at the back of (Y/n)'s throat and she tilted her head back as if it would somehow push all the tears to the back of her head.

"Because I am."

"What did I do?" His question left her stumped. Their conversations had shifted, he was on a different track completely. "What did I say to make you think that?"

(Y/n) moved her hands and tangled her trembling fingers together, shaking her hands out to try and release some nervous energy but it only made her fingers ache. Why was Evan on that track? He had never done anything that made her feel like she was a burden to him and she had never said something like this to him before. (Y/n) would never want Evan to think that way because there was nothing he could do that would make her think bad of him. Ever.

"Evan…" Her wrist swiped beneath her eye and collected a fresh stream of tears. "Everyone sees it. T-they see how I burden you… I can't rely on you for everything and keep doing this to you."

"Who the fuck told you that?"

Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip deep enough to draw specks of blood that pooled around her tongue and made her cringe. She could barely see Evan due to the tears cascading down her face and she wasn't sure she wanted to see his reaction either.

Her head tilted back to look up at the high ceiling above them when she whispered "Eddie's party."

A gasp tumbled past her swollen lips when Evan's hands suddenly cupped her face. She didn't hear or see him move. He stood directly in front of her, close enough that (Y/n) could feel each turbulent breath that fanned past his lips and mingled with her own. She could feel his rough chest rising and falling less than a centimetre away from her own and she couldn't look anywhere but at his eyes when he tilted her head back.

His thumbs glided across her burning face just beneath her eyes and he brushed the tip of his nose against hers until her breathing hitched and her nose twitched and tickled.

"That was one person who knows nothing about us. Baby, no one else thinks like that, no one else is that warped and stupid. What she came out with doesn't matter-"

"It does! Evan you… you shouldn't have to be my carer-"

"The only thing that matters here is us. If I tell you I wanna look after you then I will and no one can say shit about it. You're not making me do anything. If I wanna carry you up and down those stairs for the rest of my life, I'll do it. If I wanna stay home and help you when you're having a rough day, that's my choice. No one is forcing me to do anything, I look after my girl because I love you."

There was nothing anyone could say that would make Evan feel differently about this or make him see things differently.

Lucy had no right to say what she did and he wished to God that (Y/n) hadn't heard, or that she had at least listened to what he said in retaliation.

It didn't matter what anyone said because they weren't in this relationship. Evan wanted to look after (Y/n) when she was ill, he wanted to stay home and make sure she was resting and had her meds and he wanted to help her go on walks and exercise to feel better. He wanted to pick her up when she couldn't climb the stairs herself. Evan wanted to stay home with her rather than go out alone and have a boring time he would regret.

Evan was never going to regret staying home with (Y/n) or helping her or looking after her because he loved her and he saw caring for her as a sign of his love. It wasn't a habit or a ritual or a job he had to do.

Nothing would make him see this situation any differently.

"You should have called me."

"And say what? Evan you're a fireman, I c- I can't make you come home when you're at work and your job is important-"

"(Y/n) you're important too!" His tone and pitch took (Y/n) by surprise and she shuddered when his thumbs pressed into her cheekbones so he could get her to look at him again. "If you have a fall and you're hurt, then I expect you to call me. I don't want you hiding things like this from me. My job is just that, it's a job and it doesn't mean more to me than my family."

If she got hurt, Evan wanted to know. He wanted her to call him whether she was crying or screaming or half passed out on the floor. Evan wanted her to ring him and tell him she was injured and she needed help. He wanted to be the one to help her and if he couldn't come home right away, he would make sure someone was there with her.

He didn't want to sit at work being none the wiser that she was hurt. It ground Evan down and made him angry beyond reason that he had been thinking everything was fine when (Y/n) had clearly been in agony, home alone.

She should have called him.

"Promise me you won't try and hide things like this from me."

"I promise," Her voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper carried away on the wind, but it was enough for Evan. It was enough to calm the storm raging through his soul and make him finally take a proper, deep breath.

He leaned down and closed the distance between them. Tasting her lips, stealing her breath, swiping his tongue across the little flecks of blood welling up on her lower lip. He let his fingers slide down to curl across the side of her neck while his nose brushed hers and his lips stayed hovering over hers even after they pulled back.

"Now please, let me take you to get checked out."

#buck imagine #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #evan buckley imagine #imagine #911 imagine #buck x reader

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androgynealienfemme · 1 year

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"Yes, it's true: I was the type of young femme who managed the girls basketball team in high school, just to be able to take in the sight of all those butches parading their muscles up and down the court. I found Girl Scout camp to be femme heaven and reveled in being able to explore my athletic self and still maintain my femmeness. And, to my horror, I have to admit pushing Tina away from my breasts in the back seat of a Buick while attending Mount Saint Mary Seminary. And then there was feminism... Although I came out as a "gay" woman before reading The Feminine Mystique, the seventies brand of white feminism had me trimming my nails and cutting off my hair. Soon I was outfitted in farmer jeans and high tops. And still I was told by my "sisters" that I didn't "look like a dyke" (read: I didn't look butch). I began to lead two lives- one as an outrageous, skirted, lipsticked femme while I worked in and traveled with carnivals, and another as an imitation butch back home in the women's community. Eventually, I pulled the pieces of my being back together and proclaimed boldly, "I am a working-class lesbian femme." So I had maybe six years reveling in unleashing my seductive femme self when, as lives go, mine changed: slowly at first and then more dramatically. Recurring back pain and limited range of mobility were finally diagnosed. Soon after came decreased mobility. No more mountain climbing. No long mall walks in search of the perfect piece of sleaze. No more standing against kitchen walls being gloriously fucked by some handsome butch. I stopped using alcohol and drugs, became ill with what is now known as CFIDS (Chronic Fatigue Immune Dysfunction Syndrome), and began to use a three-wheeled power chair. The more disabled I became, the more I mourned the ways my sexual femme self had manifested through the nondisabled me: cruising at the local lezzie bar, picking up a dyke whose eyes refuse to stray from mine, dancing seductively, moving all of me for all of her. Cooking: love and suggestion neatly tucked into the folds of a broccoli quiche. Serving my date in varying, sleazy clothing, removing layers as the meal and our passion progressed. And making love... feeling only pleasure as my hips rose and fell under the weight of her. Accomplishment and pride smirked across my face as her wrists finally submitted to the pressure of strong persistent hands. There are the ways I knew to be femme, to be the essence of me.

It's been five years now since I began using my wheelchair. I am just awakening to a new reclamation of femme. Yes. I still grieve the way I was, am still often unsure how this femme with disabilities will act out her seduction scenes. I still marvel when women find passion amidst the chrome and rubber that is now a part of me.

There have been numerous dates, lovers, relationships, sexual partners, and fliterations along the way. Cindy, Jenny, Ellie, Emma, Diane, Dorothy, Gail, June, Clove, Lenny, Cherry, Diana, Sarah I, and Sarah II. You have all reminded me in your own subtle or overt, quit or wild ways that I am desirable, passionate, exciting, wanted.

Yes I am an incredibly sexual being. An outrageous, loud mouthed femme who's learning to dress, dance, cook, and seduce on wheels; finding new ways to be gloriously fucked by handsome butches and aggressive femmes. I hang out with more sexual outlaws now- you know, the motorcycle lesbians who see wheels and chrome between your legs as something exciting, the leather women whose vision of passion and sexuality doesn't exclude fat, disabled me.

Ableism tells us that lesbians with disability are asexual. (When was the last time you dated a dyke who uses a wheelchair?) Fat oppression insists that thin is in and round is repulsive. At times, these voices become very loud, and my femme, she hid quietly amidts the lists.

Now my femme is rising again. The time of doubt, fear, and retreat has passed. I have found my way out of the lies and oppression and have moved into a space of loving and honoring the new femme who has emerged. This lesbian femme with disabilities is wise, wild, wet, and wanting. Watch out.

-"Reclaiming femme... Yet again" Mary Francis Platt, The Persistent Desire (Edited by Joan Nestle) (1992)

#lesbian #lesbianism #lesbian history #disabled lesbian #lgbt history #gay history #butch femme #femme lesbian #feminism #lesbian feminism #the persistent desire #intersectionality #disability history #disability rights

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femsolid · 11 months

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Last month, the Daily Mail reported on the shocking case of 15-year-old Olivia Maunder, who was told by Frimley Park Hospital to try a mindfulness app to deal with her ‘indescribable agony’. It turned out she had a tumour in her pelvis. On one of the many occasions she was taken to A&E, she was told to ‘calm down’. On another, she was told that she was just ‘mirroring [her] mum’s pain as she had had back problems’. She and her mum were told it was all down to stress. By the time the tumour was discovered, it was so extensive that surgery was no longer an option. Olivia now has a few months to live. I had a personal experience of this some years ago, when a friend lost the use of her legs and was offered mindfulness classes rather than a mobility scooter. No doubt she was expected to use the power of her mind to teleport. I wonder if men are told to go away and be mindful as much as women are? I very much doubt it. We didn’t need the arrival of terms like ‘cervix-havers’ and ‘menstruators’ – but never ‘prostate-havers’ and ‘ejaculators’ – to know that the medical profession has always treated women differently. Women are 50 per cent less likely to be diagnosed after having a heart attack, are given less CPR than men, and are more likely to be given sedatives – rather than painkillers – for pain than men. While the NHS has been busy erasing such hate-speech terms as ‘mother’ and ‘breastfeeding’ from their public-information bulletins, NHS maternity negligence claims have doubled in the past decade. Last year, it was revealed that more than 200 babies and nine mothers had died due to bad care at the Shrewsbury and Telford NHS Trust alone. Sadistic doctors no longer perform lobotomies on women as a cure for promiscuity, or diagnose any female behaviour unpleasing to men as ‘hysteria’, but as Caroline Criado-Perez’s 2019 book, Invisible Women, pointed out, the medical system is ‘from root to tip, systematically discriminating against women, leaving them chronically misunderstood, mistreated and misdiagnosed’. Women are still being told that extreme illnesses are all in their minds. Nicolette Baker, a woman from Cornwall, shrunk to three stone because her doctors insisted that she was anorexic, repeatedly sectioning her. She is dying of Superior Mesenteric Artery Syndrome. Kirsty Maxwell, from Perthshire, was repeatedly told she had an eating disorder and was given everything from Gaviscon to antidepressants. She had terminal cancer. Doctors certainly seem to know what a woman is when it suits them – someone you tell to ‘calm down, dear’. This is the most lethal kind of gaslighting. It needs to be tackled, not zhuzhed up with twaddle like mindfulness. It’s thought to be worth around $4 billion, taking in everything from meditation apps to the 60,000 books on Amazon including the word ‘mindfulness’ in their titles, including Mindful Finance, Mindful Leadership and Mindful Dog Owners. This is all despite the increasing evidence that too much navel-gazing can increase depression and decrease your ability to withstand pain – even though dealing with pain is precisely what mindfulness is often prescribed for.

#health

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callsign-rogueone · 4 months

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keep her safe - g.t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Enough,” Emeterrio commands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine,” he spits, “I yield.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh. Maybe she’s right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what executive officers are for.”

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

He sighs. “Fine. Don’t go anywhere.”

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

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

/////////

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

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

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

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

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

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

He startles, his foot slipping on the mat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. Aetos, you first.”

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

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

“What do you see?” Varrish asks.

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

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

“Your turn, Avan."

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

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

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

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

“And then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever killed before, gentle one?”

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

“Not all of us.”

“Holy shit, you can read my mind.”

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

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

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

“Hold on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You give him a look.

“Okay, fine. I take that back.”

He doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well done. Aetos?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Garrick Tavis is a man of his word.

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

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pickingupmymercedes · 2 months

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Hiii I love your writing so much!! I was wondering if you can make a Lewis x reader where she has some type of chronic illness and one day she gets a really bad flare up and he takes care of her :)

If you’re not comfortable or don’t feel like writing it you can ignore this ask :)

Hi love, of course! I did a shortish one-shot

Btw, I chose eczema because my beautiful best friend has battled it a good chunk of her teen years and I'm so incredibly and forever proud of the amazing woman she's become, and how she continously lifts other people even when she doesn't have to . Love you H.

Warnings: description of eczema

______________________________________________________________

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky. In the serene twilight, Lewis Hamilton sat by the window, watching the Melbourne lights twinkle like distant stars. His thoughts drifted to the upcoming Japanese Grand Prix, the anticipation of this week off tingling in the air. But amidst the excitement, a sense of worry gnawed at him.

Beside him, you lay on the couch, curled up in discomfort. The gentle hum of the evening enveloped the room, but your soft whimpers cut through the tranquility. Lewis glanced at you, concern etched on his features.

"Are you okay, love?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

You managed a weak nod, but the pain etched on your face betrayed your words. Lewis sighed softly, his heart heavy with concern. He knew all too well the toll your chronic illness took on you, especially during flare-ups.

Your eczema, a constant companion in your life, often made its presence known at the most inconvenient times. Lewis had witnessed the struggles you faced; the silent battles fought behind closed doors. Yet, through it all and much to your comfort, he remained steadfast by your side.

That night, however, your flare-up seemed particularly severe. Lewis could see the discomfort etched in every line of your face. Gently, he knelt beside you, his touch feather-light as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "I'll take care of you, darling," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing melody in the dimly lit room.

Despite his assurances, you couldn't shake the feeling of shame that enveloped you. The raw, red patches on your legs, a stark reminder of your condition, made you feel vulnerable and exposed. The thought of facing the world, especially at the upcoming Grand Prix, filled you with dread.

Lewis sensed your inner turmoil – it was a place your mind tended to take you – his heart aching at the sight of your distress. With a tender smile, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "You don't have to hide, love," he whispered, his voice a gentle reassurance. "You're beautiful, just as you are."

Days passed, and the Japanese Grand Prix loomed ever closer. The excitement in the air was palpable, anticipation crackling like electricity. But amidst the flurry of preparations, you couldn't shake the lingering doubt if you should go at all. As the day of the race dawned, nerves fluttered in your stomach like a restless butterfly. The thought of facing the world, your eczema on full display, filled you with dread.

Regardless, you made your way to the track, the air alive with the roar of engines and the buzz of the crowd. Amidst the sea of faces, Lewis's support anchored you, a steady presence in the tumultuous sea of life.

The days following the Grand Prix went as usual. Another Mercedes bad weekend, the headlines filled with the dread of how they would bounce back, but amidst the bad press, a simple message on social media caught your eye, touching your heart in a profound way.

In a picture of you and Lewis, taken during the Grand Prix, was accompanied by a heartfelt caption.

"I've always been ashamed of my eczema, hiding it away from the world. But seeing [Your Name] embracing her skin and being open about her struggles gives me hope. Thank you for showing me that it's okay to be myself, flaws and all. 💖 #EczemaWarrior #TrueBeauty"

Tears welled in your eyes as you read the heartfelt words, the impact of your openness suddenly crashing you, the realization that your journey could inspire and empower others was almost overwhelming.

With a trembling hand, you liked the post and replied with a heartfelt message of your own. "Thank you for your beautiful words. You are strong and beautiful just as you are. Never be afraid to show it. 💖"

The outpouring of support and encouragement that followed was overwhelming, a testament to the power of authenticity and vulnerability. Messages from fans around the world flooded your notifications, each one echoing the hope you felt.

However, amidst the sea of positivity, a few photographers at the Grand Prix had been less than kind. Their whispered comments and mocking glances hadn't gone unnoticed, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

One evening, as you sat in Lewis’ lap in his home back in Monaco, he turned to you with a gentle expression, his eyes filled with concern.

You looked into his eyes, seeing the genuine care and love reflected in his gaze. Taking a deep breath, you squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"You don't have to talk about your eczema just because people are noticing it, you know. You owe them nothing" he said softly, his voice filled with compassion. "I just want you to be happy and comfortable."

"I want to do this, Lew" you said, your voice steady with conviction. "I was the kid embarrassed of it, hiding it away from the world. Other kids need to know they have no reason to be ashamed. If sharing my story can help even one person feel less alone, it's worth it."

Lewis's eyes softened, a proud smile gracing his lips as he nodded in understanding. "You’re so brave, babe.” he whispered, pulling you close. "I’m forever proud of you”.

#ella asks #elladrabbles #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 x reader

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lovelywritinglady · 5 months

Note

This is my first request, I want to see how Tengen and his wives react to one of the wives (y/n) has been taking more naps then usual and hasn’t been walking around as much.

When they go to the hospital about it, they find out that it’s because the chronic pain (description: pain that last longer then three months no matter what medication they take) as well then having not much stamina.

Sorry if this is too complicated, I just been having a lot of trouble even getting out of bed without a walking stick. IM NOT EVEN FORTY

thank you

I shall do my best!! Thank you for requesting!

We’ll Take Care Of You

Tengen Uzui x fem!reader x wives

Fluff, mentions of polygamy, reader has a condition, slight angst.

Tengen Pov

Coming back from a month long mission was one of the best things to me. The look on my wives' faces when they see me again reminds me of all of the love I'm given. Currently I am a few steps from reaching my home when I hear my lovely wife, Suma, call that I am home. I smile at her excitment and quicken my pace as to not keep her and the others waiting too much longer.

Stepping into my rather large estate, I'm immedietly greeted with three bone crushing hugs and whines of worry. If I wasn't already sore from my fight earlier, then I'm definately sore now. Immedietly I wrap my large arms around their figures, but just as soon as my excitment comes, it is replaced with worry.

"Where is Y/n?" I ask my beautiful wives who are still wrapped around me.

"Oh, Lord Tengen, she is in bed. She hasn't been feeling too good for a while." Suma responed with a look of worry on her face now too.

"Is she sick and have you called a doctor?" I asked breaking a hug and looking to Makio and Hina for answers as well.

"We have and she has no sickness, she's just been in some pain and that has been causing her to be in bed a lot." Makio tells me.

"I'm going to go see her alone if that's okay with you three?" I tell them making my way to go see my Y/N.

"Of course, Lord Tengen, I'll make us some food in the meantime." Hina tells me as I'm walking to Y/n's room.

Slowly I opened the sliding door of her room only to be met with a lovely sleeping figure buried underneath blankets looking very comfortable. I slightly chuckled at the sight, but remembered that she has been sleeping an abnormal amount. Crouching down I wiped some loose strands of hair that fell on her somewhat peaceful face; thanking God that I get to witness the beautiful sight before me. Y/n then opened her eyes slightly giving me a smile.

"Lord Tengen, you're back!" She said quietly but the excitment in her voice was heard.

"Yes, and I hear that you have been sleeping a lot. My love, what is going on? Are you hurt in anyway?" I asked her as I laid down on the bed facing her and wrapping my right arm around her.

"I'm not so sure, my body aches all the time and I'm so sleepy. I'm sorry to have worried you Lord Tengen." Y/n says with tears prickling her eyes. Smiling at her I gently wipe the tears from her face and then carefully placing gentle kisses on her nose, forehead, cheeks, and finally a loving kiss on her soft lips. When I pulled away from her, she looked content and relaxed.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, my love. How about I take you to the hospital tomorrow so we can see what is hurtung my baby, hmm." I tell her as she nuzzles into my chest.

"Thank you, Lord Tengen." she says in a cute whisper.

"Of course, now I think you should try to eat something. Plus Hina is cooking and we both know how healing her cooking is." I joke

"Yeah, she's been making me food recently and Makio and Suma have been making me feel comfortable and have been taking care of me too. I'm so thankful to have them here." she tells me and I can tell that she's blushing from that thought.

"We all love and what to take care of you and won't rest until you're better." I reassured her as we both got up from the bed. Her legs were wobbly so I offered her a piggy back ride which she gladly accepted. "Now come on, lets get you fed." I told her as I began walking to the kitchen.

"I love you, Lord Tengen." She hummed

"I love you too" I responed flashing her a wink.

"Hey, what about me?" Suma whines from the kitchen.

"Yeah, you love me too right, Lord Tengen?" Makio chimes in with a fierce blush across her face. "Yeah, Yeah I love you guys too." I told them

The Next Day...

Y/n and I left to the doctors as soon as the sun peaked through the clouds. She wasn't feeling her best so I decided to hold her on my back. My sweet wife was so sleepy and I could tell that her eyes were heavy as she did her best to keep her head upright.

"Y/n, if you need to sleep that's okay. We'll be at the doctors in about 20 minutes if you'd like to sleep until then." I spoke sweetly to her.

"Okay, I am pretty tired." She whispered as she placed her head back on my shoulder and closed her eyes. Soon enough she was sound asleep.

"Heh, such a cute girl." I smiled making sure I treaded lightly as to not awake my sleepy wife.

About 20 minutes later, we arrived. My sweet Y/n was still asleep on my shoulder and I reluctantly woke her up and as I did she slowly open her beautiful eyes and let out such a small yawn. I slightly blushed at her cuteness and reached to give her a small kiss on her cheek. She smiled at me and then made her way off my back and immedietly put her hand in mine. I could tell she was nervous and she took a deep breath and practically pulled me into the doctors home. She walked up and introuduced herself and stated that she had an appointmemt. I was astonished by her strength and admired her flashiness. After a few minutes, the doctor came out and called out my wife's name.

"Uzui Y/n, Uzui Y/n? A small older woman asked scanning the room.

"Yes, that's me." Y/n said as she walked over to the doctor.

"Love, do you need me to go with you?" I aksed hopeful that she'd let me.

"No honey, i think I'd like to do this alone if that's alright." She told me as she reached up and gave me a quick kiss on my left cheek before following the doctor.

"See you soon." I whispered as I made my way to the front anxious as to what was going on with my love.

A little while later...

I was impatient awaiting the news of my sweet wife and what's been going on with her. There were a few times that I almost barged in and demanded to speak with the doctor myself, but I stopped myself out of fear of disappointing Y/n and my other wives. Taking a deep breath, I calmed myself once again only to hear footsteps and the sound of a door opening. There stood my wife with a strange expression on her face and the old lady doctor holding her arm. She immediately looked at me and gave me a sweet smile. I gave her one in return and just nearly ran towards her.

"So is she alright doc?" I asked embracing my wife.

"She's not dying if that's what you're concerned with. She has chronic pain and that's the reason that your lovely wife here hasn't be herself lately." the doctor explained

"Is there anything that we can do to cure it?" I asked worried for my wife.

"Yes, whatever you've been giving her as decreased her pain a little but it won't cure it. However, I have perscribed a special herbal tea and an ointment to put on any specific areas of pain. In a few months to a year your wife should be relitivly normal." She told me and then turned her attention to Y/n and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Lord Tengen, I think I'm going to be fine so please don't worry too much." Y/n spoke almost as if she knew that I was about to complain about how long her recovery would take.

"Alright, love, I trust you." I told her as I gently caressed her lovely face.

"Thank you for everything." Y/n said as she gave the doctor a small bow of gratitude.

"Anytime dear, and if those remedies don't work please feel free to come back so we can try something else out." the doctor spoke. She then gave us the tea and ointment meant for Y/n and the two of us were on our way home.

"Want to ride on my back again or are you feeling well enough to walk?" I asked my wife

"The doctor gave me a cup of that tea and it made me feel well enough to walk myself, so I'm gonna try to do that as long as I can." She told me which made me admire her strength.

"You're so flashy you know that." I complimented her

"You tell me that all the time, but thank you Lord Tengen." she giggled

About more than halfway to our home her pain got too much for her to bear. So I quickly put her on my back as we walked the rest of the way back to our home and back to our worried wives. As soon as we walked through the door and put Y/n down, Suma, Makio, and Hina all flocked to Y/n. She explained what was wring and the remedies to cure her pain.

"Oh Y/n I'm so glad that we know what will help you now and we promise to take care of you." Hina reassured

"Of course we will!" Makio and Suma spoke simultaneously

"Yeah, don't worry Y/n we'll take good care of you." I spoke to her as she gave me that sweet smile that I just adore so much.

Thank you so much for reading! I apologize for taking so long with the request. My writers block was crazy!

Please feel free to like, comment. reblog, and request!

click here to see what I'll write for and HERE for my master list.

•I do NOT own any characters except Y/n•

-L.W.L

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ceilidho · 5 months

Note

wait can I share an absolutely crazy thot I just had with you?? Lowkey dudcon/noncon

hear me out here…Masseur soap who is highly recommended to you because you have chronic pain and somehow your insurance pays for it and idk he got into it after he left the military maybe??

Idk anyway you go and he’s incredible wow but also…weird.

he doesn’t have a full sheet to cover you, just a tiny thing to cover your butt (he says something about needing easy access to your legs idk) but sometimes during your sessions he lets the sheet drift too high and you keep having to pull it down to cover yourself. But he just keeps pulling it up?? and sometimes you think he’s trying to rub himself against your hand when it drifts too far to the edge of the table ?? You dont know if he’s really doing it on purpose or not. But…he’s really helping you so you keep going back.

And eventually during one session he lets his hands drift and drift and suddenly hes actually touching your pussy through your panties telling you he’s been thinking about you while he jerks off?? You actually feel his lips against the back of your leg then. He just shushes you and tells you he’s gonna give you a happy ending to “complete the experience” and help you fully relax ??? And you just lay there totally baffled omg while he eats you out and he’s talking to your pussy?? About how he knew she would be so pretty and he knows what she needs and clearly no one has been taking care of her like she needs because she’s so wet and needy for him but dont worry pretty hes here now ?? and it feels so good you can’t help but come def against your better judgement tho.

Idk this is so half finished and dumb but im obsessed !!

get yourself an ao3 account because I’m going to need precisely 5k more words of this holy shit. I’m SWEATING, anon.

#Weirdo soap who talks to reader’s pussy like it’s a person AND assumes consent ? sorry call me a sicko but this is my jam

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huramuna · 2 months

Text

banshee's lament - chapter 7.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

wordcount: 2.5k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

a/n: a short chapter, but very important! the next 3 after this will be very action packed! and then it is the end of act 1!

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, my terrible, terrible combat writing, descriptions of injuries, allusions to suicide, talk of chronic pain and illness

story playlist

Shera had never rushed before so much in her life. She needed out. Out of Viserys’ room, out of the tunnels, out, out, out. As she pushed a stone backing, her knees skidded across the cobbled ground, skin ripping from them violently. Oh, how adept she’d become at injuring herself. She haphazardly wiped a few tears away.

The crisp night air whipped against her face before the smell changed– her other senses other than sight had become so keen since her loss of sight in her eye, so she was especially sensitive to even the most minute change in scents. She smelled the distinct aroma of fire– ashes to ashes, wafting along the breeze, mingling with a familiar smell of sandalwood and white cedar musk.

A pair of polished black boots, now a bit dull in their pallor from soot, stood in front of her.

“Lost, little banshee?” Aemond cooed. She could practically see the grin on his face, once again not of joy but something akin to self-assuredness and beastly callousness.

“I told you…” she croaked, putting her now bloodied fingertips up to her throat, the pain reverberating through every word. “Don’t… call me that, nūmāzma zaldrīzes.” Mean dragon. She didn’t look up, or lift herself in any sort of way. Shera was all too aware she was not wearing her veil, nor her choker– and Aemond’s comments at the dinner (that he had still not apologized for, the cad) were festering in her mind, stinging and infecting like a plague. They hadn’t spoken since her almost ill-fated swan dive. He probably thought she was still suicidal.

It was all too quick for her to register, her vision was still spinning, but he had picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, or perhaps a bale of hay. He didn’t say anything further as he began to walk down the hall, deeper into the Keep.

Shera’s face went beet red as she sniffled, kicking her legs against him. “Put me down,” she growled, her voice raising more than it should, her tone becoming skewed and cracking. She resorted to trying to bite him then, her teeth fastening down on the leather jerkin he was wearing. It was so thick, that her attempt to snap her jaws upon his skin was hardly even registered to him.

“No.” he responded flatly, an arm fastened around her waist that was slung over his shoulder, his other hand coming up to swat her bottom. “Stop trying to bite me.”

“This is demeaning.” she hissed, now resulting in hitting her forehead on his shoulder blade, hoping to hide the fact that her face was burning scarlet at the fact that he had swatted her bum like an insolent child, no less carrying her like one.

“Yes– well, mayhaps you shouldn’t be sneaking around at night, much less without your mutt guiding you.”

She grumbled a noise of discontentment, burying her face into his shoulder blade as a means to hide herself further, lest anyone see the absolutely precarious position that Aemond– and herself– had put her in.

They didn’t speak much as he took her back to her chambers. Moongeist was awake in an instant when he opened the door, growling and snarling.

“... s’okay,” Shera mustered as Aemond planted her on the ground next to the wolf, who immediately calmed at his owner’s presence– not without a wary look towards the prince, though. She put her hand on his head, her fingertips shaking.

“You’re bloody, Shera.”

“Fell.”

“You can’t go to bed bloody. You’ll stain the sheets.”

“I can.”

“You can– but the maids would most certainly report it to my mother, or worse, to Rhaenyra. It’s not exactly a good look for a supposed maiden bride-to-be having bloodied sheets?”

Shera sighed, putting her head in her hands as she sat at her boudoir. “Get on with it.”

“Tell your mutt to not bite me, then.” Aemond returned in an equally annoyed tone as he wet a cloth at the washing basin, swathing it over her skinned knee, while keeping his eye trained on Moongeist– who in turn, was staring back at him.

“Have half a mind to… you were… quite mean.”

“Mean? I helped you back to your room.”

“At the dinner, when I came back. And you have been quiet since the… Kingswood.”

“Ah.”

“... ‘ah’? That’s it?”

“Tell me truthfully; are you being coerced into this? If you are, I will cut that Strong bastard from stem to stern like a roasted pig. I see what it's doing to you. You’re frayed at the ends.”

He’s noticed? She glanced at him waywardly, fists squeezing in her lap. “I’m not some helpless little creature with no power… I still have some voice.”

“Hardly.”

“Jacaerys has been… cordial and proper,” she said. When he isn’t fucking my brother, that is. “He even has written me letters when not visiting. What a novel idea that is, hm?”

“You’re still upset about that?”

Shera peeked through the hair fallen in front of her face, scowling. “Yes. I am.”

He reached his hand up to pry one of hers from her face. “I’ll need to clean these, too. Even so, I do believe it requires two people to have a conversation through letters, does it not? I don’t recall receiving anything addressed to me from you over the years. I heard Helaena got quite a few.”

Shera pressed her marred side of her face into her shoulder as she let Aemond clean the blood from her fingertips. She didn’t want him to see– she couldn’t. She didn’t quite understand the confidence that Aemond had, his scar proudly on display above and below his eyepatch. The tips of her ears went red at his insinuation. “... I suppose we both could’ve sent letters, then. I just…” her fingertips twitched as he pressed the cloth underneath her nails, scraping the dried blood from under them. “I wasn’t sure you would want to…” her hands strayed from his grasp, to which he grunted at, taking them back. “Cregan wrote the response for the first one. It… I’m sure you know it was a lie now. He is such an idiot– I am the opposite of fine. I don’t think I’ve been fine in nearly a decade.” her bottom lip wobbled slightly as she rambled on, saying all the things she’d always wanted to say to someone– no, not someone– to him.

“... it was callous of me,” he finally offered, “To say… what I did at the dinner. It was mostly to rile Jacaerys.” he finally responded, putting the cloth to the side and examining her to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. “I’m sorry.” Aemond spoke his apology quietly, but looked directly at her face, then. His face was… surprisingly open. Not guarded.

“... ‘twas not far from the truth.”

“May I see?”

Shera shook her head vehemently. “You can’t.”

“Please.”

She made a noise of disagreement, pressing her face further to her shoulder. She didn’t, however, account for the visibility of the scar on her throat, jagged and raised against the soft flesh of her neck. She felt one of Aemond’s fingers trace it, across slowly, then upward. His hand went to her chin and he turned her face towards him. And she let him. She didn’t have much energy to stop him, anyhow.

His touch was soft, which surprised her greatly– she thought him unhewn and rough in all places– but this was something reminiscent of how he used to touch her as children. He was always gentle with her before. Her face was turned to him completely now, unveiled, unhidden– she braced herself for the look of humor or pity on his face, her heart stopped beating for a moment, her breaths caught in her chest.

Brushing an errant hair aside, he traced the scar over her eye. It wasn’t an entirely clean cut, like he had guessed, jutting out into two diverging lines, like branches of a tree going downward. His violet eye, the hue hardly visible from how large his pupil was, was trained on her blind one. The milky blue, her own pupil long gone. The edges of his lips curled into something akin to wonder. There wasn’t a look of pity and it didn’t seem like he was about to make another poor jest about her face– he just looked, as if to study it, to commit it to memory.

“Blue?” he murmured. “How curious.”

The way he said it had Shera perking her brow– it sounded like an epiphany to him, his voice taking a lighter note than she’d heard. There was no trace of callousness that had been exuding from him previously. He was calm.

“Yes, it's blue,” she muttered in response, his taut (but not uncomfortable) grip on her chin keeping her facing him. She desperately wanted to hide away, hide, hide. She’d never felt so exposed in her life, so naked– and she was fully clothed. It felt like her soul was on display to him, cracking from her ribcage.

“Let me formally apologize,” he cleared his throat. “‘Tis not mangled at all, nor a mess. I now wonder, even more than before, why you persist with the veil.” Aemond let go of her chin, but not before giving it a little tug in an almost playful manner. Aemond? Playful?

“I like them– it's… to hide.”

“Hide? To make oneself obscured, to conceal and fade into the background,” he pondered it for a moment. “You make yourself a spectacle with that thing, Shera. You are doing the opposite of hiding.”

Shera puffed out her chest, arms crossed over defensively. “A spectacle?”

“You chastised me for calling you a banshee, when you dress the part,” he leaned back in his chair, hands laced together over his stomach. He was relaxing.

She puffed, rolling her eyes. She mimicked his body position, leaning back with her hands on her stomach. It felt… odd to be looking at him without any inhibition. It felt almost normal. Normal– normal. When was the last time she felt normal?

“I want to clarify,” she cleared her throat, fingertips paused on her throat from speaking up too fast, too loudly. “I was not trying to kill myself. It… I… I’m not suicidal.”

Aemond’s expression didn’t change, he merely focused his gaze even more onto her. He didn’t say anything.

“The… disassociation is new, like Hela told you,” Shera’s hands wrought over one another slowly. “But it isn’t… unusual, given my… conditions.”

“Conditions?” he asked finally. His face still didn’t give away any emotion.

“... no one else knows except for Cregan and the maesters at Winterfell. Jace probably knows from Cregan… telling him all the things that are wrong with me, to look out for when we’re married.” she took a breath before continuing. “The maesters don’t exactly know what to call it— but it is… I lose control of my body and fall to the ground, convulsing— it's terribly painful and then everything goes black. We have referred to it as my… fainting spells, but it surely feels like more than fainting. It’s… quite violent.”

Aemond blinked. Hard. He took a beat to absorb the information before speaking. His position shifted as he leaned forward. “When was the last time you had one of these… spells?”

“… not since Winterfell.”

“I don’t remember this being an issue when you were younger— is it… relatively new?” he asked then. His lips were pursed together in a tight line, in tandem with his furrowed brow.

“Since Driftmark.”

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly at the mention. “Another thing for us to bear, isn’t it?” he gave a low, bitter chuckle. “The Gods weren’t satisfied in our mutilation alone and had to… bestow us with lasting gifts, hm?”

Shera stayed silent, sitting up to where their knees were touching. Her eyes were wide as she took him in. His melancholic smile and the dullness of his eye as he looked off somewhere in the distance.

“The pain is bad most days. And on its worst days, it’s unbearable. The… the nerve damage, the maesters said. I’ll live with it forever— a constant thrum and reminder of it. There’s a few medicines that help temporarily but…” his voice trailed off, his gaze returning to her. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Aemond.”

“I do and I do not— I should’ve protected you. I should’ve killed them.” he gave an ugly sneer, lip curled.

Shera’s heart felt like it was in her throat. She wanted to cry, to scream for his pain, for her pain. She couldn’t speak, her voice coming out in unintelligible, choked sobs.

He looked sad, too. The depth of his despair laid bare in front of her for only a moment. The mask slipped back on, his proverbial walls back up.

But she knew.

They were so alike— even now.

–

Aemond had always prided himself on his resilience, on his ability to mask his emotions into stone.

Why did he become so unraveled with Shera? He confided in her so easily, as if it was second nature.

His boots stomped down the corridor of Maegor’s Holdfast without much care. He was coming apart at the seams, like a thread pulled from an old doublet, letting the structure of the garment fall away.

All it took was one thread.

He found himself at his desk, candles lit. The piece of fabric she’d gifted to him, with her silly note, was still there. He clutched it in his hand, bringing it to his face and taking a breath.

Lavender, rosemary, chamomile. The scent of her on it still lingered, if not a bit faded.

He would smell it in the halls, coming back from training. He knew she’d been watching him in secret for the past moon. Whenever it wafted near him, he had half a mind to follow her, to confront her, to hold her—

Fuck. He was fucked. He was fucked the moment she came to King’s Landing— the very first time.

His hand glided through his hair as he snapped off the leather cord holding it back from his face. Strands of it fell over his vision as he tossed his eyepatch to the settee behind him.

Taking out the sapphire was a tedious task. And painful.

But damn the Gods, if he wasn’t vain. Even if he was the only one who saw it most of the time. He clenched his free fist, white knuckled as he prised the gem from his socket, setting it aside.

He picked up the note that had been attached to her fabric favor, looking over it again. Her handwriting was terrible— but so inevitably her. Pulling a key from under a stack of innocuous papers, he unlocked the third drawer that fell down the side of the oak desk.

In it, were letters. Penned by him. Unsent, unseen.

All for her. Everything he’d wanted to say to her for years, everything he’d ever written with her in mind.

Everything he never could confess— not even now.

There were at least a hundred letters in the drawer, dated from those ten years apart.

He placed the favor note on the top and locked it back in place. The favor fabric, however, stayed in his hand.

After some careful cutting and somewhat haphazard stitching— Aemond had sewed a small segment of the fabric to the inside of his eyepatch.

He stowed the remainder of it in his nightstand.

He was so fucked.

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clownhara · 8 days

Note

is there like a jester ocs 101 i do wanna learn about them

Putting these under a read more because this might get long

My family :)

Edward Roberts-Rosales: I made too many jokes about this bastard being my dad and now he's my dad. High key wants to fuck plants. Evades taxes like no ones business. Kind of a shit guy but it's funny to watch him mess up everything so we keep him alive for that alone Max Rosales: My better dad. Can really do so fucking much better than Edward but he settled </3. Is a plant man. Likes baking. Is the dad that actually loves me. Heron Rosales: I don't do to much with her but I'm trying to do more. Max's trans sister. Wants Edward dead and honestly, we don't blame her. Average chronic pain haver tbh please get her some Ibuprofen. Boaty McBoatface: My brother who is a boat. Edwards favorite son, despite being terrified of being on boats after he was the sole survivor of a ship wreck. I fuckinh hate this thing

Project Moon adjacent ones

Despise Domek (Or just Des): Local Enkphalin hooked rat. Goes by it/they but people close to it can call them she/her. There are two remaining people who can call them she/her. Steals things from people it likes to keep a piece of them, so don't invite them to your house. Things WILL go missing. Says the phrase "Well it didn't kill me so I'm fine" way to god damn often. Ambrose Domek: Not actually related to Des at all his parents just stole Des's parents last name. We heart religious fanaticism to the point of self harm!!!!!! Has two boyfriends and has convinced himself neither of them like him. Him and Des are besties :) Keith: Real Jester-heads remember Keith. I made this bastard before Ruina came out and he keeps fucking staying relevant to whatever game is out. How does he do it. Lobcorp him is Geb and Myo's adopted son, a Rabbit, and had a complex where he's gotta prove himself 24/7 and ends up getting his leg ripped off. Ruina him is trying to find Gebura again after the whole Library situation happened, and is wildly distraught after learning Myo's whole deal. Limbus Keith is content, much older, runs a weapons shop, and is gay married to Heathcliff. Jesus Christ I made him before the new translation of Lopcorp happened I think HOW LONG HAS HE EXISTED WHAT THE FUCK

Damien Domek: Also not related to Des, just took it's last name because he liked it. They are qprs though. Also is broke as shit but mostly stays out of the Rat lifestyle by just old fashioned robbing people. Loves lying to people for fun and profit, but he is honestly a pretty nice guy. Minus the lying

Randos

Arlo: Disgusting rancid cyborg scientist who needs to bathe and touch grass. I adore him though. Ellie: Arlos little sibling. She/they user. Kills people for money and feeds the bodies to the eldritch horror that follows her around Hector: The eldritch horror that follows Ellie around. usually just looks like a dilf tbh its easier for Ellie to explain. Can't actually speak so he usually just talks telepathically while making a bunch of hums, chirps, and clicks to mimic speaking.

Oleander: Local unethical scientist that unethicaled a bit too hard when trying to revive his even worse older brother and turned off most of his emotions manually to avoid coping with the mental toil. Sad! Many such cases. Can't feel any emotions other then joy now. Kinda sucks but he certainly doesn't seem to upset about it :)

Simon: Oleadners brother. Kinda. Moreso a robot piloting Oleanders brothers body. Fucking hates Oleander but after Oleander lobotomized himself Simon begrudgingly takes care of him now. Despite his complicated feelings, he's wildly overprotective.

Cybel: A robot Oleander made! They are meant to gather as much information as they possibly can in case some horrible event happens that kills off humanity. is quite literally indestructible. Likes ice cream.

Octavius: I made this guy to be a danganrompa villain back in high school and I succeeded too well. I fucking hate this fake ass bitch

Tabb: This fucking guy. Trapped in a time loop but he doesn't know and its technically not a time loop. Met his (now) husband ages ago but died shortly after meeting him, so he revived Tabb, then the two got married, then Tabb died again so Halt (the husband) revived him again but he lost his memories then halt died and Tabb revived him the Tabb died again so Halt revived him but he lost all his memories so they dated again and got remarried then Tabb died again and you get the idea. Very nice guy, a bit anxious, perfectly normal minus the dying thing. If it wasn't for him losing all his memories and Halt tampering with shit so he was in love with him i uh. Don't think he'd actually like Halt all that much tbh

Halt: Just wants to be happy with his husband :(. Sad he unethicaled all over that science. Hey are you noticinga theme here. Also he's a cat boy but thats really not relevant to his depression issues

Urge: Halts kinda milfy twin sister. Really sick of all of this loop bullshit because she gets to watch her bestie Tabb die repeatedly, so she packed up her bags and left. Can't be in the same room as Halt without them getting into a fist fight. Do you see the themeing with their namesan d their ideals. Halt is kinda halted in place but Urge keeps pushing forward because she has the urgeto move on. Do you see it. It is almost 1 am

Russel: A kid that got roped into this whole mess because he walked in on a Tabb revival tube without permission. Sticks around Urge most of the time. Had a bad homelife to put it mildly, so Urge took him in.

Theres way more of these bastards but these are the most relevant ones. I am going to bed now. Goobnight

#asks #scp-168 #ocs #my ocs #I'll probs pop this in the queue like 90 times so it circulates for a while.

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fastcardotmp3 · 1 year

Text

stranger things au where when it's all done, instead of the general fandom usual of NDA's and cover stories, those guys at the NINA Project figure out a way to use that same technology that brought El's memories back to instead wipe the memories of anyone involved in saving the world/ anyone who saw anything abnormal and replace them with the mundane.

It's the only foolproof way to make sure that none of That gets out, to make sure that no one decides to go poking around again 10 years down the line or write a book or a song or a movie that hits a little too closely to the truth, and the government loves themselves something that seems like a foolproof plan.

But what does this mean for our heroes? They don't remember the circumstances that brought them together, only the cover memories that were inserted in their place. They don't remember why they care so deeply for one another because a summer scooping ice cream or a walk through the woods or an-- impromptu game of baseball???-- doesn't quite line up with how it feels.

It feels bigger than that. It feels--

There are explanations for Steve's scars, he remembers a big dog and a trip to the ER, he remembers getting in a car accident and the seat belt coming loose enough to get stuck across his throat instead of his chest. He remembers-- blood on his hands, blood on his clothes, the outline of a man torn half to shreds--

He remembers a bad trip with Robin, but sometimes Robin will say something and it's-- when we got drugged- took those- when we uh, y'know tried LSD that time?-- fuzzy because of the bad trip of it all.

It's easy to accept the truth as the truth, because he remembers. It's easy, for years, to let the truth be the truth, to forget entirely that there are pieces that don't make sense, that there's no reason he should be as close with Dustin Henderson as he is because wait how did we meet? over a missing cat? It's easy, to just let it be true, because the love is there and that's what matters.

The love is there for a year and two and five and ten and Steve's life isn't always easy, in fact he's gone through his fair share of therapists for the insomnia none of them can explain, the confusion that both him and Robin talk about sometimes in the dead of night but can't remember talking about in the morning.

Eddie gets medicated for some sort of psychosis for a while because he had years of these intense night terrors that he could never explain to people, screaming at the top of his lungs, but the minute he would try to tell a shaking and terrified Steve or Robin or Nancy or whoever was present what it had been about he would just sob with frustration because he couldn't remember.

Max has a condition which made her lose her eyesight rapidly as a teenager, who has chronic pain that no doctors have ever found a real cause for despite Steve dragging her to appointment after appointment with fierce protectiveness in his eyes and voice, a desperation that there has to be a reason.

It's easy to accept it as the truth, that they all gravitated towards each other because they're all just a little fucked up in unrelated ways. That they connected to one another because oh you get scared sometimes too? scared like I do? scared like no one else understands?

Lucas starts spontaneously sobbing when some Kate Bush song plays on the radio in 1992. Can't explain it except that it hurts.

Nancy goes to a shooting range and feels her hands go steady for the first time in years in '93. She's never shot a gun before.

El Hopper had a traumatic enough childhood that doctors say she likely won't ever remember all of it, that her brain is protecting her, that-- that's probably true. They're doctors. They know better than Steve, they know about everything except why Max's legs hurt so bad she can't move sometimes.

They know everything except why Eddie can't feel pinned down without having a visceral belief he's dying.

They know everything except why Jonathan swears that their old house used to be painted a different color in the living room.

There are explanations for Steve's scars. He remembers a big dog.

Sharp teeth. Snarling.

He's in his thirties when he kisses Eddie Munson for the first time, because they're fucked in the head in the same ways, because no one else has ever gotten close enough to see the scars and hear the screaming and feel the desperation and not suggested maybe you need bigger help than I can give.

He's a grown man, and it's easy to believe the truth of his past, easy to think that growing older means it's supposed to be a little fuzzy around the edges, and that's okay because this feels bright and clear and technicolor, this thing with Eddie who has run away and come back half a dozen times but always does come back.

Whether he goes to Seattle or LA, New York or Boston; whether he and Steve are in the same place at the same time for more than a couple of weeks, he always comes back, they always find their way back to each other no matter where in the world, except--

Except there.

Everyone left that town with a haste-- or was it one at a time? No, it was the Byers first to California, except-- didn't Will graduate from that school? No. Because El went to school in Chicago at the same time that Robin started college there and she helped Will apply to the Arts Institute and--

And it was Max who went to California-- no, she was from there, but she also-- did she go back?

And why does Steve remember the house he grew up in but the minute he tries to step outside the back door onto the patio in his mind, out by the-- with the blue light and--

"Have you ever been back?" he asks Eddie one day, 32 years old and living in Chicago now full-time together. Robin's just down the road, Nancy's at the Tribune, Argyle has been franchising that coffee shop of his, is opening a spot here in town near his friends who he met when--

"Back where?" Eddie trails his hands through Steve's hair, laying half on top of each other on the couch and listening to some old tape of Jonathan's.

"Where we're from."

Eddie's fingers slow to an almost still and Steve props himself up to watch the way his brow furrows in concentration.

"Why would we go back?" he asks, and Steve has this flash-- like they've had this conversation before.

Like they've talked about where we're from before, although the name of the place never crosses their lips.

"I dunno," Steve slumps into Eddie's chest. They're getting older though so maybe just, "nostalgia?"

"Are you feeling nostalgic?" A rediscovered rhythm to gentle nails across his scalp. Soothing.

"It's where we met," Steve says. It feels true, although when he thinks about it-- "remember? How we met?"

"I..." Eddie's jaw clicks. It does that sometimes, on the same side with the scar.

There are explanations for Eddie's scars too-- a drug deal gone wrong, too many guys with too may knives-- or was it broken beer bottles? They used those as weapons, yeah. Tattered clothes and tattered skin and blood on Steve's hands--

No. He wasn't there. Blood on-- it was Dustin who found him? No. Wait, it was Wayne. Wayne found him, yeah, exactly--

"We met there," Eddie's gripping Steve's hair now, by the root. "We met back there. High school. Do you want to go back?

"Why would we go--"

Steve startles himself with the words, like they just-- like they weren't a choice to say, like they said themselves, like--

"Ed."

Breathing is tight. Steve sits up straight and looks at him. Scars on his face. Eyes so big and deep they hold endless histories--

"Eddie, do you want to go visit-- visit, uh, you know?"

"Why would we--" Eddie claps a hand over his mouth and hums out a sound of frightened discontent. "What. What the fuck."

"How did we meet, again?" Steve swallows. Eddie stands up, paces to the other side of the apartment.

"High school."

"How in high school?"

"Steve, I stopped taking those meds because they didn't help, but this isn't helping me not feel fucking certifiable either--"

"Eddie, I don't remember."

"Okay, so we're getting old!"

"We're not even middle aged!"

Eddie stops where he stands, shakes his head, and Steve watches him because it's easy to watch him, easy to look at the life they've lived and accept that they found each other, fell in love, because no one else gets what it's like to be fucked in the head. To know what's true and still feel wrong in that truth.

To believe it and still get lost in it.

Eddie clenches down on the tremble of his jaw and his eyes go big and imploring.

"What's happening, Stevie?"

There are explanations for all of it, but no one has ever been able to explain Max's pain or Nancy's sharp-shooting or Robin and Steve's inability to get drunk without losing it or the color of the paint in the Byers' old living room in that fucking town that Steve can't even think the name of--

"I'm calling Robin," he says, already striding across the floor. "I want to go back."

There are explanations.

Maybe that's not good enough anymore.

#dot fic #dot post #stranger things #stranger things au #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #I sat down to work on meta and then my brain said new idea alert! and that's this ramble

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dreamwatch · 8 months

Text

STWG daily drabble - 28/09/23

Prompt: horse

Warnings: mentions of chronic pain

This is the longest thing I have ever shared, and the weirdest thing I have ever written. I have literally zero idea where this came from. It's not beta'd, apologies for typos etc. This is just shy of 2.5k words, so yeah... not so Drabble actually.

****

“So, what’s on your mind today, Eddie?”

He sees Doctor Pearcey every Wednesday at 2pm. Has done now for two months. And it’s the first thing she says to him every time he sits down. What’s on your mind today, Eddie? He’s responded in various ways. With anger. With humour. With distrust. On one particularly memorable day, with silence, which Doctor Pearcey matched in spades. The two of them sat there for an hour and didn’t say a single word. Eddie wanted to peel his skin off about ten minutes into it.

He’s in more pain than usual today, has a lower tolerance for her psychobabble mumbo jumbo, so he’s already looking to derail the session before he gets in the room.

“Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?” Eddie asks her.

“No, I haven’t. Have you?”

“Hmm, couple of times.”

There’s silence for a minute or so. It’s like they’re playing therapy chicken, who gives in and speaks first? It’s usually him.

“I like them. Like how fast they are, you know? How free you feel on them.” He digs his thumb into the leather of the armchair, leaving little crescent nail marks.

“And what’s got you thinking about that today?”

The beautiful purple Kawasaki he passed on his way here today would be the easy answer. But when did he ever do anything easy?

“Wayne hates them. I’ve been wanting one for years, but he begged me not to. Asked me to wait till I was twenty one. I think he thought I would just grow out of it.”

“And have you?”

“Fuck no. I want one more than ever.”

She waits.

“I’m twenty one next week, and I won’t be getting a motorcycle because my leg is fucked, and I can’t twist or move properly.” He doesn’t bother hiding the bitterness. “It doesn’t matter, I mean, it’s whatever at this point, just another thing I can’t do, add it to the fucking pile, right?”

He changes the subject and she follows along behind waiting for breadcrumbs. Eventually their time comes to an end and he’s desperate to get out.

“Do you trust me, Eddie?”

He lets out an incredulous laugh. “You work for the spook agency that started this fucking nightmare. So, no, not really.”

She smiles back. “That’s fair.” She walks to her desk and scribbles a note before handing it to him. Eddie takes it from her like it’s poisonous.

“Meet me at that address on Sunday. Two PM. I’ll be waiting.”

And that is definitely not how the sessions usually end.

——

Wayne is working so Steve offers to take him. And Eddie isn’t going to say no to spending some time with him, especially when he’s walking into the unknown. Although the unknown appears to be…

“A horse sanctuary? Why the fuck does she want to meet you at a horse sanctuary?”

“Maybe she’s going to shoot me and put me out of my misery.”

Steve slaps him against the chest with the back of his hand. “Dude.”

“Sorry.”

He sees her standing at a fence watching a couple of horses wander around the paddock. The ground is a little rough below his feet and his leg has been a complete nightmare all week, so Steve walks with him, hand gently resting at Eddie’s elbow as he traverses the uneven ground with his cane. It makes him grateful and fucking furious all at the same time. Such is his life these days.

“You came. I’m glad,” she says, smiling brightly.

“Well, my curiosity door was opened,” replies Eddie and Steve stifles a laugh beside him.

Steve heads back to the car, squeezes Eddie’s elbow gently, before saying goodbye to the Doc. She watches the exchange intently, and Eddie feels entirely scrutinised. He hasn’t spoken about Steve in the sessions, has no intention of doing so and the last person he would want to know about it is someone that works for the fucking feds.

“So, why am I here, exactly?”

“I thought you might like to get out of that stuffy office for a change. You never seem very comfortable.”

Eddie laughs. “Uh huh, and what is it that gave you the impression I’d be comfortable in a field full of horses?”

She shrugs. “Humour me.”

See, it was shit like that that drove Eddie crazy. Humour me. It’s Sunday. Right now he could be lying on his bed playing guitar, reading, hanging out with Steve. He could be jerking off. All of which was preferable to standing in a field full of horseshit.

“Okay, well I’m not in a humorous mood, so I’m going to leave you to your equine endeavours.” He turns to leave.

“There’s someone I want you to meet. Before you go. Will only take a minute.” The Doc waves at a stable hand and a few minutes later Eddie is face to face with a beautiful white horse.

“I swear to god, if you tell me his name is Shadowfax…”

She laughs. “No, this is Tony. Tony, meet Eddie.” Tony whinnies, nodding his head up and down, his mane blowing gently in the wind. Eddie smiles. God damn her.

Eddie reaches over the fence to stroke Tony. This gorgeous, graceful animal, and it’s called fucking Tony.

“He’s beautiful. How come he’s here?”

“He was a race horse, I believe. But he was slow, didn’t make his owners any money. So now he gets to live here and lead a good life.”

“Doesn’t he miss racing? Like, aren’t they bred for that? What does he do all day if he can’t race anymore?”

“It wasn’t meant to be. But he’s patient, and kind and now he helps people learn to ride. And he’s very, very good at that.” She turns to face him, one arm hooked over the fence. “You said you were disappointed at not being able to ride a motorcycle? Correct?”

Where the fuck was this going?

“Yeah… ?”

“Why ride a steel horse when you can ride the real thing?”

Eddie splutters. “You have to be kidding me?” She just keeps smiling. He stares at her, open mouthed and wide eyed. “You’re fucking serious?”

“I’m fucking serious,” she says, with a glint of mischief. “You wanted the freedom and the excitement of riding. Well, I’m offering it to you. Or, Tony’s offering it to you, really.”

He looks between her and Tony. “Did you miss the part about my leg being fucked? How the hell am I even supposed to get up there? And what if I fall? No, absolutely not.”

The Doc gives him a long hard stare. “Do you trust me?” she ask him.

“No.”

“The sanctuary has a programme for disabled riders. Tony is the best of the best. You’d be perfectly safe. Come on, Eddie. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“This was… very nice, I guess, of you to think about this, but no. Sorry. It’s not the same as a bike, like at all. I have control of the bike, my bike can’t just run off and start jumping over fences and shit.”

“No, but your bike’s not smart. Tony is smart. He’s kind. He feels his rider, he knows what they need, knows when they’re scared. He fills in the gaps, takes the lead when a rider needs it, hands them back control when they don’t. He can guide you. Look after you. Your bike can’t do that.”

He feels his resolve wane. He sighs. Animals, they get him every time.

“People get hurt riding horses.”

“Sure, but they don’t call motorbikes donorcycles for nothing, Eddie.” Touché.

He shakes his head, this is such a stupid idea, but eventually that little pixie voice in his head just says fuck it, and within fifteen minutes he’s wearing a very unflattering helmet, climbing a mounting block and being helped into the saddle on Tony’s back.

He feels like he’s going to slip off the other side, and every time Tony moves his head forward toward the ground Eddie panics because it feels like he’ll just lean forward and drop like a rock to the ground. It's incredibly disorienting.

Eddie grips the reins so hard he sees his knuckles go white until the instructor shows him how to hold them properly. They show him how to guide Tony but ultimately Tony is doing all the work here, Eddie is just along for the ride.

He’s led around the paddock, and yeah, he feels stupid at first, self conscious sitting up in the air for everyone to see. But eventually he gets into the swing of it, and it’s… nice. Nerve wracking, but nice.

They’re going at walking speed, he can feel the rhythmic sway of Tony’s body, and it’s comforting. Why is it comforting? It’s not exactly the Kentucky Derby, but he can’t stop himself from grinning.

Eddie knows fuck all about horses, less than fuck all actually, but if he didn’t know better he’d say that Tony was enjoying himself. And as much as he hates that she’s right, he feels at peace. Feels like he trusts this animal, who he literally just met, but who seems to be having a ball wandering around with this asshole on his back.

“Wanna pick it up a bit?” asks the instructor and Eddie’s about to say ‘fuck no’ when Tony comes to a stop. Like he knows Eddie’s not sure. Eddie strokes along Tony’s thick, white mane, and pats his shoulder.

“Eurgh, yeah, shit, okay,” he says before leaning forward and whispering in Tony’s ear, “look after me, okay? Cause I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing up here.” Tony answers with a swooping nod of the head and then they’re off.

They’re barely going any faster as Tony trots around the paddock, but Eddie can definitely feel the difference. The soft, comforting sway has been replaced by a harder jolt. He’s going to pay for it tomorrow, can already feel it in his hips and back, and he hasn’t got the strength in his leg to properly push up from the stirrups, but it doesn’t matter.

The last time he was on a motorcycle he was seventeen, and it belonged to a friend of Reefer Rick’s. He was riding pillion and they were going way over the speed limit, and he’d never felt more alive, more free. He was young enough and dumb enough to think he’d never get hurt. He was invincible at seventeen. He wasn’t even a little bit scared of falling off. The folly of youth.

In three short years the folly of youth has been replaced with constant dread and a little bit of paranoia.

This isn’t the same as that careless charge up the highway, not by a long shot, but it’s exciting in it’s own way, like going on a roller coaster instead of walking through an alternate universe.

He feels at peace. A moment in time when he’s not having to think about doctors appointments, worrying about Wayne, worrying about his future. His life has got so small since March. The kids are at school and he’s not, but he can’t work so he spends endless unfilled hours at home, waiting for other people to have space for him.

The constant churn in his mind slows, his thoughts empty, his worries silence.

They go back to a steady walk, Tony’s body lilting from side to side, a gentle rock. Eddie already loves him. He’s a fucking sap. Horses? Rich people pets? No way man, not for him. But this guy, this is Eddie’s guy now.

As they turn in the paddock he sees Steve leaning over the fence, grinning.

“Nice hat!” Asshole.

Eddie flips him off but Steve just laughs, sunglasses pushed back up on his head. Steve can read him like a book, and Eddie knows he can see it. The complicated emotions today is bringing out in him. The joy and the excitement and the little bit of sadness. Steve raises his eyebrows, that little silent okay? Eddie smiles shyly and nods in response. They’ll talk properly later, when Eddie is trying to unpack everything.

It’s over too soon. Eddie’s helped down and fuck, yeah he’s in a little pain now, but Jesus it was so worth it. He pats Tony, strokes his neck, tells him what a beautiful boy he is, and Tony leans over nudges his nose against the side of Eddie’s face. There is a conversation happening between them, just this little quiet acknowledgement of something. Eddie doesn’t want to leave him. He feels… changed, weirdly. Like it was spiritual. Like something inside him got cracked open just a little.

“So?”

Doctor Pearcey stands behind him, looking pretty pleased with herself.

He tilts his head to the side, makes a big show of it. “Yeah, it was okay.” Eddie knows she sees through his bullshit. They’ll be talking about this next week. No need to go through it all now.

They head back to the car, Steve at his elbow again, and Doctor Pearcey hands him a card with the sanctuary number on. “Just in case you’d like to come back.”

He does. Wayne is going to enjoy giving him shit, and he doesn’t even want to think of the number of jockey jokes in his future, but he really does want to do this again.

The car ride is quiet on the way home, just the sound of some top forty shit in the background, but Eddie’s mind is elsewhere. He feels still, his head is clear and quiet. Ridiculously relaxed.

“How’s your ass?” asks Steve.

Eddie grins. “Haven’t had any complaints.”

“Jesus Christ.” But he’s laughing. They’re both laughing.

“So, you want to do it again? We can make it regular, I’ll just make sure Keith doesn’t schedule me for Sundays.”

Eddie stares at the side of Steve’s face. This guy. This fucking guy.

“You’d do that?”

“Of course I would.” Steve looks studiously out at the road, hands firmly at ten and two. “I’d do anything for you.”

Eddie feels like he’s skipped a breath, but tentatively reaches his hand across the console and pokes at Steve’s thigh. Steve takes a hand off the wheel, reaches blindly to find Eddie’s, gives it a little squeeze before letting go. They don’t look at each other.

He leans back in his seat, imagines Tony, galloping, mane trailing behind him in the wind. Just beautiful.

Why the fuck did they call him Tony?

#stwgdailyprompt #steddie #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #cw chronic pain #stranger things #not really that angsty #little bit fluffy in places #who am I?#my writing #dreamy writes

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bonefall · 8 months

Note

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

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

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

All righty! BB!Bumble's dyspraxia!

First off, for newcomers;

WHY I ADDED DYSPRAXIA TO BUMBLE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that's where I'm starting from.

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

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

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

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

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

Bumble's Dyspraxia

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

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

Short-term memory issues, but not long-term

Being constantly covered in bumps and bruises

Having a hard time telling lefts and rights

Difficulties holding pencils or writing in general

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

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

Stuttering and taking long pauses before responding to someone else speaking

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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littlemissomega · 9 months

Text

I'm Here

steve rogers x endometriosis!reader

Summary: Steve Roger's girlfriend has endometriosis and gets her period

Warnings: chronic pain, reader has endometriosis which causes extremely painful periods, reader gets her period, throwing up, crying, little suggestive but not really (Y/N thinks Steve is gonna do something sexual for a second, but he doesn't)

The sound of Y/N’s crying greets Steve as soon as he opens the door. He drops his back and dashing up the stairs, pushing the bedroom door open.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” Steve asks.

Y/N is laying on the bed, on top of a pillow with one heating pad on her stomach and another on her back. Her legs are tucked under her; calves flush with her thighs.A small trash can sits next to her head.

“I-It hurts so bad,” Y/N sobs, pressing her face into the pillow, “Feels l-like I’m dying,”

Dread fills Steve, but he realizes what happened. He gently lowers himself on the bed next to her, pulling Y/N’s hair out of her face and tying it up.

“Did you get your period, honey?” he asks gently.

Y/N nods weakly, jolting as pain shoots through her.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I know it hurts. Did you take your meds already?”

Y/N nods again, sniffling.

Steve places a hand on y/n’s shoulder blades, causing her to flinch before melting into his touch. He rubs light circles in place.

“What can I get for you?”

“I…I don't feel so good,” Y/N whimpers before lunging forward, barely grabbing the trash can before she throws up into it.

“Oh baby,” Steve murmurs, “It’s okay, I’m here, just get it all out,”

Steve wipes the tears from her cheeks as Y/N heaves into the trash can. Her face is sticky and hot

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Y/N chokes out between heaves.

“It’s okay, princess, there’s nothing to apologize for. I got you,” he soothes.

When Y/N finally finishes emptying the contacts of her stomach into the trash can, she collapses back against the pillows. Sharp pain shoots through her lower stomach, back, legs, and ribcage. She sniffles, shifting to try and ease the pain.

“I’m so sorry you aren’t feeling, well, baby. What can I get for you? I’m here,”

“Ca-can you get me a cold w-w-wash cloth?” Y/N stutters.

“Of course, honey. I’ll be right back,” Steve voices, rubbing her back for more time before standing up. He grabs the trash can, “I’ll clean this up. Just holler or bang on the wall if you need me,”

Y/N nods into the pillow. Steve hurries into the bathroom, emptying the trash can into the toilet and cleaning it out. He grabs 2 small towels and wets them with cool water, wringing them out.

“Steve?” he hears Y/N whimpers.

“I’m coming, baby!”

Steve hurries back into the bedroom, setting the trash can back down next to her head.

“I’m right here,” he soothes, using one of the towels to wipe her sweat-slicked face and lips clean. He takes the other one and presses it to her forehead. Y/N lets out a sigh of relief at the cool sensation. She reaches and grabs Steve’s hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tightly.

Y/N jolts forward again, whimpering into the pillow. Steve continues rubbing gently circles on her back.

“Can I try something, baby? See if it helps you feel better?” Steve voices.

“Uh huh,” Y/N nods softly, looking over at him.

Her eyes are swollen and pink from crying, and slightly glazed over. Steve pulls his shirt off and her eyes go wide.

“No no no no, not that, no that’s the worst thing we could do right now, no-” Y/N cries.

“Shhh, shh, it’s okay, baby, I’m not gonna do anything! It’s okay, darling, take a deep breath,” Steve soothes, gently slipping her hands under her arms and shifting her up.

Y/N starts to protest, but Steve quickly pushes the pillows from under her and takes their places. He eases her down over her so her heating pad is sandwiched between them and her knees are on either side of him. She lets out a content sound and sinks into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Steve strokes Y/N’s hair with one hand, using the other to rub up and down her back.

“Is that a little better, princess?”

Y/N nods into his shoulder, clinging to them.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you too, baby,”

Taglist:

@liidiaaag

@flourishandblotts-inc

@aagn360

@smromanoff

@butyoudontlookdisabled

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tenderheartedtheodore · 1 year

Text

random bnha headcanons because theres worms in my brain. (more under the cut)

- Kaminari, Midoriya, Kirishima, Sero and Hagakure have ADHD

- Kirishima is a gay transman (started transitioning in middle school)

- Midnight is a wlw transwoman

- Shirakumo was pansexual and used he/they pronouns

- Kaminari has lightning scars and does his best to hide them (they're mostly in his back, chest and arms)

- Bakugou genuinely has anger issues and is in the process of getting diagnosed

- Ojiro, Yaoyorozu and Hagakure have body dysmorphia

- Jirou, Bakugou and Present Mic are all either HoH or fully deaf (i.e.: Present Mic has hearing aids and Bakugou needs them as well)

- Uraraka has an anxiety disorder (GAD, likely)

- Iida has restless leg syndrome

- Kaminari gets seizures when he overuses his quirk

- Shinsou, Uraraka, Jirou and Kaminari deal with migraines often

- Shoji and Midoriya have chronic pains

- Mineta got fucking expelled.

- he got his ass beat by like half of the class for the shit he was doing to the girls and some crap he said to Kirishima (who's openly trans)

- Asui, Iida, Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki, Shinsou and Yaoyorozu are autistic

- Aoyama is gay and under the nonbinary umbrella

- Bakugou and Midoriya are also transmasc

- Midoriya's first binder was a birthday gift from the Bakugous (Bakugou half-jokingly wanted to make matching All Might binders for them)

- Tokoyami, Bakugou, Jirou, Todoroki and Shinsou often hang out together (either going to Hot Topic or just listening to music)

- the band/Jirousquad play whenever they have free time

- Satou stress bakes (Aizawa has walked in on him baking cakes at 2am several times)

- "... hey Mr Aizawa. Red velvet?" *deep sigh*

- most of the class has nightmares often and it's not new when they're awoken by or run into each other in the middle of the night

- Tokoyami having a nightmare, waking up with a scared Dark Shadow and then deciding to watch TV in the common room VS Asui curled up with a couple blankets on the couch because she also had a nightmare

- Jirou being hyperaware of her classmates' shallow breaths and shakes, feeling bad for not knowing what to do

- Bakugou wakes up the entire dorm by accident because he caused an explosion while waking up from a nightmare

- Koji uses sign language most the time and is semi verbal (autism and anxiety)

- Mirko is a lesbian

- Mr Compress is mlm

- Shinsou goes to sleep at 5am while Midoriya wakes up at 5am

- Shinsou, Kaminari, Tokoyami, Uraraka and Yaoyorozu are insomniacs

- Magne was like a big sister to Dabi (and he misses her. it was nice to know what it would've felt like to be the little sibling.)

- Bakugou is (stubbornly) teaching himself sign language

- Midoriya, Present Mic, Aizawa also know sign language (the Bakusquad are getting lessons from Midoriya)

- Monoma is on the aromantic spectrum

- Midoriya uses wrist braces and needs a cane (All Might and Recovery Girl are trying to get him to)

- Bakugou also needs wrist braces but refuses to get them

- Iida, Todoroki, Yaoyorozu and Bakugou are "Rich Kids With Family Issues" solidarity

- Natsuo used to the dye bits of red in his hair, but as he grew older, the red stopped growing

- it reminded him of Touya and he couldn't look in the mirror for the longest time

- Sero dislocates his shoulders often

- class 1a are banned from playing dodgeball (Recovery Girl had a really busy day the one time they played it)

- Todoroki and Yaoyorozu are gay-lesbian solidarity

- Kirishima, Uraraka, Tetsutetsu and Bakugou are gym buddies

- Midoriya learned English because of All Might

- Bakugou, Jirou, Kaminari and Shinsou are also fluent in English

- Midnight talked to Ashido, Yaoyorozu and Hagakure about their hero costumes and if they were truly comfortable wearing them; they ended up getting they fixed

- Shinsou sometimes uses his quirk to brainwash his classmates into doing self care

- "What're you doing, Sero?" "Oh, not much, just-" "Go drink water."

- Monoma, Midoriya, Kirishima, Denki and Bakugou have imposter syndrome

- if Yaoyorozu is caught off guard, she creates tiny figurines by accident

- Aizawa has had to catch Uraraka with his capture weapon a few times due to her sleep floating

- Shiozaki has extreme religious guilt

- Present Mic does his hair up while in his hero costume out of spite because high school kids used to make fun of Aizawa's hair when he used his quirk

- Kendo is bisexual

- she/they Fuyumi. you agree. reblog

- class 1a has sleepovers sometimes; blanket forts, movies, snacks, everything!

- (Aizawa knows and allows it every time. they deserve and need to be kids)

- sometimes they invite class 1b as well

- Monoma, Shinsou and Midoriya get along well to everyone's surprise

- Kirishima once ran into Dabi while buying hairdye but it was his day off and it looked like it was Dabi's day off too so he just pretended he never saw him grab a box of jetblack hairdye, shove it in his hoodie pocket and leave

- for the sake of his own sanity

- Hagakure can 'turn her quirk off' but only does so when she feels completely safe and comfortable, or when she's totally worn out

- when she did it for the first time around the rest od the class everyone was shocked

- "... is something wr-" "YOU'RE SO PRETTY???,?"

- Ashido, Uraraka and Kaminari hold Shoji's hands while crossing the street (mostly for fun, but he doesn't mind)

- Kaminari absent mindedly braided the hair on Ojiro's tail one day and he just let him

- Koji's bunny is an emotional support animal named Cotton

- Shigaraki decays door handles on purpose just to mess with the rest of the LOV

- he gets bored, okay?

- Aizawa teaches Eri sign language as a surprise for Mic (as well just so Eri has a way to communicate when she doesn't feel comfortable talking)

- Uraraka makes a casual comment about not having enough money to buy something for herself or her parents and Iida, Todoroki, Yaoyorozu and Bakugou hand her their credit cards like its nothing

- she is startled by that Every Time without fail

- Twice and Toga paint each other's nails

- Mr Compress lets Twice borrow his masks sometimes

- Himiko is a vegetarian, funnily enough

- Mt. Lady has chronic pains and stretch marks

- Bakugou has scars and burns from his own explosions (he wasn't born with perfect control over his quirk, and sometimes he takes his anger out on himself)

- Fuyumi and Natsuo's quirks are extremely powerful ice quirks, but Endeavor never bothered to train them and never let Rei teach them how to control their quirks

- while Fuyumi has Frost, Natsuo's quirk is called Subzero; he can lower his body temperature dangerously low and when he does so, whatever he touches freezes

- if he's emotional or focused enough, he can create icicles and wield them

- Todoroki considered dying his hair several times (black was on top of the list but after Dabi revealed he was Touya, he decided against it)

- the LOV took turns helping Dabi dye his hair

- Kurogiri helped Dabi with his staples (the only other person willing to do that was Himiko but everyone agreed it was a bad ideia)

- Spinner sticks around Dabi during winter because he's a human heater

- no one in the LOV liked Overhaul

- like, killing Magne was bad enough. but straight up child abuse? come on

- they know what it's like to be a kid and to be scared and hurt and they don't want that

- Himiko has nervous tics

- Hatsume is autistic and will infodump about her babies to anyone that will listen

- she and Midoriya infodump to each other

- sometimes, Kurogiri's gaze lingers on the morning sky. he finds clouds strangely amusing for some reason

- Aizawa and Present Mic have been together since they were 17 and have been married for nearly six years (they wear their rings on necklaces underneath their clothes)

- they officially adopted Eri first, then Shinsou

- (It's Free Real State Children)

- "I'm having another kid." "That's great, sensei-" "it's you. Mic and I have the papers already."

- Bakugou, Iida and Yaoyorozu tutor the class before tests

- Kaminari has dyscalculia and dyslexia

- Satou always has snacks on him (especially ones the made himself)

- he keeps an eye on Yaoyorozu and makes sure to give her something if he notices she's looking particularly pale

- most if not the whole class 1a has PTSD (this doesn't shock anyone. Aizawa is desperately trying to get them to talk to Hound Dog sometime)

- Aizawa needs reading glasses and refuses to wear them

- Aizawa and Present Mic & Midnight share custody of Sushi unironically (the cat Shirakumo rescued)

- Aizawa and Mic own other cats (Mochi and Tessie) (it's short for Tshirt, Mic thought it was funny)

- Iida and Yaoyorozu were at Aizawa and Mic's wedding due to their family status, everyone else was clueless to their marriage

- no one was aware they adopted Eri and Shinsou though

- like yeah Aizawa-sensei's taking care of Eri, BUT ADOPTION??

- "oh, Shinsou's in our class- HITOSHI AIZAWA-YAMADA?"

- Aizawa may have only two (2) legal children but by god does he love his other nineteen little bastards.

- Iida made a groupchat for class 1a for "school purposes" but it quickly descended into madness and he gave up

- the gc is now named something incoherent and incomprehensible and there's like seven other chats for different purposes (such as "dekusquad", "bakusquad", "the band" and "is this fucked up or are all parents like this?")

- Iida and Yaoyorozu keep note of everyone's allergies

- so does Aizawa

- Yaoyorozu has a bad relationship with food and often has trouble using her quirk due to it

- Tetsutetsu is a stealth transman (only Kirishima is vaguely aware)

- Kuroiro was extremely afraid of the dark as a child

- Ashido gets acid burns often (they're not too bad and mostly in her hands, but if it's a particularly bad day, she gets burns in her face)

- Kirishima has trouble walking/moving in general when he overuses his quirk

- Present Mic is mlm

- Aizawa is a gay transman

- Jirou and Kaminari are both bisexual

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