#X disabled reader

[thewritingfairy]

↪ 14. chaos and Bruce's guilt

PREV PART  trigger warning: medical + physical + emotional neglect, vague background to your mama and Bruce, thoughts of death, chaotic (because I got too many ideas) filler   main m.list       series m.list

You’re glad Bruce has your phone, because that means no one can bother you while Maria and you are having a sleepover, finishing schoolwork, prepping for university entrance exams and practising for the talent show.

This gives you a sense of freedom you could never feel at the manor, even with you helping Maria with her chores, even with you baking for the family and making trail snacks for their family party this weekend. “Have you two already decided what you wanted to do for the talent show?” mama Angelica asks, taking a bite of one of your chocolate cupcakes while staring at you two intensely.

“...yes and no,” Maria admits, scratching her head slightly. Her mama deadpans, and Maria rushes to explain. “well, we have decided that I will sing and that (Name) will play the piano but we’ve yet to decide what song.”

You giggle as mama Angelica sighs, it was clear she wants you two to be prepped for the talent show, and it’s already in two weeks! “We could do forest green by why mona,” you suggest, tasting some of the baking batter. “you already sing that song continuously, I’ll just need to learn it on the piano only version, or make a piano only version.”

“Or we can do family line by Conan Grey,” Maria grins out, when her mama looks at her confused she explains; “it’s basically a song about a dysfunctional family and since (Name)’s youngest brother has to attend the talent show, why not kinda shame him?”

You look at her shocked, as if you couldn’t believe what she’s saying. “Maria, we are not putting my business up for everyone to speculate about.”

Maria scoffs and her mama does to. “Please everyone with function brain and eyes know you are Mr Wayne’s child,” mama Angelica says, looking disgusted when she utters the Wayne last name. “nobody says anything to you but they still talk. Waiting for you to break, waiting for you to shatter and air everything out.”

Her words seem unreal, and it brings you back to all the time people stared at you at graduations, at award shows, as if they are waiting for you to break and cry. Something that always kept you from doing so, you never cried in public, you never showed weakness, ensuring that the Wayne family name wouldn’t be tainted. And after Jason’s attack you did everything you could to separate yourself from the Wayne family to the point your father’s last name became an open secret. A secret no one spread, but a secret everyone learned eventually.

You don’t mind when people realise you are a Wayne, no it gives you privileges. But when they realise how your family disregards you, how your family hates you with a burning passion their attention turns into pity. Pity yet no one speaks out, pity yet no one reported your family when you didn’t go to school for almost year.

No one reported your family, no matter how dull your eyes got, how ill you got. They didn’t question it when you turned up with a medical emancipation. No, no one questions your disconnect to the Wayne family.

Most of Gotham knew your mother, they knew what a shining light she was. A shining light that did what she had to, and it made people believe that’s why the Wayne’s disregarded you. With all the fire in your body you defend your mother, but when people speak terribly about the Wayne’s you let it go.

Perhaps with their current behaviour it is time to make waves, it’s time to break the perfect picture. It’s time to destroy a small fragment of Bruce’s reputation, besides if a simple cover of a song can do that, doesn’t it mean that his reputation was never stable to begin with?

“Let’s do family lines then,” you agree, your eyes locking with Maria’s. “but I think it would send a message if I was the one singing.”

“Good thing I can play the piano as well.”

The sleepover with Maria was exactly what you needed after your family’s strange behaviour. It’s exactly what you need to calm your thoughts, to ensure that nothing goes wrong with you for a while.

You can’t handle their presence anymore, the minute you see your family you panic. You grow anxious, and rage fills your body the second you see Bruce.

It brings your pain up, it brings all your distress over the years back to the forefront of your mind. It makes you wonder if you had died in your mothers arm, if you would be happier? If you would be near your mama, if you would be in her arms? If your ancestors would’ve greeted you with open arms, if your ancestors would whisper sweet nothings to you as Maria’s grandma does to her and to you.

Maria’s family accepts you as one of their own, but no matter their kindness you cannot help but wonder how your life would have been if you died when you had your first medical flare up. You can’t help but wonder what would have happened if your mother had been alive. Would Bruce still learn that you are his child? Would he still take you under his wing, would he have treated you the way he has done now? Or would your mother have knocked sense into him?

Would your mother curse him out if she could?

Would your mother let you return to the manor if she knew how much it harmed you? How much it chips at your soul?

Bruce knows the answer to this, while he doesn’t remember your mother clearly, he remembers her core values. She adored family, she adored children, something that helped with her bonding with Dick. But she disappeared, she disappeared the day Bruce broke up with her. For Bruce the relationship with your mother had just been a cover for the suspicion surrounding his nightly activities, he just used your mother to solidify his position as a playboy with no regard for women.

But your mama could see through his disguise, she could see through what he pretended to be. And he truly fell in love with her, which hurt him even more was your mother’s face. How it went from shining brightly to falling within seconds.

If he had known she was pregnant with you at the time he would like the think he wouldn’t have broken up with her.

But his past regrets will fix nothing, you’ve made that clear. You’ve told him that his chances have been given and he never took them.

You’ve told him that you want nothing to do with them anymore, yet when Damian told him that you’re at this Maria’s house his heart broke.

He still feels his selfishness gnaw at him, that he wants, no needs, to keep you in his embrace.

There’s still a bit of hope in him that this is just you venting your anger, that once you’ve calmed down that you’ll let him fix everything.

And if you don’t?

Well he doesn’t mind drugging you if that means you staying. If that means you’ll give them, him, a chance.

NEXT PART  I know this one was chaotic, I just needed these two parts out of my system. (Name) is basically deciding if they want to go on the extreme route or not, and the talent show, I forgot I wrote that in so I want to get that out of the way I'll either make the talent show a side chapter and also make a side chapter for Bruce and your bio mom but idk yet.

taglist CLOSED!: @prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue, @bunniotomia, @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @princessbonnie-bell, @seemee3, @pix-stuff, @venomsvl, @amber-content, @stove-top96, @frank-vanderboom, @leeiasure, @1abi, @shadowytravelerlover, @chericia, @lithiumval, @lingxio, @cssammyyarts, @marsmabe, @foolishseven, @kore-of-the-underworld, @bunbunboysworld, @homeless-clown, @miashico, @alwaysholymilkshake, @1cxndy, @kittzu, @rtyuy1346, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @artistwithcreativeburnout, @alishii, @vanessa-boo, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @91-kya, @ryuushou, @jjsmeowthie, @justthere1956, @depressed--therapist, @xzmickeyzx, @cheappremingerfromdelululand, @plsfckmedxddy, @itsberrydreemurstuff, @trashlaternfish360, @leogf, @dirtydiavolo, @lilyalone, @welpthisisboring, @kenman00001, @nxdxsworld, @icefox8155, @ironsaladwitch, @holderoflostmemories, @asillysimp, @wisefuncherryblossom, @eyeless-kun, @marina27826, @muggleloveralways, @ironsaladwitch, @shyenemyperson, @iamaunknownsecret

[thatguywrites]

F1 grid with Chronic pain Boyfriend

Verstappen, Piastri, Hamilton, Alonso, Bottas

Headcannons

Max Verstappen

Pays for the highest level medical care for you

Whatever helps your pain the most, braces, medications, straight up weed, you've got it in abundance

He'll always give you massages, or run hot baths for you whenever you need

When you start to get fatigued, and lean on things more than not, he's instantly at your side

He's more than willing to spend a whole day in bed with you if you just don't feel like getting out of bed

Advocates more for disabled people, beyond paralysis, looking into the Chronic pain that racing can cause like the back pain Fernando and Lewis have ended up with

Lewis

Funds a lot of research into your condition and similar other conditions

Speaks out about it a ton

Pays any fees necessary (I mean if mental health is included ig?)

Finds acceptable fashion, things that don't snag on your mobility aids or clash with your braces

Helps you do pt exercises

Considers training Roscoe to be a service animal for you

Decides on getting you a pretrained breed of your choice instead

Fernando Alonso

Makes sure his drivers room always has everything that helps you

Let's use use his body to support your joints

Will massage your joints as long as you agree to massage his back later

Or not, hes not too pressed

He likes buying fun gadgets that are supposed to help

He hates seeing you in pain, so he figures that whatever money can buy you will have

Valtteri Bottas

Encourages you to bike for pt, or to just to move

Finds/designs braces that fit your esthetic so you never feel uncomfortable wearing them

Always brings you to the sauna when yall are in Finland so that your joints don't get too cold

Is also perfectly ok vacationing wherever is best for you

Spain? Sounds good

America? Sure

Japan? Wonderful!

He's also very adaptable day to day, if you need to cancel because of pain he'll never complain

Taglist (Comment or DM to be added)

@koalapastries @justaf1girl @spoonfulofmilo @lokisen

[starwarskawaii]

Annoyance and Empanadas

A Miguel O'Hara fic

Alright, here's that Miguel fic. Dedicated to Lan ( @chaithetics ) for always believing in and encouraging me. Proofread by my husband, @kitsunot . So if I made a mistake, blame him.

A/N: This is self-serving, reader is HEAVILY based on me. No word count because I am lazy.

Edit: possible part 2 if you guys like this one. So make sure to let me know!

CW: disabled reader, possible slightly ooc Miguel, mentions of Miguel's *gestures at his life*, no use of Y/N, second person voice, mentions of mobility aids, disability is not specified but is highly based on my experiences with fibromyalgia, female reader, mentions of brain fog, mentions of safe foods, reader is slightly implied to be autistic, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING

You were annoying. Not annoying like Peter B, who always had a quip and lacked boundaries. Not annoying like Miles, who questioned Miguel constantly. Not even annoying like Hobie, although you were a bit of an anarchist. The first thing you had ever said to Miguel was, "I support women's rights and women's wrongs. I do not, however, support men's rights OR men's wrongs, so I hope you've improved." No, you weren't annoying like any of them. You were annoying like Lyla. You were annoying because you knew him. You knew him entirely too well. Which was quite possibly the worst kind of annoying you could be.

You sauntered in on your purple forearm crutches, thinking of what you could say to piss Miguel off. As much as you'd like to pretend you were a quick thinker, the brain fog made it near impossible to come up with anything on the fly. So as you sauntered in, you thought of what you could do to make those veins pop on his neck and forehead. You liked those veins.

Miguel heard you coming. How could he not? Mobility aids are not stealthy. Not in the least. Miguel knew what was coming, and he braced himself for whatever quip you had up your sleeve. Your quips were worse than a Peter Parker's; you had studied him. You came from a universe Miguel stumbled on accidentally. A world where he and all the other Spiders were just characters in comics and movies. And you happened to be Miguel O'Hara's number one fan (and biggest hater, somehow simultaneously). You had made tons of posts analyzing him on some site, tumbling, maybe? He couldn't remember. He brought you on for a few reasons, but mainly to help the algorithms predict events in the Spider's lives.

"Ohhh, Miiiiiggy!" Came your voice, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"What? I'm a bit busy, you know, " came his reply.

"Too busy for me, Migs?" You pouted and batted your lashes. You knew he couldn't resist that.

Miguel was surprised. No quips yet. That's a first.

"Too busy brooding to listen to your favorite right-hand woman?" There it was. There was the jibe at him. You loved doing that. You were probably worse than Lyla.

Lyla popped up and snickered "He was just brooding, how did you know?"

"Lucky guess. Migs, my love, would you care to tell me why the caf has no empanadas?"

"Aye, you came here to interrupt my ensuring the fate of the Arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse over an empanda?"

"They're your recipe, we all know they're the best in the multiverse" you reasoned with him.

"They're my mother's recipe, technically, and I'll make you some when I take you home." Miguel always took you home. You had a lot of issues with the stupid 2099 high-tech stuff, and it also required use of at least one hand, something you rarely had the luxury of, unless it was a no mobility aid or a wheelchair day. So Miguel made sure you were safe.

"Fine, fine. When are you taking me home, speaking of? Should I just wait here, or should I try to navigate the awful upside down maze you created while I wait for your self-imposed penance for the day to end?" Man you were annoying. Man you knew him well.

"I'll finish up soon. Wait here," his face softened as he looked over at you. You were making yourself comfortable on a chair, placing your aids to the side and getting into that position you liked to sit in. The one that seemed uncomfortable, but you swore was best for your hypermobile joints.

You reminded him a lot of Lyla. Lyla, who Xina had programmed to heckle him. Lyla, who he never had the heart to reprogram. You knew all his buttons. Just like Lyla. Just like Xina... You were also like Gwen. He had initially seen you as much more like Gwen. You had a baby face, so he had assumed you were younger. You had half-shaved hair, which you had actually gotten done because of some singer in your dimension, the year before Spiderverse came out. You had always loved Gwen Stacy, though. It wasn't hard to see why. You were smart, you liked nerds, you were incredibly confident, you were kind of punk, but also hilariously materialistic, not in a fancy clothes way but in a "I have to have this figure or I will cry" way. You were a lot like the Gwen of 120703. You loved that Gwen.

You were very different from all of them, though. He remembered stumbling upon your dimension by accident. A dimension where there were no heroes. A dimension where there were somehow still supervillains. A dimension where, even when faced with a lack of heroes, some people still had hope. You were one of them. He had initially infantalized you. Your mobility aids, your interests, the baby face, the fact that you clearly needed a caregiver, but stubbornly lived on your own all made him see you as younger than you were. You had had many arguments before he finally realized how capable you are. That you're tougher than most Spiders are, save for Sun Spider, who has EDS (you LOVED Sun Spider). That you deal with 24/7 full body pain, work a full-time job, and somehow manage to take care of yourself.

You had shown him so much. Like punk versions of him that you thought were hot. He hated them. He hated that you found that attractive. It made him question for a moment if his appearance was alright. Of course, you would like piercings and tattoos. You had multiple of each. He never really thought much of it before. You had shown him art of him pregnant. You both hated that one. He had learned so much about you. In a way, he had become the caregiver you needed. He made sure you ate, he popped into your dimension to help with your laundry, he helped you on low mobility days, he cooked for you, he helped you set up appointments and refill meds when your brain just wouldn't cooperate. He admired you. He thought you were incredibly strong. He made you empanadas because they're a safe food for you. He secretly loved the way you loved his cooking.

You cared for him. Really, truly, deeply cared. You had listened to his pain and felt it like it was your own. You were so empathetic. He realized that your disabilities and baby face and your being a few years younger didn't matter at all. You were more mature than he was. You knew pain, you lived with pain, you had lost so much and had dealt with it a long time ago. You helped him pick apart his mind, healing what had been broken by grief. He had spent so many nights sitting on the floor of your apartment, next to your couch, pouring his heart out to you. The girl who had fan art of him up on her walls. He was pretty sure he loved you, but too worried he was confusing gratefulness for that painful emotion he hadn't felt in so long that he couldn't bring himself to say anything. You were in love. How could you not be? He let you see him so vulnerable. He was also 6'9, built like a tank, perfect dark skin and hair, newly emotionally open, and had clearly come to genuinely respect you, in a way you struggled to find as a disabled woman. You were much less subtle about your feelings than he was. You flirted constantly. But he was as dense as his muscles.

"Alright, I'm done, cariño," Miguel said. "Time to go back to your dimension, and get you some food. Did you actually eat today?"

"Uhhhh, what answer do you want to that?" You said, only half joking, with a nervous laugh.

"You'll be the death of me, hermosa"

He was used to the quips. He was used to the forgetting to eat. He was used to it all, and he hoped it could stay that way. Miguel O'Hara loved how you annoyed him. And he hoped you would continue to, for at least as long as Lyla has.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Weasley Siblings Reacting To Your Muscle Spasms ♿️

William ‘Bill’

He can relate.

He has his own issue with them, from his attack by Greyback.

It’s more subtle, and tend to get triggered by stress, but he can be in your shoes.

They DO get worse when the full moon is closer/here. Since a curse breaker, he was able to prevent himself from being turned. But still has side effects.

He doesn’t get startled when you have a bad day, and they get triggered. Nor does it bother him when you both sleep together.

He’s someone who can get it, and often forgets you even have them. When he notices, it’s just another day. He GETS it, and you can have someone to confide in

Charlie

He has them. He has them BAD.

Given he works with dragon’s, and all the time, he has suffered some nerve damage. Amongst just a million other health issues.

He’s turned it into a straight up game on who twitches the most sometimes. Weasleys. You knew what you were signing up for

Since he has his owns, you have a taste of your own medicine of what it’s like to fall asleep with someone who has them.

He genuinely knows what it’s like, and it’s nice to be with someone who gets it. Doesn’t freak out every single time it happens. It’s healing. You two are buddies in this world of muscle tension

Percy

He’s…..anxious. To put it lightly. He’s always been a man that startles easy, which the twins took advantage of, so it’s a lot to get used to.

But, since his older siblings have similar issues, he isn’t going in blind either. He’s the type to be quick to try and learn whatever his partner enjoys/suffers with.

He does get very frustrated, at the start, such as when you have an incident when your knee bumped against the table while he was working. Spilling ink everywhere. He was about to yell, but he recalled a time when Charlie did the same thing. How guilty he felt, and self conscious he was. So, he forced himself to breath, and cleaned up

It’s stressful, but he’s wanting to learn and help any way he can. He finds something like that not a deal breaker. You can’t help it, and neither can his brothers

Sleeping with him is a struggle, and doesn’t happen for a while. Not until you are both deeper in the relationship

Over all, it’s a struggle. He’s an able bodied man dating a disabled partner. But, he grew up with siblings having those similar issues. So, in a morbid sense, seeing and feeling them reminds him of home

Fred

As stated, he has siblings who have similar issues. So he isn’t phased by it nearly. Not to mention he’s most certainly developed some of his own, with being a man that has tested so many wild things on himself for the sake of WWW. Also, ya know, Fireworksexual

He’s the type that teases and would often call you “Jitterbug” or stuff like that. If you weren’t into that, he would be quick to correct himself. Jokes are to make people laugh after all, and tease those that had it coming. You were born/in an incident. Never had it coming

Given his whole aesthetic being a man of chaos, he doesn’t get bothered by you having flare ups at all. Just another day. But he would be always concerned when you have a bad day. Seeing how intense they can get. Even secretly trying to invent something to help

Given how close him and George are, they would often sneak into bed with each other when having nightmares. So having someone who’s spacing in their sleep doesn’t bother him a lick. But he will have his worries

It’s just part of who you are. And it’s part of who he is. Just one of the flaws that make you so beautiful to him

George

Rather similar to Fred, to many degrees, but he is still an independent person. And is a bit more sensitive to it all

He worries about you a bit more, and can’t help but wonder if they ever hurt. Charlie and Bill say they don’t. Unless they hit something, but still. He’s gonna worry about you when he sees the flares

When he loses his ear, after the war, he developed his own spasms from the trauma it did to his muscles and blood vessels. So he has some, and jokes that you two are twinning now. He immediately cried after saying that

Whenever you have a bad flare up in your sleep, expect to have him hold you closer. Kissing your head, in the hopes it some how. It doesn’t work like that, but he’s a wizard. Maybe it does

He’s going to worry, a lot. But it’s all in good faith, and because he cares. He’s going to try and help somehow whenever he can. And you can’t stop him

Ron

Expect to hear good ole “Bloody Hell-“ Whenever you have a bad one. He gets startled easy, like Percy, but is more audible about it. Over the years he gets better, but expect a lot of it

Growing up with siblings have similar, he doesn’t really get bothered. Just startled. Especially since he hasn’t been around his siblings along growing up, due to the age gap.

He secretly has a talent of reading spasm writing though. Since Bill and Charlie write to the family often. And since it’s ink, you can’t really fix it. So you never have to feel self conscious about your flare ups when writing

He will get startled awake, now and again, when you start sharing a bed. But he refuses to ever tell you that. Knowing how brave you are to attempt it. It’s the least he can do to try and make it work in return

When more of his siblings develop spasm, he feels a weird relief. Like if he never dated you, he couldn’t help them like he could with you

It’s new, but he’s a Weasley. Chaos is in their DNA. It’s just something you can’t control, like he can’t control his nervous ticks. It takes a while to adjust, but that’s kinda basic human nature. To adjust to new things. And you are a new thing here wants to keep

Ginny

Given her Qudditch career and lifestyle, she gets muscle fatigue often. So she can relate to having twitches. Course, having them twenty four seven is a whole other ball game for her

Given her experience, she is happy to help massage your joints and muscles. Using every trick in the book to see if they can help you in any way at all

Given she’s the baby, she didn’t really grow up around her eldest brothers, so she isn’t quite used to the concept of another person having them. Even with her team mates, they are far more subtle and they don’t exactly spend twenty four seven together

She sleeps like a damn brick. So you never have to worry about waking her up. But expect her own leg kicks when it’s been a long day on the field

She’s going to care for you deeply, and use all her special tricks to help you. Even though it doesn’t really work like that, the mental health boost it gives you still does numbers. She is trying because she CAN and WANTS to, and that’s all that matters

[crybaby-writings]

leona kingscholar is a DISABILITY ALLY!

if he found out you needed a new mobility aid, or medical device, or where you were living/going wasn't accessible, he would help you get what you needed, whether you asked him to or not!

he would bring your toothbrush to you with toothpaste already on it and a cup to spit in if you couldn't get out of bed! he regularly contributes his own money to research foundations!

he keeps a glucometer set on him at all times, and allergen free snacks! he has a backpack full of extra speciality medical supplies/medications that are for the members of his dorm/the spelldrive team so that they never have to worry about not being prepared!

he never wants anyone to feel left out or like they need to hold themselves back because of their disabilities! everyone deserves to have unrestricted access to the proper health care they need!

[johndoerp]

I love all your forms!!

But I think your so cute in your lil hair form! You'd be like my little teddy I could cuddle 🥺

Doe gasps excitedly and quickly transforms into said forms, purring as he sits completely content on your lap.

[hexcii]

Same scene, same vibes, just different times <333

Also revealing chapter 8’s title this way djdjkfkdkf

[thewritingfairy]

↪ 08. A state of dreams

PREV PART trigger warnings: mental + physical + emotional neglect, Reader is in a ‘limbo’ of nightmares, grief, shouting, I am a bit unsure on what trigger warnings suit this chapter so if you think I missed anything pls do say so main m.list        series m.list

Sleep is supposed to keep pain away from you, it’s supposed to give you a break. But your sleep has been haunted by nightmares from the day of the attack to today, your nightmares filled with violence and the Gods are punishing you. Punishing you for not fighting back, that’s what these dreams have to be.

Nightmares that talk about the ‘what if’, the nightmares that kill your soul. You’re stuck in them, you’re stuck in a river of pain and you don’t know how to get out of it. You don’t want to be asleep, you don’t want to sleep.

“Come on, (Nickname),” your mother chuckles as she opens her arms, no she isn’t. “you don’t want to keep me waiting, right?”

You don’t, you want to rush into her embrace, cry as you wish for a better life. Cry as you ask her why Bruce hates you, cry as you beg for a reason why your family doesn’t love you. But you can’t.

You can’t run into her loving embrace, because before you’ll reach her the scene will change, it will be Bruce holding your shoulders in a crushing grip. Asking you why you couldn’t just stay silent, asking you why you just couldn’t be a good doll and stay in the corner to be forgotten. So you’ll make her wait. Just to see her face.

“Baby,” your mother gasps dramatically, putting her hand on her heart. “did mama do something wrong? Is that why you don’t want to give me a hug?”

You shake your head as you ignore the shifting scene, oh how you hate being aware. “I just want to keep looking at you, mama,” you whisper. “you look so beautiful.”

Your mama laughs as she takes you in her arms but then she disappears. Leaving a younger you behind in a hospital gown, a gown that you remember all too well. It was from the hospital you almost died in. It was the last time you remember being comforted by your mama. “You vowed to stay healthy,” younger you whispers in anger. “you broke that vow!”

“I did,” you admit, not even trying to placate them, not even looking them in their eyes. “health isn’t something you can control. We were destined for this, we are destined for pain. But we’ll find our people through that pain.”

“It’s not fair!” younger you shouts, clenching their hospital gown in their hands. “It’s not fair! It’s not fair! We did everything right!” Younger you was sobbing, sobbing to the point you could feel their tears in your own hearts. “Why can’t we be happy?!”

You look at the ground, the scene was shifting again. It was the manor, and this time it was Alfred in front of you. His nose flaring as he raises his arm and starts shouting at you, you can’t hear him but it scares you. You feel threatened, you feel unsafe and most of all you feel like you’re in danger. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, but it wasn’t enough for him. He grabs your shoulders as spit flies from his mouth as he shouts, your heart just becoming numb. “it’s not my fault… I didn’t do anything!”

Exactly, a voice whispers in the back of your head, you were complicate to your own abuse. You kept the key of your own jail for so long, so can you fully blame Alfred?

You close your eyes and shake your head. That voice is wrong, you weren’t complicate in to the neglect that they gave you. It was never your fault, it never will be. You just need to ignore Alfred, both in dream and when you are awake, just because he wants you a certain way doesn’t mean you have to be that way. You know that right? You just need to wake up for now, can you do that for me?

Can you open your beautiful eyes? (Oh, is that Duke you hear or someone else? Is your mother calling for you?)

But for now you will continue to stay in state. A state of grieving what you could have had, a state where in you experience all the fear that you have ever felt once more, a state where you see your mother but barely can remember her face and voice, a state that reminds you of the hell that awaits you once you open your eyes.

But that hell is your story, and you can take it to another road. You’ll try and try, and you’ll fail. Don’t get me wrong. But after all that failure you are bound to learn, and you are bound to grow. So take the hands that hold out to you, you’ll never have to walk this path alone.

NEXT PART Heard my grandpa is the hospital while writingso updates might be slow for a while, or a bit darker and more chaotic. I have also closed the taglist since whenever I add new people in the editor it shows up but not in the post??

taglist: @prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue, @bunniotomia, @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @princessbonnie-bell, @seemee3, @pix-stuff, @venomsvl, @amber-content, @stove-top96, @frank-vanderboom, @leeiasure, @1abi, @shadowytravelerlover, @chericia, @lithiumval, @lingxio, @cssammyyarts, @marsmabe, @foolishseven, @kore-of-the-underworld, @bunbunboysworld, @homeless-clown, @miashico, @alwaysholymilkshake, @1cxndy, @kittzu, @rtyuy1346, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @artistwithcreativeburnout, @alishii, @vanessa-boo, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @91-kya, @ryuushou, @jjsmeowthie, @justthere1956, @depressed--therapist, @xzmickeyzx, @cheappremingerfromdelululand, @plsfckmedxddy, @itsberrydreemurstuff, @trashlaternfish360, @leogf, @dirtydiavolo, @lilyalone, @welpthisisboring, @kenman00001, @nxdxsworld, @icefox8155, @ironsaladwitch, @holderoflostmemories, @asillysimp, @wisefuncherryblossom, @eyeless-kun, @marina27826, @muggleloveralways, @ironsaladwitch, @shyenemyperson, @iamaunknownsecret,

[1-ker0sene-1]

Poly 141 x Reader

Home is where you are

"What ye think she made this time?"

Johnny mumbles, dropping his head back against the seat behind him. Blinking tiredly up at the ceiling of the truck, a daydream clear in his eyes. Simon next to him stares out the window, sweat seems to practically seal his balaclava to his face.

"We'd be lucky if anything. It's three in the fucking morning.."

Kyle says from the passenger seat. Pursing his lips a bit.

"She should be sleeping.."

Price chuckles from the driver's seat, hand on the steering wheel, paying close attention to the road.

"She knows we're on our way home. If she made something. We'll be thankful."

His other hand is resting on Kyle's knee, his thumb rubs slow circles against him.

Simons foot taps on the floor of the car silently, brows tight together. The man just wants to go home, shower, eat whatever heaven you cooked and sink into that california king mattress. With all of you, all five of you together.

"Steaks."

He mutters.

"Hm?"

Johnny questions with a hum, Simon clarifies.

"On days we come home.. it's either steak or shepherds pie. She made shepherds pie last time so it's gonna be steak."

They all salivate at the damn thought.

"It's tha little things with ye huh Simon?"

Johnny smiles warmly, leaning on his shoulder.

It was another thirty minutes driving before they finally pulled into the secluded driveway. Their safehouse. Their home. Where you are. Filing out of the truck, bags over their shoulders. Covered in grime and dried blood, they didn't even let themselves clean up at base before going home to you. Walking forward, Simon slings an arm around Kyle's shoulder. Tucking the sargeant into his side as they walk to the house. Both Johns walking behind them, Price giving the younger a good slap on the back.

"Home, boys. Let's enjoy it while we can."

Price comes forward to unlock the front door, pushing it open for the four of them. Mumbling out a reminder to take off their shoes inside. Leaning down with a grunt to pull off his boots. The others doing the same. They can already smell what you're cooking, Simon was right. The smell of steaks is pretty clear, garlic butter, some kind of steamed vegetables and spices.

The house is clean. Warm. Low lighting, some candles lit. Everything about it screams home. John opens his mouth to call out for you, but he can feel his spine practically melt hearing you hum in the kitchen.

Johnny is the first stumbling forward, hopping on one leg as he throws off his remaining shoe. Eager to get back to you. Grinning as he comes around the corner into the kitchen. He melts. Seeing you there, in your chair dishing up their plates of dinner.

".. Hey lass.."

He mumbles, feeling like all the air left his chest.

You turn your head when you hear him, the brightest smile spreads across your face. Tossing the fork down from your hand as you turn towards him.

"Hey soldier-"

You beam. You don't even get another word in before Johnny rushes towards you, you let out a puff of air as he crashes into you. Laughing against him as he squeezes you to his chest, his face buried in your hair.

"Fuckin' missed ye hen.."

He whispers. You return with one of your own.

"I know baby.. I missed you too.."

You lift your head, kissing the scar on his chin.

"This bloke botherin' you love?"

You already know that voice immediately, smiling as you turn to look at Kyle. Who is quick at your side with Johnny, his hand cups the back of your head. Pressing a long kiss to your cheek. Taking a deep inhale of your scent through his nose. You smile warmly, your hand finds his bicep, giving a soft squeeze.

"There you are Kyle.."

You murmur, turning your head to press your own kisses across the bridge of his nose.

"Always here."

He chirps, kissing on your skin. His eyes bore into you, drinking you up. Johnny huffs, mumbling something about stealing all your attention. Earning a small tug on his mowhawk from you.

"Alright you two- showers. The both of you. You need it-"

You chuckle, giving them both a hug. Giving Johnny one more kiss on the jaw. Letting Gaz get one more kiss on your face. Watching them head past you down the hall to the bathroom. Kissing on eachother, bumping into walls. You shake your head at them with a smile.

Eyes flicking back to the entrance. You find Simon staring at you, his shoulders slack and sinking. Eyes half lidded and tired. The rest of his face under the balaclava. Your eyes soften, holding out your hand to him.

"Oh Si.."

He takes the invitation. Coming over to you. He would tower over you in height. But instead he falls to one knee in front of your chair. Hands resting on the arm rests of your chair. Your hands immediately cradle his head. Leaning forward to press your head to his.

"You're home.. it's alright now .. no more Lieutenant.."

You whisper against him. Your fingertips lift the edge of the balaclava, pulling it over the nape of his neck. Over the back of his head, nails dragging soothingly up his scalp as you take the fabric away. Making him shiver in vulnerability. Putting his mask aside on the counter.

Seeing your Simons face eases the both of you, cupping his jaw and lifting his head.

"I know doll.. I know."

He mutters, you kiss his temple. Caressing his skin. Threading your fingers into his hair.

"Go shower with the boys sweetheart.. I'll be in there soon."

You coo at him. He chuckles deeply, kissing your head between your brows as he gets up. Bumping your foreheads together one more time before walking to the bathroom.

"You're not gonna say hello to me John?"

You joke, turning your head to watch said Captain. Who was holding his hat in hand, leaning against the wall watching you. He's been watching you the whole time.

"Just seein' you with our boys darlin'.."

Pushing away from the wall he walks over to you. His eyes full of exhaustion, longing, warmth. Tossing his hat on the counter behind you. He leans down, callous hands hold your cheeks. Bringing your lips to his.

He's not as sneaky as he thinks. You know of his little demand to the boys. He's the first to kiss you. Each time they come home.

You kiss him back feverishly, as much as you've been calm and steady for them. You missed your men like hell. Your hands find his shoulders, squeezing them tightly, beginning to work on the knots of tension in them. Emitting a deep groan from John into your mouth. You smile against his lips, feeling the scratch off his beard.

"Everyone's alright?"

You whisper against him. He nods, his hands finding your hips. Slightly lifting you from your chair and towards himself.

"No one's broken. .. Kyle's a little stressed. Y'know how he is.."

You nod, eyes still closed, continuing to brush your lips together.

"And you?"

"Just tired.. But I'm home. That's what matters."

John mumbles, kissing you deep again. Dipping his tongue past your lips, a soft sigh slipping out of you. Arms pulling him closer.

"Taking good care of our boys John.. You always do.. Making sure you all come home to me again... Our strong Captain.."

You can feel him sinking at your praise. The older mans knees want to buckle at your voice.

"Let's get you in the shower baby.. Hm? Get you washed and relaxed.."

You mumble against him.

You yelp as your lifted into the air by his arms, laughing openly as he carries you like a bride. Burying his nose to the crook of your neck. Carrying you down the hall, to the bathroom door. Where you can already hear the chatter of the men in the shower waiting for the two of you. John is grumbling against your skin.

"We need you darlin'. "

"Our boys and I need you bad.."

[starwarskawaii]

Miguel thoughts, because I'm delusional; he would take Epsom salt baths with his disabled partner, for both their sakes. He's pretty beat up, poor thing. Miguel never took care of himself before, but now that he takes care of you, he joins in on your self care.

Note: I'm talking disabled self care. It's... different for us. Sometimes, self care is sitting completely still for 10 mins. Sometimes, it's making sure you pack a bag of medical necessities. Sometimes, it's doing a special thing to help the pain you don't always do. A good partner helps with this🥰 (and has his AI assistant compile a list of things that could help, then lovingly makes you try them all)

[cherry-pop-elf]

Master List ✍️

((WIP duh))

Fluff: 🩷

Angst: 💔

Smut:🫦

Disability’s: ♿️

Platonic: 🫂

Hurt/Comfort: ❤️‍🩹

Triggering Topics:❌

Violence/Gore: 🔪

Weasley Siblings

Nickname Headcanons 🩷

Muscle Spasms Headcanons 🩷♿️

Reacting To A Tattoo Inspired By Them🩷

Baking Headcanons🩷

Safe This Night ❤️‍🩹🩷♿️

Kissing The Siblings 🩷

Reaction To SelfHarm ❤️‍🩹♿️💔❌

Reaction To Agere 🩷

Amortentia 🩷

Reacting to you saying you are pregnant 🩷

Reacting to you coming out as trans 🏳️‍⚧️ ❤️‍🩹🩷

What Nicknames they like to be called 🩷

Firebender Types 🩷

Giving You A Mani-Pedi🩷

Bill Aka William

Unleashed 🫦 🩷

Farmers Market 🩷 🫂

Percy

Work Load 🫦

Fred

Cold Hands, Warm Heart ❤️‍🩹

Sucker 🫦

Warming Up The New Client 🫦

George Weasley

Morning Routine/X Wheelchair Reader 🩷♿️

Training/X Wheelchair Reader 🩷♿️

Disabled George Headcanons ♿️

Princess Treatment/X AMAB Wheelchair Reader 🫦 ♿️ 🩷

Angel With A Ticket/ KnightBus Reader ❤️‍🩹

Handsome Man: Trans George 🫦

Aquarium 🩷

Realistic 🫦

Curious ❤️‍🩹 🩷

Daycare ❤️‍🩹🩷

Every Perfect Curve ❌ 🩷

Happy Birthday To We ❤️‍🩹 💔

Cuddle Party 🩷

Kissable ❌❤️‍🩹

Detox Day🫦🩷

SFW Alphabet 🩷 ❤️‍🩹

Breakfast 🩷

Drink With Me 🩷

Fred And George

Pretty Rain Cloud ❤️‍🩹

Honey Wounds ❤️‍🩹 ❌

Birthday Boys 🫦

Hoof Race ❤️‍🩹🔪 🫂

Snuggle Company 🩷 🫂

Sweet As Sweets 🩷 🫂❤️‍🩹

Ron

Home Sweet Home 🩷

Draco Malfoy

Newly Made Man 🩷

Sirius Black

Honey, I’m Home! 🩷🫦❤️‍🩹

Remus Lupin

Big Bad Wolf 🔪 🩷 ❤️‍🩹

Not Called Moony For Nothing🫦🩷

Newt Scamander

Late Night Cutie Pie 🩷

Severus Snape

Morning Classes🩷

Charlie x Shouren

More🩷♿️

HPMA

Diary Of A Tavern Keeper 💔

Tall Glass Of Wine: Gridley X Reader 🫦

Abigail Grey

S.P.E.W For Werewolves 🩷🫂❤️‍🩹♿️

Shouren

Disabled Headcanons 🩷♿️

Need A Hand 🩷 ♿️ 🫦

What In Hell Is Bad?

Morax

Moment Of Peace ❤️‍🩹🩷♿️

Fairy Odd Parents

Peri ‘Poof’ Fairy-Cosma

Flowers For You 🩷

Human Nature 🩷 🫦

Slashers

Over for dinner 🩷 🔪 ❌

Mouthwashing

Curly

Kiss it better Series! (In progress)

♿️ ❌ ❤️‍🩹 🔪 💔

Anya

New Chapter ❌ 🫂❤️‍🩹

Break Him Back ❌ 🔪 ❤️‍🩹

Crew

Your Own Happy Ending ❤️‍🩹❌ 🔪 🫂

Marvel Rivals

Namor

Shark-Dad 🫂 🩷

[invincibledc]

Tiny request for twin reader with damian mabye they were seperated at birth aka talia gave bruce twin reader and kept damian but win reader has some kind of disability like walking with crutches and as soon as damian moves in he goes into protective brother mode and always tries to help twin reader

“I’m your protector.”

Damian Al ghul-Wayne x Disabled! Twinreader

Summary: separated from birth, Damian finds out you are disabled from walking. Knowing that you are his blood sibling, he can’t help but be protective over you

After Talia revealed to Damian he had a twin (brother/sister) that she gave away to his father all because you were disabled. He felt anger towards his mother and a little bit of betrayal.

How could she keep such a secret from him and the fact she just gave you away made him feel…protective.

He wants to know you are okay. He wants to make sure you are okay. So when he moved into his new room, he got a knock on his door. He opens it to see, you. You had crutches, smiling as your hand grip the crutches handle. “Brother! Oh my, we do look the same!” You were excited, happy. Damian immediately observed you, he sees you are pure of light. He was right to feel protective when you don’t know much of the words he is saying with his high vocabulary.

He draws and colors on your crutches, he likes to see the light in your eyes when he draws what you like on your crutches.

You both may be different, but his brotherly love is not. He’s always sitting by you, dinner, breakfast, lunch out of the manor, events, galas. He’s always there. Sure Bruce would try and tell Damian that you can protect yourself, maybe even that you can do things without his help. But you’re ten, just like him. So what did he do? Not listen to his father like he always do.

He’s happy to know you never wanted or tried to be Robin. His heart would break knowing that his precious half would try and fight. But that also meant you never learned how to protect yourself and fight mostly, making it worse for Damian to grasp.

Damian tried not to baby you much, but he couldn’t help but feel anxious at those random thoughts in the back of his head. “They’re gonna fall one day, what if no one is there to pick him up.” He would sometimes just sleep on a chair in your room incase you fall off your bed.

Damian would train Titus for whenever you fall and you can’t reach your crutches. He would have Titus use his body and guide you somewhere so you can get up.

“I’m your protector.” He would say when he sees you trying to get up and grab your crutches. But titus and him are already up and helping you. You laugh thinking he’s joking, but he’s not.

If you’re sick? Protectiveness levels are off the charts when he sees you cough and shake. Yeah he’s not going to school until you’re better. No way he’s leaving his sibling at home!

Would call pennyworth off his phone if you are homeschooled. Always checking up on you no matter what, it doesn’t matter if Alfred says you are okay. He wants to hear you say it.

If someone dared to make fun of you, he’s after them like the devil himself. If they dared to try and take your crutches, it’s gonna get wicked. Even god himself won’t be able to take Damian off the assailant.

Say you were also on the artistic route, he would absolutely treasure your art work. “It’s bad..” you said once, and Damian straight up lectured you about how art takes time and how beautiful your art work is to him no matter what.

I can see Jason saying it’s true the artwork looked terrible, and Damian just straight up chased him around angrily while you try to tell Damian it’s okay.

Titus adores you, and you adore Titus which makes Damian feel even better that Titus likes you. I mean who wouldn’t when literally you are the sunshine of the family.

Damian definitely have written letters to you when he was on “punishment” is what he called it when he had to go work with the titans. So when you visit him at the titans tower, he made sure most things were safe proof for you. Kory already knew you because of Dick. Kory tries to reason to Damian as he literally rips something apart because he deemed it as “unsafe.” But did he listen? No.

When beast boy playfully was play fighting with you, Damian was ready to cut Garfield’s head off. Only for you to wipe the floor of the green shapeshifter by using your crutch as a bat. Damian hid his sword with a smirk, maybe he doesn’t need to protect you much.

[dawneternal]

now my head's splitting at the seams

✴︎ in the labyrinth of my pain, would you find me?

✴︎ Azriel x Valkyrie reader, platonic Cassian x reader

✴︎ Summary: you miss a few days of training, down with a bad migraine. It turns out Cassian has a few misconceptions about your condition and, possibly, about pain itself.

✴︎ Warnings: mentions of nausea and vomiting (no descriptions), pain, toxic positivity and ableism, internalized ableism, Cassian's a jerk in the first half. Also I'm so sorry for the tense changing back and forth 💀 I would definitely not call this one a masterpiece

✴︎ Word Count: 3.4k

AO3 Link / Writing Masterlist

✴︎ Notes: somehow writing out my feelings about having a migraine turned into something pretentious about pain and ableism. I think a lot about John Green's "pain is the opposite of language" and how much that's changed my perception of pain

Also listen I love Cassian and I have no problems with him but I had to pick someone to take my feelings out on I'm sorry 💛 also just want to acknowledge that everyone experiences migraines differently and it's not a topic I'm an expert on so I'm sorry if you don't feel well represented by this.

Tbh I could write several essays about the way pain and disability are handled in the acotar books but that's for another time.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter and twist your knuckle into the pressure point at the base of your palm, chasing the momentary relief it'll give you from your nausea. It works for a minute, and you're considering making your way to the bathroom before another wave hits you when your bedroom door flies open.

"You're late," Cassian's voice bellows through the room and he doesn't see you wince. He strides into the room, footsteps booming across the floorboards, and he's left the door open behind him, letting a traitorous amount of light into your dark room. What good were black out curtains if your darkness was going to be invaded like this anyways?

"Oh my gods you've got to talk quieter," You curl tighter around yourself, head clutched in your hands.

"So you're hungover?" He stops near your bed, arms crossed as he towers over you.

"No, I have a migraine."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

You squint up at him, scowling, swallowing every bad word threatening to spill off your tongue. Though maybe he deserves it for coming into your room without asking.

"Please leave," You say quietly, all the venom you could usually imbue into your voice completely swallowed by your current condition.

"You've missed three days of training." He says by way of answering, definitely not following your request to lower his volume. "You can't coddle yourself like this."

His words punch the air from your lungs. Coddle? Something terrible is rising in your gut, along with the desperate thought that you can't deal with this right now.

"I'm not - this isn't - I don't think you understand how much it hurts." You scramble for words, cheeks heated from pain and anger.

"You've gotta push through it," He says, no hint of sympathy.

"Cassian please."

"I'm not leaving until you agree to come with me."

You don't have time to respond before you're running to the bathroom and throwing up whatever you'd managed to keep down last night, head throbbing with every movement.

Breathing hard, you lean back from the toilet and clutch your head in your hands. The silence rings in your ears and you aren't sure if Cassian is still there or if he finally took mercy on you and left, until his voice makes it's way to you, with just a hint of remorse in it -

"I'd better see you up there."

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Cassian did not see you at training that morning, and you're assuming you've bruised his ego because the next day he doubles down.

The thing is, Rhysand knew of your condition. The other priestesses knew. It's only Cassian being out of the loop and if he understood what a migraine felt like, you're certain he wouldn't be dragging you up there. You were used to dealing with people who didn't understand, had worked hard to learn how to give yourself kindness no matter what other people said. But it's like he knew exactly what things to say, what buttons to press to undo all of that progress.

It was like he'd pulled off your armor, piece by piece, leaving you cold and exposed. Going back to that world where weakness was your given name and it hurt worse than stepping into the ring and fighting the pain. If you could prove him wrong, just make it through a couple of hours, you could return to your sanctuary of darkness. And at least then, you wouldn't hate yourself on top of everything else.

So you followed him up to the training ring, struggling to open your eyes all the way in the morning light, hunched over to make the pain down your shoulders and neck just a bit more bearable. You sway on your feet, but Cassian either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

When he moves aside, revealing your small, huddled frame trailing beside him, Gwyn gasps.

"Cassian!" She cries, her tone scathing, and the hint of smug triumph slips from his face. It disappears completely as Gwyn rushes to your side, folding you into her arms to block your eyes from the light. You groan into her shoulder and go limp in her arms, grateful for the support.

Azriel stands to the side, watching with narrowed eyes. His arms are crossed over his chest like Cassian's, but there is no determination or judgment in his posture or expression. There's angry, crackling flames as he watches the redheaded Valkyrie thread her fingers through your hair and murmur soft comfort.

"She missed training all this week," Cassian says, but he's not barking any more. He's feeling a little bit small underneath the glares that pin him where he stands.

"Yeah, we know," Gwyn says, and it's the closest she's gotten to snapping at him in the whole time they've known each other. She turns to you and her eyes soften. "Let's get you back to bed, love."

"No," You murmur, guilt and shame bringing your resolve to the surface once more. You gently push her away to stand on your own, raising your squinted eyes to meet Cassian's. "I can do it. I'll be fine."

She watches you take shaky steps to the nearest mat and begin stretching, body obviously stiff from a few days in bed. You're conscious of all the eyes on you, far too sympathetic for your liking. This is exactly what you hated.

"Are we starting or not?" You let out a stiff laugh, too aware that your words are lightly slurred. That is absolutely not helping the hangover accusations.

The other priestesses shuffle to get into place, bumping into each other as they move to find their positions. There was still a horrible silence, crackling with fierce anger, all rippling in Cassian's direction. He halfheartedly called a few orders, visibly uncomfortable with the energy in the ring.

And you tried. You tried hard. To move your body through the stretches like normal. But your muscles protested every move, threatening to lock back up, sending stabs of pain through your skull. It didn't take long for the nausea to take over, forcing you to the edge of the ring, doubled over and dry heaving.

"This is ridiculous," Gwyn scoffs before she's at your side again. "You're going to back to bed."

"I will not be weak," You growl at her, panting as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "I am not lazy."

Gwyn's head snaps around to find Cassian, mouth dropped open in fury as she silently dares him to confirm that he may have suggested weakness to you.

"You're not and you know it," She says softly, hauling you up and leading you away from the training ring. “Don't do that to yourself.”

Cassian is feeling like he's surrounded by wolves, all the glares that are being sent his way. He understands by now that he's messed up, and in front of a group that may not be easily inclined to forgive him. He's sure every single one of them has experienced the disbelief that he foolishly shoved your way. For their pain, or for anything else.

He thought you would snap back to your normal self after a bit of warming up, shake off your symptoms with a bit of movement and sunshine. You were strong enough to, if you wanted to. He'd seen it before. He thought you just didn't want to.

A small, firm hand lands on his arm and he finds himself looking down at Nesta. There's sympathy in her expression, but her eyes twinkle with the threat of a nasty bite if he dares to say anything stupid.

"She gets them after particularly bad flashbacks," Nesta says, "Or sometimes they're just random. Madja says there's no fix for the pain but darkness and sleep."

Cassian's stomach twists so terribly he thinks he might puke, too. In the midst of attempting to instill resilience, he's understanding that he knows nothing of this kind of pain. This is something different, something that cannot be conquered in the same way as emotional pain, as every day aches and injuries. You are a soldier in a battle he has no strategy for.

He may understand the concept of emotional resilience, of getting back up and into the training ring when you don't want to. But this is different.

The final blow, the thing that makes him want to cower and hide, is meeting his brother's eyes. Seeing the fire there transports him back in time, sending flashes of a smaller Azriel pushing himself too hard, determined to show the world that he'd never be less because of the damage to his hands. Fighting against words far too similar to the ones his own brother had spouted to you this morning, desperate to become strong enough that no one would ever doubt his pain and live.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

It was not a surprise that Cassian found himself in Rhysand's office later, confessing how thoroughly he'd fucked up, desperate for a little direction in how to fix this mess.

"It has to be their choice," Rhysand is saying, eyes meeting Cassian's over his glass.

Cassian's mouth opens and closes as he tries to conjure a response. He knows that. Of course he knows that. But apparently, his brain had not wrapped around how far that concept might go.

Cassian let out a grunt as he sat back in his chair, arms crossed. Rhysand knew he didn't have to push any further, he recognized the conflict in his brother's eyes. So he sat with him, quiet, while he processed.

"Do you want to know what it feels like?" He broke the since after a while, as the idea came to him.

"What?" Cassian blinked, startled from his thoughts.

"A migraine," Rhys explained, "Do you want to know what it feels like?"

Cassian frowned, studying his brother's expression for anything resembling amusement, but there was none. So he nods.

Not even a full second later, his skull is attacked with throbbing pain, deep in the base of his neck. He hadn't even noticed the fae lights before, but now they overwhelm him, causing a dull pain to surface behind his eyes. Nausea curled up his throat, threatening ruthlessly.

"Oh gods," He leaned forward and clutched his head in his hands, finding that his limbs trembled under his own weight.

"Do you push yourself when you feel like this?" Rhysand asked softly, not taunting. Prompting.

"I don't really ever feel like this," Cassian grumbled out.

"Hm," Rhysand mused, his brows drawing together. He'd experienced episodes like these often, under the mountain. He knew that Azriel struggled with them through his teenage years, like his brain still struggled to process his senses outside of a dark cell.

Deep in thought, he only remembered to ease up on Cassian's mind when his brother whimpered.

"Some say pain cannot truly be described with language," Rhys says, gaze somewhere else as Cassian gulps down air. "And that your pain is one of the few things that is truly yours, that you can never share. Even if you manage to describe it, it will never be felt by anyone else."

"I thought she was just hungover," Cassian says, but he's not defending himself. Rhysand knows.

"What if she was, though?" He tilts his head to the side, watching his brother carefully.

And that is the thing that had begun to unfurl within Cassian as he stood surrounded by the priestesses he'd wronged. He understood that having true control of your body meant that dictating how pain is handled had to be yours, too. He understood that pushing someone to deal with pain in his own way was a violation in and of itself. He had stepped into the world that you had carefully balanced and re-built around your condition and dared to tell you that you may have done it wrong.

"Will she get better?" He asks, thinking of the agony he'd just experienced for a few short minutes. The same one that you'd been experiencing for three days, now.

"It's hard to say," Rhysand shrugs, "Madja says she will likely experience these off and on for the rest of her life, but she may have some periods of remission."

He tilts his head at his brother again, "You know that a majority of the priestesses have an invisible disability of similar kinds, right? They won't get better. They will be in pain every day until they die."

Rhysand sighs, thinking of the hundreds - possibly thousands - of tins of salve that Azriel has gone through, numbing the pain of his nerve damage. Trembling hands hidden in black gloves, tucked into his body and away from the world. And that is the reason he's bothering telling Cassian of any of this. Otherwise, he might let him figure it out on his own.

"But the healers-" Cassian begins.

"Are there to help them cope with their emotional pain and trauma," Rhysand nods, "But some of them, a lot of them, were disabled as a result of what they went through and will never get better. Like Clotho.”

Oh.

It clicks in Cassian's mind, then. Who else Rhys meant. Who else Cassian had insulted. He had never barged into Azriel's room, insisting that he still train even when he could not flex his fingers without wincing, without trembling too hard to hold a glass of water. But he'd done it to you, in front of him. And that pinned his disbelief on Azriel all the same.

Azriel's pain, your pain, were enemies that neither of you could defeat. And here he was, shoving a sword into your hands, and insisting that you try.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

A soft knock sounds against your door, so quiet you almost don't hear it. You stare at it, wondering if you should pretend that you didn't. But then the knob turns slowly and it opens just a crack, and a soft voice is saying into the darkness,

"Hey, it's Azriel. Can I come in?"

Your breath catches in your throat, and you watch his shadows dancing back and forth through the thin wedge of light he's letting in.

"Sure," You say, moving quickly to smooth your rumpled clothes and tangled hair before he steps in. You're not exactly sure what he thinks of you after this morning.

He steps inside and closes the door behind him. His eyes seem to glow in the darkness, an amber-honey color, and somehow you can still see his shadows, like they're even darker than your room with no light.

"I just wanted to check on you," He says, crouching down beside your bed so you don't have to sit up.

"I'm okay," You say, still getting over the surprise of the Shadowsinger in your space. It's true, though, you suppose. You're used to all of your other symptoms by now, and your heart hurts worse than your head.

"He's an idiot sometimes," Azriel says, basically spits. A smile begins to spread on your face so he continues, “Like, sometimes he's just an asshole, straight up. But this time, believe it or not, I think he actually meant well and was just an idiot.”

“I know,” You give him a sad smile and all of the anger melts from his face.

“I think he went to buy flowers if that makes you feel any better,” He sighs. You know he's just as mad at Cassian as you are, maybe even more mad. But he still can't help vouching for him. It's definitely going to take more than flowers to forgive him, but it's a good start. You also appreciate that Azriel has bothered to warn you ahead of time, in case you wanted to avoid Cassian's apology.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, so quietly. And you wonder who else has earned this tenderness from him.

“It's not too bad right now,” you say truthfully, though you know that sitting up or going outside might be pushing your luck.

“Still hurts?”

“Yeah. Still hurts.”

He nods. “I can try something that helps me, sometimes.”

You search his eyes for a moment, then nod.

“Can I touch your face?” He asks, almost a whisper.

Your heart leaps into your throat and you fight to keep your face neutral as you nod again, no idea what he's planning to do with you.

Slowly, leaving enough time for you to stop him, he reaches out. He's not wearing gloves, like usual, and in the dark you can just barely make out the uneven silhouette of his dimpled, scarred hands.

His fingers land gently on your forehead, and he presses his thumb between your brows. Gently at first, and then harder, circling a tender point under your skin. It makes the pain in your head sharper, and you let out a hiss.

“I know,” He says, “Bear with me a minute.”

You close your eyes, biting back a whimper, but after a moment the pain begins to ease. He keeps going for a few minutes and you feel your whole body relax, pain free for the first time in days.

You don't realize how much you've leaned into his touch until he gently pulls away and you find your head falling forward with him.

“What is that?” You open your eyes and blink at him.

“A pressure point,” He grins, and it almost looks like he's blushing.

“That's magical,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, and then, “you can sit on the bed if you want.”

Azriel smiles and straightens, and you move your pillow to the side to make space for him. He slides off his boots and sits on the bed next to you, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. You place your pillow next to his lap and settle back into it.

“Thank you,” You say, your body feeling lighter than it has in days.

“Of course,” he says.

A silence settles, but it's not uncomfortable. There's something in it that you understand. He's just keeping you company. Here to sit with you in your pain.

It's easy to relax in his presence, between his calm aura and the pain relief he's offered you. And you find yourself spilling the question that's been circling though your mind since this morning.

“What if I can't fight, someday? What if I can't be a Valkyrie anymore?”

Azriel stills beside you. It's a long moment before he says anything. You're tense beside him, and it makes you flinch when he brings his hand so gently to rest on your head. Not moving, just resting.

“First,” He says, in the same soft voice, “You'll always be a Valkyrie. Because you cut the ribbon. Because you sisters will never let you go. And because I know for a fact that the Valkyries did not strip their warriors of their title if they became disabled by an illness or an injury.”

“Really?” You breathe.

“Mhm,” He hums in affirmation. You forget sometimes that he knows the Valkyries from more than history books.

“And second,” His voice drops lower, like he's sharing a secret with you. His hand moves, fingers slipping gingerly through your hair. And it makes you realize that he came here with his hands uncovered as an offer of solidarity. Combing his scarred fingers through your hair, he is offering you vulnerability, like recompense for what you bared this morning. A trade. A truce.

“If you cannot fight,” He continues, “Then you will show the world that a formidable woman can be made from more than fighting skills. You will still be - will always be - something incredible.”

Tears prickle at your eyes, form a lump in your throat. You reach up to grasp his hand, the only thank you that you can manage in the moment, and he lets you.

There's another silence, as he holds your hand in the dark.

“Who helps you?” You ask, turning to look up at him. He watches your eyebrows knit together, so serious, and he swallows a smile.

“What do you mean?” He says.

You bring one finger up to tap the space between his own eyebrows.

“With your pain? Who helps you like you helped me?”

“Um,” He shrugs, “Sometimes Rhys if he has time. Otherwise, no one.”

That's what you thought, but it still makes your heart twist in your chest. It takes a deep breath before you have the courage to say the next words out loud.

“You should tell me next time you're in pain. And I'll help.”

Azriel stares back at you, something bewildered in his eyes. Because he sees your suggestion for what it is. The same thing he offered you. A trade. A truce.

A beginning.

“Yes,” He whispers into the dark, and his hand closes around yours. “I will.”

[crescenthistory]

while we're both here

Pairing: Remus Lupin x fem!Reader

Synopsis: Your chronic illness makes you a frequenter in Madam Pomfrey's infirmary – at some point you're bound to make a connection with her other favourite patient.

Words: 3.5k

Tags: disabled!reader, depictions of chronic pain, dislocations and syncopes, remus struggling with his lycanthropy, slightly avoidant!reader, infirmary wing romance, madam pomfrey being your makeshift mother and angel, some hurt/comfort, sick fic of sorts, fluff, meet cute, flirting, no established relationship yet

A/N: this is based on my own experiences with POTS, hEDS and autoimmune conditions! your condition is never specified in the text though and apart from the specific flare ups and injuries it is left vague on purpose:) there will be more parts because i think these two are adorable

part two can be found here & part three can be found here

As you were coming to, you were once again reminded that if there is one person you would go to war for, it would be Madam Pomfrey.

You’re aching as always, right-side joints feeling particularly distraught at having to remain inside your body, signalling that you likely landed on that side as you fell, rattling what was already coming loose. It’s enough to drag a hoarse groan from your throat, but even as you do, you feel the effects of the warm blanket resting over your body, stopping just below your neck, which is wrapped up in a towel with some sort of cooling spell on it, keeping your headache delectably soothed. Addressing your body’s two separate needs at once, minimising your discomfort – she truly was an angel among monsters.

With your eyes closed, you shift around, not quite ready to face the world post-syncope, but needing to address the bite in your hip somehow. At your movements, you notice a shift in the atmosphere around you, and as your hearing is coming back in, you realise someone had hushed their voices upon noticing you waking up. You’re not sure if it’s to accommodate you or to hide their conversation.

At this moment, you cannot bring yourself to care. You’ve got enough on your plate, or, well, your bedside.

Your eyelids flutter as you check whether it’s safe to open your eyes yet. When the light doesn’t burn your retinas, you allow them to open more fully, adjusting and taking in the room that you see more often than you’d like. Though, you suppose it’s time to get over such sentiments, they don’t do you any good.

This is the inner corner of the hospital wing where Pomfrey kept her regular patients or those who were staying for more than a night or two. A few years ago, she gave you permission to go straight here each stay, regardless of length or severity, as you got more acquainted. It allowed you the privacy you had not voiced a desire for, but that the maternal woman saw in your crumpling posture at having to be on display for the students coming in for a mere potion or doctor’s note. Add it to the list of all she has done for you that you suppose is her job, but that still melts your heart with remorseful gratitude. You wish things were different, but if they aren’t going to be, then you’re happy to have her by your side.

Due to the general lack of traffic in this room, there usually aren’t any privacy screens up or curtains drawn, but you notice some thrown up haphazardly in the opposite corner. Between some of the lopsided screens you see red and gold along with a mop of black hair that anyone in the castle could have recognised. 

Propping yourself half-up on your left elbow, you rub roughly at your eyes – perhaps doing more harm than good – in an attempt to clear your gaze. The hushed voices are coming from behind the half-secluded area and you notice that both Black and Potter are there along with the matron. Hair is being pulled at and feet are shuffling fast, voices desperate despite their lowered volume.

When Madam Pomfrey moves the curtain to reach for a tray of more equipment – you see flashes of white bandages and metal you recognise as suture needles – you catch a glimpse of the boy laying in the bed. His tawny curls are matted against his forehead and his eyes squeezed shut in severe pain, face turned into his pillow.

Worry rises in you on their behalf, because you know more than most that if Pomfrey has brought them in here, there must be a good reason – and any good reason is a bad thing. Without being able to explain why, you itch to help, to stumble over and see what is happening for yourself.

It requires more strength than you would like to quell your concerned curiosity and do the one thing you know will actually help.

You lay back down and turn over onto your bad side with your back to the commotion.

No disturbance to the matron and no stinging pierce at being perceived in his weakest moments to the patient. That is what you always silently beg for from your own onlookers. You can grant him as much, and take the opportunity to sleep this flare up off.

You didn’t sleep too well, but you stayed there until you vaguely heard the matron shoo the visitors away and the room fell back into silence. In your lucid dreams you stretched out well wishes to the other occupant of your safe haven.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

That was the first time you encountered Remus Lupin in Madam Pomfrey’s infirmary wing. Later on, you would laugh at how ironic it is that it took years for your paths to cross like this, somehow always just missing each other before then. Once you did, though, you could never seem to miss each other – all of a sudden, Remus was always there.

It’s not that you didn’t know each other; you have been in the same class every now and then, and despite Hogwarts’ size you did at least know of every person in your year, even if you did not spend a lot of time with them. Nor was any student lucky enough to miss the boisterous laughter that seemed to follow the Marauders around as they made the castle their own. It was pure happenstance that you had never been in the same social circles, the same stores in Hogsmeade, the same corners of the library. When you saw Remus, you would smile and he would return it in that reserved yet warm way of his, but you had not had any reason to talk to him beyond that.

It was this damn hospital wing that changed that and served you an opportunity on a blood-splattered metal platter.

The next time you saw Remus was around two weeks after the incident you decided not to have witnessed.

He was sitting in the same bed as before, propped up against the pillows with a tired expression over his face and a jittery leg. He was not hidden away this time, so when you trudged in half-heartedly, you gave him a small smile when your eyes met. It took him a second to return it as he searched your face, but you simply walked past him and sat down on your regular bed with a groan.

Your arm was held against your chest and you were breathing with purpose as you fixed your gaze on the chip of the paint on the right side of your bed frame. Your treacherous shoulder had decided to dislocate during Care for Magical Creatures today when you tried to lift a bucket that wasn’t even heavy, mind you, and you just felt thoroughly defeated. You popped it back in immediately, but when the pain did not ease, your professor sent you away to this odd second home of yours. Despite your complaints that it was not necessary, Pomfrey had asked you to wait in here so she could come wrap it for you. 

“Hey.” At the sound of his voice, you snapped yourself out of your dissociation to meet Remus’ gaze where he watched you carefully from a few metres away. “Erm, pardon me, but are– are you alright?” He stuttered slightly and his tone was laced with the slight awkwardness of being in close proximity to a classmate outside of your usual environment, but his sentiment seemed genuine enough.

“Oh, yeah, this is normal for me. Don’t worry about it.” You quickly brushed him off with a polite smile before looking away again, knowing that explanations never ended up being short if you first started. You didn’t feel like answering an onslaught of questions.

Undeterred and maybe even slightly emboldened by your casualness while you clutched your clearly injured arm, he pressed. “What exactly is it that is normal for you?” 

“I dislocated my shoulder, but it happens often, so I should be fine,” you explained as succinctly as possible, speech ready on your tongue for his next line of questioning.

You glanced over at him, expecting to see confusion or perhaps some light horror at the concept. Instead you saw him nodding shortly, pressing his lips together in a way you supposed was a sympathetic smile. “That blows,” he said matter-of-factly. 

It was simple, but it pulled a slight laugh from you nonetheless. “Yeah,” you chuckled. “I suppose it does.”

His smile turned genuine at the sound of your laughter, and he looked down in his lap, seemingly pleased with himself. No further questions. It made you breathe a sigh of relief before you regarded him quizzically. 

“What about you?” you couldn’t help but ask, despite your own feelings on the matter. “Are you alright?”

Remus seemed to ponder the question for a moment, as if he was trying to find his own bite-sized answer. “Yeah, I am. This is normal for me too, except that in my case this is… easily broken bones instead of easily dislocated ones.”

“Ouff,” you said, letting out something between a sympathetic laugh and sigh. “Sounds like that’s not a walk in the park either.”

“Hear, hear,” Remus muttered, leaning his head back against the pillows and closing his eyes. “Guess we’ll just both have to stumble through, eh?”

“Sure thing, Lupin.” 

You made yourself more comfortable as well, realising the matron might not be coming for a while. You had put your own shoulder back before moving to the infirmary, routine at this point, but she always wanted to ensure it was put back correctly and then wrap it to put as little pressure on it as possible. There were some first years coming from a failed Potions lecture, though, so you figured you might be waiting for a while. 

At least you weren’t alone in the room, and Remus’ steady breath was audible in the silence. You found yourself zeroing in on it to deal with the pain, and you had to admit it made the experience more comfortable. 

Neither of you spoke much for the rest of it, apart from when Madam Pomfrey came in and greeted you both at the same time. A joke or two were volleyed back and forth – a “hope you’ve been okay while waiting” from Pomfrey answered with a “don’t worry, I made sure she was on her best behaviour, Madam” – some weary smiles and eventually an almost shy wave from Remus as he left the room before you.

You returned it with your good hand and felt your heart squeeze oddly as he disappeared around the corner.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Remus didn’t mean to think of you as often as he did.

He had seen you in the passing multiple times in the infirmary before he finally had the opportunity to speak to you the other day. He kicked himself for it, for having been observing you enough to know you were there often, for feeling like the talk you had was an opportunity and not just a conversation. It wasn’t wrong per say, he knew that, but he also knew that these were emotions, wants that someone like him shouldn’t be feeling. The very reason he was in the infirmary was why he shouldn’t be seeking companionship there.

But when he saw you next, he couldn’t fight the warmth spreading in his chest. Not to mention intrigue.

He was stopping by the infirmary to pick up some wolfsbane and pain potions when he saw your usual bed was very much inhabited. Pomfrey let him walk in and pick up his potions from a stash in his bedside table, should she be busy, and it made it impossible to miss you.

Curled up on your side beneath what seemed like a sea of blankets, his overly sensitive ears picked up on your wheezing breaths. Remus carefully stepped into the room, walking towards his own bedside to pluck out what he needed, but his eyes remained trained on you. His mental lecturer was giving him a tirade about how he should leave this poor girl alone, that the last thing she needed now was his bothersome face in her vision.

Yet, his bones seemed to have a melody of their own, as he left his bag on his bed to trek over to yours and sit down gingerly on the bed beside you, leaving a mere metre between you, if that. Your face was just barely poking out of your blankets, hair messy and seeming to be quite miserable. Your eyebrows twitched, as if you had caught on that you now had company.

I should go, he thought.

“Good afternoon, love,” he said instead, making sure his voice was quiet enough not to startle or hurt. “I must admit, this does not look like a dislocated shoulder.”

Your eyes squinted open at the same time as a small smile took over your previously downturned lips, and Remus felt something squeeze in his heart at the sight. “If it isn’t Lupin again.” Your voice was hoarse but not unkind, and you groaned as you shifted so that you could see him better.

“It’s Remus,” he said softly before he could think better.

“What?” You were mid-stretch, and Remus was uncertain of whether you hadn’t heard him in your movement, or if you were caught off guard by his poorly-phrased offer. Regardless, a slight flush spread across his cheeks as he looked abashedly away.

“Uh, it’s just, you– you can call me Remus. If you want.” Idiot.

It seemed you didn’t agree with his estimation of himself though, as your smile grew just a tad bit wider, a certain glee in it that he was yet to see if was at his expense or not. He thought it might be both.

“Alright then, Remus. What brings you to my bedside?”

His flush spread down his neck, but at this point Remus was digging his heels in and standing his ground – he was taking one of his few chances to talk to a hauntingly beautiful and intriguing girl, and he might as well make the most of it now without shying away. The embarrassment was already carved in stone.

“I was picking up some of my prescription potions,” he said then, pointing absentmindedly over to the bag laying on the bed across from you. “And recognised the pile of blankets over here as a certain someone. Thought I ought to… check up on you? See how you are.”

Your gaze seemed to take its time flickering over his face, studying him as you tilted your head to the side, some messy strands falling in your face. Remus fought the urge to reach out and tuck them back in.

Whatever you had been searching for, it seemed like you found it because you settled back into your pillows with a painfully knowing smile. Remus felt utterly opened. “How sweet of you. Do you usually check up on all patients you come across?” A quirked eyebrow at him, a challenge he tried not to read as flirtatious. Yet, on the off chance… 

“Just the awfully nice ones. So far, only you’ve fit the bill.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully as you snorted, and he had to look down to hide the severity of his grin. 

“Glad to hear I’ve made an impression on you, Lu– Remus.” His heart warmed yet again when he looked up to see the slightly abashed look take over your face at correcting yourself.

“You have.” His voice was gentler than it perhaps should be. “Anyway, I figured that while we’re both here, we might as well look out for each other, yeah?”

You seemed to narrow your eyes at him as you processed his words. “Like… like friends?”

There was no way Remus could describe the pang he felt in his chest at that, unable to understand whether it was a bloom or a bomb, gratitude or guilt. Yet, he nodded with a smile playing over his lips that he only now realised he was biting the inside of.

“Something like that, love.”

“That kindness would make you a good doctor, Remus. Ever thought of applying as Poppy’s apprentice?” Your deflection was a relief to him, as he settled more in on the bed, leaning back on his hands. 

“I’ve never heard any student but me call her Poppy,” he said with a delighted laugh. “But I think that poor woman already sees too much of me, unfortunately.”

“I can’t imagine.” Remus so wished he could decipher your tone as you said that. 

He couldn’t, so instead he asked, “Is there anything I can do to help you today, though? Not as an apprentice, just a friend?”

To his great pleasure, you seemed to actually mull it over – he realised how deeply he desired for his extension of help to be received and well-used. Might as well be of use to you if he was to take up your time.

“I’m not sure,” you concluded. “I’ve mostly just got a common cold, but those knock me out like they’re the plague.” You furrowed your brows as you seemed to realise not all wizards might know what that is. “Oh, the plague is–”

“I know,” Remus interrupted with a laugh. “My mum was a muggle, so I’m mostly caught up on muggle history.”

You didn’t at all address the cracking sounds from your neck when you laughed at that. “Sorry, sorry, I’m so used to translating.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, I understand. My three best mates are all raised in wizarding families, you have no idea the shit I’ve had to translate to them.”

“I mean, in their defense, you did befriend a Potter, a Black and a Pettigrew – you were kind of asking for awkward situations like that.”

Remus gleamed at the way you volleyed back and forth, how free you seemed to be with him already. You were pale compared to your usual skin tone and seemed weak, yet you were so welcoming of him. “Yeah, I kind of did. They’re great mates though, so it makes it worth it to explain what cars and Broadway is.”

He wondered if others would pick up on the way your eyes sparkled at that. Before you could reply though, a coughing fit took over you, the type where Remus could just tell it made your chest ache. Within seconds, he hurried quickly away to grab a cup from the other side of the room, ignoring his aching hip as he did so, filling it to the brim with a quiet aguamenti.

He held it out to you, your fingers brushing as you readily accepted it, swallowing mouthfuls. 

“Thank you,” you croaked out when you were able to speak once more. Remus had the audacity to carefully settle down on the end of your bed this time. “Merlin, how I hate being sick.”

“I feel you on that,” he murmured. Though Remus hadn’t had a common cold since he got bitten, the wolf’s autoimmune system taking over his own, he also had not had a day of feeling good either – close enough. “D’you want me to get you some honeyed warmed potions?”

You were drinking more from the cup, but you smiled at him over the brim and nodded wordlessly. 

Hoping Madam Pomfrey wasn’t actively using those potions this very minute, Remus accio’d one to your bedside, helping ease it into your hands so it wouldn’t burn you. For a few seconds, you sat in silence together as you drank, Remus taking the time to drink you in. He couldn’t put his fingers on what drew him to you, but he knew in his bones he was on some form of hook.

You let out a sigh, placing the empty cups on the bedside table and burying yourself back in your pillows. “Thank you for checking on me, Remus.” Your words were a weary mumble, but your smile didn’t feel weak. “You’re awfully nice yourself.”

Remus looked down at his hands, as if they held the answers to his warming heart. When he looked up at you, your eyes were drooping shut. “Anytime, dove.” The nickname slipped out, and he froze for a second both at the implications within his heart and from fear that you might dislike it.

Your smile only grew more content as you closed your eyes properly.

With a relieved sigh, Remus got up from his seat, careful not to jostle your bed too much when he did so. “Sleep well. I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll be here,” you mumbled in parting. As Remus walked out the door, he wore a more pleased face than he ever had picking up wolfsbane. 

If Pomfrey was giving him a curious glance from her office, he didn’t pick up on it.

part two

[datauthorress]

okay but, imagine feral! logan snuggling you at night. especially when its cold outside. you have a habit of getting cold very easily and logan is aware of this, so when you guys are getting ready for bed and you're lying there on your side and you're cold because there's a blizzard roaring outside. logan, hyper aware of whatever you're feeling, presses up against your back and moves his arms around your smaller body. his body is literally like a furnace and the heat that radiates from him is nothing but amazing.

logan nuzzles the back of your neck and you sink back into him, stealing his warmth. he's so warm and you never want to leave his embrace. and when he starts purring? that's even better.

[hexcii]

Yeah this is the only thing that really changes after you give your name to them

Clingy ass faeries