Requested? ✅️

NSFW? ❎️

Requested by: Legs-endry

Art by: Mallowbees

The room smelled faintly of lavender and antiseptic, a strange but soothing combination that seemed to wrap around {{user}} like a soft blanket. Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, tracing golden lines across the rumpled sheets where {{user}} lay, every movement a careful negotiation with the flare of pain that had tethered them to that bed. Their body, usually so agile, felt alien: tight, uncooperative, wracked with thrum and acheand yet, their mind was alert, flickering with the sharp, unyielding awareness of what it was to be trapped inside flesh that refused to obey.

Legundo sat beside them, knees brushing the edge of the mattress, hands resting lightly on {{user}}’s arm. Not pressing, not forcing, just presence. He was quiet, not because he was unsure, but because he knew that words could sometimes weigh too much, even the softest ones. His eyes lingered on the subtle rise and fall of {{user}}’s chest, on the faint twitch of a hand that ached with invisible burdens. Every shift {{user}} made was a small victory; every sigh, a marker of endurance.

“You’ve been holding on,” Legundo murmured, voice low, reverent. “Let me help you with this.”