#disabled female reader

[vbecker10]

This might be an odd request, but could you please write a Loki x disabled!reader fic where the reader has Functional Neurologic Disorder and is having a really bad brain fog day? Like they can’t remember what someone two seconds ago kinda bad? I know it’s very specific but I never get to see my disability portrayed anywhere so I thought I’d give it a shot. Thanks for your consideration❤️

Don't Forget

Pairing: Loki x female/disabled reader (Y/N) - established relationship

Summary: You and Loki have been together just over a year and you moved into his apartment three weeks ago. He has been on a mission for the last five days and you are determined to make his homecoming special since it is the first time he's been away since you started living together. Unfortunately, you've been so busy and stressed trying to get things ready that you're FND symptoms become worse and you worry they will ruin your plans.

Background Info: Female reader has Functional Neurologic Disorder (FND) with the following symptoms - numbness / temporary paralysis in legs which requires the intermittent use of a wheelchair, light sensitivity, heat intolerance and memory issues. I know that these are not all of the symptoms of FND and there are several types and degrees of severity but these are the symptoms I included based on the request.

A/N: @fallingfastfailingfaster thank you so much for this request! I really really hope you like it! 💚💚

You turn off your alarm and reach over for Loki but his side of the bed is still empty. You sigh but quickly remember he will finally be home later today. A smile spreads across your lips, it's been five lonely nights and you can't wait to see him again.

You throw off your sheets and realize, much to your disappointment, that you can't feel your legs. They are completely numb and unresponsive when you try to move them. The muscles in your legs had been weak last night but you hoped they would be better this morning even though you know that isn't how it works. You groan as you sit up, today is not the day you want to deal with this. You reach for your wheelchair which thankfully you placed nearby last night and transfer yourself before heading out of the bedroom.

You roll into the living area and turn the lights on then quickly turn them off again as they instantly hurt your eyes. They seem far too bright this morning so you decide you'll just have to do without them. Pulling open the curtains instead, you let the morning light in then head to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee because coffee makes everything better.

When you roll over the threshold into the kitchen you pause. The green glow of Loki's seidr travels through the kitchen and you smile, watching it transform the room. The base cabinets become shorter, enabling the countertops and appliances to lower to an accessible height. The sink cabinet reconfigures so you can roll your chair under it to use it better. All of the handles on the upper cabinets lower so you can reach them without stretching as far, they already have a shelf system which allows you to pull them down so you can grab what you need.

You sit back while the kitchen renovates itself and remember the first morning after you moved in with Loki.

-----------------------------------

You needed to use your wheelchair since you were exhausted from moving and he was shocked by how difficult it was for you to use the kitchen. He asked if you would prefer he had the kitchen adjusted by Stark's team of contractors but you told him no.

"You're too tall to use the kitchen if you lower everything so I can use it," you told him as you struggled to reach the toaster which was pushed against the back splash.

He moved it towards you then smirked, "You figured out my master plan."

You laughed and said, "I forgot who I was talking to for a minute. What master plan does the great God of Mischief have now?"

"To avoid doing the dishes ever again by making it nearly impossible for me to use the kitchen properly," he chuckled. He leaned down and kissed your cheek lightly.

You shook your head but couldn't hide your smile, telling him, "That is a horrible plan."

You reminded him that you wouldn't always need to use your wheelchair so redoing the kitchen permanently might not be very helpful to either of you. He had thought it over for a few hours, digging through some of his old books before he finally found a spell he could adjust slightly for the perfect solution.

-----------------------------------

You reach the coffeemaker easily and turn it on then go back to your bedroom to get dressed for work. Half an hour later you pick up your bag from the coffee table and head to the front door. Your attention catches on the small sign you hung by the door. One of your oldest friends gave it to you as a joke when you moved in.

"Keys," you say out loud as you jingle them in your hand. "Wallet, phone, tablet," you read off the next items as you double check your bag on your lap. "Coffee," you read the next item, "Ahh crap!" You return to the kitchen to find your coffee lukewarm at best, still sitting in the coffeemaker. You sigh and check the clock on the stove, thankfully you still have enough time to make a second cup.

You put a lid on the cold coffee and place it in the fridge, deciding you'll have ice coffee tomorrow. You grab a post-it note from the side of the fridge and write 'ice coffee' in large letters hoping you'll see it when you are getting ready tomorrow. You put it between the note reminding you to pick up the cupcakes at 2PM and a picture of you and Loki in the park.

You smile at the picture, it was one of the first you took together when you started dating just over a year ago. Your memory for little daily tasks may be worse than terrible some days but thankfully you could remember every second you spent with him.

You pull yourself away from the memory and head towards the door again, ready to leave for work. Reaching for the knob, you suddenly you remember why you had gone back into the kitchen in the first place and rub your temples in annoyance. You head back to the kitchen and sit in front of the coffeemaker, afraid if you look away for even a second you will forget it once more.

You head straight to Agent Hill's office when you get to the floor where you with. You remind her that you will only be working until noon since Loki is arriving around 4PM.

"Are you sure you want to work today?" she asks, looking at your chair and not you. "If you're not feeling well, you can take the day off."

"I'm fine," you assure your boss. If you took off every day you didn't feel 100%, you would work around five days a year.

"You have plenty of sick time," she continues to insist you aren't well enough to work. You fight to not roll your eyes, just because you needed help getting around today didn't mean you were suddenly incapable of working.

"I told you, I'm fine," you repeat, keeping your voice even. Before she can respond, you take your tablet out of your bag and ask her, "You need the paperwork for case file X-176 and H-778 today right? The rest can wait until tomorrow, I think." You check your notes to make sure you get all your work in before you need to leave for the day.

"Yes, just those two files," she answers. "But like I said, if you need the day-"

"I'll have them to you soon," you promise then turn your chair away from her, not allowing room for her to make another comment.

You sigh when you close the door but only a second later you run into another annoying problem. Steve and Sam are walking down the hall in the direction of your office and you know the second you make eye contact with Steve what he is going to do.

"Good morning, Y/N," he says in his typically cheerful voice as he grabs onto the handles of your wheelchair.

"Hi Steve, hi Sam," you greet them both. "You don't need to do that," you tell Steve for the hundredth time.

"Its not a problem," he answers then continues his conversation with Sam as if you are simply an object he is moving. You know he means well but every time he does this, your mind returns to a post you saw on Pinterest a few years ago. It showed how to install small plastic spikes onto your handles so people can't just grab them and push you around. Nothing made you feel less independent then having someone just roll you around without even interacting with you.

Thankfully Loki never does that. He always asks if you want or need his help before touching your chair, he has never assumed you can't do things by yourself. He knows you are fiercely independent and he always supports you, it is one of the many, many things you love about him.

You rest your head on one hand with your elbow on the desk, hoping your headache will go away before Loki gets home. It started pounding as soon as you closed the door to your office this morning and hasn't let up.

Your office is the same temperature as always but you fell like it is ninety degrees. You drink another sip of water and close your eyes for a moment, feeling your heart beating faster. Wiping away a bit of sweat from your forehead, you ask J.A.R.V.I.S what the temperature in the room is for the fifth or sixth time. Again, it tells you the room is seventy degrees but your body doesn't believe it. You roll to the window near your desk and open it as much as you can reach to try and let the breeze in.

Your alarm goes off a half an hour later and you look at it curiously, wondering why you set it. When you check the message attached to the alarm you smile, your done for the day finally and Loki will be back in a few hours. You check your email for a third time to make sure you sent Agent Hill the two case files that were due today and shut down your computer.

Thankfully your memory issues weren't an issue when it came to doing your work today. You had notes and reminders all over your desk and computer so you wouldn't miss a step. Loki had suggested you write out your whole process one day when your memory wasn't so foggy and it was incredibly helpful for days like today.

You leave your office and make your way back to your apartment, luckily avoiding Steve or anyone else who wanted to be helpful. You decide to get changed quick before heading out to run your errands, the final task of the day is to pick up the cupcakes you ordered.

Loki has a substantial sweet tooth and the bakery you ordered from is special to you both. It was only a few blocks from the Tower and it was his favorite one in the city. He had taken you there after you saw a movie on your first date, sharing pastries and talking until closing. You surprised Loki with a treat from there a few weeks later when he came back from a short mission to Russia. It quickly become a tradition, whenever Loki came home after being away for a week or longer, you would pick up something for him from there.

He would sometimes bring you one of your favorite pastries and a small bunch of flowers when you were having an especially rough time with your FND. You really appreciated the way he would try and make you smile no matter how badly you were feeling.

Even though Loki had been gone less than a week, you still wanted to surprise him tonight. Since it was the first time he had left since you moved in together, it felt like something you wanted to celebrate. You had planned on making a home cooked meal as well. It was hard not to laugh at how eloquently he complained about the food SHIELD provided when he was on a mission.

You get off the bus at the grocery store and try not to be too annoyed. It is always such a pain to take public transportation with your wheelchair but what was really bothering you was that you should have done this errand already. You had meant to grocery shop two days ago, when you had the day off from work but you got distracted doing your laundry and other things. By the time you remembered that you were supposed to pick up the ingredients to make dinner, it was too late to go out.

You wait on the long line with your basket of groceries resting on your lap, thinking about the last time you came shopping here with Loki.

-----------------------------------

"No, that one," you giggled and pointed to the cereal on the very top shelf.

"This one specifically?" he asked and you nodded when he grabed the box without having to stretch at all.

"You are so useful," you told him when he added it to the cart he was pushing. You rolled next to him down the aisle.

"I knew you were only keeping me around because of my height," he joked then kissed the top of your head.

"Its not the only reason," you smiled up at him. "But it's definitely on the list."

"Speaking of," he paused. "Is this everything that was on the list?"

"I'm not sure," you admitted with a frown when you glanced into the partially full cart. You had left the list on the kitchen counter with your reusable bags, of course.

He took your hand and said, "Take your time."

You bit your lip and looked at the cart, trying to compare it to the list you had written while eating breakfast. "Something is missing," you felt sure of it. Loki stood quietly with you, not rushing you while you thought. "Eggs," you looked up at him excitedly when it finally popped into your head.

He smiled, "To the eggs." He followed you to the back of the store, as he had three times previously that trip, never once complaining.

-----------------------------------

You smile to yourself, still thinking about Loki, as the line finally moves. He is one of the few people you know who has never made you feel stupid or annoying for not being able to remember things. You told him once when you first started dating that you couldn't stand it when people treated you as if you weren't smart because of your memory issues and it hurt. Since then, he has always encouraged you to find the missing piece yourself first and only fills in the blanks if you ask him to.

You put the finishing touches on the lasagna and slide into the oven as your phone chimes on the counter. You pick it up and see a text from Loki telling you he's back. The smile on your face fades quickly as you realize this means you had lost track of time. You had hoped to meet him at the landing pad, you wanted to see him the minute he was home. Apparently you set up your alarm to remind you to go down and meet him, but you forgot to turn it on.

A few minutes later you hear the front door unlock and you wheel yourself into the living area to greet him. He opens the door and immediately bends down to kiss you, wrapping you in a tight hug. When he finally releases you from his hold he smiles and says, "I've missed you so much."

"I missed you too," you look up at him, you couldn't be happier to have him home.

He walks back towards the door to hang up his bag then turns on the lights without thinking. You instantly raise your hand to cover your eyes and look down as the over head light feels painfully bright. "I'm sorry," he says quickly, noticing your discomfort. He comes to your side and waves his hand, dimming the lights. "Tell me when it is okay, sweetheart," he says.

You lower your hand slightly and when it no longer hurts you tell him, "That's perfect, thanks."

He kisses your cheek and then asks, "How you are feeling?" He moves towards the couch and you follow him.

"Have the lights been bothering you all day as well?" his tone is a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"I'm fine," you answer but he raises his eyebrow and tilts his head, you know he wants the truth and not what you tell everyone else. You admit you are having a rough day, "When I woke up I couldn't use my legs at all and my memory is absolutely gone today."

You push yourself onto the couch next to Loki and he shifts so his arm is around you. "Yeah, I didn't even turn them on what I got to my office. It felt like the room was on fire today too, it gave me such a headache," you tell him.

"I'm sorry you didn't feel well today," he runs his fingers through your hair slowly. "Have you been pushing yourself too hard?" he asks and you shrug, not looking at him. "I know you want to do everything but you need to remember to rest." You nod and he pulls you closer.

"-and then I told Thor that if he wasn't on the jet in the next two minutes, I was going to have them take off without him," Loki chuckles.

"You did not threaten to leave your brother in Siberia," you put your hand over your mouth.

"I had been away from you long enough," he smiles and you lean towards him, kissing his cheek. His smiles vanishes and he looks into the kitchen, "Is something burning?"

You turn to look towards the kitchen, "Oh no! Did I forget to set the timer?"

He gets up quickly and shuts off the oven before opening it and freeing a cloud of black smoke. Your heart sinks as you get back in your chair and go to the kitchen. He puts the charred remains of your lasagna in the sink and waves off the smoke so the fire alarm doesn't go off.

"I can't believe I ruined it," you look down.

Loki kneels in front of you and touches your shoulder gently, "I'm sorry, I know how hard you worked on that." You fight to hold back tears and he says, "It's okay, darling. We can order take out tonight, have a bit of dessert and watch a movie. This weekend you can show me how you make your famous lasagna."

All of a sudden you feel a tightness in your chest, "I forgot to go to the bakery." You begin to lose the battle to hold back your tears. "I burnt dinner, I messed up getting a dessert, I couldn't even get myself together to go down and see you when you got off the jet," you look down as the first tear slips down your cheek. "I wanted to make your first homecoming since we moved in together special but it's ruined because of my stupid, useless memory," you cry.

He leans towards you and you wrap your arms around him, resting your face on his shoulder. He rubs your back slowly and quietly says, "My homecoming is not ruined." You look at him and he smiles, wiping the tears from your cheeks. "I can't tell you how loved it makes me feel knowing how much effort you put into tonight," he tells you.

"Even if it was a total disaster?" you ask.

"Even then," he risks his answer and you breath a small laugh. "I know you are upset about dinner and dessert, but I'm just glad to be home with you." You nod and lock eyes with Loki, he smiles and strokes your cheek gently. "Your memory is..."

"Garbage?" you suggest.

"I was going to say 'not the best'," he shakes his head but you smile a bit.

"But garbage works," you joke, feeling slightly better.

"Will you be quiet and let me try to be romantic for a moment?" he laughs and you pretend to zip your mouth closed. He sighs and starts again, "Your memory is not the best, we can both agree on that, but I never want you to forget how much I love you. You are smart and beautiful and strong, pushing through each day even when you are in pain or your body fights you. You are the most amazing woman in the nine realms and I am so lucky to be able to call you mine."

You smile as Loki talks and when he finishes you pull him to you, kissing him deeply. "I love you too," you tell him. After a moment, he sits back and you wipe away the last remaining tears.

"I have an idea," he says. "I think you need more triggers for your memory."

"What do you mean?" you ask.

He points over your shoulder towards the door as he answers, "You haven't forgotten your keys once since you put that up."

"That was just a joke," you tell him.

"But it works," he responds.

You sit on the couch as Loki unpacks the Chinese takeout onto the coffee table. "Are you sure you're okay with doing all of this to your apartment?" you ask when he hands you a pair of chopsticks.

"Y/N, this is your home now too," he reminds you gently. "I want you to feel comfortable here and I want it to work for you, however you need it to." You kiss his cheek and he smiles.

After the two of you finish eating, you begin thinking of ways to adjust your new home to suit you better. Loki asks J.A.R.V.I.S to reprogram all of the lights to be on dimmer settings so you can still use them when you're light sensitivity is acting up. He has the program automatically ask you to set timers or reminders for all of the appliances in the kitchen, including the coffeemaker. A few hours later, you are both tired and decide any other changes can be made in the morning or as you think of them.

He helps you into bed and you push yourself onto his chest so he can hold you. He runs his fingers up and down your back lightly and you close your eyes. "I'm so glad your home," you tell him in a quiet voice.

"So am I," he replies, kissing your forehead. "Don't forget, I love you."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[bwabys-scenarios]

Kurapika is the ultimate defender of his neurodivergent/disabled lover. No one says anything rude or negative about you, not on his watch. Did you SEE what he did to those men when they insulted Pairo? Well expect him to be beating the shit out of anyone that dares to belittle you.

He keeps fidget toys, small snacks and drinks, and word cards in his satchel in case you need something while you’re out and about with him. If you get overwhelmed he’ll guide you by the hand towards somewhere quiet and hold you in his lap and rock you if you’d like!

If you don’t like touch when you’re overstimulated, he’ll let you calm down while organizing a way to get you home so the two of you can curl up together and watch a movie.

Kurapika makes a note of what your triggers are, including sensory wise, and emotional wise. If anyone dares to hurt your feelings or make you feel less than, he comes to defend you… often violently. No one upsets his lover and gets away with it!

When you have a low social battery, he’ll sit with you in silence, reading a book while you do self care or something that recharges you. Kurapika doesn’t have to be touching or talking to you to enjoy your company, just being in the same room is enough to make his heart soar.

Leorio advocates for you when you go to the doctor. He’s there, holding your hand when you struggle to get your thoughts out, and makes sure your voice is uplifted when you can’t speak.

When you can’t seem to get out of bed, him and Kurapika take care of you. Leorio takes over your medical needs, making sure you take your meds and get your proper nutrients.

He makes sure you get enough rest, but not too much. Leorio will gently coax you into stretching your legs, even if it’s just getting out of bed and walking to the couch.

Leorio will massage your sore spots, his large hands are so warm and firm that you feel absolutely safe and loved with every touch. He can’t keep his hands off of you for long, wanting to hold you tight. Both him and Kurapika can be quiet… clingy.

He’ll hold you in his arms, kiss the top of your head. You’ll never feel like a burden when you have Leorio and Kurapika.

The two cuddle you close, peppering you in kisses and feeding you your safe foods as you watch a movie. It’s times like these where you’re grateful to have two adoring boyfriends that adore you.

[happypoppyhaha]

Yandere Caregiver

He thought it would be easy as long as you were cooperative with him. But due to your words and the way you talk was unbearable for him. He still loves you dearly but he finds it hard to continue taking care of you with an attitude like that.

"If you think about it. You're STUCK with me. You gotta bathe me and clean between my legs."

"Y/n, watch how you talk to me. This isn't how you talk to the person who's willing to take care of you."

"Hold it, don't forget you have to undress me. That means you'll have to help me change and push me around every minute of the day."

"That's enough, I get it. Y/n, you made your point. You're right! Okay?"

"Lastly, you'll have to help me when going on stairs or have me change seats. Don't ever think I'm trapped with you because I'm disabled when really you are forever stuck with caring about me while my behavior is like this. You have no choice but to deal with me."

"You're just insulting me, y/n. I bet you're not even appreciative of how long I've been taking care of you."

"Nah, I'm just telling you how much you have to endure me on a daily basis just for a check."

You laugh in his face with a cocky grin. You doubted that he will leave you and be replaced with someone else.

[chvoswxtch]

texas heat

pairing: dean winchester x disabled!female reader

summary: when the texas heat causes a bad flare up in your body, you lose your temper with dean. but that doesn't stop him from taking care of you.

warnings: swearing, angst, dean being a charming fucker, fluffy ending

word count: 2.9k

a/n: a huge thank you to my darling @mars-rants-a-lot for trusting me with this, and being so informative and helpful to make sure this was as accurate as possible. i hope this brings the comfort you were looking for. this one's for you. 🖤 as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

Being in the car for three hours straight did nothing to help the sour mood that you had woken up in. Despite changing sitting positions several times to the extent your body could handle, you couldn’t seem to get comfortable in the Impala. Not only did your lower back feel incredibly stiff, like a tense rubber band that had been stretched entirely too thin, there was also a sharp pain aching in your knees. Someone might as well have taken a white hot iron to them with a vengeance.

When Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot of a motel, you didn’t wait for him to assist you in getting out like you normally did. Instead, the second he shifted the gear into park, you pushed open the passenger side door, antagonizing the sting of merciless arthritis even further along the column of your wrist as if you had tossed a lit match into a bone dry field. Putting your cane down firmly on the concrete, you attempted to use it along with the door handle as leverage to push yourself upwards. The Texas heat was even more unforgiving as it seared your skin without a layer of glass protecting it, and you could already feel sweat beading along your hair, like some kind of saltwater crown.

While you were struggling and sweltering, Dean had quickly jogged around to your side, pushing the door open further and ducking down to be eye level with you. 

“Whoa, easy there sweetheart. Lemme help ya.”

He wore that dazzling toothy grin that you adored so much, and his subtle charming dimples that settled above the edges of his lips were on full display. Dean was already reaching out to place his hand on your waist to help you get out of the car, just like he had done a thousand times before. But between the blazing heat and the searing pain spreading throughout your body like catastrophic wildfire, you didn’t find it nearly as endearing as you normally did. 

It snapped the final paperthin straw of patience that you had. 

Shoving his hand away spitefully with all the force you could muster in your agonizingly sore wrist, you narrowed your eyes into vexed slits and glared up at Dean.

“Jesus Christ, Dean. I’m disabled, not helpless. Can you just back off?”

The bright smile on Dean’s lips fell harder than an angel from grace, and clouds of shock and perplexity suddenly cast over his handsome features. It was as if his crisp green eyes had turned sour with dejection when your acidic words reached his heart, leaving searing scars in their angry path. Dean Winchester, who had spent his entire life hunting monsters and demons and every kind of evil imaginable, was completely frozen on the spot. You had never lashed out at him before, and he couldn’t produce a single clue in his brain to figure out what he had done wrong to upset you. 

Getting out of the Impala on your own was harder than competing in an Olympic sport you hadn’t trained for, and it only depleted your energy even further. The ground seemed to be wobbling under your feet the way a bridge in a fun house would, and you abruptly began to rue your decision to stand up so quickly after sitting in a car for three hours. The wind was knocked out of your lungs by your own impatience, and the weight of your frustration settled on your chest brick by brick with every step you attempted to take. The unforgiving stiffness in your wrist made it extremely difficult to grasp the handle of your cane. Medusa might as well have turned your hand to stone with the way you couldn’t move your fingers under the handle of the cane, or grasp it at all. 

Every little thing only fueled your resentment towards your own body, and it made you want to scream. Not even three minutes of trying to walk towards the motel room on your own, and your heart was palpitating furiously beneath your rib cage while you floundered with panic trying to breathe. The sun’s rays nearly blinded you, forcing you to tilt your head down, afflicting you with a sense of vertigo that had everything around you spinning faster than a rogue carousel. A dull headache began to throb at the base of your skull, rising louder in volume the more the extreme heat depleted your body of hydration, rendering it a barren desert. The sweat streaming down your skin was almost molten, and it caused your clothes to stick uncomfortably to your body like a foreign second skin.

Dean’s name was caught in the back of your throat, but your mouth was so dry, and your tongue felt like it had shriveled three sizes, that you couldn’t get it out. The sound of your cane clamoring against the concrete barely registered in your ears, and for a moment, your vision went completely black. But as you felt yourself free falling into some kind of abyss, a pair of strong arms caught you.

Floating in and out of consciousness, the comforting pressure and warmth surrounding you made you feel like you were wrapped in your favorite anxiety blanket. But then you smelt the familiar cologne of gunpowder, whiskey, and mint. You knew exactly who that scent belonged to. You would recognize the melody of Dean’s steady heartbeat anywhere. It had lulled you to sleep on several occasions. An arctic blast suddenly nipped at your heated cheeks, and it caused you to sigh in content feeling the way it lowered your body’s internal temperature. 

The moment you felt the pressure and warmth becoming faint, your eyes snapped open, and you stared up at Dean in pure panic. He took in the alarm written clearly on your features, and reached out to gently take your hand as he bent down slightly to adjust the pillows behind your head.

“I’m just gonna go get your bag, alright? Be right back.”

The soothing timbre of his unspoken promise soothed your anxiety slightly, and Dean’s protective gaze remained on you while he rounded the motel bed and headed for the door. He liked to keep an extra bag for you in the Impala just in case you were ever running low on anything. You had once made the joke that he could do a pop up weapons depot and a hospital right out of his trunk. 

In record timing, Dean was crossing the threshold of the motel room and was over to you in less than four strides. Sometimes you forgot just how fast he was. Those adorable bowlegs could really move. There was a look of pure concentration embedded on his sharp features while he pulled out various items from the bag. His petal pink lips were pursed slightly in a faint pout, chestnut brows were drawn together, and the crystal green of his eyes had darkened considerably in a way you’d only seen when he and Sam were getting ready for a hunt.

“Dean-”

“Don’t talk. You need water.”

The faint croaking of your dehydrated vocal chords barely registered any volume in the quiet hotel room. Meanwhile Dean’s gruff command seemed to echo off the tacky red and orange art deco wallpaper that was peeling at the crown molding and baseboards. You watched him remorsefully as he mixed a strawberry electrolyte packet with a bottle of water and shook it mercilessly. He always remembered to get your favorite flavor.

Dean twisted the cap off the water bottle and set it on the night stand for a moment. Snaking his arm behind your back, he carefully sat you up gingerly, positioning the pillows behind your back and neck to allow you to sit up comfortably. After placing a heating pad against your lower back, he delicately lowered your back against the pillows and grasped two pain reliever pills between his thumb and index finger and held them in front of your mouth.

“Here, take these.”

“Dean-”

“Don’t argue with me when I can see how much pain you’re in. Take ‘em.”

You knew better than to argue with him when he had his mind set on something. Parting your lips just enough for him to drop the pills into your mouth, you gazed up at him softly as he brought the bottle of water to your lips and gently slipped his left hand into your hair to cradle the back of your head.

“Drink the whole thing. Take your time.”

The juxtaposition of Dean being so firm yet so gentle with you at the same time always amazed you. It was rare you ever saw him treat anyone else like that, and it made you think he reserved it just for you. Your heart wanted to believe it was because he cared about you, really cared, and that he wanted to spark that fuse of friendship to explode into something colorful and more like you did. But your brain dismissed that it was simply because you were disabled and that you were vital to him and Sam as their person behind the scenes. 

After finishing the entire water, Dean set the empty bottle down on the nightstand and turned the heating pad on medium heat. The bloom of warmth slowly started to ease the ache in your lower back, and you were suddenly aware of the pain in your jaw from clenching it so hard during your grueling POTS flare up. Dean swiftly but tenderly removed the braces from your wrists and knees to allow your body to sink into relaxation. He carefully removed your shoes and slipped tall compression socks on your feet before unfolding your weighted anxiety blanket and placing it over you delicately and tucking you in.

The air was still thick and tense with your treacherous treatment of him earlier, and the guilt pooling in your stomach nearly made you nauseous. He didn’t deserve that. He was just trying to help you. He was always trying to help.

“Dean, I'm sorry.”

Dean’s entire body language changed as soon as he heard the tears in your voice. His broad shoulders visibly relaxed beneath his forest green flannel, and his hardened features morphed into a soft look of empathy. His eyes were back to their normal shade of enchanting green, and they were shining with understanding and compassion. Letting out a deep exhale through his nose, Dean took a seat on the bed next to you and hunched over slightly, resting his elbows on his denim covered thighs.

“You got nothin’ to be sorry for.”

“I was mean-”

“You weren’t mean. You’re havin’ a bad day, and you’re struggling, and I didn’t catch it. I’m the one that should be sorry.”

Leave it to Dean Winchester to try and shoulder the blame for something that was nowhere near his fault. Emerald guilt was already forming around the outer rim of his irises, and even though there was still a lingering flame nipping at the nerves in your wrist, you stiffly reached out for one of his hands. As soon as Dean caught your fingers in his peripheral, he instinctively enveloped your hand delicately in his larger one. His hands were always so warm, and even though they were a bit rough with scars and callouses from a lifetime of trying to be the best soldier, to you they felt soothing and were a sense of tangible comfort.

“Listen to me. What happens to my body is not your fault. It’s out of your control just as much as it’s out of mine.”

“We were on the road for three hours straight. I shoulda stopped, given you breaks from sittin’ so long. I shoulda made sure there was enough refrigerant in the tank. The A/C wasn’t hardly blastin’ a damn thing. I shoulda just left you at the motel in Arkansas-”

“You said you didn’t want to leave me alone because Sam-”

“I know, and I didn’t. But better you bein’ in a nice cool motel than fuckin’ Texas. The heat here’s too much for you, sweetheart. I shoulda known how it was gonna hit you. I shoulda made sure you were drinkin’ your electrolytes the whole ride-”

Giving his hand a gentle squeeze to halt his self-condemnation, he finally met your gaze. A tender smile graced your lips as you shakily lifted your hand up to place on the side of his cheek, enjoying the slight tickle of his coarse scruff against your palm. He instantly leaned into your touch, and his body deflated slightly in content at the contact. You brushed your thumb along his sharp cheekbone to the best of your ability and let out a gentle sigh, shaking your head slightly as you gazed at him in adoration.

“You take on too much, D. The weight of the world isn’t yours to carry.”

“I’m not worried about the world. I’m worried about you.”

The firmness in his deep voice and the intensity of his gaze nearly knocked the wind out of you all over again. You weren’t used to him being so serious unless it was regarding a case or something with Sam.

“I’m alright-”

“You blacked out.”

“And you caught me and took care of me, like you always do.”

You were too exhausted to argue with over the over six feet of pure stubbornness sitting in front of you. The electrolytes were steadily getting rid of your cotton mouth and foreboding sense of dehydration, and the heating pad felt marvelous against your agitated lower back. The motel bed surprisingly did not feel like it was made of cardboard, and the pillows Dean had placed around you almost felt cloudlike. As you closed your heavy eyelids and let out a deep exhale, you could still feel Dean’s intense gaze on you, and an idea to melt the icy tension suddenly popped into your head.

“You know D, there is actually…one thing that I think would really help me right now.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to contain your grin, hearing Dean shuffle closer on the bed. Even though your eyes were closed, you knew exactly what look of concern and curiosity was plastered on his features.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

Peeking one of your eyes open, you stared up at him with faux innocence.

“Well…I mean…I don’t want you to go out of your way, you do have a case to work-”

Dean shook his head firmly and gestured with his chin down in your direction.

“Tell me whatcha need.”

Letting out an overly dramatic sigh, you brought your hand up to place the back of it against your forehead, like a damsel in distress in an old Hollywood movie, as your lips pursed into a distressed pout.

“Salted Caramel ice cream.”

Dean’s expression of concern quickly vanished into a deadpan look that let you know he was absolutely and completely done with you, and it made you burst into stomach cramping laughter. Dean tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling in exasperation, as if he was silently asking God why me.

“And I thought Sammy was dramatic.”

When he swiftly stood up from the bed, you attempted to hide your grin while staring up at him in faux annoyance. 

“Hey, you have to be nice to people that are disabled.”

Dean arched one of his chestnut brows as he turned his head to stare over at you in a playful look of defiance.

“Not if they’re a brat.”

When he opened the door to the hotel, you couldn’t help but giggle at the look on his face.

“Oh! You know what would also really help? Frescas con crema. But make sure it’s-”

“Strawberry. I know. Drink your damn salt water. And do not put on Criminal Minds.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know how you sweat when that one guy with the dorky haircut and permanent frown shows up.”

“You mean Hotch?”

Dean pursed his full lips in slight annoyance seeing the grin on your face and the slight purr to your voice when you said his name. Tilting your head to the side slightly, the mischievous grin stretched further over your lips.

“You know Dean, you have that exact same ‘dorky’ haircut.”

Dean let out a dry scoff and crossed his arms across his chest, face twisted up in absolute rejection.

“No I don’t. Mine is way better than his.”

“You’re kinda frowny sometimes too. And you do have an FBI badge.”

Dean’s expression melted slightly into a look of recognition, like a lightbulb had gone off in his head. Before you could tease him anymore about it, he grabbed the remote and placed it on the tv stand across the room, pointing an accusatory finger in your direction.

“No TV, take a nap.”

“But Dean!”

“Nap, young lady!”

As Dean shut the door behind him and you watched him through the window stalk over to the Impala pouting like a child, you couldn’t help but laugh. Once the roar of the engine faded down the street, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and smirked to yourself as you opened an app to pick up on the last episode of Criminal Minds you had left off on.

“Sorry, D. You’re not coming between me and Hotch.”

[ramen-flavored]

WHY ISNT ECHO GETTING MORE ATTENTION

[real-jane]

you don't say

[bucky barnes x disabled!reader]

summary: you matched on a dating app, but you didn't tell him that you use a cane. bucky's response is not what you expected. it's better.

warnings: mention of smut, but mostly fluff and insecurity on both bucky and reader's part. autumnal vibes all around.

a/n: i became disabled in the last few years and i have really struggled with needing a cane to increase my mobility, especially where dating is concerned. i wrote this as a love letter to myself, and other babes who are processing what it means to accept love as a disabled human being. enjoy. <3

***

You didn’t tell him. 

If the last six were a good litmus, it was for the best. Apparently being that honest with a man you met on a dating app was to be avoided at all costs. The goal, ultimately, was to have him say: “You’re prettier in person,” and then flush like he was comparing the version of you in his head to the reality before him, and coming up wanting.

Bucky was his name. He hadn’t proposed anything rigorous–he liked coffee, as did you. It wasn’t like he suggested a Central Park marathon for your date.  You weren’t even sure how you matched; it probably happened when you left your phone unattended in the same room as Natasha–whose taste was much more varied than yours. Adventurous. It’s not that you wouldn’t have swiped in interest over Bucky, 39, Brooklyn. But not until he swiped first. 

That wasn’t entirely true. You remembered his face popping up as you doom-scrolled for Jesus, on a two day pajama pity-party bender. Consuming Norah Ephron films and cheap cabernet, you swiped right on any man with kind eyes who didn’t have a fish picture in his array. Which… the pickings were slim. But his face–Bucky’s–appeared beneath your thumb as Meg Ryan met Tom Hanks at the top of the Empire State Building on your third watch-through of ‘Sleepless in Seattle,’ and it felt serendipitous. Bucky, 39, Brooklyn looked very serious, and he had a white long-haired cat. You swiped. He swiped. He was nice in his first message…

Hi… I’m new to this, but it looks like we both hit the magic button.

So, there you were.

You arranged to meet at eleven–you were at the coffee shop by ten-thirty, so you could sit by the window and not have to walk towards him. You tucked yourself into the booth and stashed your things on the bench seat beside you, eager to meet the first guy who said yes to a date since you got back on the horse, so to speak. Nevermind that you hadn’t told him the whole truth.

When he walked in–ten minutes early–he scanned the little cafe until his eyes fell on you. His expression went from hardened and serious to… bashful, almost. He recognized you right away, and there was no way you could mistake him either. 

What was that thing about people being prettier in person? 

He was dressed in layers to combat Autumn in New York (comfortable in varying shades of blue and brown) with leather gloves on, which shone like they hadn’t yet been worn before that day. So like a native New Yorker to wear the same tattered coat… but quality, definitely an expensive peacoat which could last him several generations… but buy brand new gloves when the slightest chill sets in.

Bucky was scruffy, like he couldn’t quite bother to shave but every few days. You didn’t mind. When he approached, he had vibrant energy, like it was all packed up inside with nerves.

“Hi. Sorry. I think we had the same idea,” he said breathlessly as he approached. He held out his right hand to you. You grasped his fingers automatically, but he didn’t shake. He squeezed softly, and then pressed it between his own. 

“It’s Bucky. I’ve already had coffee. Too much. I was nervous. But if you still want some, I’ll just get decaf.” 

“Y/n. To be honest, I did the same,” you chuckled, nodding to the half-empty carafe on the table, which your waiter had left after the third refill in twenty minutes. “It’s nice to meet in person.”

“I don’t do this kinda thing, I gotta warn you.” Bucky shucked off his coat and slid into the booth across from you. The gloves remained. He had a loved but noble corduroy blazer on, over a henley. “Dating. I hate the whole conceit.”

“You’re two-for-two!” You grinned. “My roommate got me on the apps. They can be blamed for seventy-five percent of my daily dread.”

“What’s the other quarter?”

“Global warming, and getting shat on by pigeons coming out of the subway.”

“Fair,” he said, smiling. You dimpled at one another. “We don’t have to stay. We’re caffeinated, and I might start levitating, here. We could walk a bit?”

Your stomach lurched. “We could. Where?”

“Dunno. I’m sorry–I have no idea how to be out. We should just sit here for the requisite number of minutes before upsetting the structure of a date.” He smiled at you pleasantly, but it was clear how incredibly nervous he still was… and how unlikely it was to go away unless he could be more active. Which meant standing. Walking, some. Something which you were not prepared to do.

Bucky watched your expression shift. He sat forward and reached out to touch your forearm. “You okay?”

“So. Yes, um. Yes, I’m okay,” you sighed. “It’s still new for me so I’m figuring it out, but… walking long distances? Can’t do it. I could probably handle a short walk, but I’ve had a rough time the last week, so I don’t know how much stamina I have. Even with my trusted friend, here. So.” You showed the head of your cane above the table bashfully, and looked away. “Sorry–people get weird about this stuff, I’m finding out, so I don’t really say anything in advance.”

Bucky blinked for a moment, then he leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table. “What do you mean weird?” His blue eyes narrowed.

“Suddenly unmatch. Tell me ‘it’s such a shame.’” You huffed. “Although it’s guys, on the whole. Women care less. But that’s beside the point–”

“Because of that?” He pointed at the seat beside you, where all of your belongings were stashed, and you knew what he meant. You nodded.

“I don’t say it in so many words. I’m not like–hey, just fyi, I use a cane, so deal with it or fuck off–”

“Why not? That would be a good way to separate out the weak and worthless,” Bucky said, but you could’ve sworn you heard a little touch of anger in his tone. He shook his head. “Doll… shit. Men are shit.”

“Yeah. They are. Sorry.”

“No, I’m shit, too. You can’t insult me when it’s true.” Bucky sat back against the worn cushion. “So, we going? Or are you going to talk me into an espresso to see if I can fly?”

“Sure. If you want to. I’m just slow–”

“Nonsense.” Bucky scooted out of the booth. “I grew up in this neighborhood. There’s plenty to do. And see.” He paused. “If this is insulting, just tell me to fuck off… You can lean on me.” He held out his elbow like an offering.

You could have cried. “Um. Okay.”

“Yeah? I–I would’ve offered, regardless. I like talking to you. I’ve enjoyed myself… through the phone.” Bucky scratched his cheek in embarrassment. “So. Even if you didn’t share, I probably would’ve tried to find a reason.”

“Really, I’ve just given you an excuse,” you said, tamping down a smile. He nodded solemnly.

“It’s thoughtful of you to spare me.” Bucky raised his eyebrows, waiting. The waiter breezed by, just then–

“You can pay at the front register!” the beleaguered hipster sighed, gesturing to the counter at which there was an extensive line. Bucky grabbed his elbow and fished a bill out of his pocket, slapping it in the guy’s palm. The waiter stared down at the twenty in his hand. “Great. I’m a human cash register.”

“Keep the change,” Bucky said. He turned back to you. “Do you get motion sick?”

“No?” You were clearly holding up whatever grand plans he was making in his head, so you hastily grabbed your things. Bucky liberated your coat from your hands and held it open. You stood slowly, leaning on the aid which had given you newfound freedom. Bucky smiled at you softly. He wasn’t impatient, just… excited. You slid your arms into your coat with Bucky’s help, and then curled your fingers into his elbow. His cheeks reddened. He had a boyishness to him which was endearing. 

“This okay?”

Okay? Well. If you considered the wafting warmth of sandalwood cologne and the soft weave of his woolen peacoat okay, then you were dandy. You nodded, feeling your own cheeks flush under his attentive gaze.

“Great. I have an idea, if you’re game. So.” He cleared his throat, ushering you through the front door of the shop onto the sidewalk. “Where do you stand on surprises?”

“Um. Hate ‘em, to be honest.”

“How bad?”

“Flash mob? My idea of hell.”

“K–In that case, I’m gonna call a friend, he runs a ride service. There’s a festival in bridge park–I keep seeing fliers for it all over. We could check it out.”

You couldn’t help the smile which pulled at your cheeks. If that’s the sort of surprise Bucky had in mind, you would’ve been charmed by it. But knowing how quickly his brain was working to improvise a date was impressive, so you squeezed his elbow. 

“Sounds fun.”

“Good. Okay.” His mouth turned up at the corner and his eyes crinkled. 

He quickly dialed a number he had memorized, but not saved in his contacts. It made you wonder how many other people he knew by heart, and what it took to be remembered by this Brooklyn boy. He didn’t say much into the phone, just the intersection you stood on. Bucky hung up abruptly and pocketed his phone again, clearly intent on hiding it away.

“He’s two streets over, it’ll be five minutes max.”

He was a horse-and-buggy driver, who had festooned his buggy with bales of hay and pumpkins bearing hastily Sharpie’d faces drawn on them by someone under the age of ten. When the carriage pulled up outside of the chain coffee shop, Bucky grinned, passing the coachman a tenner and ushering you into the four-wheeled hayride. The straw was strewn over the plush seating poorly enough to poke you in the ass, even through your coat, but Bucky was so excited to pull the plaid wool blanket over your legs that you tolerated the gluteal acupuncture. He stashed your cane beside himself, and pressed you close enough that your thigh pressed against his. 

“I went to school with Pat,” he explained, gesturing to the driver who was too far away to engage in conversation, but kept throwing back knowing glances at you and Bucky. “Kindergarten through the twelfth grade.”

“You really are in your neighborhood.”

“Yeah.” He blushed. “Never did get out, like I thought I would. Not complaining though. There’s a lot to love about Brooklyn.”

Bucky encouraged you to wrap your arm through the loop of his elbow again, and pointed out things to you about Brooklyn which had defied your notice prior. Brickwork at the pinnacle of a building, dating back to the 1920’s. A man dressed like a bush who stood on the street corner, blocking the walk button so no pedestrian could disturb his meditation. The fire hydrant he broke the bolt off senior year, flooding the sewer drains and causing rats to rush down the gutters like a parade of hissing floats. Halloween decorations in windows. Scarecrows mounted to telephone poles like they guarded a field of yellow taxis with as much aplomb as a treasury of corn stalks.

All the while… he distracted you. Little touches on your wrist where your coat met your skin with his soft gloves left you curling your fingers around air, and still he persisted. You studied his profile when he was distracted. With stubble and expression lines, he had character. He wasn’t stoic like you had thought him. Every inkling which crossed his brain was projected on his forehead like a drive-in feature just for you. And he kept smiling at you. 

You arrived at Brooklyn Bridge park having spent an eternity and no time at all in a horse-drawn carriage positively burdened with loose hay, but the tents and balloons and various sizes of gourds distracted you from anything but the Autumnal joy of it all. Stalls lined the park in a makeshift walkway, which smelled of pie spices and syrup, and crisping ham on a rotisserie, and campfire. 

When he helped you down from the carriage, placing your cane at your dominant side, Bucky instantly seemed to have a plan. Time passed like you were observing through a looking glass. He ushered a cup of cider into your hands, and then adios’d the empty into the garbage once you finished it. You dominated the hammer game, winning a massive plush gorilla. Which you promptly gave away to the first screaming child you saw, to Bucky’s amusement. He fed you funnel cake while you picked out your choice for the fastest piglet in a race which consisted of five piglets running around a kiddie pool. You lost–everyone did, when the piglets abandoned course to lay in the tepid water and snort bubbles at one another–but you left a lingering dusting of powdered sugar behind at the corner of your mouth. Bucky wiped it away without a second thought.

And so the date continued, with you floating beside a man whose eyes sparkled with delight every time you found joy in something. It didn’t feel like you had only met that day. You reached for his hand to express delight. He curled his fingers over your shoulder to wish you luck in the ring toss. Bucky–Barnes was his last name, you learned–was some kind of familiar fixture. He even bought you a coffee, and then brutally beat a group of sixth-graders at bobbing-for-apples.

It wasn’t until the sun tucked itself behind the rooftops that you realized dusk approached. Without needing to ask, Bucky summoned a cab. You had leaned on him heavily the second half of the afternoon, and opted to sit every opportunity you got. Yet… Bucky’s excitement never diminished. It wasn’t until you sat on the top step of your stoop that you realized it.

That was the best date you had ever been on.

And you sure as hell didn’t want it to end. The stars were out in force–as clear a night as you had ever seen in the city of light pollution, and yet… Orion’s belt… the pan handle of a Dipper… stars shone for you.

Bucky shoved his hands into his coat pockets in acknowledgement of the drop in temperature, while he balanced one foot up a step from you. He studied you through honest eyes–that is, he looked at you like he saw who you were without pretense. Which felt very vulnerable.

“Repeat the question,” you breathed.

Bucky smiled. “You date much?”

You shook your head. “No. To be honest, I don’t usually feel like it’s worth it. Putting myself out there. I’m sorry–I know it sounds like I’m wallowing in self-pity, but, uh. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. Being turned down. Because I use a stupid piece of metal to walk.”

“You could spend a lot of time feeling sorry for yourself, doll. And–that’s not to say you don’t have the goddamn right to feel some type of way about it. It’s your body, it’s not how you pictured your life going. Of course you’re gonna be sore about it. You aren’t alone in that. I’m just sayin’... Anybody who’d lose out on a chance with you because of something as insignificant as a tube of aluminum ain’t the type of person you wanna waste your time with anyhow.”

“It’s weird. I don’t disagree with what you’re saying, but. I dunno. It’s hard to think people exist who aren’t gonna be weird about a freakin’ cane.”

Bucky crossed his arms. “Fuck’em. Waste of your time.”

“What about you? Are you a time-waster?”

“Worse. I’m a Brooklyn boy. We can wait out a stubborn dame with the best of ‘em.” Bucky braced himself on the railing. “Can I take you out again?”

“You’re gonna sit on my porch until I agree to a second date?”

“I–when you say it like that, I sound like a creep,” he chuckled. “No, I just… if you had a good time, and I really hope you did, I would like to treat you to another date. I took a wild guess on the festival idea, but I can think of a million other things. More than just coffee.”

“I was holding a coffee mug in my profile photo,” you laughed. “That was enough.”

“There’s more out there.”

“I had a good time.”

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

You watched his face turn from excitement to pure glee. His body angled towards you intensely. All his energy was directed towards you. It made your skin tingle, and all good sense fled from your mind.

“Just come in, Bucky.”

“You gotta say it, or I ain’t budging. This is all up to you, doll.”

“Yes, okay?” You leaned against the doorway with an exasperated sigh. “I had a great time. You’re adorable, and exhausting, and I’ve never had more fun on a first date. Or any date, for that matter. Please–come inside. Kiss me a little. I think you’re probably good at it.”

“It’s been awhile,” he admitted quietly, though he pushed off the railing to do as you bid him.

“Good. I don’t like it so formal–”

“You’re so cute.”

“I’m not–”

“No, it isn’t up for debate.” Bucky tucked a finger under your chin so you’d look up at him, given that your attention had fallen to the laces of his boots in embarrassment. His irises flicked back and forth, mapping every refraction in your eyes. “I know cute when I see her. And there’s nobody else in this whole damned city but you, doll.”

He kissed you as if that were true… as if he had stepped out of the subway to a world devoid of anything but a billion scattered golden leaves tracing circles on the pavement, and a girl with a cane who hates surprises. As if–in that dystopian and autumnal universe, that were heaven to him. Like he’d been looking for you in every empty coffee shop. Like he knew you, and it was only a matter of walking into the right store. It was soft, the drag of his lips over yours. At first he just ghosted a millimeter from your mouth, but then he needed to know… so he gave in. He didn’t spoil it with tongue too soon. Bucky discovered you.

You’d been kissed, but never at the world’s end. The world you knew was siphoned away. In this one? Well, kisses stopped time. Made leaves hang in the air between gasping breaths. Kisses were where the light got in. Where sun broke through clouds… where a girl who didn’t much care for vulnerability let a man she barely knew steal every little sound from her throat, out on her front stoop where anybody could see them.

You got the door open by feel, and stayed on your feet by virtue of the man with roving hands who backed you into the building. It was for the best that your apartment was on the first floor, because your knees threatened to buckle when his tongue worried the seam of your lips. He tucked the crook of your cane into the curve of his elbow when you tore yourself away to fight the finicky lock at your threshold. 

“I didn’t expect to have anyone over,” you said by way of an explanation for whatever mess might be found inside, but Bucky snorted.

“When are you gonna get it through your head?” He nipped at the tendon which helped form the curve from your shoulder to neck, making you shiver. “I don’t give a shit if all you got is a mattress on the floor. I like you.”

“I have a bit more furniture than that,” you giggled, “but I still appreciate you saying it.”

The moment you were inside the apartment, Bucky leaned back against the door and turned you, so you stood between his feet. He looked at you through heavily-lidded eyes. “Tell me.”

You turned your attention to the buttons on his coat as he saw right through you. “Bucky–”

“I think you like kissing me, but you’re skittish. If you’re freaked out…”

“I’m–shit.” You sighed. “I believe you. That you like me, I do. But I am so used to feeling like nobody is ever gonna want me back–”

“Impossible.” He cupped your cheeks. “Look at you.”

“Bucky,” you groaned. 

“No, stop it. I know what you’re doing. Oldest trick in my book. You think that a good thing is a lie, that it ain’t gonna hang around. I’m a really, really, really bad liar. Alright? My ears turn red.” Bucky smiled triumphantly when you chuckled. “I watched you drink a pumpkin latte today like it was the best thing you’ve ever had in your whole damn life and it cost me three dollars. You’re charming. I’m addicted.”

He kissed your forehead and you melted into his chest in resignation. “I don’t do this,” you mumbled into his sweater.

“What? Let somebody say why they like you?”

You shook your head, and pressed your cheek against his chest. “I’m starving.”

“Oh–doll, dammit, I should’a fed you–”

“No. I mean, yes, we should order something,” you laughed, “but. Just. Why?” When you raised your hand, gesturing to your general being, Bucky’s expression transformed from concern to… something gentle. 

He shrugged, but his shoulders fell heavily downward, and his fingers curled into the pockets of your coat so you wouldn’t pull away while he found the words. 

“Because–I just knew. You were simply a notification in a stupid app and I still thought about your profile picture waiting in my ‘likes’ for days. And we talked like it was an everyday occurrence, feeling your world shift its axis. I didn’t talk to a single soul on that app but you, sweets, and I tried my damndest not to jump the gun on asking you to meet in person. Imagine my delight when you agreed. I was so terrified last night that I hardly slept, but I never thought once about feeling… self conscious, all day. It–I don’t feel that way with most girls. Safe, I guess. And I may not know what the hell I’m doing, but I’m not a guy who ever feels like I can trust a person and I’m pretty prepared to lay down naked in the street if you tell me that’s what you want–”

“Not necessary,” you said, smiling. 

“Well, that’s a relief.” Bucky brushed his thumbs over your cheeks. “Doll–I’m so sorry that anybody ever made you feel like you got some kinda worth to live up to. It makes me so angry, but then I think–who’s that for? What’s the point in me being angry at somebody who isn’t gonna change their mind… especially when it means that I get a chance.”

“Says the handsome guy with perfect teeth.” You winked at him when he scowled.

“I’m tryin’ here–”

“You’re wonderful,” you whispered. You smoothed over his bottom lip with the pads of your thumbs. “I’m… thank you.”

Bucky leaned forward until his forehead pressed against yours. “I’ve overwhelmed you.”

“No, sir. I just need a second. To acclimate to the idea.”

“I can go–”

“Please. Please don’t.” You tugged him towards the living room, slowly walking backwards and giving him every opportunity to wrench out of your grasp and run. But he didn’t break eye contact, no. Bucky kept pace with you, toe-to-toe. “We’ll watch something.”

“Spooky movie?” he suggested.

“...I’m such a wimp,” you admitted, and he let out a quick breath.

“You can hide under my arm during the scary parts.”

“So just bury myself under you the whole movie, got it–”

“If that’s what you want, doll.” Bucky smirked as your knees bumped into the lip of the couch, causing you to sit abruptly against the cushions. You still had a fist wrapped in the placate of his coat, so he fell forward, catching himself on the arm rest and hovering over you. You watched intently as his tongue whetted his bottom lip absent-mindedly, and you had to bite back a groan.

“That’s what I want. Bucky.”

***

A long time later, when your body was so sensitive that you shivered beneath him, Bucky hopped up… pantsless, still wearing his sweater, but peachy ass exposed to the air so he could run to the bathroom and find a soft cloth. When he returned to you (with a towel around his waist, suddenly bashful), he bore a damp washcloth in his left hand, which… you sat up slowly on your elbows to watch the reticulated fingers on his left hand as he cleaned you with soft strokes over your thighs and bit his lip… asshole. You smiled at him softly when his eyes flicked up to yours. 

“You gonna tell me about it, or wait for me to ask?” you murmured, sliding the cuff of his left sleeve up his bicep, exposing a charcoal and gold metallic limb to the dim light. 

Bucky didn’t say anything at first. He lifted you beneath the knees, and behind your back. He had no choice but to shower with you (since you woefully lacked a bathtub), as cleaning you both was clearly his priority, so he sat you on the edge of the porcelain counter to help you fully undress. He did so with a type of reverence which felt undue… but you were reminded that he didn’t look at you through the same lens with which you viewed yourself. Especially when he trailed his fingers over your softness like he didn’t feel worthy of touching you. 

But then, he stepped back from you, and he shucked his sweater.

He didn’t look you in the eye once he was fully exposed to you. He studied the tiles under your toes, and his hands didn’t seem to know whether to rest on his hips or try to hide his flesh from you, so he fidgeted. Which meant he didn’t see you reaching for his left hand, and when you did so (threading your fingers through his metal facsimiles), he looked like he might cry.

Bucky was an amputee. With a gleaming prosthetic extending from his clavicle to the tips of his left fingers, so intricate and complicated a design that it must be something experimental and custom-made, just for the likes of a soft-hearted Brooklyn boy.

“You’re beautiful.” You meant the raw words, even though they escaped your lips unbidden. 

Bucky squeezed your hand. “I’m not.”

“You don’t have to agree for it to be true.”

He looked at you, then. An agreement passed between you, unvoiced. I’ll say about you what you can’t. I’ll hold for you what you won’t. I’ll touch you again, because I want you, all of you–the flesh and the metal and the weak and the kind. Especially the kind. Of course Bucky understood you. Your heart-wounds took different guises, but they pulled the same strings.

When he knelt at your knee, it was supplication. It was obvious when he bowed his head to kiss the skin above your heart. Your heart had known his forever, it seemed. 

“A long time ago, I didn’t have a choice,” he said, so quietly you could only make out his words because you had coaxed him up to meet your lips again. “I almost died. I–god, I never thought I’d live or touch somebody again. And then you. I can’t explain this to people–” He rolled his shoulder like the limb was hurting him, and maybe it was– “without inviting them to look at my naked fuckin’ heart.”

“Is it heavy?” You ran your finger the length of the connector, where metal met his skin and cupped his pectoral. You meant the arm, but the way his head bobbed… you inclined your head so you could catch his lips before his spirit fell one iota further. It was a kiss of knowing. Understanding, without words.

“I can take it off,” he breathed against your lips.

“So do it.”

Bucky sat back on his heels. Then, he looked you square in the eye and detached the prosthetic arm. It wheezed as it lost power, the moment its circuits no longer drew power from his body’s natural electric whims. You held out your hands, and he set the thing across your open palms. It was lighter than you expected, but still hefty. You could only imagine how it pulled at his muscles, unnatural as it was. It was incredible, but then–so was the man with an empty prosthetic socket, who sat at your feet like he hadn’t hastily fucked you on your own couch at the end of your first date. Like sex was a small exchange when there was a soul resonance at hand. If you said it out loud? It would sound insane. Holding Bucky’s cheeks in your hands, though… 

“I like sushi,” you said softly, “and any carbs, really. So. Jot that one down, for your date ideas. And I’m a fabulous co-pilot if you like road trips. I love Upstate. I excel at floating down a river on an innertube–”

Bucky pushed up between your knees so he could reach your lips and he kissed you senseless. “Doll–”

“Shhh, darling man,” you smiled against his mouth. “I am addicted.” Parroting his words back to him made Bucky beam. “Stay the night. Surprise me in the morning. I don’t care. You’re everything I didn’t think I deserved and–and I’ll keep you. To spite Me.”

Bucky laughed. “It will be a pleasure to help you get revenge on yourself.”

***

Thanks for reading! :)

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bucky barnes tag list: @peterhollandkait @honeywithemoney @eloiseishere @nahthanks @dracosluvbot @dracris33 @searchf0rtheskyline @goldylions

[mxnsterbabe]

Male Werewolf/Female Reader

NSFW

Wordcount: 3,302

Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

Tags & Warnings: mentions of chronic pain

You've loved Logan since you were a kid, and never thought he felt the same. Until he proves you wrong.

You sat in the window seat of Velvet Latte, surrounded by the bright stream of your friends' laughter. Your gaze, almost involuntarily, drifted towards Levi. He was laughing heartily at something Amais, the quiet one in your group, had just said. His golden curls caught the sunlight streaming through the window, creating a halo around him, and for a moment, he seemed almost otherworldly.

It’s almost impossible to tell what he really is, except for the slightly sharpened canines and the way his eyes almost glow under the natural light.

Levi, with his boyish charm and a smile that could outshine the sun, had been your constant through the years. He had been the keeper of your secrets, your partner in crime since childhood. There was one secret you had held back from him: the way your heart skipped a beat every time he smiled your way.

Lost in your thoughts, you were oblivious to May's observant eyes on you. It was only when she leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eye, and teased, "Looks like someone's more interested in the view than the conversation," that reality crashed back in. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, turning them a deep shade of crimson. Words stumbled over each other in your attempt to respond, but nothing coherent came out.

Levi, who had been reaching to grab something from the backpack tossed over his wheelchair handles, now turned to look at you with furrowed brows.

May leaned in and said, "Honestly, when are you two going to get together already? Watching you pine over each other is painful!"

The table erupted into laughter, but you couldn't help but notice Levi's reaction. His smile faltered for a moment, and a blush crept up his neck, coloring his freckled cheeks, and he shifted awkwardly in his wheelchair.

Your heart sank a little. The familiar weight of unrequited love settled in your chest.

Needing a moment to compose yourself, you excused yourself to the restroom. No sooner had you left the table than Fatima, quiet until now, followed you. In the sanctuary of the bathroom, away from the curious eyes of your friends, you leaned against the cool tiled wall, trying to hide your disappointment.

Fatima stood beside you, her expression soft and understanding. "Hey," she began gently, "you know he likes you, right? Levi's always been terrible at hiding his feelings, especially where you're concerned."

You shook your head, unconvinced. "Did you see his reaction? It's like he was embarrassed by the idea of us being together."

Fatima sighed, her hand reaching out to squeeze yours. "You're reading it all wrong. We've all seen the way he looks at you when you're not watching. It's the same way you look at him."

"What if I'm just seeing what I want to see?" you murmured, the uncertainty clear in your voice.

"We've all known each other since we were kids. It's always been you and Levi, Levi and you. Even Amais, who’s probably the least observant man in the world, can see it. You both care about each other so much, it's almost tangible."

Her words offered a glimmer of hope, but the fear of ruining what you already had with Levi loomed large in your mind. "What if I'm risking too much?" you asked.

"Sometimes," Fatima said softly, "it's the risks we don't take that we regret the most. Levi's your best friend. Even if things don't turn out the way you hope, you'll figure it out. You always do."

You let out a deep breath, her words sinking in. There was truth in what she said, a truth you had been too afraid to confront. Even so, the thought of not knowing, of always wondering what if, seemed even more daunting.

As you and Fatima headed back to the table, you resolved to pay more attention, to look for those small signs of affection from Levi. Maybe, just maybe, your feelings weren't as one-sided as you'd feared. Or maybe they were. Honestly, you couldn’t tell; despite what Fatima had said.

“Come on,” Fatima said kindly, “let’s go back to the table.”

May looked at you apologetically as you returned a minute later, hands cupped around your coffee cup. "Hey, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable earlier," she said with a sincere tone. "Just couldn't resist a little teasing."

You offered her a small smile. "It's okay, May. I know you didn't mean anything by it."

Amais added, "Yeah, we all know May's sense of humor by now. Comes with no filter and good intentions."

Laughter rippled through the group, easing the earlier tension. You sipped your coffee, the rich aroma calming your frayed nerves. Soon enough though, Fatima downed the last of her drink and announced, “Sorry folks, but I have to go. If I miss another class, my lecturer might actually kill me.”

Fatima and May headed off to college, chatting about an upcoming project, awkwardness already forgotten.

Amais took this chance to say goodbye too. “Gotta go too,” he said, “I promised my girlfriend I’d stop by before I go home.”

Soon, it was just Levi and you, left in the quiet aftermath of the bustling café. You stood there, awkwardly shuffling your feet, about to apologize for the awkwardness earlier.

Before you could say anything, Levi interrupted, his voice tinged with a seriousness you rarely heard from him. "May might be onto something, you know," he said, his gaze fixed on you. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about for a while."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you found yourself holding your breath, waiting for his next words.

"I've been trying to hide it, but I can't anymore," Levi continued, his voice steady but his eyes betraying a hint of vulnerability. "I care about you, you know. More than just as a friend. I have for a long time now."

The world seemed to pause around you, his confession hanging in the air. You searched his eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation, but all you saw was the raw honesty of his feelings.

"Levi, I..." you started, but words failed you. How could you express years of hidden affection, of dreams and hopes cautiously guarded in your heart?

He leaned closer across the table, his presence both familiar and exhilarating. "I understand if you don't feel the same way," he said softly. "I don't want to ruin what we have, but I had to tell you because not knowing is worse than any rejection."

His confession echoed your own fears. You reached out, taking his hand in yours. "Levi, I've felt the same way for so long, but I was too scared to say anything. I was afraid of losing you, of changing everything."

"Between us," Levi's voice lowered, carrying a seriousness that anchored the moment. "You need to know, I'm not easy to be with. You know I’m a werewolf but… can you handle the reality of it?"

His words hung in the air, heavy. You glanced around the café, acutely aware of the people nearby, the risk of eavesdroppers.

"Levi, this isn't the place to discuss it," you said, your voice low. "For what it's worth, I've never cared about that. I've always accepted you for who you are, even if you keep that side hidden."

He hesitated, then continued, "It's more than just being a werewolf, Clara. There's the chronic pain, the nightmares-"

You cut him off, not with words, but with a kiss. It was a bold move, one that surprised both of you, but in that moment, it felt like the only right response. Your lips met his, conveying everything words couldn't - acceptance, courage, and the depth of your feelings for him.

The kiss was brief but spoke volumes. As you pulled away, you saw a mix of astonishment and relief in Levi's eyes.

"I've seen you at your best and your worst, Levi. I've been by your side through everything since we were kids. Do you really think I'm going to run away now because of challenges I already know about?" you asked, your voice firm yet gentle.

Levi looked at you, and there was a new kind of awe in his gaze. "I guess I've underestimated you, haven't I?" he said, a soft chuckle escaping him.

"Just a bit," you replied, smiling.

You both stood there for a moment, in the midst of the café's gentle hum, understanding the magnitude of what had just unfolded. You had crossed a threshold, stepping into a new chapter of your relationship, one that had been waiting to be written for years.

"Let's go somewhere we can talk," Levi suggested, his hand reaching for yours.

You nodded in agreement, squeezing his hand. The world outside felt different now, like you were seeing it through a new lens. There was excitement, a hint of apprehension, but above all, there was a sense of rightness, of pieces falling into place.

Leaving the café, you both ambled to the parking lot, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the ground. There, Levi's car awaited; you assisted him in storing his wheelchair in the back of the car. Despite needing it for longer distances, he didn’t always need it.

The drive to your house was filled with a comfortable silence, the kind only shared by those who know each other inside out. As Levi parked the car and you both entered your home, a sense of privacy and freedom enveloped you. Finally, you were in a space where you could speak freely, without the prying eyes and ears of the world outside.

Inside, you turned to Levi, your heart racing with a mix of nervousness and excitement. "Levi, before you say whatever you want to say, there’s something I need you to know," you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at you, a gentle encouragement in his eyes; and maybe a touch of wariness too.

Taking a deep breath, you let the words flow, words that had been pent up inside you for far too long. "I love you, Levi. I've loved you for more years than I can remember. It's always been you, in every daydream, in every quiet moment when my mind drifts."

Levi's expression softened, a tender look crossing his face as he listened.

"So what if you’re a werewolf?," you continued, "it doesn't scare me. I've known for a long time, and it's never changed how I feel about you. I see you, Levi, not the werewolf or the chronic pain or the anything else. I see the man who's been my best friend, my rock. I see the person I love."

You paused, searching his face for a reaction. Levi reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands, his eyes shining silver.

"You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear those words," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I've been so afraid that my being a werewolf would drive you away, that it would be too much for you to handle."

You shook your head emphatically. "Nothing about you could ever drive me away, Levi. You’re stuck with me.”

He smiled, before gently pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I can’t think of anything better.”

You leaned in, closing the small gap between you, and your lips met in a kiss that felt like the culmination of years of unspoken feelings. The kiss was gentle at first, an exploration, his lips soft and pliant against your own. Levi's lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

As the kiss deepened, the intensity grew. Levi, letting out a faint growl, gently pushed you against the wall, his hands framing your face. You could feel his heartbeat, fast and strong, echoing your own racing pulse.

Except, Levi's movements were slightly unsteady on his feet, knees trying not to buckle. You noticed the slight wobble, the brief flicker of concentration on his face as he tried to maintain balance.

"Levi, let's sit down," you suggested softly, breaking the kiss for a moment. You didn't want the moment to end, but you cared more about his comfort and safety.

He nodded, an apology in his eyes, and you led him to the sofa. As you both sat down, you offered a smirk and dove in for another kiss. You straddled him, feeling the warmth of his body beneath you. Levi looked up at you, his dark grey eyes filled with an intensity that took your breath away.

You resumed the kiss, this time with the comfort of the sofa supporting you both. The kiss was different now, a desperation in your movements that hadn’t been there before. You nibbled at his lower lip, smiling when you felt him gasp.

You could feel Levi's hands exploring your back, gentle yet confident. His touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that you hadn't fully realised was there. You were acutely aware of every point of contact, of the heat radiating from his body, of his heartbeat syncing with yours.

In this moment, straddling him on the sofa, you felt a surge of desire course through you. You ground against him, delighted when you felt something prod against your inner thigh.

You pulled back to see Levi flush. “Sorry.”

Your grin was wicked. “Don’t be. Want to do something about it?”

“You mean..?”

God, his shyness was so sweet! “Yes, I mean it,” you murmured, and ducked back down to capture Levi’s mouth in your own. The warmth radiating from him made you squirm, and his cock jumped to attention at the contact.

Levi's nervousness was palpable as he raised a shaking hand to your chest. You wanted to show him how much he meant to you, to reassure him of your desire. Taking the lead, you began to unbutton your shirt slowly, your eyes locked with his, a smile playing at your lips as he drank you up.

As each button came undone, revealing more of your skin, Levi's eyes followed your movements, a mix of awe and uncertainty in his gaze. His breath hitched slightly, the tension in the air almost tangible. You felt his cock twitch against your thighs.

With your shirt now open, you reached for his. He tensed as your fingers worked on his buttons, his self-consciousness evident. You could feel his apprehension, but you were determined to show him how much you loved every part of him.

As his shirt fell open, your eyes took in the sight of his lean chest. The muscles were well-defined, his skin silky smooth and dusted with golden hair. Your gaze was drawn to an old tattoo on his shoulder, slightly faded but still distinct; an old pinup from his younger days.

"You're beautiful," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity.

Levi looked at you, a mix of surprise and something deeper in his eyes. He hesitantly brought his hands to your waist, his touch light as if he was still unsure. You took his hands in yours, guiding them along your back, encouraging him to explore.

His touch grew more confident, spurred by your guidance and the trust in your eyes. You leaned into his touch, your skin tingling at the contact. It was then that you realised how much you wanted him. Needed him.

You leaned in for another kiss, this one charged with a new intensity. Levi responded with a passion that matched your own, his earlier hesitation melting away under the heat of your embrace.

“I want more,” you mumbled against his neck, as you slipped down to pepper kisses along his bare skin. “Can we..?”

“Fuck yes.”

It was all the invitation you needed. Reaching between your hot thighs, you unbuttoned his jeans. He sprang free, lying heavily in your palms; he was bigger than you expected, and it sent a thrill through you.

Levi’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry, I’m having a hard time controlling myself.”

You stroked him, gently, but it was enough to have him growling as you continued to nip as his neck. “Good,” you replied, “I like that.”

He squirmed beneath you as you touched him, your fingers gentle - and then more insistent. He was warm and hard against your palm, and you found yourself grinding into him, desperate for friction.

“Wait, sl-slow down,” Levi gasped, his cheeks stained a beautiful pink. “I won’t last if you keep that up.”

His hands grasped your hair, and you felt the tug of nails scraping against your skull. Long, sharp nails that sent a delicious sting through your scalp.

You moaned, back arching as Levi scraped his nails - claws - down the base of your neck, all the way down your back. You caught a glimpse of glowing eyes and narrowed pupils when you arched back and oh, he was stunning.

Deft hands continued to pump with renewed fervour, your whole body alight with hot, needy desire. You watched as Levi’s eyes turned from warm grey to shocking, bright silver before his head tilted back and he let out a delicious growl.

You knew he wasn’t going to last long; but when he came in your palm and left a hot, sticky trail of come, you still felt yourself flush. The sight of him so blissed out, hair spread across the pillow and glowing eyes looking nervously up at you, was enough to make your mind reel.

His hand gripped the back of your neck as he came, claws digging into the sensitive flesh. You felt yourself reach your peak from that alone, head thrown back as you stuttered out Levi’s name. The fire inside of you was overwhelming as you squeezed your eyes closed.

Afterwards, breathless and flushed, you sank into the sofa beside Levi. When you glanced over, Levi’s eyes had returned to their usual dark, inviting grey.

He flushed, head tilted away as he tried to shove himself back into his jeans. His hands were shaking, and so with a chuckle, you reached out to put a hand over his.

Levi’s expression shifted to one of slight embarrassment. He pulled back slightly, his eyes avoiding yours. “I’m sorry, I got carried away,” he muttered, a hint of regret lacing his voice. “Sometimes I… it’s difficult to keep human form. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You looked at him, seeing the uncertainty in his eyes, and felt a surge of affection. You reached out, gently turning his face towards yours. “Levi, there's nothing to be sorry about,” you said softly. “I liked it.”

“You did?”

To reassure him, you leaned in for a kiss, this time a gentle, tender one. As your lips met, you felt him relax, the tension easing from his body.

After the kiss, you snuggled up to his side, resting your head on his shoulder. His arm instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you closer. In that embrace, you felt a sense of peace and contentment. The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the quiet breathing all combined to create a cocoon of security.

As you nestled closer to Levi, you could feel his body relax further, the earlier embarrassment fading away. His hand stroked your hair gently, a soothing rhythm. You looked up at him, and in the soft light of the room, his eyes met yours.

"Thank you," Levi whispered, his voice barely audible. "For understanding, for accepting me.”

You smiled, lifting your hand to caress his cheek. "I should be the one thanking you."

As you drifted off to sleep, your head on Levi's shoulder, his heartbeat a steady lullaby, you felt a profound sense of gratitude for being able to share tonight with him.

[bleulone]

TO BUILD AGAIN

a Chef Luca fanfiction | Fandom: The Bear. Rating: Mature/Explicit. Status: On going. Slow updates. Type: Multi-Chapters, Pre Canon. Tags: Chef Luca/Orginal Female Character, Disability, Angst and Feels, Character Study, Eventual Smut, Family and Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Mature Themes, Mentions of Depression, Romance, Romantic and Sexual Tension, Romantic drama with a happy ending, Slow-burn, Strangers to Reluctant chef partners to Friends to Lovers, Sharing Cultures, Self-Love, Traveling.

SOFIA “WARDA” FILALI, a culinary superstar, conquered the hearts of many as the darling of a renowned French cooking reality show. Blessed with her distinct approach to molecular cuisine, adorned with a razor-sharp wit and a smile that could bewitch hearts, she seemed destined for a life of triumph and acclaim. However, tragedy struck when, almost a year after opening her celebrated Parisian restaurant, Radiance, a stroke left her with a devastating loss: the use of her left arm. Despite the hope of rehabilitation, Warda faced a daunting reality.

IN THE MIDST OF HER STRUGGLES, Warda discovered solace in her long-forgotten passions of writing and drawing. Setting off on a globe-trotting adventure to craft her upcoming book and explore the depths of her personal creativity, her journey led her to the enchanting city of Copenhagen—a place of significant memories from her youth.

LITTLE DID WARDA ANTICIPATES the reunion with Luca, the effortlessly cool and tattooed pastry chef with whom she had shared countless trials and joys during their time together in Cannes and Casablanca. Unforeseen was the rekindling of a distant yet familiar warmth, awakening something deep within her and resurrecting a unique flavor of solace she never thought possible.

• Read HERE on ao3 • Listen to the playlist HERE •

[idontplaytrack]

all the things that could go wrong

Janis ‘Imi’ike x physically disabled fem!reader

Warnings: pet/nicknames, internalised homophobia, arguing, mentions/descriptions of violence, mentions of reader’s disability, mentions of alcohol consumption…(rollercoaster of emotions incoming)

In which lol I don’t know how to summarise this. except: “If this is the happiest I've ever been, why do I feel so afraid of it?”

“Y/N!” Janis screamed, chasing you.

You only ran further, as fast as your feet could carry you. “Y/N, stop!”

You knew your efforts were futile when you felt her grip on your wrist. Of course she’d catch up to you. What were you thinking? Showing up at her door?

“I’m sorry, Janis.” You gave up running, “I don’t know what came over to me but here I am, at your door.”

She looked at you, very confused- it was as though you had posed her with the toughest question ever. “What…?”

You knew why- she asked you to come over to have a night in, but instead that plan just unraveled. She kissed you, and things got a little handsy, but you simply couldn't get past the mental hurdle of being with a girl. “If this is the happiest I’ve ever been, why do I feel so afraid of it?”

Age 7, you thought Tori Vega was really pretty. But also thought that Beck Oliver was cute. You didn't tell anyone and let that be your little secret.

Age 9, you let that slip. You told a friend and she called you a weirdo for liking both a guy and a girl. That same year, the friend Mabel mentioned it at your birthday party and everyone heard it. They laughed it off, saying that your friend was just joking. But it wasn't a joke, and your Mom told you it was wrong and you took it to heart.

Age 10, you found yourself having crazy swarms of butterflies in your stomach whenever this girl in your class talked to you. Her name was Dawn, and she was your only friend for the next few years because ever since your party a year ago, Mabel made sure to tell everyone your little secret. And no one wanted to be your friend anymore. You were lucky to have Dawn. You didn't tell her about the butterflies, though.

Age 14, High school started. You moved to Illinois, and said goodbye to Dawn. She was sad to see you leave, but promised to talk to you everyday. At North Shore High, you met Janis- and her best friend Damian, who almost immediately took you in to join them. You became a part of their trio. While the school feared her, calling her a threat to students' safety, you did not. She was nice to you and you felt safe and protected. Life seemed pretty good. Until summer rolled around, and you started spending more time with Janis. The butterflies in your stomach made their presence known, and very aggressively. You were falling for your best friend, fast and hard.

Age 15, Sophomore year began and Damian notices the closeness. However, you didn't know that and neither did Janis. He also didn't say a thing, not wanting to assume, nor interfere. Life went on as usual, except your crush on Janis kept growing with each day. Over thanksgiving break, you had your wisdom teeth removed. All four of them were impacted, so they had you go under and get them removed. Janis came by to spend time with you every single day for two weeks- much to your mother’s dismay. But Janis knew she wouldn’t say a thing, because your mother was also afraid of Janis. She could see her protectiveness over you. (She’s also heard of the bunsen burner incident)

Age 16, Janis asks you out to the Winter Ball. You agreed, it was a lot of fun- she made you laugh until you cried. Lingering touches, holding your hand, her hand on your shoulder, her hands squeezing your cheek as she said, ‘you’re adorable’. You laughed it off, looking away as you blushed. She teases you for it. But you know she meant it not in a negative way. Christmas, your parents were out of town and Janis invites you and Damian over for Christmas dinner. Damian hung out for awhile then went home, you spent the night. You two sat in her bed watching Home Alone, which you completely forgot about when you feel her hand on your thigh, traveling upwards on your side to your face. Janis leans in dangerously close and the two of you nearly kiss. The night ended awkwardly after you told her you couldn’t do it, with Janis feeling disappointed and you feeling conflicted.

Age 17, when the clock struck midnight, signaling the start of a new year, Janis was standing before you, holding your hands in her own. As fireworks went off in the distance, she captures your lips into her own. With the help of a drink or two in each of you. ‘Happy birthday’, she says, ‘and happy new year, y/n.’ And her lips were quickly back on yours, what felt like fireworks went off in your chest, making its way down your spine. This was your new little secret- this kiss you shared. It was like a dream come true, little you would always dream of experiencing one day but then learnt it was impossible because of what people around you all said. But Janis, she made the world seem fine. Then, Regina George’s Burn Book joined the mix along with a certain redhead by the name of Cady Heron. That new year concluded tumultuously - every one got mean. The book called Damian ‘almost too gay to function’, Janis a ‘pyro lez’, and you ‘the queer one to fear’. Along with a picture of you and Janis kissing at new years, two photos of you kissing a fellow cast-mate in two separate school plays. When everything blew over, Cady flirted with Janis which left a sour taste in your mouth. You were jealous, but you didn’t say a thing. You couldn’t. Janis did- rejecting her, telling her she had her eyes on someone else. You were hoping she meant you.

Age 18, Janis couldn’t care less about whatever shit went down in school. It was you and Damian with her, against the world. It was your birthday and she took you to the park for a quiet picnic, handing you a small bouquet of beautiful roses. She confessed. You do the same, both a rambling mess. Pushing aside the feelings of disgust you had for yourself for feeling this way, for being in love with a girl. Until you couldn’t. On this warm spring day, the heat made you feel like it was burning you to a crisp, coupled with the strong emotions you were feeling…

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked, in the spur of the moment her words flew out harshly, piercing your ears and your heart. You couldn’t say anything now, with that painful lump in your throat, your anxiety causing the skin all over your body to feel as though it was being pricked, or burned. You squirmed uncomfortably both at the anxiety-induced skin burning sensation, and for Janis to free you from her grip. You knew she didn’t mean it. She’d never lay a hand on you, she’s never done that ever. You wanted to snap her out of it, to tell her it was you that she was talking to. But you couldn’t, all you could manage were pathetic little cries that quickly turned into sobs before your knees buckled and you fell like a child in Janis’ front yard. The thud snaps her out of it, everything you said. Everything you’ve ever said, or not. Everything you’ve ever done, or haven’t. They all rushed through her mind, giving her a slideshow that allowed her to understand just what it was that was causing this…meltdown.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me…I get it. I get it…that internalised homophobia you’re dealing with, because of what people around you taught you growing up.” She sits down with you on the prickly grass. She cups your cheeks, wiping the tears away. “You’ll be okay with time, be gentle with yourself. It’s okay to do what you want, feel what you feel, love who you love. You are your own person. You are not your Mother, not your old friend Mabel, you are not those little fuckers at school talking about people behind their backs.” She spoke, a small sigh at the end.

You could only sniffle, as you looked her in the eye. Her gaze was soft, and loving. A complete three-sixty from the fierce, intimidating gaze she shows the world. The one she shows to the jocks who made fun of you, for your height, for your weight, for having a limp, for having scars from surgeries that improved your mobility…your life. Strangers.

Janis continued to speak, “I love you, and you know that. But I want you to remember that, and I won’t stop reminding you until one day. That all goes away, what’s in your head- that voice…it will become so small one day it will sound like nothing. And what matters is…we have each other. To conquer whatever comes our way, wherever life takes us. Because, baby…you are the strongest person I’ve ever known in my entire life. And that will never change.”

Upon hearing her words, your natural reaction was to cry harder. Her whole frame shook as she took you into her arms. Janis’ head whipped around, looking at a concerned neighbour. “She’s okay, Mrs. Alvarez. We’re just having a moment.” The woman says an ‘okay’ and was on her way.

“You’re okay, hmm?” Her hands held the side of your head against her chest, her head resting on your own. You hear her sniffle. “You’re okay. We’re okay. Everything’s okay, baby.”

She stayed with you in this position until you’d fully calmed down, swatting away any insects or even butterflies, that you were afraid of. “Okay, you ready to get up, lovey?” She asks you softly, breaking away from the embrace slowly just in case you didn’t want to get up. Because…let’s face it- she’d sit here with you all day if you wanted to. That was Janis for you. Your Janis. She’d give you the world if you wanted it…

“Yeah.” You managed to tell her shakily, “Yeah.” Finally pulling away from her chest, you were met with her face, tear streaks on her cheeks and watery eyes. She’d cried. And she didn’t hide it. Something she’s never done before. Janis contemplated between holding out her hands so she could pull you up, and letting you stand up on your own. She chose the latter, then wrapped her arms around you again, smooching you on the cheek. “Okay?” She watched you cautiously. “Mhm.” You sniffed, the phlegm in your throat causing a coughing fit after you spoke that nearly made you retch. She rubs your back, “Let’s go get you a drink.”

You were back in her house. She leads to you kitchen and sat you down at the table, opening the fridge door so you could see the drink choices. You shook your head. “How about some tea, then? Would you like that?” She suggested, shutting the door. Janis then walked over to her pantry and pulled out a bunch of different little boxes that contained a variety of different teas. It looked a little comical, her holding them all in her arms then putting them on the table for you. You chuckled, then smiled. Then she smiled, relieved to see that after the literal buckets of tears you’d wept outside. You looked at your options and soon picked one out, picking up the green Lipton box and handed it to her. Janis took it from you and placed it on the kitchen counter, proceeding to fill the electric kettle with some water to boil. Then, she got out your favourite mug. While waiting, she returned the other boxes of tea bags to the pantry before sitting with you once again.

“Janis, I- I don’t know what to say except…thank you.” You told her quietly, licking your dry lips but unwillingly tasting the salty tears along with the action. You swallow thickly, avoiding her gaze. Janis’ hand found its way to yours and gave it a squeeze- she didn’t need to say a thing for you to know what it meant. “I love you.” You told her later when you were up in her room. Her face lit up with the brightest smile you’ve ever seen from her. “I love you, so much.” You said again.

That one letter word before the two meant the world to Janis. It was a step toward the right direction for you, and she was so, so happy to hear it.

“I love you, too, sweet girl.”

[chaithetics]

Dieter Bravo Masterlist

A Cinematic Lover (Series)

A Cinematic Lover Chapter 1

A Cinematic Lover Chapter 2

A Cinematic Lover Chapter 3

[wardenparker]

Sassenach and the Spaniard - Epilogue

Pero Tovar x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Delirious with sickness and near to death, Pero Tovar finds himself on the doorstep of a village outsider who nurses him back to health just before the winter snows descend. With a black cat for company, a mask on her face, and a biting wit that intrigues him, Pero comes to find out that his new companion is more than what she seems.  ✨  Inspired and influenced by Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. ✨ Reader is described as disabled and having hair long enough to cover part of her face.  

Rating: Mature, but as always this blog is 18+ Word Count: 7.5k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this fic include cursing, food mentions, references to previous sexual assault (multiple characters).**  Apologies for the possibly dubious Spanish in this chapter, and a little suggestive dialogue up front, but no other warnings. Summary: The first people you and Pero meet in Spain come bearing remarkable and unexpected surprises. Notes: Immense thanks to all of you for following along with this little trip through time. It has been such immense fun to explore in two universes at once, and so gratifying to build a family that very literally stands the test of time. Every time we embark on a new story we take a chance by stepping into the unknown, and every time it’s wonderous to see how lovingly you all respond. 🧡💛✨

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14

Nine months was honestly less time than you thought it would take to get everything ready to move, especially with Beth and Will’s wedding planning underway. But their wedding was now an entire month ago, and you have unpacked every box in the ‘new’ Tovar farmhouse which is still well over a hundred years old. All of the amenities and utilities are up to date and the contractors had done an amazing job redoing the kitchen prior to your arrival, and Pero’s adventure in building permits and historical society red tape have led to some interesting situations in restoring the thousand-year-old farmhouse that he was born in.

First thing every morning - all four of them that you have been here for - he goes out to the old farmhouse and works from after breakfast until sundown clearing out all the many years’ worth of muck and build up in the place. It had been a barn for centuries, apparently, and then a storage shed, and there are stacks of things inside that require going through before Pero can start in on replacing the roof with an approved, historically-correct thatched one like it had when his parents lived there.

You have been setting up the main house room by room, with the bedroom and the bathrooms coming first, and today you’re tackling the kitchen. The fact that everything is unpacked just means you have towering piles of things on the countertops to find homes for, but you turn on the radio to a local station and get to work. If all goes well, you’ll have things put away and be able to make it into town for groceries to make Pero an actual home cooked dinner for the first time in your new home.

Pero opens the door to the kitchen, sweating and already in search of a drink. Stripping off the thick leather gloves, he walks directly to the refrigerator that he loves and opens the door to grab the carafe of cold water you have taken to keeping in there for him. “It is nearly cleaned out.” He grunts, looking around for a glass. You scolded him when he drank directly from the bottle, so he doesn’t do that anymore.

“Glasses are in the cabinet right next to the fridge,” you tell him, busy on the other side of the kitchen figuring out how to make all of your cookware fit in the open-air shelving. “That was fast, amor. Was it not as bad as we thought?”

“No, it’s bad.” Pero finds a glass and pours it full. Gulping down the liquid in great gulps that seem to echo in the still empty kitchen. “I will have to dig out the flooring— if it’s still there.”

“But the clutter will be out soon, which will be good.” Years of Tetris come in handy when trying to organize cabinets, and you slide the last pot into place before setting your cauldron on the shelf beneath it. The big, cast-iron pot was a gift from Pero and you have every intention of bringing magic back to this home as soon as possible.

“Disgusting.” Pero murmurs, a scowl on his face as he pours a smaller glass. “Using it as a fucking storage building.”

“It will be restored again soon.” You don’t care about sweat or warmth – Valencia’s summers are definitely warm – you wipe your hands and move across the room to hug him. “Your parents would be proud.”

“I hope so.” The area where his mamá had been buried was long since grown over, the plain markers gone. But Pero had cleaned the area up and has plans on marking it with a stone to remember his parents by.

“I’m sure of it.” You would certainly be proud if it was your son returning home after a thousand years to return his homestead to what it once was - you cannot imagine his own mamá is anything less as she looks down on him. “Do you want to walk down to the church later to light a candle for your parents?” According to what you had read, the current stone church in the village was built on the same foundation of the ancient one after it was destroyed sometime in the late Middle Ages, which means it won’t be the same church he was baptized in, but it’s in the same place. “It would be nice to make friends with the priest and see if he will let us look through the old records for your family.”

“Sí.” He knows they have caused a stir, returning and buying the land. But he doesn’t know if any from Arwena and Briac’s brood survived past bearing children or what became of them. It would be good to learn.

“In the meantime…” You give him a concerned look. “Is there anything I can do to help you? I don’t have to do the kitchen today. I can help you in the farmhouse if you want.” Bowie has been at his side all morning, but he isn’t much help with cleaning.

“You do not want to shovel shit and mud out from the house.” Pero shakes his head. “I appreciate it, amor.”

“I would do it if you asked me.” You would do anything he asked you. Even clean through shit and mud. “It’s not like I have a job to go to. I’m at your disposal.” Quitting that god awful office job had been so freeing that you had actually cried. Pure relief at being free to do whatever brought you joy has been a very odd feeling to adjust to.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You do have a job, amor.” He corrects you. “Tinkering with your herbs and setting up your kitchen. That is your job today. Just like mine is going to be making you cum on that countertop when it is clear.”

“I think being a lady of leisure might suit me.” If a life of tinkering and witchcraft and sex is what it has in store? Yes, please.

Pero smirks, more of a leer as he winks at you. “Happy to provide your deepest wishes, amor.” He promises before he sets the glass in the sink. He still hasn’t gotten the hang of a dishwasher and is scared of breaking the delicate glasses in this time.

“You’ve been doing that since the very beginning, amor.” Leaning across the counter to kiss him again, you huff playfully when the knocker on the front door can be heard loud and clear. “Who could that be?” Whoever they are, they’ll be the first people you’ve met since getting here besides the previous owners of the small farm and your contractor.

“I don’t know.” Pero tenses, his hands automatically reaching for the knife that is always on his body unless he is naked with you. He has relaxed quite a bit since coming to this time, but he’s not sure if he will ever not be on guard when surprised. “Do you wish for me to open the door?”

“I’ll get it. Don’t worry.” Any gossip that’s gotten around will say that the newcomers are from America, so you figure you might as well give the people what they’re so curious about.

Pero moves with you, not trusting anyone who calls unannounced so he will be a hulking shadow behind you. A warning to not try anything with his soulmate.

Neither of you is expecting the heart attack that is waiting for you on your doorstep. At the end of the stone path lined by flowers that leads to your little house, right at your front door when you pull it open, stands a cheerful young couple with a covered platter in their hands and curious smiles on their faces. But more remarkable than anything else is the young woman...who is the spitting image of Arwena Tovar. It's all you can do not to exclaim when you open the door, realizing it isn't actually her only by her height - she is a full six inches taller than Arwena, if your memory of the petite girl serves correctly. "I—um—" Shake it off, you tell yourself, realizing you're staring. "Hola." When you can finally get a single word out, more mercifully following. "Qué tal?" Hi. How are you?

Instantly, Pero knows this woman is related to your family. “Mierda.” He whispers, making the stranger’s eyes flicker to him before she offers a friendly smile.

Alana Tovar nods politely. “Buenos días. Queríamos darle la bienvenida a nuestro humilde barrio.” Good day. We wanted to welcome you to our humble neighborhood. If she is shocked to see an American – she can tell by the accent – she doesn’t show it.

"Gracias, gracias..." You feel like you can barely keep your eyes in your head, but you step back and wave the young couple inside as politely and happily as you can. "Entrasteis, por favor. Vos gustaríais una bebida?" Come inside, please. Would you like a drink?

Alana turns to Jorge and nods when he gives a small nod himself. “Sí.” She murmurs before she offers the platter in her hand to you. “Para usted.” For you.

"We speak English." The gangly young man who steps in after the woman offers you and Pero a lopsided smile. Through his thick accent, he sounds almost like sunshine. Chipper, yes, but also warm.

“Then we will speak English.” Pero murmurs, introducing you first. “My wife, and I am Pero Tovar.” He waves them both towards the chairs you had insisted needed to be in the kitchen and starts clearing off the space in front of them.

“Tovar?” The young woman seems to move as gently as a tree bending in the wind. Clutching the platter still in her hands, she stops halfway to the seat she is being offered and sways on the spot. “I am Alana Tovar.” She introduces herself, obviously surprised by the shared name. “This is my partner, Jorge Reyes. We live just across the street.”

Pero nods, already knowing that she must be related due to her looking so much like her ancestor. “Are you from this area?” He asks, looking over at her curiously. It’s amazing the small differences now that she’s closer, but she could be Arwena’s sister.

“Sí.” Alana nods as Jorge takes the platter from her hands and sets it down on the counter. “My family has always lived here. Please…this is for you. A coca de llanda with orange. It is a family recipe…you would call it a kind of cake, I think?”

Just from the name of the cake, Pero’s eyes light up. “It sounds delicious.” Pero tells her immediately. “We must have some. With our drinks. Tea, or coffee?” Coffee has become a beloved drink for Pero despite your love of tea, so there is always both. “We do have ale, too.”

"It is best with coffee." Jorge chimes in, rubbing Alana's shoulders in an act of both pride and encouragement. The young man eyes your Nespresso machine happily, seeing that it is already set up on the counter while you reach into the cabinet above it to retrieve a few cups and plates. "We are curious," he begins, almost like he's unsure if he should ask. "We heard that the people buying the farm were family. But Alana did not know she had any family in the United States."

"Until recently, I did not know I had any family in Spain," you explain, wondering exactly how to tiptoe around the topic. "Of course, my husband was born here."

Pero is ready for the questions, feeling the eyes shift to him. “My family moved around quite a bit when I was younger.” He tells them as if his parents weren’t buried in this very earth less than three hundred yards away. “I have heard stories of family but never met anyone.”

"You are...both Tovars?" Alana has set about cutting slices of the delicious looking cake after you pulled out a knife and forks to go with the plates, but pauses to look between you and Pero.

"Sort of?" Setting up a little assembly line at the Nespresso machine, you start to make drinks for everyone. "We are both descended from the Tovar clan very distantly. Many generations back, we each branched off from the main family tree. I was not born a Tovar at all."

Pero chuckles, wondering what they would say if they knew he was the patriarch of the family and yet not related by blood at all. You are— but that is a different story. “We did not know of the connection when we met.” He explains. “We were just…almas gemelas.” Soulmates.

“So are we.” Jorge boasts, placing his hands on Alana’s shoulders again and puffing up his chest proudly. “I knew the second I saw her. Like…like a fairy tale, no?”

“It is.” Pero grins at you, well aware that your story could be a movie thing that you love making him watch. “The Sassenach and the Spaniard.” He teases, reaching out and squeezing your hip.

"Sassenach?" Alana asks, recognizing the word from her favourite American television show but not knowing why he has said it.

Pero rolls his eyes over to you, smirking. “It means outsider.” He explains. “She called herself that when we met. After insulting me and sparking my interest with her witch’s tongue.”

"He also calls me bruja," you volunteer, laughing about it slightly as you pass out demi cups of espresso. A part of you is curious about just how many witches are even in your family line, but you pass it off as a joke for now. There's no use in raising alarm bells with your neighbors and far-flung cousin right off the bat.

Alana nods knowingly. “If you are a Tovar, that is a part of your charm.” She chuckles. “We come from a long line of brujas, though most of the knowledge is lost.”

"Are you—?" Not expecting her to be so forthcoming, you must look as shocked as you are excited. "Do you...practice magic?"

Jorge’s smile turns a little defensive, a move Pero recognizes instantly. He is not magical, but he is protective of his soulmate. He understands it, even today there is a stigma.

“I have managed to—”

“Cielo.” Jorge whispers, shaking his head warily. You are strangers after all, even if you are distantly related.

"It's okay." You promise him, realizing that there are plenty of people in the world who would judge Alana for the gift she has inherited. From under your shirt, you pull a necklace that bears a pendant with the symbol of the triple goddess stamped in pewter and show it to the younger couple. "I have practiced for a very long time." That is an odd sort of understatement. "You have nothing to fear from us, I promise."

Alana reaches over and lays her hand on top of Jorge’s. “I have a feeling about them.” She promises her soulmate, giving him a look that said more than what her words could.

“We both practice.” Pero offers, although he does not wear the pendant you do. “What is a soulmate bond if not magic? Anyone who will judge for having more is simply stupid.”

"Actually, I have something you might be interested in." Glancing back at Pero, he gives you a nod before stepping aside, knowing what you intend to show this new girl. She reminds the two of you so much of Arwena that he understands your eagerness to share with her, even if he would probably be more guarded by himself. "Not all of our family's knowledge has been lost. And my Spanish is not good enough to be able to read everything in this book. Pero has read through things with me, but you might, well..." You shrug, producing a large box from the cabinet beneath the open shelves where you had been storing cookware not twenty minutes ago. "This belonged to my grandmother, and she left it to me."

The gasp Alana let’s is overshadowed by the sound of breaking porcelain. “Mierda!” She hisses, jumping up from where she had dropped her coffee cup and shattered it on the ground. “I am so sorry! perdóname!” Forgive me!

"Está bien. Calmate." It's okay. Take it easy. Though you hadn't necessarily expected that big of a reaction, you can absolutely understand it. Pero jumps forward to clean up the broken cup and you put your hand on Alana's arm in reassurance. "I do not believe in coincidences anymore," you tell her and Jorge honestly. "Everything that has happened in my life has happened for a reason. So perhaps one of the reasons I have this is to be able to share it with you."

“I have—that book.” Alana is emotional and nearly tearing up. “I have heard stories about the book my entire life.” She explains. “My mother told me that the book was not shared anymore because one side of the family traveled away. But that it would come home someday.”

"I looked into my ancestry." The grimoire is heavy and delicate, but you lift it from the box and set it on the clear counter with care. "My branch of the family left Spain hundreds of years ago and has traveled extensively. So there is more than just English and Spanish written here, but...it is all our family."

“You did not keep the Tovar name?” She asks, curious as to how your ancestors worked. “On my side, there is a tradition if it was the last daughter, the soulmate would take the name Tovar.” She tilts her head. “Although your family kept the tradition of naming a girl after the original soulmates.” She hums turning Pero. “As did your parents. There is a generation of boys and girls with your names in our family for as long as I can remember. I was upset as a little girl that my sister had your name.” She gives a quiet laugh and shrugs. “But Alana suits me.”

“A—a tradition?” Trying not to seem overly gobsmacked, you can’t help the wonder in your eyes as you reach for Pero’s hand and hold on tight. “I had no idea…” How could you be so entirely clueless as to these traditions and yet be at the very center of them? There are swaths of boys and girls in your family named after you and Pero and yet you had no clue. “My mother kept me entirely separate from our family. She…she believes magic is dangerous. But I think it is a miracle.”

“She must have believed at some point.” Alana’s heart hurts at the idea of being kept separate from her family and she reaches out to clasp your hand over the cover of the grimoire. “Otherwise you would not bear our ancestor’s name. The stories say she was a powerful bruja. Her and her soulmate.” She bites her lip. “I have the history of our family, the ones who stayed in Spain – if you would like to see it.”

“Oh yes.” Nodding immediately, you place your other hand on hers and squeeze gently. Reassuringly. “We would love to see that. A-and…to hear the stories? If you know them?”

Jorge chuckles, making Alana fluster. “My soulmate loves collecting stories about the family.” He promises, reaching over and rubbing her shoulder affectionately. “She will talk about it all day.”

“We would love to hear them,” you promise her, water rising slightly behind your eyes as you look up at Pero. To think that Arwena and Briac founded an entire family line – a proud one that still exists in multiple forms to this day – is both mind boggling and somehow unsurprising. As if their love had reached through time and twined your family together all on its own. “Any time you would like to come over and look through the book and tell stories. Please…we are family.”

“I was curious and happy when I leaned a Tovar had purchased the property.” Alana admits with a smile. “We had wished we had been able to afford it, but this better.”

“We were meant to be brought together; I think.” She truly looks so much like Arwena that you just want to reach out and hug her, but that intimacy must be built first. Something tells you it will not take long, but it is still best to give it time. “I will make another coffee and we can sit together? Share stories? The grimoire has many of them. And perhaps if we sit long enough our cat will come out of hiding to say hello.”

“Cat?” Alana perks up and smiles. “Have you found another one? There are so many running around the properties.”

“We found a few living in the old farmhouse.” It had not thrilled Pero at the time, but a stray black cat is a thing close to your heart so he had just huffed and shooed them out - only to put water and food out for them by your back door later on. “We also brought our cat from the US. Bowie is around here somewhere.” Probably mousing, as he has already discovered plenty of prey to chase. Or else exploring his new home.

“We have always found black cats around the property. My abuela said that the familiar of your namesake became her daughter’s and they are all descendant from her. Binx.” Alana chuckles. “My own cat is named Binx.”

“They’re all from Binx?” The few seconds you take to steady yourself while reaching for a new cup and saucer from the cupboard isn’t nearly enough, but it allows you to share a loaded glance with Pero. “The original soulmates…” you ask when you turn back around. “Do the stories say what powers they had?”

“She had the power of fire, healing.” Alana smiles dreamily. “She saved Pero’s life. He was a warrior and fiercely protective over his bruja when he learned who she was to him.” It’s a story that is often told at family gatherings like weddings, so she is very familiar with her favorite love story. “He was different. He had no magic before her, but he learned. He could move things through the air. And—” She gives a small laugh. “You will say it is crazy, but the legend says they could travel through time.”

“Oh my god…” This time it’s you who drops the dainty cup from your hand, but it clatters onto the counter with no harm done as you reach for Pero beside you.

“Did you— have you heard a version of this?” She asks excitedly, leaning forward with hope shining in her eyes. “Isn’t it romantic? The story my abuela told me was that Pero learned magic so he could follow her. She was sick – unable to be healed and went to a time where she could be saved and he followed when he learned how.” She sighs softly and reaches for Jorge’s hand. “The story is told every time someone gets married in our family.”

“Every time?” You look up at Pero in wonder, wrapping your arms around him before looking back at Alana. “Do the stories say what time she traveled to? By any chance?”

Pero crushes you to him, overwhelmed by the realization that the two of you have been immortalized into this family’s legends. Stories are told to little ones, much like he had been told as a child. His breath catches and he blinks several times, his eyes wet. The two of you may have never had children together, but you are the matriarch of generations.

“That part gets complex.” Alana huffs. “No one can decide. Some say they lived in the 20’s but I believe they must have still be yet to come. How else would she be able to be saved if not for modern or future medicine?”

“I suppose it depends on what she was sick with.” The way you and Pero are holding on to each other is like you’re clinging to a lifesaver in the middle of the ocean. “But that is…it’s not so unbelievable, is it? If magic is real, then surely anything is possible?”

Alana contemplates that and nods. “You are right. I wish I could know what it was like, what they were like. It must have been amazing.”

“I think it must have been very scary.” Terrifying, in fact, but you don’t know how these two sweet young people would react to knowing that it’s you they have been hearing about for so long. “Imagine being stuck out of your own time like that.”

“So you think that it is true? That she was a time traveler?” Alana smiles happily, having been met with disbelief if she talked about it with people outside the family. “Then if he followed her, he would be outside of his own time.”

“Yes…he would.” You look up at Pero again and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “And think how happy he would be to come home again.”

It takes her a moment. A long pause as Alana thinks about your words before there is a small, but poignant inhale from the younger woman. Her eyes are bright and shiny, and she nods knowingly. “Yes, I think that it is beautiful.”

“It would be nice if it could happen.” Jorge concedes, shifting in his seat beside his soulmate. He sees the happiness in her eyes but knows how attached to the love story of her ancestors she is. “But I would be overwhelmed, I think, if I were him. A whole modern world? Qué terrible.” How terrible.

“It is not that bad.” Pero huffs under his breath. “This time has indoor plumbing and ice cream.”

It takes a second, but Jorge’s eyes slowly move up to Pero’s in shock. “You mean…?” He croaks, fingers digging into Alana’s shoulders. “Dios mio, it’s true?”

The cat seems to be out of the bag, so Pero sees no harm in admitting it. He turns towards you, his frown would seem harsh if it weren’t for the softness in his eyes. “I would have torn time apart to be with my bruja again.”

“Te amo.” The words are soft in spite of your fierce pride in him, and you angle your chin up to kiss him before turning back to Alana and Jorge. “If you require proof, I understand.” Honestly, it would be insane for them not to. “The box on the end of the counter? That is my handwriting on the outside. Compare it to the first dozen-ish pages of the grimoire.”

“It is—” Alana nearly leaps off her seat at the counter to compare the writing. Not because she doesn’t believe you, but because she wants to.

Jorge is half a breath behind her, dragging over the box bearing your list of items inside written neatly on one of the flaps. It was how you kept organized during packing. “It is identical…”

Pero hums, knowing that they will want to see proof that he is who he says he is, so he turns and walks out of the kitchen, making his way to the safe that contains the clothes that you and he arrived in this time in.

“It’s true that he saved my life.” You tell the younger couple as Pero makes his way to the basement to retrieve his proof. “When I arrived at the hospital in this time, the doctors said another day or two might have been too long.”

“Is it true that he could not come with you? That he had to learn magic to follow you here?” Completely enthralled, Alana has a million questions for you. “I— this is rude, no? Asking you this? You do not have to answer if you wish.”

"It's okay." It's actually a relief, in some odd way. To meet family that you can share this part of your life with. To be connected to Arwena and Briac again, even a thousand years apart. "You can ask. If I'm able to answer, I will." The slices of cake and cups of coffee sitting on the counter have been neglected but you pick up your fork, deciding that food and drink makes everything a little more palatable. Socially, at least. "Yes, it's true that he had to learn magic to follow me. He spent a year learning before he traveled back to the Stones to follow me through history."

“Oh my god, it’s true.” Alana squeals, clearly overjoyed to learn that the stories that she had heard growing up were true. “I— how long has he been here? How long were you there?”

"I was there for eight years." Your first bite of Alana's torta is shatteringly good, and you muffle a groan while you chew. If this is a family recipe, you want to go back to whoever made it first and thank them personally. "He's been here for...almost a year now. Alana, this torta is amazing."

She beams, smiling happily under your praise and picking up the newly made coffee to take the first sip. “I will have to give you the recipe, unless you created it too?”

"No, your baking is far better than mine." Although you will definitely do your best to replicate this one. It's sensational. "Sugar still hadn't come to Europe then. Pero's discovery of sugar and chocolate has been a lot of fun for him."

“It is the best.” He groans as he comes into the kitchen again, the clothes and armor on his body rather than just showing them. “But I am getting fat.” There had been a snugness to his armor that wasn’t there before.

"I have a feeling that fixing up the old farmhouse will be plenty of exercise." Still, you can't help but smile at the sight of him in his armour. The lopsided expression on your face is both fond and soft. "There's my mercenary."

Pero turns towards the couple and sees their eyes widen. “This is what I am used to wearing. Spending my days on a horse and fighting for coins.”

"Increíble..." Jorge stands from his seat, jaw nearly on the ground as he gravitates closer to Pero with an eye toward inspecting his armor. "Like you just stepped out of a movie..."

“Movie. Yes, I know what that is.” Pero nods, nodding towards the man to let him touch the armor. “This is real, that – the strategy is shit in those movies. No one risks their ass like they show in them.”

"That's how he looked when he dropped off his horse onto my doorstep, near dead with tuberculosis." You tell Alana, shaking your head with the kind of fondness that only time and distance can give a memory. "We saved each other. First him, and then me."

“How did he save you?” Jorge questions, looking up from the armor before he rolls his eyes at himself. “Of course. He sent you back. How did he do that without magic? How did you travel through time?” That has been his burning question whenever Alana would talk about it.

"This is going to sound ludicrous." Telling the story from the outside really does feel a bit crazy, but you shrug slightly when Alana and Jorge both look at you expectantly. "But have you ever seen the show Outlander? Or read the books?"

“Don’t—” Alana gasps, covering her mouth and shaking her head in disbelief. “Do not tell me that is real!” She all but squeaks out her comment and Jorge laughs.

“She loves Outlander.” He confides. “Thinks the Jamey guy is…hot.”

"Last October I went to Inverness with my best friend to see the Stones at Craigh na Dun." You can't help but laugh, realizing in retrospect how silly the whole thing sounds. "I was gone for eight years, but to my friend it was only a few minutes."

“A few minutes…” Jorge shakes his head. Alana looks just as dumbfounded. “This is amazing.”

"And I will never regret it, because it led me to Pero." His hand reaches for yours at the same time you put your hand out to him and you link your fingers together tightly. "But I cannot safely say that anyone should ever try to travel through the Stones. You have no idea when you will arrive in time and when you get to wherever it is you are sent, you could be in immediate and very grave danger. It is...more than I bargained for. I'm just lucky that it turned out well for me."

“If it is not too rude…” Alana twists her hands together. “Is that why— your scar. Did you have it before you went back?” She asks, wondering if it’s a sensitive topic for you. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

"I got it while I was there." You nod slightly, fingers tangled in Pero's tightening slightly. "Before I met Pero. There was...a man that thought he could take advantage of me. He was very wrong."

“Bastard.” One thousand years dead and it still would not be enough for Pero. If he could be certain where the man’s grave was, he would piss on it. “My bruja managed to defend herself, and give me a scar that made me even more fearsome on the battlefield.” He sounds proud because he is proud of you.

"An example of why I would never recommend that anyone travel through the Stones." Beyond the scar and the loss of sight aside, the assault that you had endured was reason enough to caution anyone and everyone against putting themselves in that position. "Best to stay safe, well-fed, and cared for on this side of the timeline."

“I am so sorry.” Alana murmurs, looking horrified by the idea that someone would hurt you. “Hopefully he got his just rewards.”

“He got what he deserved.” You nod solemnly, looking back to Pero. “My husband made sure of that.”

There is a moment where Alana and Jorge just stare at Pero, in awe of what he must have done to put the terrifying look of grim satisfaction on his face. Alana ducks her head. “I am sorry for bringing up painful memories. My – curiosidad – it gets the best of me.”

“Things are better now.” You put one hand softly on Alana’s shoulder and offer her a smile. “To be able to return here, and to see what our family has become? That is worth everything.”

Jorge frowns. “Wait…if you were only there for eight years…did you leave your children behind?” He asks, confused about how they can be Tovars and still have created this legacy in such a short time.

“Your ancestors are a young couple named Arwena and Briac.” If Alana knows so much family history, she may already know this, but you tell her anyway. “They were soulmates, and Wena’s father forbade them from being together. But…we helped them. Briac learned to wield a sword and farm the land from Pero, and I taught Wena to read and write and wield magic. They…became our children, without ever any intention of the thing. When the night came that they needed to run away together, we packed up and left the village with them. From then on, we were a family.” Talking about them brings a wave of nostalgia you hadn’t been expecting and you wipe a tear from your eye. “You look exactly like her,” you tell Alana. “I knew you had to be family the second I saw you.”

“I do?” Alana very nearly tears up at the idea and reaches up to touch her own face. “Is that why you looked shocked when you opened the door? I look like the original Arwena Tovar?”

“You’re taller, but that’s the only real difference.” It’s sweet, how dearly Alana seems to take that fact to heart, and you nod. “It’s probably why I felt we could tell you all of this so easily. You just…you look so much like her I couldn’t imagine that that could have happened by accident.”

“I promise this will not be a tale that I spread.” Alana assures you, not wanting you to be wary of her spreading your story and perhaps having people look at you as if you are crazy.

“Thank you.” You didn’t think that she would, but it’s nice to hear the confirmation aloud. “I am, actually, your distant cousin,” you explain. “I’m also descended from Arwena and Briac. Just…a different branch of the family.”

“The side that apparently went to America.” Alana shakes her head, amazed at how the family has branched. “It’s amazing. A paradox. You are the matriarch and yet you are the descendant.”

“I don’t quite understand it myself.” It’s all too grand and smacks of too much consequence, and every time you think about it too much you reach a point where you start to get wrapped up in it like it’s the plot of a fantasy novel instead of your actual life. “But…all of it led me to Pero. And that’s more than I ever could have asked for.”

“I cannot believe that your soulmate is from a different time than you.” Jorge exclaims, unable to deny that is what you are because of the matching scars over your eyes.

“We usually say that we met while I was on that vacation in Scotland.” Pero chuckles into his sip of espresso when you say it and you shrug slightly. “It’s not like we can tell most people what really happened.”

“She tells people I am…” Pero looks to you when he cannot remember the word. “Antisocial.” He huffs, smug that he remembered it.

Alana and Jorge choke on this revelation for a minute before busting out in a fit of smothered laughter that makes even you giggle. “It’s true, amor. You are most of the time. But you love your family.”

“I do not trust anyone but family.” He corrects, frowning at your judgement of his character.

“Social expectations have changed in a thousand years, that’s all.” Alana points out. “And being able to trust your family is not always automatic. We are lucky to be able to trust each other so quickly.”

“I do not understand why.” Pero shakes his head. “Family should be the ones that you trust most. They are…family.”

You know he’s right, in many ways, but explaining to him that your mother would never accept the truth about who he is and when he is from – that she would probably try to have both of you committed if you told her the truth – had been a very long conversation. Of course he trusted you to know best, but he didn’t like the idea that you could not fully trust your parents to support you.

Pero moves over towards you and his hands slip around your waist, his lips kissing the juncture of your neck and shoulder softly. “I will change back.”

“Be comfortable, amor.” You nod slightly, knowing he will feel the movement next to his head. “I know that tunic cannot be more comfortable than your t-shirts. My sewing was never that good.”

He chuckles quietly and can’t deny that modern clothes are more comfortable. Less itchy than the ones from his time. “I will be back.”

“So what about you two?” Turning back to Alana and Jorge, you feel the slight loss of no longer having Pero at your side, knowing he will be back quickly. Taking off armor never takes as long as putting it on. “What do you do? How did you meet?”

Jorge smirks, his own pride for his soulmate evident on his face. “University.” He explains. “We were taking a class together.”

“I still do not know how we managed to pass,” Alana laughs, sending him a gentle, fond smile. “We did not exactly study.”

“It is not an exciting story, but it was almost as if we knew right away.” Jorge boasts. “The connection, I mean. It – it is beautiful.”

“Every love story is exciting in its own way.” And really, yours is not for everyone. “It is a new beginning. The start of a life together. That is its own kind of adventure.”

“How is he handling it?” Jorge asks, imagining that despite the advantages of this time, the other man must be having moments where he struggles to understand the world he lives in now.

“There are always new challenges,” you admit, wishing as always that you could simply smooth the path that Pero walks in this time. But you know you cannot do everything for him, and he doesn’t want you to. That doesn’t stop you from wishing you could take away the things that make him unhappy. “It will do him good to have friends here. Family. People he can be his true self with. And…more than anything, I think coming home again will be good for him. The barn out there? Or, what is now a barn? That is the house he was born in.”

"That was the house?" Alana's eyes go comically wide, and she whips her head to the side to look out the window that overlooks the stone structure. "That is – it is a thousand years old and is the house that your soulmate was born in? The one where Arwena and Briac lived and raised their children in?"

“Yes.” You can’t help but chuckle a little at how excited all of this makes her, and you’ll admit that a good portion of it is some kind of relief. It had been a worry of yours that making friends here might be difficult – but clearly the opposite was destined to be true.

"That is – wow – amazing." She lets out a chirp of happiness and looks back out the window again. "He has been working out there. Is he – will he turn it back into what he knew it as?"

“He even applied for the permits we need to restore the thatched roof and stone floor.” It is a particular point of pride for you, that Pero is working so hard to restore his childhood home. He’s working so hard and you could not be happier for him.

"Wow." Now it is Jorge's turn to be impressed and he nods. "I will ask if he needs help." He decides, looking eager at the prospect of learning techniques from a thousand years ago. "It would be beautiful to see a perfect example of how a home from that time would be set up."

“Jorge studied architecture.” Alana tells you, her own pride evident in her voice. “You should see the castles he designs and builds for Binx. They are spectacular.”

“You build castles?” Pero steps back into the kitchen, his brow arched high, and he is very interested in the other man’s skills. The fireplace in the old home has been removed and he wants to rebuild it. “They are still being used in this time?”

“For our cat.” Jorge laughs, slightly embarrassed at the mix-up. “Towers for her to climb and scratch shaped like castles. But I build other things. And design them.”

“Alana was saying that Jorge studied architecture,” you explain.

“And I am a builder.” The younger man nods. “Whatever help you need in restoring your home, it would be an honor to help you.”

Pero rubs his jaw, nodding to himself slightly. “I need to rebuild the hearth.” He tells the younger man. “Some bastard ripped it out and boarded over it. Do you want to look?” He offers, knowing that someone who builds for a living might be a good thing since the bastards to tell you what you can and cannot do with your own property have pissed him off several times.

“Absolutely.” Jorge nods and drops a kiss on the top of Alana’s head before hopping off of his stool at the kitchen counter.

“I’m going to show Alana the grimoire,” you tell them, glad to see Pero making a friend so easily. You’re certainly not going to get in the way of it, especially not when Jorge is practically family. “Come in when you get hungry and maybe we can share supper together tonight?”

Pero nods and moves over to kiss you again. “Do you wish for me to start the fire outside?” He asks, knowing that he had planned on roasting some meat you had bought from the grocery store. While it was not the same as wild game, it was still delicious. “Or do you wish to do something else?”

“No, we can cook outside.” One kiss is never enough, and you steal another easily. “We have plenty enough for four, and we can show Alana and Jorge how we used to do things. It will be perfect.” To not have to hide, or to lie, or to pretend at all is a great gift that you did not think you would ever be given in this part of your life. But as always, as if some wonderful force of the universe is looking out for you – you have gotten the blessing that you needed in spite of undertaking something scary. Whatever else comes during your life in Spain, you have Pero at your side and family to spend time with. There is nothing more you could want.

______

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[juicefield]

Meyp Skxawng Neteyam X Avatar!Reader: Part 1

A/N: I included the epilogue in this post so I could just delete the last post. Neteyam is 20 in this and there will be no NSFW content in this fic. It is not set in the far future as I reference bits of culture from the 2000s (mostly because this fic is essentially about culture, Na'vi and human and how they clash with each other and unfortunately I don't know about human culture in 2170 so I just used stuff from our time). Also this is set in high camp. I love the Metkayina, but I've always loved the forests of Pandora since I was young.

Although the writing in this fanfiction is my own, I do not claim any ownership of Avatar, Avatar: The Way of Water, or any of the subsequent medias. All rights go to James Cameron and the producers.

You can find the other parts here:

Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Synopsis: Today is your twentieth birthday on Pandora. You look back on your life in reflection as you think about the future and your place on her.

Neteyam X Fem!Avatar!Reader 6.6k 1st person POV

The Na'vi say that every person is born twice. The second time is when you earn your place among The People... forever.

A tired yet youthful Jake Sully, now known as Jake Tsyeyk te Suli  or the mighty Toruk Makto, droned on from the blue tinted computer screen staring back at me. Once again, I found myself watching the videos he left behind. I know I shouldn't torture myself, that this fantasy I've had since I was a child was nothing but that... just a fantasy. I could never get the second chance he got all those years ago. I’ve spent years living vicariously through him and his video logs; imagining that I had become one with The People like him. I knew it was childish, but that certainly didn't stop me from dreaming about it. 

The more I watched his videos, and Grace's videos, the more I longed to see this world that I find myself stuck in. That mystical magical world that was closed off from me, just outside, so close yet so far. However, I couldn't be like Spider, my strange adopted "semi-sibling" and run around like a chicken with its head cut off (this was a line straight from Norm, as I have never even eaten chicken let alone seen one), awkward and slow next to the lithe natives. I fiddled with a small puzzle Norm had brought from the old world as I listened to Jake's voice. It was a rare treat and one of the things I had as a child that was almost like a toy. Of course at this point I knew how to solve it faster than I could blink practically. As I sit there and continuously slide the locking mechanism in and out I become briefly distracted from the monitor as I feel the ridges of the plastic puzzle. It felt weird to have the thought that Spider was my brother. He certainly never acted like he cared about me much, always opting to hang with the Sullys. However, I know that he feels a certain camaraderie with me due to our similar afflictions. The affliction in question being our shared blood, vrrtep reypay, or "demom blood" flows through both of us. Unlike Spider, however, there was something that afflicted me and me alone in this new world.

The sickness. Norm and Max weren’t sure what it was, but they knew for certain it was some sort of genetic thing. Some thing that my parents had carried in both of them. "Thing". It was easier to call it a thing, easier for me to compartmentalize that way. Easier to tuck away the pain and suffering in a neat corner of my mind. It affected me in different ways. From my joints to my stomach to my legs, my body was simply weak. Back when I was willing to try reaching out to the other children, Na'vi children, I would always get made fun of for being a weak human, so once my legs started to give out on me at the age of 8 I officially swore off having "friends".

"Meyp skxawng."  A little girl muttered under her breath after my legs gave out while splashing in a pool in the cave system. Her name was Txeyu. She was one of the Na'vi that lived the closest to the labs in the back of the cave system, also about one of three friends that I had besides Norm and Max. She was one of the only Na'vi children that would hang around me, but as my legs worsened I could feel her getting agitated everytime I couldn’t keep up as we played. 

"Sorry,"  The apology that exited my mouth was out before I could even stop to think what I actually did wrong. Pulling myself up from the awkward position I was in after I had slipped and fallen to the floor I continued. "Sometimes my legs don't work so well… I mean, even for a human." The last word came out strained like if I said it loudly then everyone would suddenly realize I was an alien and demand to throw me out of camp. I knew of course that humans had the protection of Jake Sully. Realistically that could never happen, but many of the Na'vi were not accepting of our place in the clan. It had been long ago that I learned shame for being human but I remember this memory as the time I learned to be ashamed of being disabled. When I looked up there was this distinct look on the Na'vi's face. A strange mix of pity and disgust that left a pit in my stomach. The slope of her eyes and the curl of her lip are often in my dreams, haunting me. I will never forget them from that day. With tears stinging my eyes I politely excused myself and threw myself into Norm’s arms as soon as I found him. Even though I hadn't known what the words at the time meant I knew exactly what her face had meant. I was a blubbering mess and after that I wasn't allowed to play with Txeyu (or at least Norm had told me that, for my peace of mind so I wouldn’t seek her out) and I swore that I didn't need friends. 

To be fair to Txeyu, I was a weak moron. Confirmed by not only my weak body, but also my inability to stop watching the videos that the two most revered sky people had left behind. Grace was my source of entertainment since I was a child because  the humans were not concerned with bringing old world media with them to Pandora. Mostly because coming to Pandora they had not thought of babies being born in the new world, had not thought of the culture left behind. Had not thought of the difficulty these children would have with their identity, knowing almost nothing of the new world or the old. Many people had brought things with them but most cultural items had been taken by the sky people when they left. And yes, Norm and Max told me all about Earth and about movies and music and art along with the small amount of stuff they could recover from the old lab but it was nothing, nothing, compared to the real thing. To have a sense of community with people who have shared experiences, to have people that you belong to. The very thing that makes people human, or maybe not human, but the thing that is important to all life that holds empathy. 

Empathy. That, I thought, was the similarity humans had with the Na'vi. They both had empathy. What separated them, however, was more important... greed, yes, the humans were greedy despite their sympathy. I had learned as a girl that the two were not exclusive. I knew it was true in the way I wished to be Jake, in the way I longed for a world I didn't belong to. Knew that even I, a human that can hardly be called human, is not spared from this defining characteristic of greed. Unfortunately I would never get a second chance, another body, like Jake did.

I accepted this fact when I was a mere twelve years old, a particularly hard year for me. I started my menstruation cycle with only Norm and Max to comfort me. There were other women at the base, but none close enough to me for me to celebrate in the joy of womanhood. I would have turned to Kiri, but luckily for her she doesn’t have an aunt flow, like all Na'vi. What a lucky bitch. I had started bleeding and had been in the bathroom panic stricken because my first thought was that the sickness was getting worse, that the pain I felt was finally going to bleed me out and kill me. As I silently wept I accidentally knocked over the trash bin in my room. Norm had come to the door, knocking softly thrice he announced himself.

"Hey... you good in there? You've been in there a while and I heard something fall." Hot tears were stinging my eyes and I was breathing heavily, like there was a giant boulder on my chest. Hey, maybe this was one of those panic attacks I read about in the encyclopedias of Medicine and Psychology I had read? I had always been a curious child, learning as much as I could to stave off boredom. There had been a few precious fiction books left behind by the scientists before I. Please dear Eywa (I had felt embarrassed at the time to ask Eywa for help), please help me remember that boring book I prayed all while frantically trying to calm down enough for the memory to surface. Breathe. I had to breathe in and out. I've got this, I mean I'm totally dying, but I've definitely got a handle on this. Compartmentalize. Yes, I distinctly remember the book talking about breathing and slow breaths from the diaphragm, for sure, definitely... Just as I finally started to get a grip and calm down Norm knocked again.

"Come on, seriously you're freaking me out here." Well shit. I didn't get it together fast enough. I gathered myself as best I could, focusing on the cool steel below my fingertips.

"Norm, I think I might be dying." I said trying to project my tired and scared voice through the bathroom door. 

"WHAT? OH MY GOD. Shit... shit! What's wrong? What do you mean? Let me in. Please, open the door." I could hear the panic laced in his voice. The handle on the door rattled as Norm tried to enter the bathroom. 

"Stop!" I commanded "Hold on. I'm-I'm bleeding."

"Oh sweet Jesus open the door." Norm said and the door handle rattled so hard that I thought the lanky scientist might break it.

"It's... coming from down there. Don't come in, it's embarrassing!" I lamented. The quiver in my voice made Norm immediately understand.

"Oh... sweetheart that's not... um, you're, uh, not going to die. Just... clean yourself up in the bath. I'll get you clothes and then me and Max need to have a talk with you." I tilted my head at that, a million questions running through my mind. Did he know what was going on? Why did he seem so relieved? This was horrible! But, I did as was told and waited outside, fidgeting nervously.

And that my friends, is the story of my very first lesson from Norm and Max about the wonders of womanhood. Oh what a joy it was. Of course, they had been severely awkward with it. Max was slightly better, mostly because he had had sisters back on Earth so he actually knew how to use a pad. Ah pads, I think wistfully. I remember them. They were absolutely wonderful. Of course they all ran out by the time I was fifteen. Nowadays I use reusable cotton pads. Not bad, but they were a pain in the ass to make and I always seemed to lose them in the wash. Luckily, Norm is a softie, so I often convince him to help me make them with the promise of my special pancakes made from wheat bread ration. Of course, I'd always been able to get Norm to practically do anything. Partly because of my sickness and the fact that I was his little girl helped. All I had to do was say I was having a bad day and give him the eyes and bingo, my lovely full day of pad making was now cut in half. Success! Max, however, is not as easily swayed; he had always been the more logical and sensible one. I later asked them why they hadn't warned me in advance about periods. I remember laughing when Norm bashfully rubbed his neck and admitted that they simply hadn't thought about it before now.

That was how it has always been. Max was the voice of reason, the one who reminds me to eat when I need to and reminds Norm that I am stronger than I look. I appreciate him more than I even thought possible. Norm was more of the doting type, almost motherly in his spoiling of me. Always letting me a little further, a little longer than necessary in the few times that I was able to take an oxygen mask and run around by the cave as a young kid. Between the two of them I was in good hands. My mother wouldn't have left me with them when she died if they weren't worthy. And so I became their daughter. I don't call either of them dad or father or anything like that but I know that they’re my parents. I love them so, so dearly. Even when Norm ate the last chocolate bar when I was eight. Incidentally this was not long after the Txeyu situation, eight was a hard year too! A portal to hell opened in the lab that day; my sobbing was louder than the banshees on the Hallelujah mountains.

I sigh and sit the puzzle down on my desk. This was my reality lately. All I seemed to be able to do was think about the past. Perhaps because I finally realized I have no future here. There was nothing for me here, nothing except Max and Norm (and Jake, I suppose, but his visits were few and far between and he always seemed a little uncomfortable around me). When they're gone I would have nothing, be nothing. I mean sure I had friends, two to be exact, and one very annoying close acquaintance. Kiri and Tuk were the former and Lo'ak was the latter. He had recently been demoted from best friend status after breaking one of my only CDs (of course jazz CDs were some of the only music to be left behind when everyone left), even after I had told him to be careful with it when putting it in the player. 

The Suli children were the only link I had to the outside world at this point. They had become my friends purely by accident. It happened when Jake was coming to visit Norm and Max to discuss a raid. Lo'ak and Kiri had followed him, no doubt a scheme cooked up by Lo'ak and of course Kiri went along with it. They had been curious where their father ran off to every few weeks despite their mother looking irritated every time he left, promising her that it wouldn’t be long and that he'd be home before dinner. Neteyam had tried to stop them but they lost him by the retired elders hut, slipping away when he wasn't paying them express attention and was answering a question about his training posed by a well-respected elder.

On that fateful day I had actually been outside the caves for once, with Norm watching me from afar to make sure my mask was on and I was walking well enough on my own. I remember looking up at Jake, smiling, and saying hello to the friendly giant (hey, he was friendly to me). He greeted me in english then headed for the door. Behind the bushes near the cave entrance were two meddlesome ten year olds with their jaws practically on the floor. They had never seen a sky person that was so small except Spider, they guessed I must be a child too!

"Lo'ak look! I didn't know that any sky people children live here besides Spider." Kiri said, pointing to my small figure that was about fifteen meters away from them, oblivious to the eyes watching me as I picked a small bouquet of wild flowers to put in my room. 

"Yeah. But, what the hell is wrong with her legs??" Lo'ak said loudly before Kiri elbowed him in the gut. I had heard his voice that time, strange and in a language I didn't understand yet so I stood quickly as panic set in. 

"Hello? Who is there? Jake Sully is here, so you can't hurt me! He's Toruk Makto and he'll protect me!" I called out to them as the flower I was holding fell down at my side. Kiri and Lo'ak simply looked at each other, astonished that I was speaking at all, but especially since I knew their father’s title.

"Hello." I heard a deeply accented voice respond back to me in english. My eyebrows shot up when I heard it. I knew right away that it was coming from a Na'vi child. The accent was unmistakably inhuman. Not to say it was bad sounding, in fact I had always found the native accent to be beautiful. It was just different than the way humans spoke.

"Um.... who are you? Can you come out now? You're scaring me." I said to the bush that was now in front of me. I made my way over to them while they argued about whether it was a good idea to come out or not. I watched as a blue head popped out from behind the bush. I couldn't help the gasp that came out of my mouth at the sight of a little boy around my age.

"I am Kiri and this is Lo'ak." Kiri responded to me as she came fully out of the bush from behind Lo’ak, a hand wrapped around Lo'ak's forearm pulling him along. "Jake Suli is our father." My eyes widened in surprise as I suddenly felt embarrassed to have used Jake as a threat. I made my way over to them slowly, wincing when my ankle twisted slightly to the right. 

"Oh... uh-hi. My name is (Y/N). Mr. Sully told me about you... I met Kiri before but we were both babies, right after she came out of Grace… so I don't remember, I'm sorry!" I was completely unsure of what to say. Goddamnit why did I have to mention Grace? The only company I ever kept were Norm and Max with the occasional visit from the other sky people and the scarily limited friends I had as a toddler and young child. I knew, of course, through Grace's videos and Norms education of the Na'vi (specifically the Omaticayans) to be respectful in my language and not to use figures of speech. 

"The Na'vi have an extraordinary understanding of the English language already. They learn faster than my team can seem to teach them. Fortunately for them, our pronunciation is a lot less important than their language. Unfortunately for us that means a lot more of them understand us then the other way around. The only way to talk in secret around them is to use figures of speech. Unfortunately they may find this rather offensive if they call you out on it, especially when you accidentally call one of the clans best a brown noser. God, I had a hell of a time explaining that one to them."  I remember that video log with great fondness. I had only watched it a week prior for the first time after Norm finally gave approval for me to watch some of the video logs that were more personal to Grace, rather than the usual educational ones (also the ones in which she was drunk). The new blue people in front of me just stared at me with wide eyes. They could not believe I was being so bold for such a tiny thing. Finally the girl shifted and flicked her brother with her tail, breaking him out of the trance he was in. 

"Well... do you wanna play with us?" Was the only thing Lo'ak could think of to say. I shifted nervously. I hadn't played with any Na’vi since the incident with Txeyu. As I picked nervously at the dirt under my nails I let out a short sigh.

"I'm not allowed to play with you guys I think?" It came out as more of a question than a statement. These were Jake's kids, so maybe Norm would be fine with it? Plus, I noticed as they both deflated and started fidgeting with their jewelry and hair that they have hands like Norms avatar body, so that means they're like me! They also have demon blood, so they could understand me, maybe. Just as they turned around to leave after waving goodbye I called out to them. 

"Actually, I think Max and Norm would be okay. If it's Jake's kids. He's a good guy so you guys must be too!" I cringe remembering my naivety. Luckily I was correct, they were "good guys"... and we have been good friends for years now… except when they break my things! I sighed and walked over to the mangled remains of my precious jazz CD. I had already tried gluing the pieces back together. CDs really didn't work that way though, so I tried recording myself singing the songs but I could never sing the way the woman on the CD did so eventually I just gave up. Luckily this gave me the genius idea to record all the remaining CDs I had in case another unfortunate alien boy decided to jam a damn disk into the computer halfway before closing it and breaking it in half!

As I flopped down onto the chair beside my desk I played Beethoven's String Quartet no. 14, 1st Movement to try to quiet my mind. I know from Norm and Max that classical music was one of the least popular genres from Earth but I always had a fascination with it. Not that there was really a choice when I had 5 CDs to my name. Crap. 4 CDs to my name. Beethoven's greatest symphonies, Etta James's At Last (previously, Rest In Peace Etta), Metallica's Black album or 5th album (I wasn't as much of a fan now, but I had some really cathartic times with that album when I was an angsty 13 year old), a burned CD titled "2005 Car Mix" with a variety of pop songs, and a guided sleep meditation music CD (I had never gotten bored enough to actually sit down and attempt to meditate with it) were the musical companions in my life. 

The only exception were occasions when the clan had a large festival or feast and I could hear the sounds of the Omaticayans singing and chanting. Those were always my favorite nights. I would often sit and weave something while I listened to hundreds of voices commune with Eywa, to celebrate a new life or one just ending. That’s one of the only past times I have that I really enjoy. Sometimes I even hum along, pretending that I was a member of the clan. I could almost smell the earthen musk that always clung to every Na'vi. Like they were really one with the forest, as if they were born of the forest. They were so natural in it, just as natural as a fish in the water. As I hum I feel the tickle of a tail brushing against my back and the heat radiating from the thighs of the two Na'vi on either side of me. A brief peace floods into my body, relaxing my muscles one by one before I remember who I am and where I am. I remember again that I was born a human on Pandora, and the dream is broken. That fantasy is not me, no matter how much I wish it so. 

I should really stop torturing myself like this. The only thing fantasizing does is fester and ferment into anger. Anger at my mother, maybe? I mean she did pass on the thing to me. Maybe at Eywa? Do I even believe in Eywa? Sometimes I swear I feel her all around me, in the plants waving in the winds or the sounds of the cave. In the dripping water and wind rushing past the mouth of the cave, dancing through the hallelujah mountains. I hear her in the banshees shrill cries at dawn, and the thanators mighty roar at twilight. Do I even have the right to believe in her? To be angry at the hand dealt to me? By being born on Pandora, does that mean that Eywa is in control of my destiny like her Na'vi children? Am I one of her children?

I ponder this as I weave on the loom that Kiri gave to me last year for my nineteenth birthday. She brings me plenty of string and teaches me new techniques every moon cycle on our ritual ‘girls night’. Although honestly she might get in trouble if anyone finds out about that. A lot of Na'vi wouldn't appreciate a sky person knowing cultural weaving techniques that have been passed down for generations through the Omaticayans: who are known as great craftsmen. My girl Kiri is a total badass though, so she still teaches me anyway. 

Kiri, Tuk, Lo'ak are the only reasons I haven't gone verifiably insane yet as I waste away on this planet. As much as I love Max and Norm, their company doesn't ever change much. There's never anything new going on with human settlement. Always the same issues that we discuss over dry, flavorless ration food. The problems of growing food in the Pandoran soil, which may be lush and fertile for the home plant species, but is absolutely terrible for Earth plants. Always some new trouble that Spider had gotten into with Lo’ak. We are always having trouble with having enough batteries for the tanks to furnish all the humans with oxygen. Yet another reason why I don't go outside. I'm a waste of resources and while Max and Norm can't admit that, I can. I know I'm useless, honestly I wish that I could be of help in even the science realm but hello, there's no school on Pandora and both Max and Norm are horrible teachers. I mean I'm smart but I cannot figure out fucking geometry on my own?! Plus the other humans didn't leave behind any lesson plans for children when they left so I'm pretty much S.O.L. 

I’m pulling a soft blue, almost feathery string through another row on the loom when I hear Max and Norm talking outside of my room in the main lab. I strain my ears but I cannot make much sense of the words I can hear.

"Jake doesn't know.... yeah... ready... think... okay jeez, Max." Eh, nothing to really worry about, I decide. Probably the same old shit in a different toilet. I tune out their talking and focus on the crescendo of one of Mozart's greatest hits before almost dropping the loom when I hear a sharp knock on the door. I get up and turn to press the pause button on the CD player before opening the door. Standing there is a very excited looking Max and a very nervous looking Norm. 

"Oh my God, what is it this time?" I said recollecting a time when I had opened the very same door to them looking very similar to this moment and they had practically accused me of having a crush on Lo'ak. As if! I would never have a crush on Lo'ak. He's like an annoying little brother to me and he's always hiding my stuff just to irritate me or pulling a single hair out one at a time till I yell at him to stop. But I think that may be the reason that we get along so well, he doesn’t see me as different like everyone else does. He has always teased and roughhoused with me like he would Kiri or Spider, albeit a bit gentler.

"Hey kiddo, we just wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday. We know you're finally 20! You're a grown woman now..." Norm trailed off looking wistful. Max took up after Norm, who was reminiscing like a parent would on their child’s birthday. 

"And we have something to show you! Something we have been working on for a long time now." He threw an arm around Norm to emphasize the we.

"Did you get the Rewon Tanhì that I asked for?" I asked excitedly. I had been asking them to find me a morning star flower on their expeditions and missions since I heard of them a few months ago. Kiri told me they glow in the dark even after being cut from the bush, an indigo bioluminescent glow that never fades. They're fairly rare so Max said they would keep an eye out but to not count on them finding one. I planned on an open air terrarium to use as a night light if they ever happened upon one while they were out doing research. I just wanted to bring a little of Pandora's beautiful bioluminescent night flora to me since I can’t go outside to see them myself.

"It's something a bit more exciting than that. Come on, follow us, kiddo." Max said before grabbing my wrist and pulling me forward toward the back of the lab. He seemed a little too excited and I almost tripped forward with the force of his pulling. I laughed and told him to slow down a little bit. 

"Sorry, it's just been really difficult to keep this under wraps. You have no idea how many times I almost told you. Honestly, I'm surprised Norm hasn't." Max said, chuckling as Norm exclaimed an indignant "Hey!" while shaking his head fondly.

We reached the back door of the lab that went to the actual laboratory, of which I am typically not allowed into. I'm generally very clumsy because of my issues and Max is always doing some sort of dangerous chemistry experiment that would cause some serious damage if I knocked it over. Maybe even an explosion if the right compounds are left laying around. While that might bring me some much needed excitement to my life, I still opt to just leave the lab alone. 

"It's in the chem lab?" I asked, entirely confused as to what I could possibly want to see in there. It was the most boring room in the whole building.

"Yes. And you need to close your eyes. I want it to be a complete surprise." Norm said, looking over at Max while wiggling his eyebrows like a total goof.

"Okaaaay...." I said, finding their strange demeanor highly suspicious. I closed my eyes and felt Max's large hand on my shoulder, guiding me. I could feel the warmth of it seeping into my skin as Norm, presumably, opened the door to the chem lab. The shrill shriek of ungreased steel grinding on steel was heard in the chem lab and the rustle of thick canvas-like fabric made me shift my weight to my other foot anxiously.

"Okay... come on in guys." Norm says as Max guides me in the room, making sure I don't trip as I step over the raised door frame. I was taken about 10 feet into the lab before Norm told me I could open my eyes. I blinked slowly as my eyes adjusted to the sterile white lab lights. I could only cock an eyebrow, unimpressed as my eyes land on what looks like a large tube covered in a large brown tarp of some sort. The tube had to be at least ten feet long. I looked over at Norm expectantly and a flash of recognition came on his face as he stumbled forward to pull off the tarp.

"Sorry..." he mumbled while lifting the heavy fabric off the large tube. Inside the tube is a female Na'vi. No actually, I count 5 fingers, so it’s an avatar. She was jerking and I could see her nose twitch, like she had smelled the acrid dung of a viperwolf. I realized it bared a strong resemblance to my own as I reached out to touch the glass. When I did she curled forward slightly toward my touch, almost as if she was reaching out to me as well. As she stretched out of the fetal position I saw her whole face and my world stopped. 

"No... there's no way. You guys said there was no way." I whispered looking over at Max and Norm. I couldn't allow myself to believe it until they told me through their own mouths. I had gotten my hopes crushed too many times as a child to allow myself to believe this so easily.

"Well, remember when Grace's Avatar started deteriorating when you were thirteen? And then when you were fourteen we laid her to rest? Well using her chamber and some supplies we found at an abandoned outpost we were actually able to incubate an avatar for you. That's you sweetheart." Norm said, grinning at me and gesturing to the body. 

I feel my knees tremble and buckle as a litany of emotions surges through me, falling forward slightly before Max caught me and helped me up. All I could do was bury my head in his shoulder and cry. These men, who loved me and raised me, have given me the gift of life again. I couldn't breathe so I just squeezed him and shook as the emotions and fears flew through me. I could vaguely register Norm coming up behind me to hug both of us. After a good cathartic cry we all released each other from our group hug. 

"I... I don't know how... I can't... thank you, both of you." Was all I could manage to get out as my voice trembled with emotion. Hesitantly I walked over to the avatar. "She's... beautiful." I reached out to touch the warm glass, tracing my fingers over her face. Well, I guess my face? I guess it will feel more like my face after the consciousness transfer. Her blue skin looks so radiant and soft. Unlike the Na'vi I know she looks so untouched. Almost like a child. She is free of the scarring that comes with growing up in the dangerous Pandoran forests. I admire the markings on her face, taking in all the details and tanhì, or bioluminescent freckles that spray across her face and body. Her hair floats in the blue solution cascading in waves down the gentle slope of her back all the way to her tail.

"We know. Trust me, we know how much you need this. How much you've needed this since you were a kid... and yes she really is beautiful." Norm compliments, squeezing my shoulder. 

"Now, I have to say this before you get your hopes up. We have great hope that the consciousness transfer will work, but kiddo, there's a small possibility that it might not and I need to prepare you for that." Max says solemnly from my right side. That was just like him, always ruining a sentimental moment with his warnings. 

"I know, Max. But still, the fact that you wasted all these resources on me means a lot." I said, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"It's not a waste. Don't… don’t say that, (Y/N). We would both do anything to make you happy." Max replies, looking over at Norm as he nods to me.

"So when can I go in?" I said as I finally let the excitement fill me. It was so strong that my stomach feels queasy; to the point that I feel I might throw up my wheat ration pancakes. 

"Well," Norm piped up, "we were thinking about doing a test run tomorrow. Kiri and Lo'ak are supposed to come anyway for movie night. We thought you'd like to surprise them." I nodded excitedly while smiling at them. I truly loved these two men. They were the closest things I had to parents and I'm so grateful that mom left me in their care. My chest feels so warm as I give both of them another short hug that I think it might explode out of me in a spray of rainbows and sugar. Honestly, all this lovey dovey shit was getting sickening. 

"Now let's go have some birthday food." Norm suggests while he unfolds the tarp to cover it up again. We went and ate our traditional birthday barbecue (not really because it's not cooked on a grill but we have lots of blow torches for sciencey reasons that we use to cook it). It's a decadent meal that could only be spared a few times a year, and one of my absolute favorites. After that they sang me Happy Birthday, and all-mighty Eywa was it super off-key. Soon after that I bid them a goodnight so that I can go to bed early so tomorrow will come a little faster. As I lie in bed all I can think of is tomorrow morning and the possibility of being unable to establish a neural link. 

Due to my anxiety-induced insomnia morning approaches slower than I thought physically possible. Did the suns somehow get delayed rising? Because I swear I've been in bed for two days tossing and turning. Just as I'm about to flip my pillow to the cool side for the fortieth time I hear a gentle knock on my door. 

"Hey, kiddo, it's time to get up. Figured you wouldn't mind an early start today." Max called through the door from the other side. Exhausted, I roll over and heave myself off the bed to get dressed. It takes me a little more time than usual but I finally put on some clothes and bumble out of my bedroom door. 

"Wow. So, no sleep huh?" Norm teases as he looks up from cooking breakfast. 

"Yeah, no. Too excited." I respond, rolling my eyes at him dramatically. I keep glancing at the chem lab door while I impatiently watch him cook and Max notices.

"You have to eat first. It's not ideal that you're tired for your first transfer but it would honestly be way worse if you were hungry too. So. Eat." Max demands pointedly. I sigh as Norm puts a plate down in front of me. I feel my skin buzzing while I eat the breakfast I have thousands of times faster than I ever have before. I almost choke shoveling down the eggs and veggies.

"Hey slow down. Can't have you dying on us before you can actually try." Max says jokingly. Norm pushes him with his arm. 

"Max, don't say that. That's not funny." Norm huffs, giving Max the stink eye. 

"Yeah, yeah." Max replies and I drift away from their bickering as I wait for them to finish breakfast. After we all finish Max goes through a few rules for the transfer and Norm helps me into one of the weird jelly beds used for transfers. He places the wire caging around me and turns away before I grab his shirt and tug on it through the holes of the cage.

"Norm.. Max... I'm scared." I admit.

"I know. But, you have to be brave. I know you can do it." Max said and Norm added a "Yeah, me too." I released his shirt slowly and sighed.

"I know... okay I'm ready." I say and try to relax. As I hear Max flip a few switches and Norm closes the lid I could cuss myself out. Why didn't I try that meditation CD last night?! I think as I try to steady my breathing like Max told me to. As I breathe in I see the flashes of light from the machine. Okay, ‘breathe and count backwards from 20 if you need help’ is what Max advised at breakfast.

In. Twenty.

Out. Nineteen.

In. Eighteen.

Out. Seventeen.

In. Sixteen.

Out. Fifteen.

In. Fourteen.

Just as I am about to call out to Max that it's not working I completely black out. I'm not exactly sure how to describe the experience of a consciousness transfer, how it feels or looks. I think that it feels like dying in a way. It feels like a complete separation from your body, like you are floating out of it, then next thing you know you are blinking at a blinding light ahead of you.

If you have any suggestions or feedback please comment down below or message me! This is my first fanfic in a while, so please excuse my poor grammar. And thank you for reading! Neteyam and the reader will be meeting next chapter.

@skeletondeerart

[succulent-ghoul]

Terzo x disabled ghoul reader

This is so bad I feel bad and I need soup

Cw/tw for weed

--

Today had been awful, you were in pain and you couldn't get out of bed because you'd crumple like paper and die. You knew bad days could get worse but this was nightmarish, the idea of even movie made you wanna cry. Everything hurt, and no one was here to help.

No one checked in on you all day, not even when you missed practice, or when you missed your daily lunch time tea, nobody came to ask if you were okay. And the fact that no one noticed or Atleast checked on you made you feel so lonely it makes you wanna scream.

In reality the ghouls were feeling everything you were feeling and barely any of them could stomach it, you hadn't really remembered much about ghoul life when you became topside, your summoning went awry and so your memory got screwed.

So you didn't really remember that moods and feelings when strong enough are infectious, the negative energy you had was screwing with all the ghouls to the point where practice was cancelled because everyone was so miserable. Even the ghouls in other dens were a bit moody.

Terzo was pissed practice was cancelled and needed to fix the source of the problem, immediately noted all Copia's ghouls were doing the worst. So he asked Copia's ghouls where he should go to which they all pointed towards your room in the den.

Terzo marches into your room and is hot with a wave of disbelief. Your room is ridiculously cozy, and you seem to be ridiculously in pain. Your floors are covered in old shitty carpets to cover the cold uncomfortable stone bricks that the majority of the den's are made of. The bed is covered in pillows and blankets but mostly stuffed animals as you flip over to face Terzo.

Your face says everything. It says you are in pain and that you can't take it anymore because it's more than just physical pain it is emotional mental and you look like your about to lose it. Terzo closes the door and locks it and without another thought gets into bed with you and holds you close.

He pulls you into him and squeezes you lightly and kisses the top of your head, he slowly pets your head and murmurs calm reassurances. You feel less alone listening to Terzo's heart while he lets you cry your heart out into his old papal robes.

"I'm sorry you're in pain fratello, you do not deserve this." His voice is calm and reassuring as he starts to rock the two of you gently. "Dear, is it alright if I leave for a minute, I think I have something that will help." You look up at him and nod and terzo rushes out of your room.

You wait and wait until terzo throws your door back open. Hes holding a bizarre erray of things. A stuffed animal, a dab pen, a large thermos, and a bunch of pill bottles. "I have weed, warm fresh chicken noodle soup, a bunch of pain pills and a heated and weighted stuffed animal." Terzo says with some pride as to how he got all of these things so fast.

The first thing you do is squeeze the warm weighted axolotl he picked up. You sit up almost screaming from the pain in your back, and down one of each pills from the pill bottles Terzo brought and taking Atleast three hits off the dab pens. After all that you hold your arms out and pout until terzo holds you again.

You down your soup while laying on Terzo's chest and slowly fall asleep listening to his heartbeat while he combs through your hair.

[weixuldo]

unconditionally// ch 21

anakin x f!reader

(A/N: the first 1/2 of the LAST chapter!!! and let me just say it’s a looong one, sorry again for the wait! but im still dedicated to writing! it’ll pick up again in summer heheh hope you enjoy and there r more notes at the end!!)

and with this ring… i give myself to you

warnings: swearing, anxious thoughts, amputation recovery, emotionally draining?

__________________________

6 Months Later…

The cool autumn air shook the beautifully colored leaves from the trees as you pulled into the parking lot of Anakin’s physical therapy center; just in time to pick him up. 

After graduation you ended up moving in with him and the kids, to which they were delighted to have you with them every day.

Honestly, not much changed since you two were basically already living with each other before your argument in the winter.

Though, his attitude towards you became more gentle and caring than you could possibly imagine. He spoke to you and valued your opinions more than ever and when the rare disagreement would happen, the two of you would sit down and seriously talk through the issue giving both of your perspectives. 

Your relationship with the kids also strengthened; now they saw you as part of the family (even though you were not yet married to their father).

During the summer, since the kids were off for break, you would go on little day trips with them while Anakin went to therapy.

Anakin’s therapy had been going quite well; he was able to stand without assistance and walk to the end of the strip holding onto the bars. His main goal was to walk you down the aisle at your wedding, but that was dented when he had to get unexpected surgery on his hip.

Since one of his stumps was a little longer than the other, he had been relying too much on his right leg when doing physio. So his hip was buckling from the inordinate amount of pressure being put on it.

His surgery was a minor one, just reinforcing his hip bone and adding a few screws in to hold it in place, but it still set his progress back.

The swish of the automatic doors blew a soft burst of air into your face as you entered the facility. You looked around the waiting room for your fiance but surprisingly, he wasn’t there yet. 

That's odd.

Just as you were beginning to take a seat, you heard his voice thanking his therapist for the session.

He guided his chair with his bebionic hand and smiled at the staff as he passed. His white t-shirt was pretty sweaty and some of his sandy locks were sticking to his forehead. 

“Ani” you called as you watched him survey the room in search of you.

His eyes met yours, he smiled, and headed towards your direction. Once he was by your side he offered a sweet smile and brushed your arm with his hand. 

“Hi babe, how was your session?” you asked as the two of you headed to the car.

“It went well, I’m almost to my next milestone” he said.

You congratulated him with a kiss on the forehead and the two of you continued home. 

____________________________________

In the weeks leading up to your wedding, the house had been a little bit of a mess; planners, papers, decorations, and other random designs floating around all surfaces of the house. 

Not to mention the new addition to your small family, Anakin’s new service dog, “R2”.

Originally he didn’t really want a service dog because he thought it would be too much work, but once he met the blue merle border collie candidate, he couldn’t resist.

The young dog was energetic, yet reserved; he enjoyed playing with the kids when he was “off duty”. But as soon as his red vest went on, he was in full service mode. 

Anakin named the dog after the last letter and digit of the license plate of the car he had his accident in; he wanted to give the dog a meaningful name that gently reminded him of all he had been through.

R2’s tasks were mainly retrieving Anakin supplies or picking up things when they would slip through his hands. He also would help Anakin through panic attacks and alert him if anything was wrong.

In the past months, R2 had been comforting Anakin during his phantom pains and would help you comfort Ani after a nightmare by nuzzling his snout into Anakin’s lap.

Currently, Anakin was showering, R2 was taking a nap, the kids were playing upstairs, and you were getting your overnight bag ready to go to Ahsoka’s. The long awaited day was tomorrow, you were finally going to marry Anakin.

The two of you decided you wanted to do a little bit of a traditional wedding and not see each other ‘til the wedding, so Ben was staying over with Anakin and Luke, while you and Leia were heading to Ahsoka’s. 

The sound of the shower finally turned off and you moved towards your room with a smile. The warm steam seeped out from under the bathroom door as you approached it, with a gentle knock you opened the door. 

There Anakin was in his chair, towel draped over his shoulders and his damp hair, flopped over his forehead. He sported a custom waterproof arm specifically for the shower and dabbed his face with the towel as he met your soft eyes. 

“Hello beautiful” he addressed as he finished drying off. 

“Hey handsome” you smiled, before leaning down to kiss him. 

“Ben should be here any minute, so i’m going to head out with Leia soon, so I just wanted to come say bye to you one last time before tomorrow” 

He took a moment to study your face before speaking again, “Y/N, I’m so excited for you to be my wife tomorrow, you truly don’t know how much I’ve longed for this moment” 

“I think I do, Ani” you smiled back, giving him a peck on the cheek. 

He sighed and drew you in for one last sweet kiss before Ben rang the doorbell; your cue to head out. 

You rested your forehead on Anains before kissing his cheek, “Until tomorrow, my love”.

He held your hand to his lips and kissed once more, “I’ll be waiting for you”.

With a smile you parted ways, greeted Ben, and headed to the car with Leia.

_____________________________________

A sweet aroma of cinnamon and cedar filled your senses as you entered Ahsoka’s house. She had been burning incense to provide good luck and fortune for your big day tomorrow. 

“Hey, Sky gal! Are you ready for tomorrow?” she asked happily as she drew you into a big hug.

You laughed and held her tightly, “Yes, I cannot wait” 

“That’s the spirit!” she quipped before crouching down to Leia’s level, “And you my dear, are you ready to be the best flower girl?”

Leia giggled and nodded ambitiously, “I’m so excited for Y/N to be my mommy” she smiled.

A mother…

You never really thought too much into how your relationship with the kids would change, technically, yes, you would be their stepmother.

But recently, it hadn’t hit you that they saw you as a maternal figure. Of course you cared for the kids more than anything, but it was an odd feeling to hear them refer to you as their mother. 

All the same, you responded to the brown haired girl with a calming voice, “I'm excited too”. 

Ahsoka and you sorted out some last minute venue things as Leia got into bed; once she was asleep you and Ahoka began the luxurious self care routine she had planned. You started with face masks and exfoliants, followed by moisturizers and toners. 

Everything was right in the world as the two of you sat on her king-sized bed in fluffy bath robes, watching random movies, and snacking on chocolate covered strawberries she had made earlier that day. Once you were thoroughly relaxed and your hunger satisfied, you headed off to bed.

You thanked Ahsoka once more and entered the guest room. Across the small room you saw your garment bag hanging next to the full length mirror. Ahsoka had been holding on to your wedding dress because you didn’t want Anakin to see it before the big day. 

Sleepily you unzipped the bag for one quick glance at your attire for tomorrow and a big smile found its way onto your face. 

You couldn’t wait. 

_____________________________________

You arrived at the venue with Ahsoka and Leia a few hours before the actual ceremony was set to start; the three of you hurried into the room set aside for getting ready.

Soon after you got situated and started getting ready some of your bridesmaids started arriving; you didn’t have too many, but you did ask some of your friends and a cousin or two to accompany you. 

“Y/N!! I’m so proud of you!” one of your childhood friends exclaimed as she rushed over to hug you. 

You laughed light-heartedly as she gave you a kiss on the cheek. 

Once everyone arrived you began to get ready. As much as you hated to admit it, getting ready with all the girls was so fun. Everywhere you looked there was someone doing their makeup or helping another girl with their hair. You also saw Leia’s excitement as the older women doted on her and complimented her cute dress. 

Ahsoka finished up her eyeliner and washed her hands before heading over to help you into your dress. Once she met you she smiled.

“Oh my, Y/N, you look like a dream!” she said as she lightly brushed your cheek with the back of her hand. 

“Thank you so much Ahsoka, for everything.” you responded with a light blush on your cheeks. 

Her manicured hands found their place over her heart as she looked at you adoringly. 

“I know we haven’t known each other long, but I’m so honored to call you my friend and I know you are so good for Anakin”.

You felt your emotions stir at her mention of your future husband. Instead of allowing your emotions to spill over, you took her into a loving embrace.

Everything was falling into place with less than an hour to spare. Not to say you weren’t getting last minute jitters; your subconscious anxieties began to break into your mind and you became a bit nervous.

What if he changed his mind? Were you too young? Was this the right decision? Were you ready to commit? Why were you over-thinking? Does overthinking mean you aren’t actually happy? Or is that just more overthinking?

Your restless mind raced with thoughts until you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“It's time” a beaming Ahsoka said, offering you a hand to stand. 

As you stood the train of your dress flowed perfectly under you and the veil trailed nicely as you walked towards the doors. As you smoothed out the lace and embellishments, you heard the familiar tune of the song you chose for your procession. 

Indeed, it was time. 

_________________________________

The doors of the venue opened to reveal the long silk runner for you to walk on to meet Anakin at the altar. Through your veil you could see the attendants on each side of the aisle, the rows were full of family, friends, and people you hadn’t had the chance to meet yet. It was a little overwhelming with all eyes on you. 

The weather was perfect, the sky partly cloudy and the greenery of the venue in full bloom. As the music continues you made your way to your future husband. 

An excited Leia walked in front of her brother with a wicker basket of assorted flowers. The crowd collectively awed at her when she tossed the petals. Close behind her was Luke, proudly carrying the rings in a small glass box.

Finally you reached your destination at the end of the aisle so meet a smiling Anakin. As you took your place beside his chair at the altar you felt a sense of relief, you were here with him and it felt right. 

He looked at you as if you were a goddess, his eyes only on you with such a look of awe. He was faced towards you in his chair and you met his gaze through the veil as you blushed.

His hair was combed back nicely; the longer strands curling slightly at the ends. His suit was tailored to fit his body perfectly; his shoulders looked broad and strong. 

Through the veil you could smell his familiar cologne and that further quelled your anxieties. 

You were ready. 

Once the music stopped and the crowd sat, Ben came up from his place as best man to help Anakin to his feet. The two of you had planned to have him stand at the altar because you would be there if he needed, and he was able to stand by himself for longer periods of time now. 

You couldn’t help but get butterflies every time he stood to his full height; his prosthetics made him slightly taller than the 6 '2 he was before the accident. 

Once he was situated the officiator began, 

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today….”

To be quite honest you toned him out, instead focusing all of your energy into trying to get the clearest look at the man in front of you through the lacy veil. You couldn’t quite make out his whole expression but you could tell he was happy. 

Soon the officiator initiated the next part of the ceremony, “And now the couple will share their vows”.

You began with yours, just something small you prepared, from the heart. 

“Anakin, I cannot express to you how much you mean to me…I can’t believe that only a year and a couple months ago, we didn’t even know each-other existed. You have become such a pivotal part of my life and I’m so honored to have you in my life and to love you” 

As you continued the soft smile on his face widened and his blue eyes became caverns of emotion. 

“And with this ring, I give myself to you… as your partner, your number one supporter, and your wife”

You placed the gold band onto his mechanical finger and looked back into his eyes as he began his vows. 

“Y/N, sweetheart. Darling. My love. This past year has been a rocky one. But you have been there every step of the way, not just for me but for my kids too, I truly don’t think I would have survived without you. Every time I wanted to give up and accept death, you were there to help pull me through. You gave me strength when I had none, you cared for my children when I couldn’t, and gave me love the whole time. You taught me I could feel love again, you showed me that when I couldn’t even love myself. And for that I am eternally grateful, you have my heart, F/N.”

You blinked away the tears as you gazed into his vibrant eyes.

“I am so blessed to have you as my wife and I promise I will always love you…..unconditionally” 

His beautiful blue eyes, now endearingly an ocean of emotions as he gazed upon you.  

It took him longer to get the ring on your finger than you did with him because he was having difficulty gripping the small band of gold, but once he did he slid it onto your finger in the most tender way possible. You could tell he had practiced this motion before the ceremony because his fine motor skills were not usually this accurate. Your heart swelled at the thought. 

Once it was on the officiator continued to the final part.

“Anakin Skywalker, do you take F/N L/N, to be your lawfully wedded wife and to cherish her through sickness and in health?”

“I do” he smiled down at you

“And F/N L/N, do you take Anakin Skywalker to be your lawfully wedded husband and to cherish him through sickness and in health?”

“I do” you responded, voice dull of adoration. 

“Then, with the power vested in me, I Pronounce you, Husband and Wife. You may kiss your bride. Congratulations”

With the resonance of those words in your ears Anakin stepped closer to you and slowly reached his hand up to your veil to pull it back. He was careful not to mess up your hair or bump your face.

You beamed up at him as he got a clear look at your sweet face. It felt as if time stopped, it was only you and him. He mapped every inch of your face as if it were the first time he was seeing your beauty. He was so in love.

Gently, yet passionately the two of you joined in a longing embrace and sealed your vows with a kiss. 

Finally, you were his and he was yours. 

***

(a/n: omg u guys, thank you so much for sticking with me through this journey… i cannot express how much each and every one of you mean to me!! this started out as me anonymously posting a fic idea and now here i am w 500 something followers and over 6,000 reads 🥹🥹 i love this story so much and it’s bittersweet to come to the end, but don’t worry i’ll do an epilogue heheh)

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[corinthian-og-begay-docrime]

(I just saw your post about writing disabled characters for the sandman and am being very self-indulgent in asking this) could you maybe do something with the corinthian and an autistic or OCD reader? Just him helping with her sensitivities or when she can't find the words to express themselves or something like that

Calm Amongst Chaos

Corinthian x OCD! reader

Fandom: The Sandman

Warnings: OCD and intrusive thoughts

Pairing: Corinthian x OCD!Fem!autistic Reader

Word count: 402

Plot: Corinthian comforts his girlfriend while in the midst of overstimulated and an OCD induced panic attack

A/N: Kinda based the OCD off my own

Your friends were understanding some of the time about your numerous mental health issues. But sometimes they’d get fed up with it. They saw it as an annoyance. The way you had to rearrange everything on your place setting numerous times. That you had to wait three steps before going on an escalator. That if a bug touched you it would freak you out so much that you had to wash your hands multiple times.

Which is why you were so thankful for Corinthian. He got it. He understood you perfectly. And sometimes he even helped you during some of the more intense episodes you had. The ones that left you in tears.

Your OCD was worse when you were surrounded by too many people. And at the very moment you were in one of those situations. You slipped on a pair of sunglasses to try and cut down on the amount of visual stimulation. You were feeling more irritated than usual. It was too loud. Your friends weren’t waiting for you. In fact they had ditched you completely.

You started to panic now that you couldn’t find anyone. You felt an arm wrap around your waist.

“It’s alright. I am here,” you heard Corinthian whisper in your ear. “Let's go somewhere a little more quiet.” he guided you over to a place away from all the people. Corinthian cupped your chin in his hand tilting your face up.

You tried to speak but the words stuck in your throat.

“It's alright.” he brushed your lips. “Take your time. I am right here.” his thumb brushed your lips. He leaned down close to your face. “Focus on me. It’s ok. Deep breaths.” you breathed in and out. It felt like the two of you were the only ones here at the moment.

“I..um…They left me.”

“It’s alright,” he said. You buried your face in his chest. He stroked your hair just holding you.

“Can we just leave?” you whisper.

“Yes we can leave.” He wrapped his arms around you guiding you out of the event and to his car. You sink into your seat. “Do you want to get ice cream?”

You just nod. You still find the words hard to get out. But he knows this. So you spend the rest of the ride with him chatting away. Telling you another one of his stories. It makes you feel better.

[naerwenia]

More x reader fics?

If I were to write more Mozus Trein x reader fics, what would you like to see? What is your favourite aspect of the relationship? Teacher-student dynamic/relationship? Daddy issues? Older man, younger woman? More shibari and more in-depth dom/sub relationship?

Thrawn and Tarkin are also a possibility. I still think my Grand Moff Tarkin fics have been my favourites to write, even if those are quite niche. I enjoy thinking about the motives and implications of actions and inactions, so powerful men indulging in sins of the flesh is always interesting to write. 

I really think I will lean more heavily to writing disabled/neurodivergent/mentally ill readers, maybe to process my own differences, to discuss issues like meds, trauma, how fucking humiliating it is when people talk to my friend rather than to me about me, about what I want to order or if I need help, while I’m right there, just in a wheelchair.

I have small ideas in my head, but no real concrete ideas to write, so I’m screaming into the void if there’s something someone somewhere might like. I still have my Dead by Daylight Doctor x OC fic on the back burner, just waiting for me to finalize the secret plan discussed in it.