#chronically ill!reader

[littlemissomega]

How Low Can You Go ?

Diabetic!reader x Stucky

Summary: reader’s blood sugar drops in the middle of the night

Warnings: Dangerously low blood sugar, low blood sugar symptoms (head racing, shaky, brain fog), crying, blood, mention of glucose tablets (which is kinda a medication? It helps get your blood sugar up), orange juice, fluff, pet names (Ladybug, princess, sweetie, honey, etc)

Short and sweet enough to give your hyperglycemia (high blood sugar)

For reference, any blood sugar below 70-80- depending on your dr- is considered low

Masterlist

Why is my heart pounding? Y/N wonders groggily as her eyes flutter open. She can tell something is wrong. Her skin feels clammy and her whole body is shaking. Y/N slowly sits up, looking around confused. Her brain feels foggy and she can’t think straight. Tear well in her eyes from the frustration and she put her face in her hands.

“Are you okay, baby?” Bucky asks, voice thick with sleep.

Y/N bursts out in tears and he shoots up in bed.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks, putting a hand on her cheek. Her skin is cold and sticky under his palm, “Steve, wake up,”

Y/N feels Steve sturs and sits up on her other side.

“Ladybug, what’s wrong?” Steve asks, rubbing her back.

“Don’t kn-know can’t think heart don’t know don’t fee-feel good,” Y/N sniffles.

“What’s your blood sugar?” Bucky asks, turning on the lamp.

Y/N squeezes her eyes shut, nuzzles her face into Steve’s chest in the bright light.

“Huh? Don’t know too dizzy,” she whimpers.

“It’s okay, princess, we’ll make it all better,” Steve soothes, wrapping his arm around her and Bucky grabs her phone off the nightstand.

  Bucky goes straight to her Dexcom app.

“Shit,” he mumbles, pushing the blankets off and jumping out of bed.

“What? What is it?” Steve asks, tightening his grip about Y/N

“40.1 (2.2mmol/L) with double arrows down,” Bucky calls as he runs down the hall to the kitchen.

Bucky’s hands tremble as he grabs two bottles of orange juice from the fridge, as well as Y/N’s glucose tablets.

“Let’s manually check, baby,” Steve suggests, gently turning her so her back is against his chest. He grabs her diabetes bag off the nightstand and gets the glucometer (what checks how much sugar is in your blood) out. He quickly puts a strip in before getting the lancet (finger pricker) out. He quickly cleans her shaking index finger with an alcohol swab before pricking this finger.

“Oww Stevie,” Y/N whines.

“I know baby, I’m sorry,” he soothes, wiping the blood up with the strip. Steve lifts her still bleeding finger to his lips and sucks on it gently. 3…2…1…

“39.3, Buck!” Steve calls, releasing her finger with a pop.

“That bad?” Y/N slurs.

“Don’t close your eyes, Ladybug, Bucky will be right back,” Steve tells Y/N, gently tapping her cheek as her eyes start to close.

“Don’t li-like it,” she responds. Steve wipes the tears from her cheeks.

“I know, baby. Here’s Bucky!” Steve points out as Bucky plops down on the bed.

“Here you go, Ladybug,” Bucky voices, opening the orange juice and lifting it to her lips.

Y/N struggles to part her dry lips, still feeling confused. The sugary, tart juice is a shock to her system and she almost chokes on it.

“There you go, baby, think up,” Steve whispers, placing a hand on the back of her head.

“Take this too,” Bucky adds, opening the glucose tablets and getting two out. He gently parts her lips with his thumb and places them on her tongue before lifting the juice back up. She swallows them without hesitating.

“You’re doing so good, honey,” Steve soothes, “Keep drinking it,”

Y/N obeys, swallowing until the last drop is gone.

“Do you think that’s enough?” Steve whispers.

“I think? I don’t wanna overtreat and it goes high. Let’s just wait 15 minutes and recheck,”

“Bucky?” 

“Yes, baby,” Bucky responds, putting a hand on his girlfriend’s leg.

“I’m sor…sorry I woke you up,” she stutters.

“It’s okay princess! I’m sorry you’re feeling icky. You’re gonna start feeling better soon, honey,” 

Bucky places a hand on Y/N’s cheek and she leans into it.

“I love you,” she mumbles.

“I love you too,” Bucky smiles.

“And I love you,” Y/N repeats, flopping her head back on Steve’s shoulder.

“And I love you too, Ladybug,” Steve chuckles, “You’re our best girl. Always,”

Masterlist

Taglist:

@liidiaaag

@flourishandblotts-inc

@aagn360

@smromanoff

@butyoudontlookdisabled

[fbfh]

hii! could I request headcanons for leo and a reader (gender neutral or female, whatever u prefer) with chronic fatigue? there's barely any fics with cfs rep and he's my comfort character so i thought i'd ask T-T. i adore your writing and it's great to see that the hoo fandom is still alive. thank you sm!!

oh man oh boy I love this one anon. my dearest darlingest anoniest anon. one song that always makes me think of how it feels to be in a relationship with Leo is acolyte by slaughter beach dog. Leo can always tell when your fatigue is getting bad, sometimes before you can. There's this sort of soft way he looks at you when he knows you just need to rest a little. Whatever your needs are, Leo will always be sure to meet them. If you need to lay down and sleep or rest for a while, he'll make sure you're in optimum napping conditions. Need some cuddles? he's already spooning you. Need to be alone? no problem, he's gonna work on some of his prototypes in the garage for a while, just text or call if you need anything. forehead kiss. longing warm gaze.

"I love you, estrella."

punctuated by another kiss, ofc. he always has ibuprofen or other pain killers for when you start to feel achy, and he's better at helping you keep track of your meds than your pill tracker app. Leo's love language is "I invented this for you to make your life easier", like the guy who invented rubber gloves. Leo loves you to the point of invention. he's joked for years that he's going to build you a Jetsons house, so everything is perfectly automated. all you need to do is sit in a chair while you glide down an assembly line and everything will be done for you. sometimes you text him and tell him you're having a jane jetson day. he always comes right over with snacks and tea and anything else you might need. he'll cuddle you for a while, help you out with some housework, do a little meal prep for you. he never, ever makes you feel bad or even neutral about having chronic fatigue. if it ever gets you down, he'll be right there with hugs and kisses and the sweetest, softest, most encouraging words. he tells you how he would hold up the sky for you or crawl out of hell, so helping with laudry and dishes when you're having a bad day is really no problem at all for him. he's happy to do it, happy to know your needs are met, happy to be the one to meet them. if you get any other symptoms like headaches or sore throats, he'll get every home remedy under the sun from his mom and you'll try them out until he finds what will work for you. Leo slowly makes good on his joking promise to make you a jetsons house, and you soon find your place filled with inventions here and there from Leo, little things to make your life easier. and they work. it takes so much stress out of your life knowing that your dish washer can now rinse, wash, dry, and put away your dishes, that your fridge organizes itself and prints out lists of what you're running low on - it can even send them to your phone to automatically order them. you have a roomba that Leo turned into the monster truck of roombas. not only does it vaccuum, but it also sweeps, mops, picks up your floor, can get you stuff from other rooms, and folds laundry. it's also a dehumidifier. you named him mr. butlertron. and Leo loves every motherfucking moment of it. even if all you can do is sit or lay down in the same room as him while he cleans or cooks or works on his projects, it always makes it so much better because you're there. you're there with him, so everything is good. perfect.

[ellecdc]

Recently got diagnosed with POTS, thinking about poly!marauders and/or poly!moonwater fussing about Remus and Reader during their respective flare-ups. I just know they'd be carrying around electrolyte water, glucose gummies etc everywhere and anywhere - completely unafraid to curtly just tell the two of them that they need to sit down when out and about. Just the thought of being looked after so well has gotten me through this diagnosis and I thought I'd share <3

you're literally the coolest person I know; THANK YOU for sharing this with me and also, thank you for letting me spend some time with this so I could turn it into a little blurb <3 <3 <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader who has POTS [1.2k words]

CW: chronic pain/pain management, reader is diagnosed with POTS, Sirius is a master complainer, fluff

James was a firm believer that if he took one of those muggle quizzes that told him what his love language was, he would get all of them. 

Physical touch? Couldn’t get enough of it. Acts of service? Consider it done. Gift giving? His specialty, if he did say so himself. Words of affirmation? He was simply overflowing with flowery words for his partners. Quality time? There’s nothing he liked doing more than spending time with those he loved. 

Though James thought himself to be talented in every language of love, when push came to shove he had to admit that his favourite way to show love was through acts of service. 

It started back in Hogwarts in way of taking dutiful notes for Remus when he’d frequently miss classes. Then it came in the form of back breaking research and becoming an illegal animagus so one of his favourite people in the whole world wouldn’t have to suffer the full moons alone anymore. Then it came in the form of making sure Sirius had a family and a place to call home when it was no longer safe for him to stay at the house in which he was raised.

And lately, it came in the form of navigating Remus’ full moons with a well-practised sort of ease that only years of experience could cause, and helping you through your diagnosis.

Neither of which he minded in the slightest; there was nothing James Potter liked more than feeling useful and needed. And sure, neither you nor Remus needed James, but he liked to believe that he could in some ways make your lives a little easier.

Whilst that was all well and good, something he admittedly had a hard time doing was receiving every love language - namely, gifts or acts of service.

Which is why he probably seemed extremely fidgety and flighty as he waited in the long line at the Quidditch World Cup that you, Sirius, and Remus had treated him to for his birthday. 

“Do these lines seem particularly long to you?” James asked no one in particular as he craned his neck to see how close the group of you might be to the Puddlemere United booth.

“These lines seem rather average for a sporting event, Jamie.” You chuckled, though he couldn’t help but notice how heavily you were leaning against Sirius. 

“Are you feeling okay, angel?” He asked quickly, and you grimaced as Remus turned his attention towards you as well.

“She’s alright, Jamie; I’ve been looking after her.” Sirius placated as he tightened his protective embrace around your shoulders. 

“I think we should find somewhere to sit down.” James declared, earning him more than a few protests from your group. 

“Prongs, we’ve been in this line for so long; we can take a break after we get your jersey signed, yeah?” Remus offered. 

James made a protesting sound in the back of his throat but didn’t press the matter; simply pulling the rucksack off of his back and digging through it for his supplies. “Can you drink this for me, angel?”

You shot him a rather exasperated smile but took the bottle of electrolyte water from him dutifully. “You’re fussing, Jamie.”

“Uhm, no.” James argued as haughtily as he could manage as he pulled a few glucose chews out for you. “I’m loving, thank you very much.” 

“Are you feeling alright, dove?” Remus murmured quietly as you handed your drink back to James. 

“Are you feeling alright, Moony?” You countered, raising your eyebrows at your boyfriend who had very little room to be fussing over you as he leaned heavily on his cane in a way that told the group of you that his hip was screaming. 

“No, you’re right, we should leave.” James decided then, hiking his bag back over his shoulder and moving to bend under the ropes currently controlling the line when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Jamie? Please?” You asked softly, your eyes wide and earnest as you silently begged him to stay. 

“But-”

“We’ve waited all this time; Rem on his bad hip, me with my bad…everything-”

“Oi!” Sirius chided for your self-deprecation.

“-because we want to and we’re happy to. We wanted to do this for you.”

James hesitated as his eyes flit nervously between you, Remus, and Sirius who were looking at him pleadingly, patiently, and exasperatedly respectively. 

“Prongs, for fucks sake, let someone else fuss over you for once?” Sirius ordered as he encouraged James forward in line that had moved two groups forward during James’ fussing. 

“It’s really Moons you need to worry about, James.” Sirius mollified. “Our dolly here is way better at agreeing to go for a cwtch than Mr.‘I’m perfectly fine’ is.”

“I resent that.” Remus muttered as he pointed his nose in the air; knowing damn well Sirius was quite right but would obviously rather die than admit it. 

“Okay…” James relented warily; giving the three of you one last look over before turning his attention back towards the line. They were making some progress now.

“That does sound nice, though…” Remus offered tentatively, narrowing his eyes at his partners. “A cwtch.”

“Can we? Lie down in the tent for a bit after this?” You asked then, batting your lashes at James in a way you knew would have him eating out of the palm of your hand like this had all been your idea from the very beginning.

“Yes.” James agreed readily, pressing a searing kiss to your lips before pulling Remus down into one of his own.

“No one asked me if I was ready for a nap; what if I was just dying to continue spending my time out in the blazing sun, hm?” Sirius badgered, pretending to be miffed as he accepted James’ hand into his own without a second thought.

“Do you want to continue spending time out in the blazing sun?” James murmured into his hair, breathing out a laugh as Sirius all but melted into his frame. 

“No; I’m getting a sunburn and my hair is sticking to my neck.” He whined.

“Sorry guys.” James called over to you and Remus. “We’re gonna have to take Pads back to the tent after this; he can’t possibly stay out in this heat any longer.”

You giggled and Remus let out a good natured chuckle as he kneaded at the muscles between your neck and shoulder. “I think we can make that sacrifice, can’t we dove?”

You nodded as you looked up at Remus conspiratorially. “They’re so high maintenance though, aren’t they?”

“Just the worse.” Remus agreed readily. 

“Hey Jamie?”

“Yeah, angel?” 

“Can I have more water, please?”

James beamed a smile at you as Sirius quickly dug into James’ rucksack. “Of course you can, my love.” 

Yup; James was certain that his favourite way to love was taking care of you three in any way he could.

[godspeedviper]

How the doctors handle your sick days - Headcanons

SFW || TW: mentions of needles, vaccines, pills & IV drip.

This one's for the girls, goths, and gays that have a chronic illness, a disability, or are just plain old sick. As a chronically ill girlie myself I'm always craving caretaker fics but never find them so I had to be the change I wanted to see in the world.

Dr. Jonathan Crane

He immediately shifts into a stoic clinical demeanor the moment you start to show any signs of discomfort. At first you find it a bit worrisome because his voice seems so cold and detached, but now it makes you feel grounded and safe.

Jonathan always makes sure you have everything you need, but he unfortunately doesn't think much further than that. It takes him some time to learn how to comfort you as well as heal you.

The best part about having him by your side when you're ill is that he can always talk you out of a bad state of mind. Above all, Crane remains a psychologist, and he takes pride in his ability to override your negative thoughts.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter

You are utterly spoiled. Hannibal makes sure to cook for you and bring your meal to bed or the living room so you can eat comfortably. In the evenings, he makes sure to run a hot bath for you with herbs and epsom salts to soothe any aches and open up your respiratory system.

Since he is a doctor after all, he has prescribing rights, and will usually write prescriptions for any necessary medications. Need to get an injection, or an IV drip? Hannibal does that for you at home.

His pride and possessiveness makes him want to give you the best possible care to ensure someone else doesn't touch you this way. Hannibal gets nervous at the thought of your safety and health being out of his hands. How could he trust someone else with such a precious life? What if they made a mistake and hurt you or worse?

Dr. Robert Laing

"I'm not that kind of doctor." is always the first thing he says when you mention that you aren't feeling well. However, this doesn't mean he's not helpful, he is still a pathologist. Laing always does his best to make you feel better.

He's always reading up on your symptoms and possible treatments. If something is out of his grasp, he isn't afraid to admit it and seek out assistance. Even if he can't be the one to treat you, Laing will be there with you every step of the way to advocate for you and make sure you feel safe.

Much like Scarecrow, at first he seems rather cold and detached, but it's only his training taking over. However, his starting bedside manner is much better, and over time he adapts very well to your needs.

Dr. Spencer Reid

Now he's definitely not that kind of doctor, but that doesn't mean he isn't prepared to take care of you. His eidetic memory comes in clutch with any possible knowledge about your condition and how to act accordingly.

He always tries to be there for your doctor appointments or for any major procedures. Spencer wants to make sure you're being properly cared for and he isn't afraid to confront anyone that talks down to you or dismisses your symptoms.

When you're resting at home he clings to you like a lost puppy. He happily reads to you when you lack the energy to talk, or if you just want a bedtime story. He never forgets to check in on you even when he's away on a case, and will often ask Garcia to pick up items from the pharmacy for you if he can't do it himself.

Ao3 || Guidelines || Ko-Fi

[atley01]

Tips for all of my alternative & Chronically ill/ disabled friends!

A big thing that's helped me feel more comfortable accommodating my disability is finding accessibility tools that reflect my personality / interests.

I should put a disclaimer that making disability "aesthetic" should not be the most important thing about your health! I do this where I can to help me accept my disability.

Here are some alt accessibility tools I've found / made & utilized for myself!

1. If you're prone to nausea:

Anti-nausea meds work, but I also find that peppermints work just as well! I always have mints on me. At home, I've stored them in this coffin container!

I do keep a few of these mints in my bag, as well as ginger hard candies (they taste very strong, but are VERY efficient). I got the peppermints at Dollar tree, and they've genuinely been a life saver.

Alternatively, I've found this adorable ouija board altoids container that has mints in it!

The mints are even fun-shaped! I also saw other horror-movie themed altoid containers in-store as well. Since they're tiny, they dont work well for severe nausea, but they are still helpful!

2. If you struggle with temperature-regulation:

For me, my hands and feet are always FREEZING, but my core will be super warm. What has helped me a lot has been gloves and fuzzy socks!

I have a lot of spooky gloves like this, but I prefer the fingerless ones because I can still use my phone and be warm at the same time! I've also heard my friends who are wheelchair users say gloves can help protect your hands if you use a manual wheelchair. Another added bonus is that certain gloves can help limit mobility for those of you who struggle with hypermobility in your hands.

3. Do you have noise-canceling headphones? Decorate them!

I decorated my N/C headphones in shark stickers because sharks are my special interest!

These are Soundcore Life Q30's. I have gotten compliments on the stickers many times! You could put halloween stickers on yours or decorate your headphones in other ways! I've seen people crochet horns onto the headband portion of their headphones.

4. I would recommend any chronically ill person carry a cup around to stay hydrated:

ESPECIALLY If you need electrolytes. You can either have a drink like propel or powerade in your cup (or any drink of your choice, and you could put electrolyte packets in there).

This specific cup isn't the best at keeping my drink cold, but it holds a decent amount of liquid! And it's spooky. If you're someone who struggles to drink enough water, I've found that getting a fun cup helps me a lot!

5. Make communication bracelets!

If I'm having a difficult time voicing my needs, or I'm in a verbal shutdown, these bracelets can come in handy for me.

I'll either wear them on my wrist when needed or present them to my friends so they can read the bracelet and understand what I need. I keep them on a keychain that way I dont lose them and can transport them easily. An example of some of the phrases I've turned into bracelets is; "No spoons," "spoon debt," "verbal shutdown," and "flashbacks," (for when I'm having a PTSD episode.) You could make a bracelet with the medical condition you have as a DIY medical-alert bracelet. I added tiny spoon charms to some of my bracelets because I thought it was funny.

5. Mobility aids!

Decorate your mobility aids with things like stickers, kandi, lights, etc! Pinterest, instagram, and tiktok have a lot of good ideas. You can easily customize your mobility aids to look spooky or look however you want them to!

6. Bags!

I know that for me, I NEED to carry a bag around whenever I go out because it has important medical items that I need, but it also keeps all my important items like keys, id, ect, in one spot so that I dont forget / lose them. SOME spooky bags are expensive, but you could find a plain black bag at a thrift store or walmart and accessorize it with patches, keychains, and pins! I've seen people paint designs onto their bags before as well.

• You dont have to spend a lot of money on your accessibility tools!

Find ways to DIY them, or get them secondhand! You could even try working with household items you already have! A lot of these items, or items very similar to it, can be found at the dollar tree - even the materials needed to make the beaded bracelets! (Outside of the spoon charms)

Thats all!

If I think of more, you'll see me again! Be spooky, and be kind to yourself!

[pressureplus]

Chronically ill fan here! I’m currently having a costochondritis flare up because I overworked myself. (My sternum cartilage is inflamed and uncomfortable) All I want is cuddles and kisses and to be taken care of while I try to sleep it off. Could I possibly get romantic Sebastian and fem chronically ill reader where Sebastian cares for her during a costochondritis flare if that’s okay?

You don’t have to do any research on costochondritis either. At surface level it’s just inflammation and pain mainly in the sternum/rib area that can be aggravated by heavy lifting

Chronically ill representation in readers is rare and I’ve never seen costochondritis rep.

I hope this is okay! Thank you so much!

As someone who is also chronically ill, I felt this in my bones. I got you

Sensitive, Sensitive

Pairings: Sebastian Solace x Fem!Chronically ill!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: Pet Names (Sunshine, Love)

���꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

“Please- watch your hands.” You whine as Sebastian goes to pick you up. The additional pushing from his palms making your bones feel like they’re going to crack under all that pressure. You already felt like you weren’t intaking enough air, though you’re sure you are. That and the pain that you’d once almost worried could’ve been a heart attack waiting to happen? Yeah you didn’t need any more pain. You knew about your flare ups, knew you shouldn’t push yourself too hard, and you’d gone and done it anyway. Was it a bad idea? Yes but you’ve got to survive down here somehow, you’re not gonna eat if you lay around all day.

Your boyfriend, Sebastian, on the other hand already looked concerned. His hands taking the heavy box you were carrying right out from your grasp. His gaze flicking around the multitude of snacks you’d ripped out from vending machines in your desperation. You must’ve brought in at least several boxes of the stuff and while he hadn’t been too worried at first, the pained breaths you made sure changed his mind now. Your hand came up to almost attempt to soothe the ache with gentle rubbing, and maybe it helped a little but not nearly enough. Still you turned, getting ready to go back out with a new box when Sebastian coiled his tail around your legs and hips.

“Not so fast.” He hums, placing the box to the side and leaning down to your height.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going back out? I’m not done emptying the-”

“You’re done now.”

“What?”

“I said, you’re done now. Come on, Sunshine, we’re laying down.” He’s careful to lift you up. This time avoiding the area causing you the most pain. He’s gentle, lifting you up by the hips and gently pressing you against his oddly comfortable body. His snake-like form slithering into the backroom and right up to your makeshift bed. Although it certainly wasn’t as comfortable as the ones at home, it would do. It always did. He was gentle when he laid you atop the mattress and tugged a thicker, comfortable blanket over top of you. His body sliding up against you, wrapping himself as close to you as possible. You attempt to wiggle out only the once before giving in, in far too much pain to wrestle yourself free this time.

“We’re going to lay in bed until you feel better.”

“It’s probably not going to go away for a while, and the pain isn’t going to fully subside anyway. You have to work- it’s all you do. You don’t have to lay here with me just because I’m hurting.”

“Y/N, I don’t mind laying with you at all. Why would I?” He softens and tilts your head to him. His lips pressing against yours as gently as he can, soft and sweet before pulling back from you. The fins on the sides of his head doing that cute little wiggle you’d grown so accustomed to seeing.

“I’m supposed to keep you safe, that includes from yourself. You’re not going to overwork yourself any further than you already have. What you are going to do though is rest.” An arm wraps around your waist, another combs through your hair and the third functions as a comfortable pillow for you.

“You’re sure I can just lay down here for a while?”

“You’re being an idiot, why would I be upset at you for resting?” He hits you with immediate sass and playfully nips at your jaw. His hand that lays over your hip rubs slow little circle against it.

“You don’t have to be a dick.”

“I’m not, I just know you aren’t always the brightest crayon in the box. I don’t want you hurting, Love. Now quiet down a bit and get some rest, hm? I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Off Day Or Day Off

Summary: Reader has a bad day due to a chronic illness they struggle with (POTS). Luckily Lizzie and Scarlett look after her.

Tw: headache, mild pots, exhaustion / fatigue, pain medicine, mentions of passing out

Words: 2129

A/n sorry for such a long absence I got diagnosed with POTS so I have been in and out of the hospital for appointments for the past few weeks. So, this fic is kinda just me projecting. Also, POTS stands for Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (for those who don’t know). Let me know if you want a part 2.

You knew today was going to be hard when you opened your eyes to see your alarm had already been going off for a good half hour.

Whilst not something that was unusual for you, it did pose some insight into how the rest of the day may go. Taking a deep breath, you gathered the strength to sit up, still feeling exhausted to your bones and wanting nothing more than to lay back down and keep sleeping.

Reaching out to smack the alarm in order to finally get it to shut up, it took a few tries to finally hit the button.

You were tired despite having slept over the recommended eight hours. You were tired when you woke up and you had no doubt you would be tired when you went to sleep.

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed you braced yourself to stand up. Once on your feet you stayed upright for a good half a second before sitting back down hard.

Yep, today was an off day.

Trying again you managed to stick the landing this time, but still had to pause to wait for the patches in your vision to clear up first before doing anything.

You were vaguely aware of a dull ache in your temples and a general feeling of malaise and fatigue across your whole body.

You leant against the wall of your bedroom while pulling on some fresh pant and swapping out your pyjama shirt for a clean and presentable top.

You fought to stay upright while hopping around to stick the socks over your cold feet.

Throwing your notebook and pencil case into your backpack before pulling your laptop off the charge you added it to your bag and slung it over your shoulder, not bothering to do up the zip just yet.

Scanning the room your eyes caught on the small medical pouch were you had left it the day before. Groaning you circled back to grab it and triple check it was stocked with extra electrolyte packets before tossing it into your already full bag.

Your footsteps were heavy on the stairs as you plodded down to the kitchen, the voices of your little sister and mother only seeming to aggravate your growing headache.

You gripped the railing as you descended the stairs just in case your fatigue flared anymore than it already had.

As you shuffled into the kitchen you distantly listened to your mum wish you a good morning. Feeling tired and slightly annoyed at the whole situation you mumbled something incoherent back to her.

Scarlett had been your mother for almost ten years now after the adoption had gone through. You had met on the set for one of her earlier marvel films and due to your less-than-ideal situation and close bond with the actress she had adopted you.

It hadn’t been until a few months into living with her that she begun to take notice of your fatigue and various other issues. She had been with you every step of the process to get diagnosed and despite your fears she had stayed by your side.

You had been managing your tachycardia for a long time now and the symptoms of POTS weren’t as intense as they once were. However, from time to time you still had flare up which caused you a lot of heart ache and suffering.

As you slid into your place at the kitchen table Scarlett set down a plate of bacon and toast for you whilst she continued listening to the constant chatter stemming from your younger sister.

Scarlett nodded along with Rose’s story as she observed you closely. She had noted something was off almost straight away and knew you were doing your best to keep up a front.

It was Scarlett’s day off and as such she was tasked with taking Rose to school as Colin had headed into work early for a meeting with the writers.

You weren’t too interested in the food your mother had given you. Despite loving bacon and usually chomping it down with gusto you felt gross and tired.

Scarlett took note of your slow pace and droopy eyes as she took roses dishes back to the sink and loaded them into the dishwasher.

Scarlett had been trying to help you get better at advocating for yourself by simply making you ask for her help. She hoped it would help you speak up for yourself more now that you had more recognised needs. However, she also knew when to step in and simply help if you didn’t ask first.

She frowned at the sight of your backpack slung over the back of the chair knowing full well she didn’t want you going to uni if you were unwell.

As you continued to poke at your food with a fork and a bored expression that barely masked the exhaustion Scarlett sent rose to get dressed.

“Alright munchkin, what’s going on?” Scarlett said sitting down next to you.

“‘M fine mum. Just tired, I didn’t sleep well.” You grumbled still mining away at the edge of the slightly burnt toast with your fork.

Scarlett frowned as she knew you had been asleep before ten after she had poked her head in at around nine fifty to see if you were up.

“In that case maybe you should stay home today and get some rest sweetheart.” Scarlett said softly.

“No. No, I’m ok.” You said shaking your head which wasn’t a great idea as the patches reappeared in your vision.

“Alright.” Scarlett said admitting defeat for now. “I have to take rose to school; do you need a lift to uni?” She asked and you nodded pushing away the full plate of food. “Ok then come get your shoes on.”

You nodded again and stood. Just as she had expected Scarlett watched as you swayed on your feet slightly, blinking rapidly to try and clear your vision as your hand blindly reached for the table to provide the support you needed dot stay upright.

“Alright. No.” Scarlett said. “Definitely not. You’re staying here sweet girl.”

“But i’m-“ you begun only to be cut off.

“If the next words out of your mouth are “I’m fine.” I’ll make you take the whole week off.” Scarlett said and your lips snapped shut. “Go make yourself comfortable on the couch, I’ll have lizzie come stay with you while I’m out. She has the day off too and before you start, I’m sure she would like to spend the time with you.” Scarlett said before you could protest hindering the younger actresses schedule with your change of plans.

Before you could protest Scarlett gave you a look that kept the words in your throat from leaving.

“You’re not a problem y/n. Lizzie loves to spend time with you, and it makes her feel better to be able to help you out. Plus, I don’t want to leave you here alone in case you need something or pass out.” She said sternly but kindly.

“But I haven’t passed out before.” You grumbled.

“There’s a first time for everything.” Scarlett said. “Now go get comfy while I call Lizzie.” She said pressing a kiss to your head and giving you a light shove in the direction of the living room.

As you settled into a small nest on the couch you begun scrolling through Disney plus before settling on something to watch. You heard Scarlett talking on the phone in the kitchen before she appeared and handed you a water bottle which no doubt was filled with electrolytes. She spoke to Lizzie for a bit longer before coming back once the call was done.

“Drink.” She instructed, nodding to the bottle in your lap. “Lizzie will be over soon. I have to take rose in and then we can have a movie day and see if Lizzie wants to join us.”

“Ok.” You mumbled feeling bad for ruining everyone’s plans.

“None of that. We love you and we would rather spend the day making you feel better than knowing you’re not ok and doing what we planned.” Scarlett said as she picked up roses backpack and grabbed her trainers from the doorway.

Rose came and hugged you goodbye before continuing her endless chatter about something or other as she and Scarlett disappeared out the doorway. Scarlett blowing you a kiss as she left.

Snuggling down into the blankets you felt your eyelids droop as the show played on in the background.

What couldn’t have been more than five minutes later the doorbell rang before the door opened. You knew Lizzie had a a key, but she always rung the doorbell before she let herself in just to let you know it was her.

You heard the door shut and the sound of her taking off her shoes before she came upstairs.

“Y/n?” She called out as she walked down the hallway.

“In here.” You said barely shouting.

A moment later Lizzie entered the room, her face looking a little sad at the sight of you all bundled up and sleepy, your arms wrapped around your water bottle as your eyes drifted shut.

“Hiii.” You mumbled quietly.

“Hi sweet girl. Oh, look at you, it’s not a good day, is it?” She asked as she took the seat beside you on the couch.

“No.” You huffed as you shuffled over into her side.

Lizzie’s hands went straight to your hair as she brushed her fingers through it. She guided your head to her lap and gently began braining locks of your hair. The feeling of her fingers on your scalp relaxed you as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Have some more to drink first baby, then you can have a nap, okay?” She said helping you sit up and sip some of the electrolyte drink before guiding you back to her lap as her hands took their place back in your hair.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep again.

The next time you woke up Lizzie’s hand was still gently massaging your head which was helping with the now whopping headache you had. You shifted slightly prompting Lizzie to look down from the show she had put on and see you were awake.

“Hi sweetheart, how are we feeling love?” She asked softly.

“Headache, tired and lousy.” You mumbled turning your face into her stomach making her chuckle softly at your cuteness.

“That’s no good.” She said frowning now she registered your words. “Want me to get your mum to bring some Panadol and a snack?” She asked and you nodded into her stomach.

Lizzie gently reached down and placed her hands over your ears to shield you from the noise as she began calling out to Scarlett who you hadn’t noticed return.

“Scar car you bring y/n/n some Panadol and a snack!” She called and you faintly heard your mum’s response before Lizzie was prompting you to drink some more of the electrolyte drink in your water bottle.

“Sorry I know this wasn’t what you two wanted to do on ur day off” you said to both actresses when Scarlett came in with some cupcakes, she and rose had baked the day before and a strip of Panadol.

“Honey…” Lizzie said looking sad. “I’ll always be here when you need me.” She said softly.

“Yeah, I can’t get rid of you.” Scarlett joked making all three of you laugh.

When you winced at the noise Scarlett went straight to mum mode as she popped out two of the tablets and put them in your hand before nodding to the water bottle.

“Alright, what are we watching?” Scarlett asked situating herself on your other side and pulling your legs into her lap, so you were laid across the two of them.

“Whatever y/n/n wants.” Lizzie said chucking the remote to you.

“I’m thinking marvel.” You grinned making both women groan in protest.

You put on age of ultron and barely twenty minutes in Lizzie’s gentle head scratches had lulled you back into the arms of sleep.

POTS was hard to live with but with all the people in your life supporting you it was bearable.

Part 2

@barbarasstar @charlie56

[robo-writing]

hello! Can I request a Logan x afab!reader who has chronic pain, and is having a flare up? If not that’s okay, have a nice day!

He hates seeing you like this—in pain, suffering, forced to stand by your side and pamper you as best he can because to you, this is normal.

He wishes it wasn’t, but it is.

He’s trained himself to see the signs; shaky breaths, wobbly legs, that half-smile you give when you’re clearly in pain but you wanna convince him you’re fine—you’re not fine doll, lemme take care of you.

You always try to refuse his help, and you always fail because Logan doesn’t need your permission—if it’s in your benefit he’ll do it, no questions asked. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, so like hell he’s gonna stand by and do nothing.

“What do you need?” He whispers, taking you into his arms—sturdy, strong, arms that hold you tight and rub circles against your back as you whimper into them.

“Just need a break,” you breathe. “Just for a little while.”

You hate yourself for it sometimes, how easily you fall into his embrace, the soft coos that lure you in like a siren’s song—c’mere hon, I’ve gotcha—the way your body betrays you when it accepts his help so easily—

But then again, it’s not fair to blame yourself; when given the choice of pain or relief, you’ll always choose Logan.

[ravencantwrite]

Small things that Logan does for you

Logan x Chronically ill! Reader

Warnings: nothing really, just a lil fluffy hehe

Carries your bag for you

You are used to carrying your bag around with you after all it had almost everything you'd need— meds, pain relief patches, first aid material, or any other things that you'd need. But sometimes it does become a headache to take it everywhere. Holding on to your bag, or carrying your stuff around in a sling isn't really the most comfortable spot to be in really, considering the weight of the bag after everything you have to carry.

So when you try to pack less stuff than you usually do, Logan notices and immediately asks you if you don't need them anymore. "It's not that I don't need them, I'm just trying to take what I think I won't need today so that my bag won't be heavy", you tell him. He knows that your symptoms sometimes worsen suddenly and he is not willing to take the chance of going out with you and you not having everything that you need to help yourself.

"Pack everything that you need. Don't worry about how heavy it's going to be, I'll carry it for you", he tells you. And so he walks around with a little brown bag which obviously looks stuffed, hanging over his shoulders with a smile on his face, content at the fact that he was able to help you.

He packs your umbrella for you

Sometimes you tend to forget that your joints somehow predict the weather better than the weather report does. So when they start aching at first you blame it on overworking yourself, sleeping wrong, or anything else you can think of at the moment. The thought of the humidity in the air actually being the reason for your joint pain doesn't really occur to you.

It's only when you look out of the window from the class you were teaching at in the X Mansion that you see the grey clouds growing over the buildings, covering what was once a clear blue sky, that you realise the real cause of your joint pain. Your phone rings and it's Logan on the other end.

"Is it raining there yet? Because if it is, I packed your umbrella in your bag. Don't take too long and come back home after your shift."

He would always protect you in crowds

You can't always void crowds although you wish you could. People pushing against you, almost knocking you down accidentally wasn't really something that you look forward to. So when you're in a particularly very crowded elevator with Logan he makes sure to stand in a way that would let you have your space and would keep other people at a respectable distance so that when they move in or out of the elevator they don't accidentally hit you.

He would always try to get you to the side of the elevator so that you could hold onto the handrail and get that extra support that you would need while standing. And if that isn't enough, he would place his hand on your back, supporting you.

[stardust-and-snickerdoodles]

tired and i'm awake

fandom: Chicago Med

pairing: Connor Rhodes x Reader

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

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

word count: 3024

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for five minutes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[littlemissomega]

I'm Here

steve rogers x endometriosis!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N nods again, sniffling.

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

“What can I get for you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve?” he hears Y/N whimpers.

“I’m coming, baby!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a little better, princess?”

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

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you too, baby,”

Taglist:

@liidiaaag

@flourishandblotts-inc

@aagn360

@smromanoff

@butyoudontlookdisabled

[callsign-rogueone]

defective

Bodhi Durran x reader, Brennan Sorrengail & reader words: 1.7k 🏷️: did somebody say more chronically ill reader? with sweet baby Bodhi this time, and reader with a heart condition. negativity about illness / reader thinking they’re weak, others calling them weak / defective / etc., but not Bodhi or Brennan (they would never.) Brennan makes an appearance as an older brother figure, reader is referred to as she/her and a girl by members of the assembly but not by Bodhi. I think cuddling Bodhi would cure me of all my ills. I got the idea for this the other day when I went up stairs carrying a laundry basket and almost fainted. I would not make it up to the parapet, let alone be able to cross it lmao. anyway, here, have this. already plotting a part two of them reuniting after Resson 🥺

The assembly are too busy arguing to notice you standing in the doorway — arguing about you, you realize quickly.

“We can’t send her to her death.”

“We’ve been forced to send 15 to their potential deaths so far, with 92 more to go. Why is she any different from the rest?”

“You know damn well why, Ulices,” Brennan snaps. “Everyone else has a fighting chance, but there’s no way she’s going to survive the parapet, let alone the rest of the year.”

“There’s 250 steps up to the parapet. She won’t even make it to the top,” another voice adds.

“There’s still time to fix that. They don’t leave for another three months.”

“You can’t fix her,” Trissa says firmly. “No amount of  time in the gym will change the fact that she’s defective. She’ll never be able to do the things that the others can. She’s too weak.”

The word echoes in your ears. Defective. 

Your gaze falls to the empty chair — Xaden’s chair. What would he say if he was here? Would he let them call you weak? What would he say? Maybe it’s for the best that you don’t know. It would only hurt you to hear that the boy you’ve always idolized and regarded as an older brother call you weak and pathetic.

“So what would you have us do?” Felix asks.

“Either we send her with the rest, knowing her name will be at the top of the death roll on conscription day, and her blood will coat our hands forever, or we tell Navarre that she died, and keep her here. It should be believable enough that the weakling girl with the heart problem died young. It’s a miracle she hasn’t died already.”

Tears blur your vision, and you bring a hand up to swipe them away with your sleeve. The whisper of the fabric moving is enough to give you away; five heads turn toward the door, seeing you standing there.

Something compels you to run away — likely the fact that you’d been caught eavesdropping by the entire assembly. These meetings aren’t secret, but there’s an unwritten rule that the kids aren’t invited, especially if it isn’t a routine meeting.

Brennan calls your name, but you ignore him, moving faster, intent on getting back to the room you’ve been sleeping in and shutting the door in his face so you can cry alone in peace.

He catches up with you quickly, his strides longer and his movements faster. He lays a gentle hand on your arm. “Hey,” he coaxes. 

You stop and turn toward him, knowing that you can’t run again — he’s faster than you, and moving would also be a very bad idea right now; you feel like you’re going to fall over.

“I’m so sorry, kid.”

“Not your fault,” you rasp, fumbling for the wall and pressing your hand into it to support yourself. 

“Hold on to me,” he instructs. “Can I check your pulse?”

You nod, regretting the motion when it makes your head spin faster, and wrap your hand around his forearm, using him as an anchor to hold yourself up.

“Attagirl. Keep breathing.”

You work on deepening your breaths, filling your lungs all the way before you exhale, like he’d taught you last year.

Hot, frustrated tears slip down your cheeks. 

They’re right. You are defective. You can’t even run down a hallway without your body giving up on you. You wouldn’t be able to get up to the parapet, let alone cross it after that exertion — you can hardly stand right now. 

“Talk to me,” he asks after a moment. 

“I don’t want to go,” you say softly, “but to stay here, and let all my friends go where I can’t ever see them or help them, knowing they could die any day…”

“I know. I felt the same way when my sister started, but she’s a full fledged Captain now. Commands her own unit in Montserrat,” he says quietly, but it sounds like it pains him to say it — to tell you that she’s on the other side of the fight. “They’re all strong, they’ll make it through. And they’ll have each other to lean on.”

You nod again, and this time it doesn’t make you dizzy. “Yeah,” you say hollowly. “They’re strong.”

He immediately knows what you’re getting at. “Hey. I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t think you’re weak. I think you’re just at too much of a disadvantage to risk it. Your strengths lie elsewhere— not in the physical.”

“If only we could be scribes,” you sigh.

“If only,” he says softly. “My youngest sister is going to start in the scribe’s quadrant the year after this. She’s a lot like you, actually. She was born with an issue with her bones. She’s got a heart of gold, though. And she’s incredibly smart, like you. I think you’d get along well.”

“If it wasn’t for this, yeah,” you say quietly, looking down at your relic. 

He tries to hide his wince, but it doesn’t quite work. “I think she’d come around once she realized how great you are.”

“Whatever they decide, can you be the one to tell me? Alone?” you ask in a small voice. “I don’t want to see the looks on their faces. I know I’m an embarrassment to them, but I don’t want to be reminded of it.”

“You aren’t an embarrassment,” he chides softly. “But of course. I can tell you when they make their decision.”

“Thank you.”

He opens his arms to you. “C’mere, kid.” 

You step forward, letting him guide you into a gentle embrace. 

“I’m proud of you.”

“For what?” you ask into his shoulder.

“For surviving. For not giving up. For dealing with your symptoms every day and not letting it break you. For so many things. You’re amazing.”

“I don’t feel amazing.” 

“That’s okay. I hope you will someday, though.”

“Someday,” you agree softly.

“Alright. Let’s get you back to your room.”

You nod, keeping a hand on his arm while he walks with you. He’s slowed his steps to match yours, but he doesn’t show any sign of impatience.

“Thank you,” you say softly.

“Of course, sweet girl. Get some rest. Bodhi should be back in a few hours.”

Your cheeks warm as you realize that Brennan knows about whatever you two have going on — you don’t call yourselves boyfriend and girlfriend, but you’re very close, and there’s definitely a spark there. 

He drops a kiss to the top of your head, waiting to make sure you’re safely inside your room before he heads back down the hall. 

———————

Bodhi shows up around sunset, his hair damp from the showers. He sits beside you on the edge of your bed, leaning back against the pillows. “Hi, lovie.”

“Hi.”

He tilts your chin up with a gentle movement of his knuckle, seeing the tears in your eyes. “Whoa, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I’m not going to Basgiath,” you admit quietly.

“What?”

“The assembly decided that I’m too weak to even make it up the stairs to the parapet,” you answer, your voice wavering. “They’re going to tell Navarre that I died, because of my heart problem.”

Why are you crying again? You went over all this with Brennan already and got it out of your system — but evidently not.

Bodhi looks conflicted. You watch the gears turn, and see him weigh the good and the bad. You won’t have to endure everything riders are put through, and the assembly is right, you wouldn’t survive it. But to stay here while everyone else risks their lives, with no way to communicate with them, would be crushing. And if you’re found out, Xaden’s life will end along with yours.

He gathers you up into his lap, holding you close. He smells good, clean — soap and the tiniest bit of cologne, something warm and woody. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“I am too,” you sniff. “I wish I could be there with you, but…”

“It’s for the best,” he says gently. “I’d rather you be here, safe with Bren and the elders, than overworking yourself every day, and making things worse.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I still feel guilty about it, though.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s just how you were made. And you know it doesn’t change the way that any of us feel about you. We all love you so much, because you’re you, and you’re our friend.”

“Love you too,” you sniff. “M’ gonna miss you so much.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m going to miss you too, every day. But I promise I’ll write — I know first years can’t send letters, but I’ll ask Xaden or Gare to send it for me. They’ll probably have to sign their names on it, and address it to someone else, but you’ll know it’s from me by the handwriting.”

That makes you feel a little better, but you’re still worried. “But when you graduate, and move across the continent…”

“Then I’ll come visit you here, as often as I can. Maybe I’ll be closeby. Or maybe Tyrrendor will be freed by then.”

“Maybe,” you sigh. 

“I don’t want you to think for even a second that this means I’m letting go of you,” he says firmly. “You’re stuck with me, even if we’re apart, okay?”

“Okay,” you say quietly. 

“Good. Now, I have had a very long day of having my ass kicked by Imogen, and I’d like to spend the rest of it laying here with my favorite person.”

You’re his favorite person? You must be looking at him in disbelief, because he laughs lightly, his chest shaking against yours. “Yes, you. I thought it was obvious. You’re the one I spend all my time with.”

“You’re my favorite person too,” you say softly. 

He smiles. “I’m glad we sorted that out. Get comfy.”

You scoot off of his lap, settling down on the mattress. He slots himself in beside you, letting you work your way under his arm to rest your head on his chest. He’s put on a considerable amount of muscle in the last few months, and it’s so nice to rest your body against his like this, a strong arm keeping you in place as he reaches toward the foot of the bed for a blanket to drape over the both of you. 

You hum sleepily, content to rest in the warmth of his body and the softness of the blanket.

“This good?”

“Perfect,” you murmur. 

“Perfect indeed,” he agrees softly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and wrapping his fingers around your wrist, resting his thumb over your pulse point. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“G’night, Bo.”

[i2rizz]

"I don't like Mr Scarletella at all"I said then I suddenly tripped and fell to the ground, as multiple pictures of Mr Scarletella fell out of my pockets."Wait!"I cried out."These aren't mine I swear!"

[cherry-pop-elf]

Chronic Tonic

Wolverine x Reader x Deadpool

Authors note: I’m taking advantage of all this hype to bring awareness to chronic pain, because we know this bitches have it. ((Written by someone who suffers from it

Warnings: Canon typical violence (so it’s gonna get gorey), disabilities, domestic fluff, pain, blood, gore, Logan and Wade loving each other in their own way, Blind Al being iconic and a worried mom, DogPool being a angel, and heavy talk about disabilities and disability awareness

“Honey, mind coming to help me with the dishes?” You would hear Al call for you. You swore you were the only person she treated you with that Black Mama Magic with. As if you could complain. Suppose having company helps soften you up.

You had recently properly moved into the apartment. A bit cramped now, but given how often Wade and Logan went off to do super hero work it didn’t really matter. You knew deep down Al was happy to have you move in. Even if she doesn’t show it. Same for Mary Puppins, who loved to show she loved your attention.

“Sure thing Miss Althea!” You called back, as you would return Mary to her little dog bed. She gave a whine of protest, only to hush up when you tucked her in with one of Wade’s hoodies. Smelled like her daddy’s, so she was contented to nap time.

“You don’t have to keep calling me Althea-“ She would laugh, as you would enter the kitchen. Quick to already start drying them off, or working on the plates Althea didn’t quick get clean enough. She had a dish washer, but being able to do normal things can be soothing. You knew she was a little worried about her boys. She had her ways of showing it.

“Well I wanna, so-“ That had her laugh at your smart off tone. Was like Wade was in the apartment still. Had her sigh, as you two held your routine perfectly. You often helped her, but in the ways that soothed her. Such as not immediately dropping everything whenever she called for you, or babied her when she was struggling with something. Actually treated her as what she was. A person, who needed different types of help. Simple as that.

“I don’t know if it’s the damn arthritis’s, or just that mama sense I got, but I feel it in my bones. That nerve ache that something bass gonna happen. Maybe we should get the towels out of the laundry-“ Althea would tell you, as you frowned. Wade and Logan were practically immortal. They had to be fine, right?

That’s when the stench of blood smacked you in the face.

It hit you long before they reached the door. Nearly dropped the bowl in your hand, as it just filled your lungs. That intense iron. Althea gave a ‘I knew it-!’ Huff, as she was already walking to grab the needed towels. While you yourself were wondering how she didn’t even so much twitch a nose at it. Maybe the cocaine finally wore it down.

“Get the door for them! And a mop!” Althea called to you, as you brought your shirt to cover your mouth. It was just a suffocating stench. Was like walking into a morgue, where all the war time soldiers came to rot. Wonder how bad it must be for Logan with his heighten sense. Then again, he’s probs used to it by now.

When you opened the door you nearly threw up. The smell was so bad, had you gagging. Now you understood why Althea always left febreez and a face mask next to the door. You strapped that shit on like it was a gun to your belt. You were gonna need it, especially with how banged up they were.

Wade wasn’t even in one piece. His upper torso was tossed over Logan’s shoulder, as he would drag the lower half by the ankle with him. The sight of dangling organs made you feel faint. The internal parts being on the outside was rather distracting from the fact Logan was literally missing half his face. Was like some terminator shit.

“We’re back~!” Wade would sing, as Logan would toss the broken bundle of body parts onto the couch. He himself just sat in an arm chair. That was sweet, you had to admit. Letting Wade have the couch. Least that’s what would cross your mind when you weren’t trying to keep from vomiting.

“Don’t go puking on me. I don’t need eyes to know they be fucked up. Come on, let Mama show you how it’s done. Come on-“ Al would grab your arm, as she would use the side of the couch to help find her way around. Logan tried to be sneaky, and used his foot to push the coffee table away for her. So she didn’t trip. You noticed that. That didn’t sneak by you.

“Yeah, this is why I hate Magicians. Like come on man. Not even a cool spell like Sectumsempra. Just a damn ax. Lame to the L TO THE A TO THE M E-!” Wade you whine, as Al would try and figure out what needed to be done today. As if she wanted to deal with baby legs again.

“Not your PotterHead bullshit again, you fucking nerd-“ Logan would complain, before DogPool would jump into his lap. With a rag in her mouth. Wanting to help him out. The gesture was appreciated, as he rewarded her a ruffle to her fluffy head.

“Alright, here’s how you put a body together. If I can do it you can do it. Not like you can fuck up. Just gotta get it good enough, and that damn healing factor does the rest. Don’t faint on me, baby.” Al would comfort you, before she would guide your hands to the torso.

Was quite the adventure, but it was going to be a needed skill after all. It’s important to make sure they heal up as fast as possible. You never know when you’ll be ambushed, or some other wild plot point that makes you stressed. Not to mention that being a throuple meant getting used to this.

With taking a breather at the butchered surgery, you would stand up to look at Logan. Most of his face had actually healed over already. Well, the muscle anyway. He may not have been as bad off as Wade but you wanted to make sure he was doing ok all the same.

“Don’t give me those doe eyes. I’ll be fine, kid. Nothing we can’t handle. We’re gonna be fine. You did your job. Go wash up. Don’t want to know what the hell you’ll catch.” He tried to act like this wasn’t something painful, but you knew. You knew he’s hurting badly. It’s just easier to pretend than to just make everyone uncomfortable.

You would give a little huff, but toon the advice. A shower was certainly needed. Was a well earned reward. Helped take a lot of pressure off of Al’s shoulders. She could focus on cleaning around the home now, since you did the hardest part. Now was just time to clean, and hopefully help the boys clean up to.

Looks like it wasn’t needed, as you returned. There to see that Logan had come to help clean Wade up on his own. Despite the aches, he was doing his best to help clean up Wade. Taking away all the ruined clothes, and using the cloth that DogPool gave him. Just making sure the stitch work was taken care of.

“Careful with the claws, peanut. Daddy’s sore.” Wade would laugh, but you could hear the dryness. A dryness of exhaustion. You may not understand what it’s like to be in pain twenty four seven but it’s not that hard to understand it’s taxing.

“There’s still a needle and thread here, bub. I’ll finish off your lips next.” He would warn him, but that tired tone was also shared. There wasn’t really that normal bite to it. It was like the two of them were on autopilot. That it was easier to let a routine speak over an isolating silence. It’s easier to pretend everything’s normal than to let the pain sink in. To be deep in your bones, make you spasm, and remind you that sometimes being alive isn’t the best gift humanity can have.

“Come on, you to buddy.” You would soon grab a damp cloth from the kitchen. You took your turn on the couch. Just gentle dabs at Logan’s cheek, in some kind of means to help Logan. You can’t take away the pain, but maybe showing you cared could help? That you’ll never be exhausted of them complaining. Being in pain twenty four seven would wear anyone down. It’s not fair to let them pretend it isn’t.

“Daw, kitties getting pampered.” Wade would lazily say. As if he was in so much pain it was triggering a high. Was that something possible? To reach a pain level you get a buzz and can’t really comprehend your surroundings? Yeah. Yeah you can.

“Ignore him. Wades being Wade.” Logan grumbled, but didn’t fight your attempts to help. Even if the cold cloth did nothing, the fact you were willing to try can be enough sometimes. Not everything can be cured. Doesn’t mean people can’t try and help dull it.

That seemed to be the last anyone said, for a while. Never thought the Merc With The Mouth would ever be quiet. Guess sometimes your body just can’t process things. That so much goes on all at once that your brain just can’t keep up. Sometimes you just gotta autopilot. To feel your body throb, beg, cry, spasm, ache, bones crack, muscles tear, brain buzz, nerves burn, just feel every fiber of your being set a blaze. Sometimes you just have to ride it out, until you can come back from autopilot.

You didn’t pressure them at all. You let them do their autopilot. Didn’t interrupt them at all. Just let them do what helped them best. You just made sure to help in your own way. Such as reducing their need to move more than they should. Grabbing them new clothes, washing their bodies by hand, getting them something to drink, just whatever they needed to got it. You were able bodied, and knew they already felt shit enough not being able to get up to do it themselves. You didn’t hold it over their heads. They had enough of a rough day.

“Thanks peanut.” Wade would smile at you, as you would plant a kiss to the top of his head. A gruff was given from Logan, his own means of thank you, so you kissed his head as well. He deserved to get affection all the same. Just because Wade was more open to his emotions didn’t mean Logan gets left out from the smooches.

“They ain’t gonna leave the couch for a while. I know that feeling-“ Al would say, as she had blankets for them. So you took them from her, and helped them get as comfortable as their aches allowed them to. So much ache that even Logan couldn’t complain at Wade’s overly touchy affection. He was just to damn tired.

“Better get used to this. Happens once a month I swear.” Al huffed, as you gave a sound of agreement. Given she wouldn’t be able to see you nod your head. Just hurt your heart to see it all, but that’s just how the cookie crumbles. Sometimes people are born with it, like Logan, some just get it from Mother Nature saying you had to be special like Wade. Couldn’t imagine the mental barrier they had. Then again, not like they had a choice.

Least DogPool was there to help. Having jumped up on the couch, and snuggling between them. Doing her little pat to the blanket, and curling up between her daddies. Doing her best to help them. Warmed your heart. You made sure she had a plushie while she was there. She wouldn’t leave their side easy after all.

“Not bad for your first run around. Didn’t say that bullshit of ‘wow you are so strong-‘ and that useless crap everyone says-“ Al would ramble to you, as she returned to the dishes. Back to her routine. Like nothing had even happened.

“I mean, why would I? It’s a given, and it’s not like it’s doing much.” You muttered, as you tried to do the routine as well. To try and wash, and clean, like nothing weird had happened. That wasn’t your normal, though. But you’ll learn to have that normal.

They deserved to feel normal.

[tamrielic]

just a little self–indulgent drabble thing because i’m experiencing a nasty flare–up right now due to stress and i am so exhausted and miserable but i honestly can’t stop thinking about how gentle and wonderful and perfect JING YUAN would be to me; this is my first time writing for star rail at all whatsoever so. oof. i wrote it in first–person first without thinking so if i missed changing that somewhere i’m sorry but i gotta go lay down and rest

“baobei, are you still asleep?” the gentle, deep voice cuts through your half–asleep state, making you groan softly as you roll over and blink your eyes open to find jing yuan knelt beside your bed. he’d clearly just gotten back from his official meetings, still looking regal in his general uniform, though his boots and cape had been discarded at the door.

you stare at him for a moment before you reply, your voice rough with both sleep not having spoken in a few hours. “just dozing. i’m sorry, i’ll get up now.”

you shift to pull back the blanket and move to sit up, but are stopped by a large hand resting on your shoulder, jing yuan having stood up to lean over you.

“that is not what i meant. it was a simple question, not a demand that you must quit resting,” he murmurs as he gently guides you to lay back down, sitting on the edge of the bed as he reaches out to brush a few stray curls from your face. his warm golden eyes search your expression, scanning over your body briefly before meeting your gaze once more, his voice softening even further with concern. “be honest with me; are you experiencing a flare–up of your illness?”

you stay silent for a moment, eyes focused on his face, head subconsciously tilting to lean into the touch of his fingers. your voice is hardly more than a whisper when you speak, your eyelashes fluttering.

“you know that i hate to let you see me like this, jing yuan.”

a deep, warm chuckle leaves him, his golden eyes softening even further as he leans down over you, his fluffy white hair spilling over his shoulders as he nudges his nose against yours gently while he hums thoughtfully.

“mmm, perhaps. but have you considered that i relish every opportunity that i have to treat you like royalty; to wait on you hand and foot? you’re so very stubborn, baobei, and you never want to accept any help,” he leans down further, brushing his lips against yours as he whispers. “how about you let this old general dote upon you today, hm?”

you immediately blush, feeling your face and ears grow warm as you squirm a bit, lips parting to brush against his own as you mutter.

“i can’t– you’re busy enough as it is– this isn’t something that the general of the xianzhou luofu, an emanator of the hunt, should be dealing with. especially not from his significant other.”

unable to stop the hitch in your breath, the tears stinging as they begin to well up in your eyes, your hands clench into fists on the bedsheets as you turn your head to the side to avoid those intense golden eyes that are peering into your soul.

jing yuan is silent for a moment, the quiet of the room only making your discomfort and anxiety skyrocket, before he lets out a sigh and moves to climb onto the bed, gently pulling you up and into his lap; the ease of which he does so always startling. he buries the fingers of one hand in your hair and pulls your head to his chest, wrapping his free arm around you and leaning back against the headboard. he holds you in silence for a moment before his deep voice breaks it as he starts to slowly and gently rake his fingers through your curls.

“those are indeed the fancy titles i have been gifted in my life. but i must remind you, fancy titles and immortality or not, i am still just a man. a man who happens to be head over heels in love with a lovely, wonderful individual. an individual whose laughter makes my soul alight, a person whose love for me burns brighter than any sun in the universe. a person who, in my opinion as well as many other’s, is far too hard on themselves.”

you can’t help but to curl into him at that, the tears spilling from your eyes as you cling to him and sniffle.

jing yuan laughs lowly, a laugh that can be felt more than heard, and he turns his head to press his lips to your forehead before murmuring.

“baobei, you must stop being so hard on yourself. or else i shall have to resort to drastic measures...”

he slowly trails his free hand down to gently squeeze the plush curve of your hip, wiggling his fingers and chuckling when you immediately squeal softly and squirm against him.

you pull back from him, your face hot and wet from tears, sniffling as you glare half-heartedly at him. you open your lips to rebuke him, but he slips his fingers from your hair to press a shushing one to your lips, his eyes sparkling with amusement and affection.

“shhh, none of that now, though it is good to see that fire in your soul that i find so endearing,” he shifts, leaning down and resting his forehead against your own.

your eyebrows furrow as you glare at him silently, reaching up and grasping his wrist to pull his hand away so you can speak.

“jing yuan, you... you’re an infuriating scoundrel.”

his lips part in a wide smile as he laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“ah, so you agree with lady fu in that regard, hm? interesting. tell me, what is so infuriating about a man being so deeply in love with someone that the effects of illnesses that are out of their control only make him love them more?”

you are silent as you process his words, truly pondering them as your gaze inevitably softens and you slowly melt against him. you reach your hands up to cradle his face, brushing your thumbs against his high cheekbones.

“i don’t deserve you, jing yuan, but... i’m selfish. i love you, and i need you. i don’t know why you tolerate me when i have such inconvenient chronic illnesses, but...” you trail off, tilting your head as you lean in and brush your lips against his. “... thank you.”

he smiles against your lips and hums contendedly, murmuring a soft “no need to thank me, baobei” before his lips coax yours into a slow, loving kiss.

closing your eyes, you finally allow yourself to relax into him fully, pressing soft and tender kisses to his lips between soft breaths, your hands still cradling his face.

after a few more moments you part, a tiny yawn escaping you as you curl up on his lap and rest your head on his shoulder while whispering.

“can we just... stay like this for a bit?”

jing yuan chuckles quietly, shifting you both so that you’re lying down on the bed as he wraps himself around you, nuzzling his face against your neck and mumbling tiredly.

“i would love nothing more, baobei; a nap is exactly what i need right now, honestly.”

you sigh softly before wrapping your arms and legs around him, enjoying the feeling of his body against yours and the comforting scent of him as you both fall asleep, the bitter and negative thoughts plaguing your mind evaporating as his presence and gentle reassurances ease your worries.

[audiovideodisco]

One for me, two for you.

Where you are a doctor in House’s diagnostic team in the early seasons, and

are having a bad pain day.

CW: drug use/ opioids/ chronic pain and conditions/ self medicating (if you squint)/ could this be angst? i have no idea/ mild suggestive joke/ cancer talk & medical jargon

word count: 921

requested?: no

sfw?: yes

ship: n/a

characteristics: n/a

You trudge into Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital with a face that would make anyone with a brain run for the hills.

It had been a rough night for you. The pain in your body being worse than usual, and your meds weren’t helping, so you barely slept.

You suppress your winces and ignore the pain as you usually do, hiding it from others, but that doesn’t stop it from making you radiate an energy that makes everyone around you know you were not to be messed with. You normally radiated this energy anyway, but not just due to pain, also due to your ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude you had developed over the years.

You walk into the DDX office, dumping your stuff down next to you and putting your extraordinarily caffeinated drink down on the table a little harder than you’d like. Cameron, Chase and Foreman glance between themselves, Cameron going to ask something, when House opens the door connecting his office to the DDX office. He walks in with his three point tap bouncing unpleasantly around your head. You feel his eyes analysing you as he walks to the other end of the table, but hide your surprise when he doesn’t say anything.

“Wilson’s got a cancer patient in remission with all her symptoms back. But no cancer. I’ve already considered the fact that he could have been an idiot and missed it, but she’s definitely cancer free. Differential Diagnosis for hair loss, stomach pain, low white count and vomiting that’s not cancer. Go.”

The other doctors look at each other again before offering suggestions.

“Alcohol withdrawals?” Chase says, as Foreman immediately shuts him down,

“No, doesn’t explain the hair loss or low white count.”

“That- and the facts she’s 14.” House says with a smug look on his face, causing you to scowl at him a bit. He catches it, but ignores it.

Cameron rolls her eyes,

“How about Pancreatitis?”

You pipe up before House can make another shitty comment, your voice sharp,

“No fever. It’s late onset radiation side effects.”

House’s eyes squint as he considers what you said, then you see his look change to one with a flicker of something you couldn’t place. Was he impressed? Nah, probably just scheming again.

“Go, Foreman and Chase go talk to Wilson to see when her last radiation was and the details. Cameron, get a better medical history.” House says, turning to go back to his office.

“What about me?” You ask, unable to hide the confusion in your face, brows furrowed slightly.

“You should be following me. Thought that was obvious.”

“If it was obvious, I wouldn’t have asked.”

The other three fellows walk out the DDX office slowly, worried looks on their features as they have a silent conversation with looks between them. They disperse as you go into House’s office, leaving you standing by the door, looking at your boss who was sat at his desk, throwing his giant tennis ball between his hands.

“Sit. Or are you a masochist? Didn’t take you for someone that’s-“

“What the hell is this, House?” you stop him, biting back with much less effort to keep your words palatable.

House raises an eyebrow and stops throwing the ball around, turning to sit forward and lean his elbows on the table. He looks at you, pondering for a minute, and then gestures at the chair, which you sit in after a moment. He considers you again, watching as your brow furrows a little tighter as he does, holding up the facade so well. House was almost impressed, it’s a shame I can see right through that mask you’re putting up, he thought to himself. He pulls his vicodin from his pocket, pouring two into his palm, and you watch him, expecting him to swallow them dry in front of you, but instead, he holds them out to you. You look at the pills in his hand, and then at him, and back again.

“Take them.” He says, his voice a little softer than usual, but not much.

“What- why are you giving me-?”

“You’re having a bad pain day. Probably the worst one you’ve had in a while.”

“How do you even-“ You knew you were more irritable today, which you cursed yourself for not being able to!mask, but you hadn’t told anyone about your pain, let alone that it was chronic.

“Pain recognises pain. The vicodin will help.”

You take the pills tentatively, swallowing them with your drink.

“Uh… thanks… I-“ You start, not knowing what to say, but he cuts you off,

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone- I mean, I have discussed it with Wilson, he helped me figure out that you were in pain in the first place. He pays more attention.” You smile a little, nodding.

“Don’t suffer unnecessarily. I might be an ass, but I know what it’s like, being in pain all the time. I’m not a talker, but I am a drinker; if you want to forget or just- look, you can come to me anytime. Less lonely that way.” House mumble out, his last sentence being almost inaudible.

You nod and he passes you a piece of paper. It’s a scrip for vicodin.

“Go take blood from our patient. Want to make sure nothing has been missed in her blood.” You do as you’re asked, walking out his office and shoving the scrip in your pocket, feeling a little better as the vicodin begins to work, and a little less alone.