#chronic pain reader

[caffieneaddictt18]

okay but like… 141 with a partner who has chronic lower back pain.

I feel like Price would notice when you cant bend down mostly cause he likes sneaking peeks at your ass and notice the way your hand reaches around to press into the muscle. “You alright, luvie?” “Yeah. Fine.” He can just tell from the strain in your voice that it hurts, so he gets up and grabs a bottle of lotion. You’ve told him before that you have chronic lower back pain, and sometimes it flares up. Not too bad, but other times you can’t get out of bed. So he takes the lotion and gently guided you to the couch and has you lay down on your tummy as he pushes your shirt up just enough to massage the tender skin, muscles, and aggravated nerves. He might give it a kiss after and then he’ll flip you over and ask for his reward 😉

I headcanon that Simon also has chronic back pain, so he knows all about it. He has all the stuff for it already. Ice packs, heating pads, massage lotion, all the goods. So when you tell him that you have chronic lower back pain, he doesn’t even blink. However, whenever you have a flare up, he is always right there to help. He’s also one to remind you to not do too much just because it feels good today, when you inevitably ignore him and have a flare up so bad you can’t get out bed, he is also the one to take care of your bedridden self. "I told you, luv." "Yeah, yeah..."

Johnny would be the one that you have to sit down with and explain to him your situation, and then he would be like "Oh, yeah! I get that sometimes!" and you have to be the one to break the news that what he feels sometimes, you feel all the time, and you can see it break his heart. Now he doesn't let you do anything the moment he sees your hand on your back. You are ushered to your comfortable bed that he bought after you explained your pain to him, with a heating pad/ice pack for your back, a full water bottle, and the remote for the tv, as well as your phone, in case you need him as he finishes whatever you had to do for the rest of the day. He also does it in half the time... jerk (not really, just a man who is deeply in love with his soon-to-be wife)

Gaz, you see that he gets it. He kind of immediately understands. He does ask for you to trace where the pain is on him, so he can get a better understanding of it. As you spread your fingers to cover the entire area of where your pain would sit on him, or at least a similar equivalent, tracing up and down to where it spreads, he asks what it feels like right now. And you tell him that it's at baseline right now: that you can move fine, it's just with that added pain that you feel every day. From then on, he is aware of whenever flare-ups start. It's fucking weird too, like, sixth sense weird. You could have a normal day, and when you head to bed, you see Kyle laying out your heating pad and placing a water bottle on your nightstand. "What are you doing?" "Just got a feeling, darling." And the next morning, a random flare up, like he fucking thought. "How did you know?" "Cause I know you, darling." Then he'll kiss your forehead and be at your beck and call all day.

If it was a poly!141, I have a feeling that Simon would take point when he could. But if you both are down for the count, Price would take point on making sure that you both have everything you need, stationed in the living room, one on the couch and one on the old recliner that Price tends to populate. And then, at the end of the day, its a huge cuddle pile and movie night.

[npookie0]

Hi, hope your day is wonderful so far, I'm in a pretty bad flair up and was hoping if you can do fluff of Kc x reader with chronic plan 🙇🙏

Nursing Serials

A lover in pain and a killer who'll care for said lover.

Killer Chat! Love Interests x reader who's suffering from chronic pain.

Cws: I am not a person who's going through chronic pain myself so if it's not the best portrayal of chronic pain, blame it on google </3, spoilers for Killer Chat maybe idkk, these are drabbles :D

The Rat :

"Oh shit, baby what's up?" Ronin asked when he looked at you.

You were standing in the living room, leaning on the sofa your expression nothing short of pain while one of your hands was on your lower back.

Ronin stood at your side, his hand gently placed on your waist. "C'mon, lean on me darlin'." He said, the softness in his voice almost sweet.

He helped you sit down and you held onto him until you were in a somewhat comfortable position. Your back felt like it was on fire, like a dozen needles was being stuck through your skin and into your muscles. The pain made you speechless and unable to move, even the smallest change in your current position could make this pain so much worse.

Ronin was sitting next to you, his hand holding yours and squeezing it gently. He was looking at you with furrowed eyebrows. He knew about your chronic pains, sure, but he never saw you experiencing any pain like this, to him it was new.

"Ugh, Ro..." You mumbled, your forehead resting on his shoulder.

"What is it darlin', what d'ya need?" His free hand trailed up to your hair, twirling one of the strands around his finger.

You winced in pain, this position no longer that comfortable for you. "Can you get me some ice? Or just something cold, and my painkillers." You asked, though it sounded more like a weak plea.

"Of course, jus' give me a sec." He got up and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead before he left. It took a moment but he came back with a few cold gel compresses and the medicine you asked him for. He set the gels down on the table.

"Open wide darling." He said holding the painkillers to your mouth, you said as he did and soon you tasted the bitter pills on your tongue, water soon joining in so you could swallow them.

Later he lay down on the sofa and helped you to practically starfish on top of him, you hissed when he put the cold bags on your naked back, but you knew that at least that would help you a little.

"Thanks Nin." You murmured.

"Nah, don't thank me darlin', unless ya wanna be indebted to the devil." He said playfully and ruffled your hair.

"Oh shut up..." You gently slapped his shoulder and he only chuckled.

The Swan :

"Sorry Angel I need a second." You said, interrupting your girlfriend when she was explaining the new video she was working on. You were squeezing your temples with your fingers, practically digging into them. Your head felt like someone was hammering through it, hitting your skull and damaging your brain. The ache was sharp, pounding.

Angel was quick to realise what's going on, it wasn't the first time after all, it was unfortunately common for you to experience headaches, sometimes they were weeks long and even your doctors couldn't do much.

"You should lay down love, I'll bring you your pain killers." She said and helped you lay down on the bed. She walked up to the windows an closed the curtains, blocking the light from the outside from shining at you.

She returned to the room, slowly sat on the edge of the bed and patted your shoulder. "I'll give you your meds now honey." Her voice was soft and toned down, she was careful about keeping quiet. She helped you take your medicine and put the glass of water away. Angel brushed your hair away from your face and gently caressed your cheek with her thumb. "My poor lover, suffering like this. I wish I could so something..." She whispered.

Your eyes were closed, you tried to focus on Angel as much as possible, hoping that her soothing voice and gentle touch would stop the pain or at least distract you from it. You leaned into the feeling of her hand touching your face.

"You should try to sleep love, maybe it could help some way." She murmured, stealing a quick kiss from your lips.

"Mhm, yeah I could..." You replied. "Will you sleep with me?" You cupped the back of Angel's hand with your own hand and waited for her answer.

"Of course I will, you know that I'd never let a chance to cuddle with you slide." She giggled.

The Cat :

You wee standing in the kitchen, making a simple dinner for the two of you, then you suddenly stopped, the spoon you were holding fell from your hand onto te counter. Your whole body was in pain, your back hurt the most through. You felt like stones were thrown at you, hitting your spine and making it impossible to move even an inch.

Misaki rushed into the kitchen when they heard the sound of metal hitting the counter. They were quick to your side, holding you and helping you lean on them.

"Oh shit, it's the pain again?" They asked.

You were just past one wave of backpain that held on for two weeks and nothing helped, now it was back and luckily not stronger.

"Yeah, ugh, sorry I don't think I can make dinner." You groaned wen the pain in your back started to feel like a burning sensation.

"Hey, don't apologise, stupid! It's okay babe, you're in pain, I mean it's not okay that you're in pain, but it's fine that you can't cook because you're not feeling good now." Their words were chaotic, no surprises there, she was worried about you even if it wasn't the first time Misaki saw you in pain.

They helped you sit down. Misaki applied your gel to your back, it was supposed to soothe your pain and maybe it was doing its job, but you were more focused on being unable to cook.

"What is it?" Misaki asked, seeing your expression.

"Ugh, I just promised you that I'd make dinner and now we'll be without anything to eat." You sighed.

"Hey, I can cook!" Your partner exclaimed happily.

You raised an eyebrow. "Misaki."

"Yes?"

"..." You wanted to say something, but the excitement on their face stopped you. "Just don't set the kitchen on fire."

"Yes chef!" They saluted and turned towards the kitchen counter and looked at the food that you were cooking before.

You saw how lost Misaki was so you ended up giving her instructions, telling her what and how to do. They were a little clumsy, but still had a hang on cooking the dish you wanted to make before.

"Ta-da!" They said when they placed the plate in front of you.

"Woah, good job! Even the kitchen is unharmed." You said and stuck out your tongue at them.

"I know how to cook, thank you very much." They huffed and sat down on the chair opposing you. "I hope you enjoy..."

"I'm sure I will, don't worry." You smiled gently. "Thanks for finishing cooking for me."

"Nah, don't mention it!"

The Snake :

It was one of these days when your headache was unbearable, you couldn't even think without pain accompanying you in the palace of your mind. You were especially upset with it because you had to finish a report for the news site you work under and you were simply unable to.

"Ugh, so annoying." You mumbled while massaging your temples, trying to ease the pain and get back to work. If only it was that easy.

"It still hasn't stopped?" A deep voice came from behind you, soon a gentle hand was resting on your shoulder and you could feel the thin braids brush against your cheek when your boyfriend was looking at the small progress you've made so far.

V was holding a mug in his hand, a mug with your medicine mixed into herbal tea, it tasted a little better in a tea and worked just as the same. Which didn't mean that it worked amazingly.

"Yeah, I guess it's going to stick around for a few days." You sighed and accepted the drink from him. "I just want to finish this and sleep... or just do something other than look at screen."

"I understand, my love." V said, thinking about something and then he looked at the article draft again. "What if I wrote it for you? You can just tell me the general information that I should put in this."

At first you were reluctant, you didn't want your work to be done by someone else, but you were in pain and you would struggle to finish this task for a long time.

"Alright... Everything you have to add is in the email sent by the news site." You showed him the email and with V's help moved to the sofa.

You slowly drank the medicine and tea mixture while watching the vigilante who worked his way through a criminal article, he read you every sentence he wrote and asked about the ideas he had. It was sweet of him, to do this for you and put so much care and passion into that, but you couldn't except anything less from him. He always put the most of himself into every task he had to take care of.

Here are the short drabbles :D

I finally left my drafts and looked at my inbox and oh woah we have 117 asks :0

Thank you for every ask and I'm so sorry for the delay </3

I'm getting to the asks slowly :D

Love ya

Nate <3

[queerlordsimon]

Worthwhile love

Prompt list 2, prompt 37: “im sick of being USELESS”

Cw:chronic pain, feeling worthless, struggling with pain, comforting 

An:sorry ive been gone so long, im trying to be back. Also apologies if idia is out of character, this is a comfort for me mostly and i thought it worked decently for him in this situation. Word count: 650

y/n struggled to walk from the cafeteria to idias dorm. They always did this for idia, getting him something real to eat. Its just what they would do as his partner. And normally it was not a problem.

But today was not a normal day. Today was a day their chronic illness decided to flare up, and it was all they could do not to be curled into a ball in their bed all day. They had things to do after all. 

Take care of grim.

The furball wasent making it any easier on them today, running loose around campus. Thankfully for y/n deuce and ace were willing to help chase him down for them. 

School work.

They struggled to even sit up straight in class, which didnt go unnoticed, but thankfully for them epel and jack caused a problem on purpose to help them avoid the trouble for it. 

Now their simple task that they did every day out of love for their boyfriend was gonna be the end for them, they thought as they held the walls as they struggled to stay upright, tears running down their face. 

They got pretty far before their legs gave out just inside the entrance to ignihyde, crying out softly as they made sure not to drop the food. 

Ortho had heard them, before zipping over to where he located them to be. “y/n l/n! Are you ok?” they shook their head in response. “I will get big brother y/n l/n, stay right there!” he said before zipping away, as y/n tried to stand back up, gripping the railing tightly as they heaved themselves back up, tears streaming down their face in pain as the pain got worse, but they tried to push through.

They didnt get too far before idia could be seen hurrying down the hallways with ortho in tow behind him. “Player two, are you alright?” he asked softly, his concern trumping his nerves as ortho took the food away from them, so idia could help them stand, wrapping his arm underneath theirs. 

“Im fine idi,” they protested, gritting their teeth in pain, but unable to fight the help idia was giving them. Ortho darted to idias room ahead of the two, as they slowly made their way to it. 

After they were both safely in his room with the door shut, idia walked them over to his bed where he had y/n sit, who was crying in both pain and humiliation. “Player two, whats the problem?” he said softly. 

“Im sick, idi, im so sick” they cried into their palms, hiding their face, “sick of being in pain, sick of being so weak. Im sick of being USELESS” they cried quietly, as idia crouched and hugged them to him. 

“Your not useless, player two, your one of the most strongest and useful people i know” he said softly. “You deal with this chronic illness on a daily and deal with all of this schools bull. So your having a bad day, but that doesnt mean your useless. You should take a day for yourself. Here.” he said softly pulling away, making them lay down with their head on his pillow, getting them a heating pad to help if it would and laying a blanket over them. “Ill email your teachers. You stay here and rest, alright? Ill be here for anything you need” he said softly, hesitating before kissing their forehead shyly. “Let me know if you need anything, alright?” y/n nodded softly, grabbing his hand softly and squeezing it.

“Thank you idi, i love you” idias face softened. 

“I love you too, player two. Rest now, my worthwhile love” he said softly, as y/n closed their eyes, and he went and sat down, keeping an eye on them and keeping his electronics quiet for them to rest.

[alienaiver]

does any of my fellow writers or readers wanna vibe-read (and minor-minor beta read but thats not a requirement since im confident in my general grammar etc and vibe / general thoughts are more important) my sfw disabled/chronic pain reader insert shinsou fanfic of a fever dream? its currently standing at 30k ish and not even finished, so absolute no stress abt being a fast reader!!

bonus if ur disabled urself in some capacity and able to pick up on my presentation and whether or not i end up making it too vague instead of relatable! tho not at all a requirement! the disability/diagnosis will not be specified, but as i suffer from pots/heds/fibromyalgia myself, those will be the type of experiences i draw from(but dont limit it to). reader is also described as using mobility aids, but it is as a whole described under 'dynamic disability'.

short summary is chronic pain reporter!reader is shinsous self-proclaimed biggest fan, and has a fan twitter about him. they (accidentally) post horrendously ugly pictures of him (if zoomed in) which his friends always does and makes fun of in a groupchat. on a drunken night he dm's the twitter account and a blooming relationship ensues, a will-they-wont-they back and forth as reader learns to let someone in and shinsou learns that he is lovable and worthy. it has minor elements of chatfic and some homemade art included of the horrendous, zoomed-in shinsou faces.

its a slow burn (estimate is 8-9 chapters of ~5-7k words per chapter) with a gender neutral reader in a timeskip world that is semi-canon compliant up until the war. chapter 1 thru 5 are all finished, whereas ch6 is 90 ish percent finished and the last ones are drafted and completely planned, with in-between scenes written down as well.

if youre at all interested send me a dm or an ask and we can discord or google doc it out :3 i have literally zero expectations except u sharing ur own thoughts so no technical knowledge, personal writing experience or anything needed. ive been working on this for a year and i feel im staring at it blindly at this point so a fresh perspective would be nice i think!!! i also dont mind if multiple people wanna do this, since ill just receive more feedback!!

if youre not interested in reading but wanna help me get the word out, id appreciate a reblog but not required 🥺✨

[where-dreamers-go]

"Aches And Heroes" Bridge Carson x Reader

(A/N: This idea as been in a notebook for over a year. I needed to write about Bridge being all caring and cute. Again. Because I wish I had a Bridge for when back pain strikes back. Warnings: chronic pain—back pain, shower scene, kisses, and fluff. Word Count: 825 words)

It was one of those days. Overcast clouds in the sky, but no rain. A tease and frustration when it could pour any second.

You did not have time to wait. There were things to do and routines to keep. mostly, anyway.

Your back sure as heck did not like any of it. The day started and continued with popping your back more often to seek relief from aches. Stiffness could soon follow if you didn’t move. An aggravating cycle.

Grabbing a fresh set of loungers, you headed for the bathroom. With luck, you could be finished with your shower before Bridge came over. The probability was questionable, but he had a key.

A large step in your relationship with the Power Ranger that had lasted longer than most writing pens and socks. He kept the key and in turn he was welcome to your apartment any time.

Bridge was always good enough to ask first. Even if it was to retrieve some of his stuff he left over.

Already in the shower, you missed Bridge’s last text.

He was already on his way to see you.

. . .

Enjoying the water, you hardly heard the sound of your name and a light knock on the door.

“Hey, Bridge.” You called out.

“Did you read my last text?” He asked. “I got to leave early.”

“No,” you laughed. “I thought I could take a shower before you got here.” You started rinsing off. “Did you eat already?”

“Yes, I had two—.”

“Ah-hnn.” You steadied a hand on the tiled wall, again. “I’m okay. I’m okay. You’re okay.” You rambled quickly.

Your heart sank as you heard Bridge rush into the bathroom and pull the curtain aside.

“What happened?” Bridge’s face was drowned in worry as his chocolate brown eyes searched you for answers.

“My back tightened up and…. I leaned down again and everything just tightened and there was a pain in a different spot this time.” Your fingers crawled at the tile. “I almost fell again.”

“Again?”

Inhaling slowly, you answered. “When I bent over to get soap. It happened.”

“Does it hurt now? Can you stand?” He asked, looking as if he’d jump in and get you. He likely would.

“I’m okay.”

You straightened up, steadily.

“Are you almost finished or are you going to be in there longer?”

“I just got in…. Not long ago anyway.”

“Alright.” Bridge nodded. “Give me a second.”

Stepping back, he disappeared from view.

Just barely over the sound of water splashing and hitting the bottom of the tub, you could hear rustling of fabric.

Turning around with careful steps, you let the water massage your back.

Perhaps it should had been a bath day.

The curtain moved aside as Bridge stepped into the shower. He was missing two important details.

“Where are your gloves?” You asked, knowing full well how sensitive to reading auras he was.

“The counter. Well, beside the sink and your folded clothes.”

“It’s okay?” You asked warily.

Bridge took his place in front of you.

“I’ve been practicing. To control my power more when I need to.”

“Okay.”

He placed his open palms on your back. On contact, he closed his eyes.

“Bridge?”

He took a breath.

Very still, you made sure not to touch his arms. The last thing you wanted was to cause him discomfort.

Opening his eyes, he met your gaze.

“We’re okay.”

Shoulders relaxing, you smiled and added, “Hi, by the way.”

“Hi.” Bridge planted a kiss between your brows. “I missed you.” Once more, he closed his eyes. Hiding any amount of pain from sensing your aura so closely.

“I’ve missed you too.” Carefully, you wrapped your arms around his torso and sighed. “I’ve really missed you.” Dropping your forehead to his shoulder was as relieving as falling onto a pillow.

Bridge brought himself closer to you and let his hands roam a little.

“Let’s finish in here and I can get you a heating pad for your back if you want,” he offered. “Or I can get a bag of ice?”

“Bag of ice, please. Plus kisses.”

“Kisses?”

“Yes. All the kisses.”

“Alright.” He agreed with a single kiss to the side of your head.

The rest of the shower went by without any more pains or spasms. Mostly because Bridge made sure you didn’t bend in any way that would aggravate your back.

All there needed to be was quality time doing absolutely nothing. Which was one of the best somethings.

“Better?” Bridge asked.

“One more.”

He kissed your lips softly. Cradling you across his chest as you both lay on the bed. The many affections.

“Better now?”

“Don’t touch the ice pack. It’s still numbing everything.” You brushed back his chestnut brown hair and added, “So thank you. You’re my hero.”

To your forehead, to your nose, and to your lips he pressed kisses. All ‘thank you’s.

To him, you were his hero and more.

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Bridge Carson Tags: 

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[heavenbarnes]

thinking about older bf!simon that takes great pride in being your built in pain relief.

“you right?”

delicate as always, gruff voice cutting through the peaceful lull as he stands right in the way of the television you were only really listening to.

“just a headache”

“you taken anything for it?”

you slowly open one eye as far as you can manage, confirming that the look on his face is endearing and he’s not purposefully asking stupid fucking questions.

he’s only man after all.

“i’ll give y’one if y’like?”

before you even have a chance to ask him what “one” might be in this scenario, he’s already nudging you up the couch to sit beside you.

he doesn’t give you the chance to ask any questions, really- not when he’s tucking your back into his side and slipping a large hand down your front.

long fingers slide your shorts to the side and immediately get to work, other hand holding your thighs open (more for his line of sight than anything).

“simon- you don’t have-”

“none a’that, rest y’head and i’ll take care a’ya”

[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.”

[aventurineswife]

Hiiiiiiiiii I would like a bit where Reader has chronic pain that is acting up and it’s bad enough that they can’t rest because they feel pain no matter what position they try to sleep in so they end up spending the next day in their room privately trying to get their pain under control using every method they can find (while avoiding the ones that turn out to make it more painful) and eventually they throw in the towel and send a message in the Stellaron Hunter’s group chat: “Health is in the yellow, pls send some heals 🥲”

It was meant to be sent to Silver Wolf only, hence the gamer slang; but they accidentally hit the group chat.

Health is in the Yellow

Summary: You, dealing with chronic pain, struggle to find relief throughout a sleepless night and into the following day. After trying numerous methods in vain, you accidentally send a message for help to the Stellaron Hunters' group chat instead of just Silver Wolf. Despite the awkward mistake, Silver Wolf offers help, easing your pain with her unique aether manipulation. The rest of the group chimes in, providing support in their own way, and you find solace in their unexpected camaraderie.

Tags: Stellaron Hunters x Reader, Chronic pain, Comfort, Friendship, Group Chat Shenanigans, Healing, Humor.

Warnings: Mentions of chronic pain, Some lighthearted teasing, Brief emotional distress.

The night had been long—too long. It started with an ache that you thought would subside, but it quickly escalated into a full-on flare-up. Chronic pain had become an unwelcome companion over the years, and some days it felt like it was winning. No matter how many different positions you tried to sleep in, there was no escape from the constant throbbing, a relentless reminder of your body’s limitations. The pillows had been tossed aside, the sheets tangled around you as you shifted in an endless search for comfort.

By the time dawn broke, you were exhausted but still wide awake, pinned by pain. With a heavy sigh, you rolled out of bed and limped toward the bathroom, the cool tiles doing little to soothe your muscles. A few stretches, some massaging, but the pain stubbornly lingered. You tried taking a warm bath next, hoping the heat would ease the tightness in your joints, but all it did was make you feel heavier. Nothing worked.

You slumped back on your bed, staring at the ceiling. “Great. Just great,” you muttered to yourself. This wasn’t how you planned to spend the day, and yet here you were.

You were used to pushing through it, to pretending everything was fine. But today felt different. You could feel the exhaustion weighing on you, the pain cutting deeper with every passing second. Desperation made you reach for the next remedy in your arsenal—deep breathing, meditation, whatever you could think of—but nothing seemed to make a difference. At some point, you just threw your hands up in frustration.

“Alright, screw it,” you muttered.

Grabbing your device, you scrolled through the Stellaron Hunters' group chat, your mind a blur of frustration. The screen was a collection of messages from Kafka, Blade, Firefly, and Silver Wolf. You had always preferred Silver Wolf’s more... relaxed approach to things—she was a hacker, after all, and probably knew a thing or two about fixing broken systems, even if they were your own body.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, ready to message her directly.

It was meant for Silver Wolf alone, a message wrapped in gamer slang, but in your daze, you didn’t notice the subtle notification that it was about to be sent to everyone.

You hit send, and immediately your stomach dropped.

The group chat buzzed with activity almost instantly.

You winced. That was typical Blade.

A ping from Silver Wolf caught your eye, and you couldn’t help but let out a small, embarrassed laugh at her response.

You typed back quickly, your face flushed from the attention.

You hesitated for a moment. The others were clearly concerned, but they didn't understand. Silver Wolf, however, had always been someone who didn’t ask questions unless she had to, and somehow, that felt better.

“Sorry, that was meant for you. Wasn't thinking straight.”

“I’ve been dealing with it for a while,” you typed. “Just didn’t expect it to flare up this bad today.”

You rolled your eyes at the 'healing potions' comment. Of course, she'd go there.

“I’ve tried everything,” you replied. “Heat, stretching, even breathing exercises. Nothing's working. It's just... too much.”

You smiled faintly at the screen, grateful in a way that you couldn’t fully articulate. Silver Wolf had always been a mystery to you, someone who enjoyed the game of life in her own way. And in that moment, she had leveled the playing field a bit for you.

Within moments, a quiet hum of energy flooded your surroundings. You could sense the subtle manipulation of aether, a digital presence coalescing around you, guided by Silver Wolf’s expertise. The pain didn’t disappear immediately, but it was enough to allow you to breathe more freely. You slumped back into your pillows, feeling a sense of relief that you hadn’t expected.

You chuckled softly, even as the warmth from her healing touch still lingered. For the first time in what felt like hours, you could finally breathe without the weight of pain. Maybe the day wouldn’t be as unbearable as you feared.

“Thanks,” you typed, your fingers finally relaxing. “Seriously, I owe you one.”

And there it was, the chaotic and endearing presence of the Stellaron Hunters, all working in their own ways to ease your burden.

As you settled back into your bed, the message notifications kept coming, but this time, you couldn’t help but smile.

With a sigh of relief, you closed your eyes. The pain wasn’t gone, but for the first time in a while, it didn’t feel quite so unbearable.

Maybe today wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

[actuallybarb]

here with me

pairing: male x gn!reader (i tagged with a lot of different male characters i find comforting, but there’s no names used so you can imagine anyone you so please)

word count: 0.6k

warnings: reader is in pain (nothing descriptive), he comforts. just fluff

a/n: i wrote this as a result of my own migraines, but i kept all the symptoms vague because any chronic pain is a bitch, and you deserve to be treated softly by the person of your choice

The apartment usually wasn’t this quiet when he got home.

Or this dark.

He set his keys on the counter and left his boots by the door, then carefully stepped through the apartment. The kitchen and living room were both empty, and the office looked like it hadn’t been touched all day.

There was no light under the bedroom door. He set a cautious hand on the doorknob, but a quiet whimper had him opening the door without question.

You were laid out on the bed, on top of the covers, with an arm draped over your eyes. The ceiling fan and rotary fan on the ground were both spinning at top speed, and he could just see a dark bag poking out under your neck.

He quietly closed the door and returned to the kitchen, now a man on a mission. He grabbed a straw and a water bottle from the fridge, then took an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped it with a dish towel. He took the last item, a bottle of painkillers, from the cabinet and silently returned to the bedroom, the only sound of his presence being the faint click as the door closed one more time.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

You let out another small whimper.

“How bad is it?”

“9.5.”

Unbearable, then, if you were using an actual pain scale.

He set his items on the nightstand and took a seat beside you on the bed.

“Meds?”

“At 3.”

Only a couple hours ago, too soon to take more. He put those beside the lamp.

He uncapped the water bottle and put the straw in, then he gently tucked a hand behind your head and lifted. “Drink.”

Your lips wrapped around the straw, and he didn’t pull the bottle away until you’d swallowed at least four times. But before you could lay back down, he replaced your old ice pack with a new one. You shivered a little, but the cold was a welcome reprieve.

“Stay or go?”

You could’ve cried. He’d stuck with you through this so many times he knew your comforts by heart. He read your moods instantly, and most of the time didn’t need promptings, but he always took the time to ask when it got bad like this. And he never shamed you for only being able to say a few words at a time.

“Stay.”

It nearly came out as a sob.

He shed his jacket and started unbuttoning his jeans. “Shirt or no shirt?”

“Soft.”

He took off his current shirt and replaced it with his sleep one, nothing decorating the black fabric, just ultra-soft cotton.

“Where do you want me?”

It differed every time. Sometimes you didn’t want him at all, the thought of another person with you sending jolts of pain through your body. Other times you wanted him to stay, but on the other side of the bed. Or you wanted him close, but barely touching.

“Top.”

Or sometimes you needed him to put all of his body weight on top of you like a human weighted blanket.

“Covers?”

“No.”

He positioned himself, knees on either sides of your thighs, then he slowly lowered himself until his hands on either side of your face were the only thing keeping him up.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

He finished lowering himself and settled his full weight against you.

You sighed in relief.

“Better?”

You nodded and tucked yourself into the crook of his neck. “Better.”

“Three taps if I’m suffocating you.”

For the first time that day, you took a deep breath and relaxed.

[moonstruckme]

apple pie please <3 would love something with remus and #30. 7k is so well deserved and your writing has served as inspiration for me to finally do my own. many thanks for giving us all comfort through your words :)

I'm so happy for you that you're writing! Thank you my love <33

³⁰⁾ trembling hands

cw: chronic pain

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 495 words

Remus is in pain. But when isn’t he, really. It’s only flaring up now, in his bones and in all the places where his bones grate up against each other and, for some godforsaken reason, in his eyes (though that might just be because he’s tired). It relieves the eye ache at least somewhat to close them, but he can’t do that because you’ve got him all spellbound and stupid with how precious you look asleep on his chest. 

You’re only on the couch with him in solidarity, so Remus can hardly blame you for drifting off when his Saturday is full of such scintillating activities as quietly reading and waiting for the next time he can take painkillers. Your hand is trapped underneath your cheek, sandwiched between your face and Remus’ chest like you’re trying to feel his heartbeat. You look very relaxed. It fills him with both pride and a weird sort of envy, wishing he could join but happy that if one of you is able to relax it’s you. One of your eyebrows is all ruffled from being rubbed against the fabric of his shirt, and a few strands of hair have fallen in front of your face so that they’re rustled by your breaths like blades of grass in a soft wind. 

Remus lifts a trembling hand, moving them away. You stir with the unhurried ease of someone who knows they’re waking up somewhere safe, your eyelashes fluttering and then opening. 

You look up at him for a handful of moments, your lips gradually turning down into a frown. “It’s gotten worse,” you say. 

Remus doesn’t know what gave him away. “A little,” he admits. 

Your frown worsens. It spreads to your eyebrows, which hook upwards compassionately. “I’m sorry,” you say, lifting your face. Your hand gives his chest a couple of short rubs, consoling. “It’d probably help if I wasn’t laying on you, yeah?”

“No,” Remus lies. He’s not sure which comfort he values more at the moment, the physical kind or the funny, intangible sort that comes from having you in his arms. You might at least stay until he figures it out.

But you get up anyway, as gently as you can, your knee digging into the cushion beside his hip. You look at the clock in the kitchen. “You could’ve taken pills half an hour ago.” You sound sorry, your hand finding his forehead to brush some hair away from his face, a useless but tender touch. “You should have woken me.” 

You’re gone before Remus can reply, bustling down the hall and returning soon with a glass of water and two pills cupped in your hand. He tries not to look too eager as he takes them, though just the action of swallowing them down brings some relief, the promise of real respite in only a handful of minutes. He’s more than happy to have given up a few of them to lay with you.

[queenendless]

●○•°Okay°•○●

A/n: I'm doing my best to get that TWST post up, sorry about that and my lame excuses. I needed to cope and vent write about my newest comfort character and yes its Jinwoo.

Sung Jinwoo x F!Adult!Reader

CW: Personal content including chronic pains, feet flare ups, menstrual periods, hints of depression, hurt/comfort, fluffy romance and a small mention of Jinwoo's VA.

Dreams of a dark wavy haired young man that kissed you persistently in your cheek repeatedly made you crave more. Those curvy lips, that goofy smile, this endearing presence.

Waking up from those fun filled dreams where you're free from those chronic neuroimmune pains, back in your agonizing reality, it makes you break down more than ever before.

Woeful sobs leave your trembling lips.

The shadows of your frame wobble around from underneath, taking a life of their own.

Your worn out blanket hugs your shaky fame as you sat in that bed, suffocating from despair.

“Y/n?”

That cool and calm voice wavered when seeing your blotchy face and your flared up limbs. You couldn't look him in the eye.

He pieced it all together swiftly. His frame blurring up in a moment. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders and under your knees, all to have your legs draped over his lap, he sat with you on your lonely bed. Neither his hood nor his bangs could hide his concerned gaze.

“My cream isn't effective enough, my compresses keep leaking and are running out, and the AC in here isn't feeling cool enough to calm these feet down!” You ranted against his shoulder as he rubbed up and down your arm and in circles on your back.

“I knew I should have left you with my sister.” He muttered, kicking himself in the shin for his poor decision.

“I'm a poor broke burden.” You moped.

“You are not a burden, you hear me? You're my everything.” His firm tender words only made you sniffle and whimper more. “I should have been here with you from the start.”

“Jinwoo, I'm a fucking mess.” The front of his dark hoodie dampens with tears and snot but he couldn't care less about the stains. “You're busy with work, off saving the world and — and I can barely make it through days like this!”

His grey blue eyes rippled with tears at your vulnerability. His gentle shushing fills your ears as his voice already begins to sway your downtrodden self. “You're sick, angel. There's no shame in that.”

He rocked you side to side as you melded into his secure self when he spotted your hand pressed against your abdomen. The flare of cramps your Shadow sent through his own made his eyes widen, incredulous. “You're on your cycle too?”

"I ruined my last dark pair! I only got whites left! The stains show too much!" Your pitying muffled whines was enough confirmation to make it the final straw.

“Alright, that's it. You're coming home with me and that's final. Exchange.”

000

Curled up on the plush living room couch, your blanket still draped around you, Jinah's heating pad pressed against your tum tum, four cool compresses layering your feet resting against the couch arm, you watched anime to pass the time.

“I can't believe I forgot I had your backup supplies here for this exact scenario. Guess we're both out of it today, huh?” Jinwoo's light tone wafts through the room as he's busy cooking dinner for you three.

“You've been busy. Dungeon raiding, getting stronger, the works … I should have told you.” You guiltily confess.

“My lower back, my hips, my womb!” You dramatically exclaimed to his exasperated self. “Otherwise, I'm peachy.”

“I would have dropped everything if you called.” He easily zipped up to you in the blink of an eye – inhuman speedy your love is – to kiss you. “How are you holding up?”

“Ah Jinwoo. You'll never fully understand a woman's pain.” Jinah pointed out as she came out of the steamy bathroom, freshly washed up, elbowing her older brother in his ribs.

“Sibling pain is just as much a hassle.” He gently bumped his shoulder against hers in passing.

“I'm just glad you finally admitted you were seeing someone this whole time! Girl power!” Jinah giving you a shoulder hug from behind got you melting in her accepting embrace; Jinwoo's tender gaze meeting you over her shoulder.

“Oh yeah, I had a strangely nice dream earlier today.” Jinwoo's distracted hum reached you as he washed dishes. Jinah sat on the couch chair, invested in your words. “I was seeing someone else.”

The screech those words caused in his mind made him freeze.

Jinah tensed up, beading up some sweat as she saw her brother gripping the edges of the counter. The sweet soft boy he used to be is no more. Even she can feel the foreboding dark aura as an angry mark showed on his forehead, his veins flexing as he started sending cracks in the material.

“He had dark wavy hair, tan skin, but he sounded just like Jinwoo.” You mused, dazedly smiling at the faint memory of it. “But I already have the best partner in all of creation and imma wife him up so good~!”

Jinah giggled in her hand whereas the sudden shift in the air followed by Jinwoo appearing right behind the couch was already a stark reminder of how much he's changed, especially behaviorally.

“Likewise.” He cradled your noggin as he kissed your crown. “Now sweetie, why don't you go shower up and change before you eat, okay? Then you can rest up in my room and I'll give you a massage later.”

“Aw, the big bad S rank is a cuddly teddy bear inside, isn't he?” Jinah teased as you took some spare PJs of Jinah's she loaned and headed off to shower and change your pad.

“Shut it, you.” He pinched her cheek painfully, her squirming self struggling against his firm grip before releasing her pouting face as she held her pinched red cheek.

“Aw come on. You letting her stay with us clearly means wedding bells coming sooner or later. You're going the extra mile and everything. Definitely male wife material. Kudos bro.” Jinah thumbs-up to that.

“You're not allowed to marry until after you graduate medical school and that's final.” Jinwoo's dead panned face expression arrives.

“You've been cramming that in my head for months already! I get it!” Jinah griped.

A lukewarm shower, a filling dinner, and a sensual massage along your lower back and hips later, you melted from euphoria in the end.

Jinwoo's dark coolly ventilated bedroom gave you comfort as your neuropathy cream – and lots of it – finally kicked in for your weary feet as the overall atmosphere started calming them down. Laying atop the bed comforter with your favorite blanket draping your curling frame, your heating pad at work on your abdomen with pain relievers running through your system, Jinwoo's faint musky scent fills your senses from the pillows stacked beneath your fuzzy head finally conked you out.

The shadows swirled and twisted as Jinwoo finally came to bed and embraced you from behind; the fragrances of the ocean mixed with floral scents from the shower he just took brought hums outta you, slightly stirring you awake.

“Jin … Woo … my guardian angel.” Turning off your heating pad and dropping it on the floor, you rolled around to snuggle against your living heating pad. “My heaven.”

His eyes crinkled in the corners, chuckling deeply, before dotting your face with light kisses, running his fingers through your hair, rubbing his fingertips soothingly against your scalp.

“I'm sorry I left you all alone. I should have been with you from the start.”

“You're here now, that's what matters. Not a dream.”

He hummed, grinning against your forehead. “So that was me you saw in your dream?”

“A version of you … a sweet goofball … but I have the real thing. And I love you more than anything.” You nuzzled your face against his collarbone, leaving a peck or two at his veiny lean neck.

“Your Monarch loves you too. Always.” He laughed a bit lightly, his hand rubbing circles along your lower back underneath your borrowed pajama top.

Your pounding head made you whine weakly so he kissed your forehead, rubbing your cranium slowly with his other hand, letting you rest on his chest.

“I'll procure the Elixir of Life. And once I've cured my mom with it, then I'll help you too. I will do everything within my power to take away your pain.”

His cooing voice was lulling you back to sleep.

“You're safe here with me. You can rest easy now. The darkness is mine to command so I won't let you be scared of it anymore. It'll protect you from all harm and so will I, at all costs.”

“My hero.” You whisper against where his beating heart rests, your eyes matted with tears of joy, your stress and tension leaving your mind.

“I'll help you get better, Y/n, I promise. And I'll be right here when you wake up. I love you so much. Never forget that. Okay?” Jinwoo felt choked up saying such things against your soft face, his own teary eyes meeting yours, as he kept you close to him, secured in his arms.

You don't want to be anywhere else.

He is your greatest comfort, after all.

“Okay.”

[pythonmoth]

something something simon is a professional archer and you are too, but you're a leftie so when you're shooting you're face to face

so you two end up talking, and when he stops being a coward he finally asks you out

and then you date and years later you two married so you become a team

you two perform for fun sometimes (but win competitions left to right bc obviously)

but now you're not face to face, you're back to back bc that's hot

[stardust-and-snickerdoodles]

tired and i'm awake

fandom: Chicago Med

pairing: Connor Rhodes x Reader

summary: You've kept your chronic pain a secret from Connor since you started dating. But fate has other plans for you, and an untimely accident leads to him finding out about your condition.

tags/warnings: angst, injury, burns, hurt/comfort, chronic pain/illness

word count: 3024

a/n: this one's for all my EDS/POTS combo girlies

When you were young, the doctors said it was “growing pains.” That eventually it would go away, that it was only temporary, take an Advil.

Then you got older, and it was your period. Even though the pain was constant and all over, somehow every doctor put it down to your cycle. Sure, it was worse when you were menstruating, but it didn’t disappear when you weren’t.

Sometimes, you were “making it up” or “drug seeking.” ER visits, annual physicals, all proved fruitless. Eventually, it was all just too much to handle. The constant doctors’ visits, the unending questions with no answers. You’re tired.

Even when you lay on the bathroom floor, curled around yourself and sobbing, you refuse to go to the doctor. You know it won’t amount to anything, just another bill and insurance paperwork. You manage on your own with 3 extra strength Tylenol or a heating pad or just laying in bed until it mostly subsides. Then you can get up and pretend to be okay again.

So, it was a bit of a surprise to everyone who knows of your issues when you started dating a surgeon. Hell, you even surprised yourself. But Connor is… different. He’s kind and understanding and patient. Still, your previous negative experiences prevent you from telling him about the chronic pain you experience, or any of the other problems that come along with it.

You’ve been dating now for about six months and you couldn’t be happier. Connor’s hours are busy and long, but you look forward to the end of every day when you can see him. Even if it means putting on a brave face when your joints ache. You moved in together about a month ago, and it’s a little harder to hide the pain now, but you manage. You don’t want to be just another patient for him to deal with.

Today, you have a feeling it’s going to be a little more difficult to put on your façade. Your knees and hips have been acting up lately. Everything feels… a bit looser than usual, like the tissues between your joints are made of thin string, ready to break at any movement. Each movement feels as though you’re going to rip yourself apart, limb from limb. It’s all you can do not to cry out when you finally pry yourself out of bed in the morning. Connor is already gone, having left sometime in the middle of the night, off to work his shift at the ED. You hope beyond hope that the pain will have subsided by the time he gets home tonight.

You hope that maybe a warm bath with some Epsom salts will help, and take short, shuffling steps to the bathroom, walking near the wall just in case. Each footfall sends shooting pain up your legs. You grit your teeth and manage to make it to the toilet, sitting down and reaching to turn the tap on the bath. Breathing in and out slowly, you remind yourself that you have this under control. You will survive this, it’s just pain. It’s just pain.

You stare as the tub fills with water, trying your best to compartmentalize and clear the pain away. Mind over matter, that’s what your mother always says. Easy for her, when she’s not the one in pain.

Feeling as though you might break with any sudden moves, you lower yourself into the warm bath, closing your eyes as the water surrounds you. It’s calming and smells like eucalyptus.

You linger until the water is cooled and your joints begin to protest from staying in one position too long. You wrap a fluffy robe around yourself, a gift from Connor after he saw the old ratty one you’d been using for years. It’s luxurious and soft, and probably cost him the equivalent of an entire week’s salary for you. Perks of dating a surgeon, you suppose.

Just standing has you feeling lightheaded, and you can feel your heart beating in your ears. For a moment the room darkens as spots fill your vision, but you just breathe in deeply until it subsides. Then you continue to take small steps back out to the bedroom, before placing yourself gingerly on the comforter.

Once you’re still and laying down, the pain begins to creep back in with force. It just reminds you that as much as you want to, you can’t ignore it. You can compartmentalize and convince yourself all you want, but you’re stuck with this.

Now, along with your hips and knees, your back and neck have begun to ache from sitting upright in the tub. You sigh and curl onto your side, your wet hair clinging to your neck. Five minutes, you tell yourself. Then I’ll get up and get dressed and dry my hair and… God, it’s all so much. How are you ever supposed to get all of that done when you feel like this? Still, you reprimand yourself and promise only five minutes of rest. Just until the aching diminishes somewhat.

You wake to the sound of the door unlocking. Night has fallen outside the window, leaving the apartment bathed in darkness.

So much for five minutes.

Connor walks in, looking tired and worn out, but still wearing a smile when he spots you curled up on the bed. You smile back, still groggy from your extended nap.

“Hey sweetheart,” he murmurs, setting his bag down before taking a seat next to you. “How was your day?”

“Good,” you lie easily. “How was work?”

Connor smooths some errant hairs away from your forehead before placing a soft kiss there. “Busy. But good. Did you shower? Your hair’s still wet.”

A fierce blush makes its way up your cheeks as you avoid his eyes. “Took a bath. I guess I just passed out after. Baths always take it out of me,” you half-joke.

Connor’s brow furrows and you can immediately sense the switch into “doctor mode.” He places the back of his hand on your forehead again. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” you reassure, pulling his hand down to your lips to plant a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “Do you want dinner? I can make something.” The ache in your joints begins to make itself known again, but you want to do something nice for Connor. You know how tired he is after his shifts.

“Sure,” Connor replies, but he’s still looking at you with concern.

You slowly sit up, trying to school your expression as something pinches in your hip. “Spaghetti? I think we have some noodles leftover from the other night; I can just make a quick sauce.”

Connor nods and stands with you. “I’m gonna go shower,” he states while pulling you into a loose hug. “Do you need anything before I go?”

You shake your head and breathe him in. He smells like the hospital, but underneath that is the gentle scent of his cologne that always relaxes you. “No, you go. I can handle it.”

Connor releases you and makes his way to the bathroom while you head to the kitchen. You feel incrementally better than this morning, the pain in your back and neck thankfully lessened. Your hips are the worst now, and the right one especially feels tenuous. Each step is shaky, but you push through it.

You’re grateful for the distraction of cooking as you work on dinner, but it’s not enough to totally take away the pain. As you stand over the stove you can still feel the pulsing in your knees, the unsteadiness in your hips, and the ache in your back is returning. You barely suppress a groan as your right hip nearly gives out.

Seconds later, the door to the bathroom opens, and Connor exits with just a pair of jeans slung low on his hips. For a moment you’re tempted to stop cooking altogether and take him right back to bed. But then your right hip protests yet again, and the thought quickly flees. You shoot Connor a smile as he comes up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. His chin rests on your shoulder and you tense imperceptibly. Illogical as it may seem, you’re worried maybe he’ll… feel your pain or something, if he gets too close.

“Smells good,” Connor murmurs, kissing the side of your neck.

“Grab some plates,” you reply, stirring the spaghetti sauce one more time before turning off the heat.

Connor’s arms leave you and you let out a breath. You grab some potholders from a nearby cabinet and pull the sauce off the stove.

As you make your way over to the table, your hip begins to feel even more unsteady than before. Each step is agony as you grip the saucepot, praying that your leg doesn’t give out now. Connor’s back is to you when suddenly you step wrong. Instantly, you feel a popping sensation in your hip and you stumble.

The pot goes flying, splattering sauce all over you and the kitchen. You crumble to the floor, a short cry leaving your lips. The sauce burns your thighs, uncovered thanks to the robe you still wear, but all you can feel is the burning pain in your hip. It feels… wrong.

It’s not exactly a new experience. A few years ago – with no help from your doctors – you finally realized that this type of pain means something is dislocated. In this case, your hip. It’s one of the worst to dislocate, since you have trouble getting it back in place on your own.

Connor immediately rushes toward you, calling your name in panic. “Are you okay? Oh god, what happened?”

You grit your teeth to stop from crying out again as you right yourself with your leg out in front of you. Your hand grips your right thigh, the pain from your dislocated hip shooting down your leg and making your toes numb.

Connor’s already pulling out his phone to call 911, obviously only seeing the burns on your legs from the hot sauce.

You reach out to grab his wrist to stop him from dialing. “I’m fine,” you insist, tears brimming in your eyes.

Connor levels you with a glare that would make anyone give in. “You just spilled scalding sauce all over yourself. You’re at least getting checked out at the ED.”

“Okay, okay, but… Can’t you just drive me?”

He must hear the pleading tone in your voice because he sets his phone down with a sigh. “Fine,” he surrenders. “Let’s get you cleaned up first so I can take a look.”

You nod as he stands to retrieve towels. Once his back is turned, you take mental stock of your hip. It doesn’t feel too badly dislocated, but it certainly needs to be put back sooner rather than later. Before you get a chance to do it yourself, Connor returns with wet towels. He immediately gets to work gingerly cleaning your skin. You can tell that you’ve at least got first-degree burns, maybe even second in some places. But you can’t get past the pain in your hip. If you could just get a moment alone so you could reset it…

You notice that Connor’s movements have stopped and you look to see what he’s doing. His brows are furrowed as he looks at your right leg, now clean of the sauce. “Doesn’t look too bad, but I still want to go to Med just to be sure. And…” Suddenly his eyes widen and his hands rest delicately on either side of your leg. You can’t help but flinch at the touch. “It looks like your hip is dislocated… God, that must hurt. Did you hit it on the ground when you fell?”

You bite your lip and shake your head. “It’s nothing,” you insist.

“Y/N,” Connor’s voice is firm. “We need to get this reduced. I’m calling an ambulance,” he says, pulling out his phone once more.

“No!” you cry. “I can take care of it!” Before he can stop you, you bend your knee outward, making a half-butterfly shape with your legs, then push down on it with your hands. Your hip pops back into place with an audible click and the relief is instant.

Connor is silent for a long moment as he stares at you, mouth agape.

You speak before he can, blabbering without much sense. “It’s fine, it happens a lot. I’m okay, I promise.”

Your boyfriend’s eyes are wide with concern and empathy. “What do you mean?” he whispers.

You shrug and take the wet towel from his hand, continuing to wipe off the sauce from your other thigh. This one’s not as bad as your right, but it’s still painful. “Nothing, Connor. I just… It happens sometimes, okay? Dislocating things, it’s not new to me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Connor’s voice is so full of hurt that you immediately regret keeping this from him.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, meeting his eyes. The tears in your own begin to fall down your cheeks. “I just… I’ve always dealt with it on my own. I didn’t want you to have to deal with it too. And I didn’t know if you’d believe me, no one ever believes me, and I didn’t want to lose you because of my broken body…” You’re rambling now, the adrenaline and pain making your words come out jumbled.

Connor scoots over to sit next to you, uncaring of the sauce that’s getting on his jeans. His arm wraps around you gently, and already you can feel that he’s treating you differently. Touching you like you’re… fragile. “Y/N… I would never not believe you about something like this. Have you gone to the doctor about it?”

A sob leaves your lips and you smile sarcastically. “Of course, I have, Connor. I’ve been to so many doctors and none of them have any answers. It’s always growing pains, or my period, or I’m faking it. Eventually I just gave up because, like I said, I can deal with it on my own.”

Connor is silent for a long while. Finally, he lifts your chin with his finger so you’re forced to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to deal with it on your own now. We’re together, and that means we tell each other these things. I won’t leave you because of something you can’t control, sweetheart. And I want you to find answers. We can find them together. Okay?”

You nod and Connor goes to dial 911 again. As he’s on the phone with the operator, you let the tears fall. The pain of the burns is finally hitting you, only adding to the existing pain you already feel. Connor’s words mean everything to you, but right now that’s all they are – words. How can you know he’ll stay with you after he finds out what this really is like? The constant pain, the days spent in bed, the agony of it all? How could anyone – how could Connor – ever want someone like you?

You don’t realize that Connor is done on the phone until his hand lands on your shoulder. “Babe?” his voice is a little louder than necessary, which tells you that he’s been trying to get your attention for a while.

“Sorry,” you mutter, using the back of your hand to wipe away errant tears.

Connor takes a deep breath, and you worry about what he’s going to say. “You can talk to me, you know?”

You nod, avoiding his eyes. “I know. But this… I don’t want to be just another person you have to take care of.” The sound of sirens grows loud outside the apartment building.

“Honey. Look at me,” Connor urges, lifting your chin again. “You are not just another patient to me. You never will be. Okay?”

“You don’t know,” you whisper, your voice suddenly hoarse. “Once you know what it’s like, how much help I’ll need… I don’t know what my life will be like in 10 years, hell, even in a year. I’m in pain all the time, and I don’t know if it will get worse, and I don’t want you to be burdened with that.”

Before Connor can answer, the intercom buzzes as the paramedics request entrance. Connor stands to let them in, and you bring your sore legs up so you can bury your head in your knees. The embarrassment of it all is starting to hit you as you realize that soon you’ll be at Med, surrounded by Connor’s colleagues. No doubt he’ll want to run a myriad of tests to figure out your underlying condition, and you’re not sure you have the energy for that right now.

You hear the door opening, followed by a couple pairs of footsteps and Connor’s voice getting closer. “Female, 27, post-fall and contact with hot liquid. Superficial partial thickness burns on the thighs. Right hip dislocated but already reduced.” You hold in a snort at his medical jargon describing your silly accident.

The paramedics aren’t anyone you know, but they’re nice enough as they examine the burns and apply saline-soaked gauze. You’re embarrassed by your lack of proper clothing, but they don’t seem to mind. You’re sure they’ve seen worse than a nearly-naked woman anyway.

They ask various questions while Connor watches nearby, eyes slightly narrowed as if to make sure they don’t hurt you further. Once you’re finally loaded up onto a stretcher, he returns to your side and holds your hand in a crushing grip.

“This is really unnecessary,” you mutter at him, squeezing his hand.

Connor looks down at you with a soft smile. “Doctor knows best, sweetheart.” He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Don’t worry, we won’t stay if you don’t want. As long as you get that hip x-rayed and those burns checked, I’ll be satisfied. We can figure out the rest later.”

You smile back, tears pricking your eyes again. “Thank you, Connor. For being here.”

He snorts out a laugh. “You really have to raise your standards, baby.”

[thesecondhandwoman]

I’ll think of the jist

When reader is well enough to work for ambessa she uses a rollator (walker with like a table/seat) so she can carry multiple things at once that she couldn’t with a cane.

reader interrupts a meeting quietly to give Ambessa something, the room is full of big strong people who look down on sick ppl even if it’s genetic (:/)

They comment on her ability to work and ambessas like Nuh uh she fine brotha and Ambessa thinks nothing of it, reader thinks a lot of it and can’t sleep

lol thank you goodbye

MORE THAN ENOUGH

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis: Being Ambessa’s assistant and having chronic pain was difficult, but it was always worse when you tried to help on more manageable days only be to told that you are incapable.

Request: @possessedmagpie

A/N: This is part two of Chronically Ill

The soft light of morning slipped through the towering windows of Ambessa Medarda’s estate, a golden glow painting the cold stone walls. The days always started early in Noxus, the city that never slept, but for you, mornings weren’t a signal to begin. They were another checkpoint in the never-ending cycle of managing your body’s rebellion against itself.

You shifted beneath the thick covers, testing your limbs carefully. The ache that usually gripped you like iron shackles had ebbed to a low thrum today. It wasn’t gone, but it was manageable. Relief flickered in your chest, tempered by caution. You had learned long ago that even “good days” came with limits.

The other constant in your mornings lay beside you, Ambessa, her powerful frame still as she slept, her features softened in the pale light. Despite the countless demands on her time and energy, she always made space for you. She had stayed the night again, likely at your insistence, despite her busy schedule. She’d never admit it, but you suspected she worried about you constantly.

As if sensing your gaze, Ambessa stirred, her amber eyes blinking open. A small smile tugged at her lips as she caught you watching her.

“Good morning, little one,” she murmured, her voice low and warm, still laced with sleep.

“Good morning,” you replied, voice hushed, as though speaking too loudly would break the delicate peace between you.

Her eyes searched your face, her brow furrowing slightly. “How are you feeling?” she asked, the question laden with genuine care.

You considered her words, stretching carefully to test the limits of your body. “Better,” you said after a moment. “Not great, but I think I can manage today.”

Ambessa propped herself up on one elbow, her expression skeptical but not dismissive. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I want to try. I can’t stand feeling useless, Ambessa.”

“You’re never useless,” she said firmly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Your value isn’t measured by how much you can do. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know,” you murmured, though the weight in your chest said otherwise.

Her hand lingered against your cheek, her touch both grounding and reassuring. “Alright,” she said after a moment. “But promise me you’ll be careful. No pushing yourself too hard. If you need to stop, you stop. Understood?”

“Understood,” you said softly, leaning into her palm.

She pressed a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering just long enough to make your heart ache in the best way.

By mid-morning, the estate was bustling with activity. Servants and guards moved swiftly through the halls, their boots echoing against the polished stone floors. The sheer size of the estate could be overwhelming, even intimidating, but today you felt determined.

The rollator was your lifeline, its sturdy frame and built-in seat allowing you to navigate the estate without collapsing. It wasn’t a perfect solution—there were still moments when the pain flared unexpectedly, threatening to rob you of the strength to keep going—but it gave you a sense of independence.

Today, you carried an important correspondence marked with the crest of General Vessar. The message had arrived early, its contents urgent enough to require Ambessa’s immediate attention. Despite the challenges of moving through the estate, you were determined to deliver it personally.

The grand hall where Ambessa was meeting her advisors loomed ahead, the heavy double doors closed but not impenetrable. Pausing just outside, you took a deep breath, steadying yourself against the ache radiating through your legs.

The moment you entered, the room fell silent. The rollator’s wheels squeaked faintly as you moved across the polished floor, your presence a disruption in the midst of their intense discussions.

At the head of the long table, Ambessa sat tall and imposing, her amber eyes sharp and focused. The sight of her sent a pang of comfort through your chest; she was the one constant in a world that often felt too harsh to navigate.

“Ambessa,” you said, your voice soft but steady.

Her gaze snapped to you, her expression shifting immediately. The hard edge she wore in these meetings melted away, replaced by a warmth that seemed out of place amidst the cold, calculating figures around her.

“Little one,” she greeted, her voice low and tender.

You grabbed the sealed letter on the table of your rollator as you moved it a bit closer and held it out to her. “This arrived this morning. From General Vessar.”

She shifted in her chair slightly as she turned to face you, taking the letter from your hands with a subtle nod. Her fingers brushed yours briefly—a fleeting touch that carried more reassurance than words ever could.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft enough that only you could hear.

But the moment was short-lived.

“She’s still working for you?” a voice called from the far end of the table.

Your chest tightened.

The man who spoke leaned back in his chair, his tone dripping with disbelief. “How can someone in her condition handle the responsibilities you’ve given her?”

Another advisor chimed in, her voice quieter but no less cutting. “It does seem unwise. The demands of this role require someone—”

“Capable,” the first man interrupted. “Someone who isn’t constantly compromised.”

The words struck like a blade, each syllable carving into your carefully built armor.

Ambessa’s chair scraped against the floor as she stood, her movements deliberate and commanding.

“Enough,” she said, her voice sharp and unforgiving.

The room fell silent.

Ambessa’s gaze swept over the advisors like a storm about to break. Her presence was a force of nature, and for a moment, you pitied the fools who dared challenge her judgment.

“You will not question her competence,” she said, her tone cold enough to freeze fire. “Do any of you doubt my ability to judge who is fit for their role?”

No one dared respond.

“Let me make something very clear,” she continued, her voice like a blade. “Y/N has proven her worth time and time again. She is stronger and more useful than any of you could hope to be, and I will not tolerate such ignorance in my presence.”

Her words were a shield, protecting you from their scorn, but they couldn’t stop the tears that welled in your eyes. You wanted to speak, to defend yourself, but the weight of their judgment was crushing.

Ambessa turned to you, her expression softening. “Go rest, little one,” she said gently.

You nodded, your throat too tight to form words. As you left the room, the rollator steady beneath your hands, you couldn’t shake the sting of their words.

Back in your quarters, the pain returned, not the physical ache in your joints, but the sharp, unrelenting sting of humiliation and self-doubt. You sank onto the edge of your bed, burying your face in your hands.

The echoes of their voices replayed in your mind, each word a reminder of what you couldn’t do, of how the world saw you. No matter how hard you worked, no matter how much you gave, it was never enough.

You didn’t hear the door open, but you felt the mattress dip beside you. A familiar hand rested on your shoulder, warm and grounding.

“Little one,” Ambessa said softly.

You wiped at your eyes, turning away from her. “I’m fine,” you lied.

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close until your head rested against her shoulder.

“They don’t understand,” she said after a moment. “They never will. But you don’t need their approval.”

“I just… I wanted to help,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I wanted to prove I could still do something right.”

“You’ve done more than enough,” she said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re more than enough. Don’t let them take that away from you.”

Her words wrapped around you like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge of despair.

“I’m tired,” you admitted, the weight of the day pressing heavily on your chest. “I’m so tired, Ambessa.”

“I know,” she murmured, her voice full of quiet empathy. “But you don’t have to carry this alone. I’m here, I always will be.”

You whimpered a little, holding back tears as you sunk into her arms as she lied down on the bed with you, stroking the back of your head for comfort.

She stayed with you long into the night, her presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. When sleep finally came, it was with the comforting knowledge that no matter how heavy the world felt, Ambessa would always be there to share the burden.

A/N: I got a peace offering to write this, loving it.

[moonselune]

Hello! If this request is weird feel free to disregard but could I request something, whatever format you think is best, where Tav has chronic pain/fatigue and they generally hide it pretty well, though they do still lag behind some days- and through some tadpole or magic weirdness someone gets temporarily body swapped with Tav (maybe a tougher member of the group like Lae'zel) and they realize how much harder Tav is working just for basic functioning and masking it. (I love your work, thank you<3)

OOooo this is so interesting!! and thank you so much, that's so sweet! I did this more as a drabble and I hope you like it!

Most days, you keep up.

You’ve learned how to pace yourself, how to push through the pain without letting it show. You lag behind on occasion, but you make up for it in other ways—strategy, quick thinking, keeping morale high when the others start to waver. You may not be as fast or as strong as Lae’zel or Minthara, but you pull your weight. You make sure of it.

That doesn’t stop them from noticing.

“Lae’zel, slow down,” Shadowheart murmurs as the party treks through uneven terrain, but Lae’zel merely scoffs.

“If they cannot keep up, they should train harder,” she replies, glancing back at you over her shoulder. “Strength is something we build, not something we beg for.”

Minthara hums her agreement. “Pain is temporary,” she says. “Weakness is a choice.”

You don’t argue. You could, but what would be the point? They do not understand. They can’t understand. The pain in your joints, the way your muscles ache even when you wake up in the morning, the exhaustion that clings to you even on your best days.

So you grit your teeth. You keep walking. And you pretend their words don’t hurt.

—

The magic mishap happens fast. One moment, you are rifling through a strange arcane tome, and the next, the world shifts and bends in on itself. The feeling is nauseating—like being unspooled and rewoven, like your very bones are rearranging themselves.

And then, just as suddenly, you are staring at yourself. Or rather—Lae’zel is. Because you are now her. There’s a moment of silence as the party stares. Astarion lets out an incredulous laugh.

“Well,” he says. “This should be interesting.”

“Unacceptable!” Lae’zel’s voice rings out, except—no. Your voice rings out, spoken by her, in your body.

She clenches her fists—your fists—and glares down at herself.

“This form is fragile,” she hisses. “We must undo this immediately.”

But magic like this is messy, and Gale is already grimacing as he flips through his notes.

“It might take some time,” he admits. Lae’zel grumbles under her breath.

“Then we train,” she decides. “I will strengthen this form while I am trapped in it.”

But she doesn’t make it five minutes.

The first thing that hits her is the fatigue. Even standing still, she feels the weight of it pressing down on her limbs, making her movements sluggish, her reactions slow. Then comes the ache—a deep, gnawing pain that digs into her joints, curling around her bones like an iron vice.

She tries to push through it. She always pushes through pain.

But no amount of discipline or mental fortitude can prepare her for the constant, grinding discomfort, the sensation of moving through molasses, the frustration of knowing she is strong but not feeling it.

And worse than anything—she remembers. She remembers snapping at you when you lagged behind. She remembers calling you weak.

But this is not weakness. It is not laziness or lack of will. It is a battle, fought every day, in every breath, in every step. She lasts an hour before she stumbles.

Not a dramatic fall—just a simple misstep, her knee nearly buckling beneath her. It is such a small thing. But she suddenly understands exactly how much you have been hiding.

—

By the time Gale figures out how to undo the spell, Lae’zel is seething. Not at you. Not anymore.

She is furious at herself. At her own ignorance.

When the magic finally reverses, and you are settled back into your own body, you turn to face her, unsure of what to expect. For once, Lae’zel is quiet. Her jaw is tense, her posture stiff. And then, slowly, she speaks.

“You are stronger than I gave you credit for.” Her voice is measured, her words precise. “And I was a fool to dismiss you.”

You blink, taken aback. “That almost sounds like an apology.”

She scowls. “Take it or leave it.”

You huff a quiet laugh. It isn’t much. It isn’t even enough. But it is something. And as you continue forward, Lae’zel walking just a little slower beside you, you think—maybe that’s all you need.

a little drabble for y'all, it was so nice to write it, work has been so hectic so this was a nice break. Hope you guys enjoy it! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[andywritingstuff]

Nanami Kento is the type of man that cares for you, but that's a given, isn't it?

What you don't initially expect is how much he cares about you. Some call it pathetic, he calls it devotion. From dropping you off to picking you up wherever and whenever, texting you throughout the day to assure that you're okay, to ask if you need anything, to just remind you that he's just one call away, no matter what. Doesn't matter if he's fighting a curse, doesn't matter if he's teaching, doesn't matter anything.

He's there for you. Always will be.

With just one glance he already knows if your legs are about to give out from pain, or if you're upset about something. His big, beefy arms wrap around you - the arms he uses to impart violence to violent creatures such as curses hold you dearly against his chest, making you feel protected and secure and loved.

He's the kind of man that would - and has - picked you up and just started walking with you on his arms because your legs or your back hurt too much. He always carries a second pair of shoes in his car so you have something to change whenever you decide to wear uncomfortable ones.

Kento is the type of man that, even if he's not tired, would comply and lie down with you for a while on your shared bed, a book in one hand and the other busy with rubbing your shoulder and hugging you against his side. Of course, wearing his reading glasses and the most comfortable pair of pants, checking in on you to see if you're asleep yet because his arm definitely is (still, he doesn't dare move it).

Kento is the type of man that double checks if you've taken your daily medication, to remind you to drink enough water. Kento is the type that, in low energy days, would either order in your favorite take out place or cook you your favorite dish, and clean the house because he wants you to start fresh tomorrow - a clean, organized canvas for you to go on about your day. A new chance.

Kento is the type to give you surprises when you least expect it. You mentioned once six months ago that you wanted to learn how to create pottery? He got you classes. You want to learn programming? That's so funny, he just sent you a link to a group of programmers that offer free classes every Thursday. You mentioned you want to go to a museum to see the archeology finds of some recently discovered dinosaurs? Woah, he just happens to have tickets for that very same exhibit! Art museum? It's a date. Whatever you mention goes straight into his mental note list with a whole lot of other things about you.

He just wants to see that shine in your eyes. That big smile that warms his heart and, even if he can't make you forget about your pain, much less cure it, he wants you to feel cared for. He wants you to enjoy your life, just like he enjoys it when he's with you.

a/n: little drabble to cope with a new arthritis diagnosis :( wishing nanami was real. sorry for being so inactive here! too many ideas, so little time and energy ughh!! ive got like 3 fic ideas but haven't had time to write anything. let's see if i can do something over the weekend :b. NOT PROOFREAD!!