#and that's fine if you do. It's fine if you need to heal and you need to unpack your baggage a bit

[thewitchblue]

"Ow, shit. I think I pulled a muscle in my arm."

Jason hissed in pain and rubbed the aching muscle. You growled back,

"No shit, you just attempted to flip a car."

Jason scowled at you. He wonders sometimes why you are on the field with him. He can handle himself.

With a playful eye roll, you say,

"I can heal that."

Jason blinked at you in shock. He asked with great suspicion,

"How?"

He doesn't want to agree to any terms without understanding everything. You shook your head in disbelief. Is he really this distrustful? You've saved him several times tonight alone.

"I can heal injuries through lip-to-lip contact."

Jason paused to consider it. His muscles would be fine. Patrol ends soon anyway, but he files away that information. Do the others know about this magic, or was it a secret?

"I'll be fine. It's only a pulled muscle, dollface."

You shook your head, but part ways as patrol ended. He's so self-destructive it hurts to watch. You can feel his aching joints and muscles.

Jason stormed into the cave, ready for a fight. He felt awkward asking for a kiss for such a small injury, but if he could get all his siblings to fight him, then he'll earn the kiss.

"I need someone to punch me in the face."

Jason exclaimed into the full cave. Tim chuckled,

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

Tim attempted to tackle Jason to the ground, which Jason lazily complied to. He made sure to let Tim know he's only allowing Tim to do this, not the other way around.

He had to physically resist his self-defence training and allowed Tim to punch him with Damian joining as soon as Tim finished. Tim always had unfinished business with Jason, so he is content with the small carnage he left.

Damian was a lot more feisty. He let Jason have his full, unadulterated rage like a fight dummy.

Imagine your surprise when Jason shows up at your apartment beaten and bloody. You gasped and ushered him inside.

"Okay, I'm absolutely kissing you. Pucker up, buttercup."

You lightly tugged him down via his bloody shirt and kissed him. The kiss felt lazy as each injury faded into nothingness. You even healed his joints and fixed his pulled arm muscle. You kissed him like the kiss meant more to you than just healing.

You kissed him even when all his injuries were healed and tangled your fingers through his hair to massage his scalp.

He groaned into the kiss and pulled you closer. He felt like he was gaining years of his life back. All the bones that never mended perfectly were set and fixed, his joints have never felt better, and his muscles no long ached. He kissed you like you are his sole lifeline.

You borderline drowned him in your magic. Your kiss was firm and insistent. Your lips were dancing to an unknown song, and you were content. Jason's warm body pulled you into a tight embrace. You had kissed him like it meant so much more to you, and that's when he knew.

He knew now how badly you wanted to kiss away his injuries and call him an idiot for thinking he could do more than he actually could after a long patrol. You want to kiss away the bullet and knife wounds every night. You want to be the one to hold him when he wakes up from nightmares. You want him.

He would have collapsed at the revelation if you weren't still holding his shirt. The years of scowling disdain were all a cover for a pining that lit up like a forest fire. He was filled with happiness for once. There was nothing weighing him down.

You and your nurturing lips will be his downfall.

Imagine: A Sanamancer!Magic!Reader x Batfam who can heal wounds through lip to lip contact <3

Sanamancy: A magic user whose magic is life and healing based.

———————

On patrol..

Jason: I think I pulled a muscle but I’ll be fine.

Sanamancer!Reader: Do you want me to heal you?

Jason: You can do that?

Sanamancer!Reader: Yes I can heal injuries through lip to lip contact :)

Jason: …don’t worry I only pulled a muscle

Sanamancer!Reader: Oh okay.

———————

Later

Jason: Punch me in the face now please.

Tim: You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.

———————

We need more magic!reader please <3

[0omillo0]

Felix angst/comfort (you can use this for the clingy series) where Felix feels the constant need to spend time with Y/N ( also rip this hits home for me) and Y/N is, for the first time in their life, not clingy. Like Felix perceives their actions as clingy but in their mind they feels free and as least clingy as they’ve ever been. And then Felix does the whole calls them clingy. And they have to take a moment because they, for once, felt so confident in themselves that they weren’t being clingy, and now they are second guessing themselves. (This is weirdly personal, I’ve been here before, please give mega angst but even more comfort)

Calling you clingy

Felix x Reader ; angst -> comfort

a/n: I hope this is what you wanted! merry christmas loves

Felix had always been a gentle, steady presence in your life—a warmth you could lean into when the world felt cold. His kindness had a way of pulling you out of your head, grounding you when your insecurities threatened to take over. You loved him for it.

But lately, his warmth felt different. He’d been clinging to you in ways you didn’t recognize, filling the spaces between your conversations with a soft desperation. He was more insistent on spending time together—seeking you out even when you felt perfectly fine sitting in your solitude.

At first, it was easy to brush off. Felix was affectionate by nature, and you’d always loved that about him. But when his gentle invitations turned into subtle comments—“Oh, you’re busy again?”—and his eyes lingered on you just a beat too long, you felt a weight you couldn’t explain.

It hurt, because for the first time in your life, you weren’t chasing validation. You weren’t battling the constant fear of being too much. Instead, you’d been reclaiming a sense of independence—spending time with yourself and learning to love the quiet.

You had felt proud. Free. For once, you didn’t feel the urge to text Felix every hour or overthink every interaction. And it had been working. The days felt lighter, and you believed you were finding a balance between nurturing your relationship with him and nurturing yourself.

And yet, tonight unraveled everything.

“Hey,” Felix called softly, pulling your attention away from the pile of papers on your desk.

The sound of his voice was cautious, hesitant, and you immediately turned to face him. “Yeah?” you asked, a small smile on your face. “What’s up?”

Felix shifted in place, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he searched for the right words. He looked like a boy on the verge of confessing something he thought would ruin everything. “Can I… ask you something?”

“Of course.” You set down your pen, turning your full attention to him.

His gaze dropped, and you noticed the way his hands fidgeted at his sides. “Do you think… maybe you’ve been a little clingy lately?”

For a second, the words didn’t register.

Clingy?

Your heart sank, the air leaving your lungs in an instant. The weight of his question crashed into you, heavy and suffocating, as if the room had suddenly shrunk around you. “Clingy?” you echoed, your voice small and disbelieving.

He nodded, wincing slightly as if bracing for backlash. “I mean… you’re always around. You always want to hang out, and I love being with you—I do. But sometimes I feel like…” He trailed off, clearly unsure how to soften the blow.

“Like I’m suffocating you,” you finished for him, bitterness creeping into your tone.

“No!” Felix said quickly, his eyes wide and panicked. “No, it’s not that. I just… I need a little space sometimes. And I don’t want you to take that the wrong way.”

But how else could you take it? You stared at him, your stomach twisting violently. His words felt like a knife turning in an old wound you’d spent years trying to heal.

Clingy.

That label had haunted you for as long as you could remember. It was the word that stuck to you like a shadow, the fear that kept you second-guessing every relationship, every friendship. But you had worked so hard to overcome it. You’d been careful—so careful—to give Felix the space he deserved while finally giving yourself the freedom to breathe.

And now, the one person who made you feel safe had torn that progress apart.

“Felix…” you started, your voice trembling. You swallowed hard, willing yourself not to cry. “I’ve been trying so hard not to be clingy. Like… so hard.”

His brow furrowed, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What?”

“I’ve been holding back,” you said, the words tumbling out in a bitter rush. “I’ve been giving you space. I haven’t been texting you constantly, or asking to hang out every second, or freaking out if I don’t hear from you for a while. I thought I was finally getting it right.” Your voice cracked, and you looked away, trying to rein in the tears that threatened to spill.

Felix’s expression shifted, the weight of your words hitting him like a freight train. “Y/N…”

“But I guess even when I think I’m doing better, it’s still not enough,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” Felix said, stepping forward. His face crumpled with regret as he reached for you. “No, that’s not true. I didn’t mean it like that. I swear—”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, stepping back out of his reach. Your hands clenched at your sides as you tried to steady your breath. “I get it. You need space. I’ll give you your space.”

“No, Y/N, don’t do that,” Felix said, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t—”

“I just need a minute, okay?” you said quickly, the words coming out sharper than you intended.

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Felix standing there with his heart in his throat.

The door clicked shut behind you, and the silence of your room felt deafening. You sank onto your bed, your mind spiraling with questions you couldn’t answer.

Had you been too much? Had you failed to notice something you should have?

You replayed every interaction in your head, dissecting your choices and second-guessing the progress you’d been so proud of.

Meanwhile, Felix sat outside your door, his knees pulled to his chest. His head was heavy in his hands, guilt eating away at him with every passing second. He didn’t know what had possessed him to say those words—words that clearly cut you so deeply.

Finally, he knocked softly, his voice trembling. “Y/N?”

There was no response.

“Please,” he tried again, his throat tight. “I didn’t mean what I said. I wasn’t thinking. Please, let me in.”

After a long moment, the door opened, revealing your tear-streaked face. Felix’s heart broke all over again. Without a second thought, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as tightly as he could.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t realize how hard you’d been trying… and I just—” He exhaled shakily. “I was scared.”

You stiffened slightly in his arms. “Scared?”

He nodded, pulling back to meet your eyes. “I thought maybe you didn’t need me as much anymore. And I know that’s selfish, but it made me panic. I thought maybe you were pulling away because you didn’t want to be around me.”

His words sank in slowly, and your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. “Felix… I wasn’t pulling away. I was trying to find a balance. For me. For us.”

“I know,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “And I ruined it. I’m so sorry, Y/N. You’re not clingy. You’re amazing, and I’m so, so lucky to have you.”

His sincerity broke through your walls, and you leaned into his embrace, letting his warmth comfort you. “I just don’t want to lose you,” you murmured.

“You won’t,” Felix promised, holding you tighter. “I’ll do better. I’ll listen better. And I’ll never call you clingy again. I swear.”

You stayed in his arms for what felt like forever, the steady beat of his heart grounding you as the ache in your chest slowly began to ease. Felix didn’t let go, his arms wrapped around you with a desperation that spoke louder than any words he could say.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, his breath warm against your hair. “I didn’t mean any of it. I just… I messed up. I didn’t realize how much you’d been trying, and instead of supporting you, I let my own fears get in the way.”

You swallowed hard, the knot in your throat loosening with every word. “You really thought I didn’t need you anymore?”

He nodded, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze was filled with regret, but there was something else there too—a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I got scared. You seemed so confident, so… happy on your own. And I thought maybe I was the only one who still needed us as much as I do.”

You shook your head, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaping your lips. “Felix, I need us. I always have. I just…” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I needed to know I could stand on my own too. Not because I don’t love you, but because I wanted to be better for you. For both of us.”

His expression softened, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “You are better, Y/N. You’re amazing. And I should have told you that instead of making you feel like… like this.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Felix was quick to catch it, his touch impossibly gentle. “I don’t think you realize how much I look up to you,” he said quietly. “You’ve been so strong, and I’m… I’m so proud of you. I hate that I made you second-guess yourself.”

His words cracked something open inside you, and you leaned into his hand, letting yourself feel the warmth and sincerity in his touch. “You mean that?” you asked softly.

“Every word,” he said, his voice firm but tender. “You’ve been so brave, Y/N. I see it. And I’ll spend every day reminding you how incredible you are if that’s what it takes to make up for tonight.”

For the first time that night, you felt the heaviness in your chest begin to lift. The sting of his earlier words lingered, but his apology—his love—was genuine.

You gave him a small, tentative smile. “You don’t have to make up for anything, Felix. Just… promise me we’ll talk next time, okay? No more letting things fester.”

He nodded quickly, his lips twitching into a faint, relieved smile. “I promise. I’ll do better. No more keeping things to myself. And no more calling you clingy. Ever.”

You let out a soft laugh, the sound breaking the tension in the room. “Good. Because that word is banned forever.”

“Forever,” Felix agreed, a playful light returning to his eyes. He shifted, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched. “You’re not clingy, Y/N. You’re perfect. Just the way you are.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment. For the first time in hours, you felt truly at ease.

Later that night, you found yourselves curled up on the couch, the tension of the evening a distant memory. Felix’s arms were wrapped around you, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm as the quiet hum of a movie played in the background.

“Y/N?” he murmured after a while, his voice soft and contemplative.

“Yeah?” you replied, tilting your head to look at him.

“I’m really lucky to have you,” he said, his cheeks turning pink as the words left his mouth.

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re not so bad yourself, Felix.”

He laughed softly, his lips brushing against your temple. “I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to,” you said gently, resting your hand over his. “We’ll figure it all out. Together.”

Felix’s arms tightened around you, his lips curving into a soft smile against your skin. “Together,” he echoed, and in that moment, you knew he meant it with every fiber of his being.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t questioning yourself. You weren’t doubting your place in his life or worrying about being too much. Felix’s love wrapped around you like a promise—a reassurance that you didn’t have to change to be enough.

@intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon

[ellecdc]

Hey! I've recently joined tumblr and I'm obsessed with your poly!Marauders×fem!reader fics. They're so so sweet and it just heals something in me. I'm not entirely sure if you're taking any requests at the moment so if you aren't, please feel free to ignore this completely.

Um, i was wondering if you could write about the reader being pregnant and having a scare in the middle of her pregnancy that has them all worried about her and the baby(s? As you wish again) so they rush her to the hospital and their anxiety and relief and how they handle the situation would be sweet to see i feel.

I love me some angst before a happy ending, so feel free to make this as angsty as you wish, I would be more than happy to just have the opportunity to read your work on my prompt.

Thanks for reading, again no pressure to write this if you're uncomfy.

<3

so glad you've enjoyed my works! thanks for your request <3

poly!marauders x afab!reader who has a scare during her pregnancy [2k words]

CW: fem!reader, pregnancy fic, I'm not a doctor nor have I ever been pregnant myself so this is likely not entirely realistic - my apologies for any inaccuracies, reader notices bleeding about halfway through her pregnancy, first pregnancy so they're all very nervous and tense, hurt/comfort, everyone's fine

Your silence was perhaps the most concerning part in Sirius’ mind. 

You were slightly hysterical when you first called to the boys from the bathroom; your voice a few octaves higher and breathing somewhat erratically as you explained that you were spotting. 

Remus, ever the fixer, immediately went into diagnostic mode. Sirius wondered if that hadn’t ultimately contributed to some of your anxiety. How much blood? From where? Was it in your urine or external? Could he see? 

You seemed torn between being mortified that he wanted to see your pink tinged urine and horrified that you’d flushed before he had a chance to inspect it for you.

“That’s alright; hey, it’s okay dove. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He had assured you. You didn’t seem convinced. 

James insisted he carry you to the bedroom, and it was a testament to how freaked out you were that you actually let him, even though the edge of your shared bed was a mere 15 steps from the bathroom. 

James had you tucked into his side as he rubbed soothing stripes up and down your arms, a concerned divot making itself home between his brows as he volleyed questions back and forth with Remus who was quickly making some quick searches on his phone and you stared unseeingly at the carpeted floor. 

Sirius, ever the useless sod, stood with his arms crossed, gnawing on the skin surrounding the nail on his thumb as he kept his worried gaze locked on the side of your face. 

When he got off the phone with your obstetrician, Remus eventually suggested  - in his most calm, authoritative voice - that they take you to A&E. 

You haven’t said anything since. 

Sirius packed you a bag - just in case you needed to be admitted for an extended period of time - whilst James and Remus helped you put on your jacket and shoes before helping you into the car. Again, Sirius knew just how freaked out you were that you even let them fuss over you as such; the fact didn’t seem to be lost on Remus or James either, who shared a concerned glance over your head as James fastened your buckle and Remus shut your door. 

Sirius’ gaze kept darting to the rearview mirror where he could see James’ eyes on you as you kept your own gaze pointed out the window, watching the passing cars as you chewed on the quickly nearing raw skin of your lips. 

“Still feeling okay, dove?” Remus asked, feigning repose. You offered him a hum of quasi-confirmation. 

“We’ll get you all sorted out, angel. You’ve nothing to worry about, okay?” James assured you, clearly going for light and breezy, though his facade fell quickly when a breathy sob escaped you.

“Are you okay, dove?” Remus urged, turning nearly dangerously in his seat to face you. “Does anything hurt? Do you need us to pull over?”

“Remus…” Sirius warned, darting a nervous look to you and James in the rearview mirror.

“Can we just…stop talking? Please?” You begged, sounding so small as you hid behind your hands and rubbed harshly at the tears in your eyes. 

Remus and James both looked as though they wanted to argue the matter, but Sirius quickly agreed. “Of course, gorgeous. We’re almost there.”

Sirius could feel Remus’ helpless gaze settle onto the side of his face, and he casually reached over the console to place his hand on Remus’ thigh as he often did when Sirius drove, though this time he offered his knee a comforting squeeze. 

Remus let out a shuddering breath, and Sirius simply hoped you couldn’t hear it over the thundering of your pulse in your ears. 

He stole one more look at James and exchanged a sad smile with him before returning his attention to the road. 

The admission process passed by in a blur. Sirius sat in a chair with you as Remus spoke to the intake nurse and James paced nervously a few steps behind him. 

Sirius had no words to offer, but you had also been clear about the fact that you didn’t want any, so he simply held you tight and tried to infuse as much strength and love as he could through every point of contact his body made with yours, and prayed that it’d be enough. 

“So, Miss. L/N, this is your first pregnancy?” The doctor asked you as she looked down at the notes in your chart.

You cleared your throat before answering her. “That’s right.” 

“How far along are you?” 

“Twenty weeks.” You offered meekly, shooting a nervous look to Sirius who hoped his encouraging smile translated properly. “And two days.”

The doctor smiled at that. “Half way through. That’s great.” 

Though James tried to smile back, no one else in the room could bring themselves to share in the excitement. 

“So it says here you noticed some spotting. When did that start?”

“Just today,” you responded quickly, “it wasn’t…a lot. Sort of like…like the first day of a period, I suppose? Except…lighter in colour. I don’t know, I’m sorry, I’m not explaining this very well.” 

Sirius itched to reach out for your hand as you started to sound slightly panicked, but fought the urge. Remus hadn’t fought the urge; his hand was promptly shaken off of your form.

“No, that’s perfect. That was going to be my next question; how you would relate it to your cycle.” The doctor assured you. Sirius’ shoulders relaxed when he noticed you take a breath of relief, too. 

“Have there been any other concerns as of late? Any falls, any pain, any cramping?” 

You shook your head no at all of them.

“Okay, let’s take a look then, shall we?” She asked, and Remus supported you as you shuffled towards the head of the bed, this time without pushing him away. 

Sirius didn’t think it was possible to feel more anxious than he did that very first ultrasound after the two pink lines told the four of you that you were pregnant, but he wondered if maybe he couldn’t also ask for one of those plastic bucket things as he felt bile rising in his throat whilst waiting for the doctor to spread some of the gel onto your stomach and press the wand-like camera to the space just above your pelvis. 

It seemed as though the four of you were holding your breath as the doctor moved the camera around and you all tried to follow along with the images even though you really had no idea what you were looking at. 

And then Sirius saw it; a flutter.

“Well, you’re doing a wonderful job, mama.” The doctor said as she turned the monitor further to ensure you could see properly. “Your little one has a strong heartbeat, and they’re very active right now, can you feel them?” 

“Uhm,” You let out with a breathless chuckle, quickly bringing one of your hands up to rub at the tears quickly cascading down your face, “I’m not really sure. Maybe? But I thought maybe it was just nerves or butterflies.”

The doctor laughed in response with a nod of her head. “Yes, that’s often what people think of it as at first; butterflies or even like you’ve just had a fizzy drink.” 

You laughed in agreement, nerves still colouring your breathing as you kept your eyes glued to the monitor. 

Sirius was astounded by the fact that the baby looked so…human. The first few ultrasounds looked like an arbitrary blob that someone who had never seen a human before had a human described to them and then drew it based off of that description. But this…

He could see a neck, and a nose, and hands with little fingers, and the fluttering of a heartbeat he was so worried the bunch of you wouldn’t see. 

He felt a small cold spot on his chest, and when he looked down he realised he’d been crying. 

“Bleeding can sometimes happen during pregnancy; sometimes it’s as simple as hormonal changes or changes to your cervix, but it is always a good idea to get it checked with your healthcare provider.”

“We had spoken with her obstetrician prior to bringing her in.” Remus explained. “He suggested we bring her in just to be on the safe side.”

The doctor nodded in agreement before turning her attention back to her patient. “I’m glad you came in today, Miss. L/N. Your obstetrician probably wanted you to get looked at swiftly seeing as this was your first pregnancy and he didn’t want you to wait the weekend to get looked at. But this is a healthy baby and you’re clearly doing a wonderful job.”

You quickly covered your face as you began to cry in earnest, and Sirius couldn’t help it anymore. 

He perched himself on the edge of your bed and pulled you into his side as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re okay, doll. You’ve done great; you’re doing great.” 

“I thought I was losing them.” You keened, small bump twitching in surprise when James made to wipe the gel off of your stomach. 

“I know, my love.” He assured you, watching Remus approach the bed once the doctor closed the door behind her. “I know, that was really scary.”

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled. 

“What are you sorry for, angel?” James asked, having since tossed the used paper towels as he took both of your hands in his. Remus clearly found that wholly unfair and quickly stole one of your hands to hold between both of his. 

“I don’t know…for scaring you all, for worrying you. For maybe hurting the-”

“That’s quite enough.” Sirius chided as he pulled you further into his side, glaring at James who looked like he, too, sort of wanted to squish you into his side. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing at all.” 

“Pregnancy is not easy, dove. Even if something had happened, it would have in no way been your fault. Okay?” Remus insisted, bending in an attempt to make eye contact with you when you refused to answer. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes.” You nearly wheezed, burrowing further into Sirius’ side; he let you. “Yes, I hear you.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Remus relented, lifting your hand that he had in his to press a kiss to your knuckles. “I’m so glad that you’re both okay.”

“How do you feel about a bath, angel?” James asked then, quickly agreeing when Remus warned ‘not too hot’. “Maybe we could order some takeaway too? What are you feeling? We could pick up anything you want on our way home. If it’s not on our way home, I’ll drop you off and go get it myself. Would you like that?”

“James, how would you feel about a bath and ordering takeaway?” Sirius teased, eliciting a chuckle - albeit a wet one - from you under his shoulder. 

“Oh, I would love that.” James agreed readily, taking your hand that Remus relinquished in favour of packing your things back up and retrieving your shoes and jacket. 

“What do you think, doll? Think you feel up to joining Jamie in a warm bath with some take away?”

You pursed your lips as though considering it before rolling your eyes in faux concession. “Fine, I think I can manage.”

“My perfect girl.” James cheered, pressing a smacking kiss to your cheek. “Thank you, angel. I know that was a big ask.”

“Trying to get James to sit still for an extended period of time?” Remus asked as he held your jacket open for you, smoothing it over your shoulders as James and Sirius both put their own on too. “That really is a big ask.”

Sirius offered James a smile and a wink before taking his hand, thankful that James was more than willing to be the butt of the joke if it meant releasing some of the residual anxiety from your form by means of giggles.

Though Sirius knew that if James couldn’t bring himself to sit still for an extended period of time, especially after the scare you all had today, you had two more-than-willing partners who would quickly offer to take his place.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

I’m obsessed with the Spencer and mean girl!reader!, i was wondering if you could expand a bit more and show the time she does bite back at the team for being rude or teasing Spencer?

plus size mean girl!reader, wc: 565.

a/n: decided to reopen my asks because the ones that you guys are sending are just too good! this fic was lowkey healing because i HATE when the team cuts spencer off.

Being able to go out all together was an incredible feat.

Most of the time everyone’s schedules didn’t align, but in this instance, you were able to catch a moment of peace.

The bar was bustling, live with people as music boomed from the speakers placed miscellaneously throughout the building.

You’re cuddled close into Spencer’s side, practically sitting on his lap as your sides touch. Spencer had thrown his coat over your lap because, admittedly, the bar was kind of cold, and your skirt was way too short to handle the chill.

You should be dancing, but you’re rather buzzed, the need inside you quelled by his slack covered leg that provided you with much needed warmth. You nursed the fruity cocktail in your hand, the sweetness a pleasant taste. 

“Ugh,” Voiced JJ. “If I drink anymore, I think I’ll spontaneously combust.” Her sentence ended with a groan. Emily patted her shoulder sympathetically, though that didn’t stop her from taking another sip of her whiskey.

“Did you know that it’s scientifically proven that you can’t actually spontaneously combust due to an excessive amount of alcohol intake. It’s a myth that’s long been -”

“Spence,” JJ interrupted. “I know. I was just being sarcastic.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Spencer’s face bloomed a normally endearing red, but this time you can tell that being cut off flustered him. Your hand that was clasped loosely in his tightened, and his body grew rigid as he felt your long acrylic nails dig into his skin.

“That was rude.” You said bluntly. That broke JJ and Emily out of their conversation.

The drunken smile on her face slowly fell at the sight of your serious demeanor. “I’m sorry?” She asked, giggling awkwardly.

“He was talking and you cut him off. It was rude.” You said simply. Spencer softly called your name from your side, “It’s fine.” He had said. 

“No, it’s not fine. Even if you already knew, you shouldn’t have been an ass and cut him off.” Her mouth fell open, stunted. “I…” Emily, bless her heart, was as shocked as her.

“It’s fine.” Spencer made sure to put the emphasis on ‘fine.’ 

You threw a look to him from the side before pouting your pink gloss covered lips, crossing your arms. “I’m just saying.” You said dismissively, as if you hadn’t just caused a scene.

“Uh -”

“More drinks, yeah?” Emily interrupted with fake cheerfulness. “JJ?”

“Yeah, yeah…” She got up and left with her with an uneasy grin on her face, leaving both you and your boyfriend at the table alone.

“Why would you do that?” Spencer asks with a deep, exasperated sigh. “Because they’ve been working with you for years, and yet they still find it okay to cut you off.”

“Yeah, but… If I was bothered by her cutting me off, I would have said something.”

“That’s the funny thing about it, Spence. You still find it hard to stick up for yourself, especially to people you respect. You shouldn’t just have to sit there and take it. You’re not a dog.”

You’re fully looking at him now, and he’s just… gazing at you. “What? Is there gloss on my teeth?” You run your tongue over them. “No,” He chuckles breathily with a shake of his head. “I just… thank you.” 

It’s your turn to fluster at the sheer admiration in his voice. 

“I - you already know it’s nothing.”

[ckret2]

Fuck you for pulling that bait and switch with the comic on the second to last chapter of the apocalypse shit. Genuinely pissed me off. Give me hope that this’ll be a fanfic that takes a different route than just bashing on cipher because it’s funny and then pulling it away because haha why not right? Let’s just blame the guy literally actually suffering and act as if he’s in he’s in his right mind at all. Oh well who cares. Loved your fic until you pulled that shit

My dude, you're well within your rights to hate the bait and switch. It was a dirty trick, I'll admit that.

But if you think that I was bashing on Bill, that I wrote his grief as funny, or that I'm not fully aware that he was acting irrationally out of pain and despair—then you didn't read the fic I wrote.

You're supposed to be upset he turned down the help he needs. It's not a joke. I want it to hurt that help is so close, but Bill can't accept it because he's grieving too hard to let go of his people. I want you to be furious that nobody but the Ax thinks Bill deserves help, and the Ax alone isn't enough to reach him. I want you to want him to heal.

But we already know he didn't heal then. Because if he had, he never would have done anything he did in canon. Nevertheless, this is a fic about offering Bill a second chance, no matter what, as many times as it takes for him to accept it, even if it takes a trillion years—because, canonically, we know it will.

You can hate the fic if you wanted to read a fix-it AU and didn't get it, that's fine—but do me a favor and hate it for the canon-compatible backstory tragedy it actually is, rather than the bizarre Bill-bashing comedy you projected on top of it after the plot took a twist you didn't expect.

[arcanarix]

f! reader, geto being toxic as per usual

there’s many things yandere geto’s too prideful to admit out loud, but the biggest one is his desire to be needed.

specifically, to be needed by you.

nothing has ground his gears more than the fact that you are a bit too secure for your own good. on one hand, he should be flattered that you aren’t worried about stuff, but that’s not the point! he adores when you cling to him on nights where you feel a little restless for one reason or another! or when you look at him like he’s your hero, your solace, your reprieve from any harm!

and certainly, no harm shall come to you as long as you stand by him.

one night he discovers something he can easily twist for his own needs, though. sometimes you have panic attacks. some are milder than others, but during those nights you have spilled some of your deepest fears. among them?

being alone. which is never going to be the case for you, not if he can help it, not for as long as he lives and even in death (as if his death is going to stop you from being together forever and ever)…

but oh, he can’t help how his heart swells when you bury your head into his chest and sob to him about how you loathe the idea of being unloved, which isn’t true, you are so loved, utterly and completely and helplessly by him. how you think no one thinks about you or cares even an inkling about you, which is preposterous, he’s here, HE does care.

he can’t help it; this has healed that earlier blow to his pride that he hates that he thought you were too secure but you have your worst fears, and maybe… maybe he wants to see how badly these fears truly do affect you.

sometimes, he leaves you alone for longer periods. it starts off with just an hour or so longer than usual. then more. he knows most of the time you’re fine. you go about your days as usual, but he can tell it bothers you when he’s not as ever present to catch you when you fall. it takes one day where he’s gone for far longer during his activities at the cult that he returns to you clutching at his robe, tears spilling from your eyes because yes, he’s done it, he’s found a trigger… that little hint of uncertainty. and behind the soothing coos and brushing through your hair, assuring you that nothing has happened or has changed, he’s fighting off the smirk on his face.

fuck, you look so good when you’re the one who needs him. that night you beg to feel him everywhere, just for that validation, and of course, of course he’s going to give it all to you. whatever you want.

but he wants to make sure this sticks. and it will, the more he plays on your fears in the slightest of ways. you may never catch on.

[blooddrinkingbartender]

"Hey, we always do," Bill said, with a smile. Leofric nodded in some sympathy.

"I know it's not my fault, but I am sorry to hear you do struggle with that as well," Leofric said, "I know I will need a bit more time to recover fully even when my eyes are healed, but I am mostly fine."

He supposed that between creating the balm and making sure everyone else was recovering, this might be a good excuse to continue making steady progress on that project he had been working on.

"As, as long as, as long as we, we keep masks on and, and cover up as, as much skin as, as possible, then, then that should, should be doable," Russell said.

"Yeah, that's a thought," Travis said, "Keeping him in a tight space would definitely work. Good call there, sports elf."

Antonio then heard Lucien's thought process on him being the sidekick. He was quiet for a moment, then shrugged.

"Okay, I guess that makes sense," Antonio said, "I suppose I will just have to learn the ways of the anti hero."

Antonio then looked down at Erica. He had a feeling that he knew exactly what she wanted. After all, he had made the promise that she could when this was done. So with a bit of stiffness in his movements, he knelt down and tilted his head so she could easier access to his ears.

"Sure, sure thing," Russell said, following Lucien so he could get out some bowls. His plan was for when Lucien ladled the soup up into bowls, he would bring it out to those who wanted some.

"I know where I got one," Bill said, as he reached a couple of his shadows out towards a particular closet. It took a few fumbles with how shaky they seemed, and how they threatened to fade out of existence with his lapses in concentration. But then they emerged with a bucket that was clearly used with a mop, "That should do it."

Leofric nodded then. From what he can sense, this would be what Rook needed to free herself from those poisons.

"I'm glad you guys are looking after each other." Rook said, nodding slightly, "And I hope your eyes get better soon, Leofric. I kinda know what it's like to be stuck looking at blurry shapes and it sucks."

At least she was too drained to be bothered by the light at the moment.

"It sounds like you two could be the secret weapon against that guy, then!" Erica replied, "As long as he can't put you to sleep, that is. His weird sword also needs a lot of space to be used. Maybe next time you should make sure to fight him in an enclosed space."

Erica stood up and waited for the shadows to disappear, before making her way over. The soup smelled amazing and she had decided she was going to have some before Lucien even offered.

Though she'd get that in a minute. There was still another matter waiting to be settled. She moved to stand by Antonio's side, looking up expectantly.

Lucien smirked, "While I recognize your talent and experience in the field, I have been in the anti hero business for longer. Therefore, I will allow you to be my sidekick for now."

"Yay, cat practice!" Erica cheered.

Lucien chuckled as he stepped back in the kitchen, "Thank you, Russell. Let's get to it."

Veronica watched for a moment, before she pulled out what very much looked like a bottle of rum. "Edmund was busy cursing the French, but he let me have a bottle of this. Between this and the angel's tears, should be strong enough to purge the toxins."

Rook's eyes widened when the ghost lady uncorked the bottle and smoke started pouring out of it. "De, mamma. I don't want to burn Bill's house down."

"I doubt that'll happen, but you might need a bucket."

[smut-anarchy]

Own Me - Chapter Two

Tags: Dom!Mattheo, Gryffandor!Reader, Cursing, Blackmail, Suggested Trauma & Death, Violence, Blood, M**blood Slurs

Rewritten as of: 12/26/2024

Word Count: 1,917 Words

Chapter Two: Worth It

“Merlin’s Robes, you look dreadful.” 

Under normal circumstances you found Luna’s way of talking to be charming, her refusal to mince words was always admirable and amusing. 

However, after a solid week of traipsing after Mattheo all around the castle and doing a majority of his classwork and homework while also struggling with your own, you were exhausted and mentally drained. You could hardly sleep, your dreams plagued by an amalgamation of anxiety-induced fears and Mattheo related nonsense, and when you were awake you’d hardly felt comfortable enough to do anything, concerned that he would call you in the middle of something and you’d have to book it to some godforsaken part of the castle. 

He’d already interrupted three showers, and you had the burns on your neck to prove he was truthful about the choker heating up the longer you’d took to get to him. You’d cleverly told Madam Pomfrey you’d taken up baking so the watchful healer was all too happy to give you a large amount of burn-healing paste, blissfully unaware of the true reason you needed such a cure.

So when you met Luna for your usual weekend exploration of the Forbidden Forest you knew you’d looked worse for wear. A small part of you thought to cancel on Luna this one time but you couldn’t find it in yourself to do such a thing. This had been a tradition with her ever since you became friends in first year, both of you bonding over the love of magical creatures. While Luna always seemed insistent she’d finally find the Nargles every single weekend, you’d simply been happy to enjoy the peaceful time in the forest, documenting and sketching any magical creatures in your personal journal. 

You’d offered Luna a withering smile, “I’m fine, Luna.”

She sent you a curious look but said nothing, walking towards the path their many days of exploring had created in the forest. Truthfully, you were glad for Luna’s acceptance of your disingenuous answer. Knowing that you couldn’t confide in her like you wished to meant you could only take solace in the serenity of nature for now. 

Your feet fell into step with Luna’s, both of your subconscious memories carrying you through the forest with ease. In moments like these you felt so comforted by Luna’s presence, she too often was mistaken as crazy with her unconventional ways but at her core she was such a soothing and kind soul. Though it made you feel immensely guilty for withholding the Mattheo situation from her, you’d felt more relaxed just walking along with her quietly.

“I think the Nargles would like Whispering Pond today. Maybe they’d like a swim before the cold sets in.” Luna suggested, you nodded at her, striding with her in the direction of the pond. 

You and Luna had discovered the small body of water in your third year, and it was easily one of the best discoveries of your school life. Though it was relatively close to Hogwarts it was hidden away, blocked by dense trees and berry bushes, when the wind swept through the towering trees Luna swore it was whispering secrets. The only creatures that seemed to frequent the pond were Nifflers, Jobberknolls and Glow Bugs, who usually recognized you and Luna after all these years, happy to receive food and pets occasionally. 

At the pond you preferred to sit on some stones, letting the cool October breeze wash over you. Luna occupied herself with looking around rocks closest to the pond, checking for lounging Nargles.  You had closed your eyes, breathing deeply to let go of everything that buried you this week. 

“The girls in my house are jealous. They say you and Mattheo Riddle have gotten quite close.”

Godric’s sword, I am going to drown myself.

You opened your eyes, Luna looking at you inquisitively. You should have expected this, word at Hogwarts traveling fast, and your fellow classmates were bound to notice you were suddenly always next to the Slytherin bad boy in and outside of class. Luna and you only shared the Care of Magical Creatures class, which thankfully Mattheo was not in, giving you a small reprieve and the ability to hide your newfound torturous relationship with Mattheo. In the last week you’d definitely caught some questioning looks and envious glares, but you’d brushed it off, much more concerned with Mattheo’s hold on your entire life than the petty feelings of strangers. 

“We are not close,” you snorted, “He’s an egotistical brute.” The truth burned on your tongue, longing to share everything with Luna, but with Mattheo’s cruel control literally wrapped around your neck meant there was no telling what he’d do to you or Luna if you let it slip.

“Is he perhaps why you are so tired?” Luna’s voice held a subtle teasing tone, “Perhaps he’s occupying too much of your night time hours.” 

“Luna! Absolutely not!” You blushed, face heating up as you sputtered firm denial. Such an accusation made you want to retch, the current reality was already horrifying, imagining anything further would likely send you into an early grave.

“Well I can hardly fault you if you did, he is quite handsome,” Luna jested, “Though I always figured Harry would be more your type.” 

“Harry? As in Harry Potter? Luna, have you been stung by a Swooping Evil? Do I need to take you to the infirmary?” You were floored, of all the things Luna could suggest, implying either of the boys would be suitable for you was just beyond impossible. 

“What’s wrong with Harry? He’s my friend you know!” Luna pushed. 

Nothing was wrong with Harry, he was handsome and sweet, though you’d hardly ever said much to him, he was too often getting into trouble with Hermione and Ron for you to build any kind of friendship with him. Even so, he attracted far too much attention to be an appropriate fit for you, you’d much preferred to stay away from the flashy kind of scrutiny Harry seemed to draw everywhere he went. 

As for Mattheo, well you would concede with Luna that he was, tragically, unfairly attractive. Though that hardly made up for his bad attitude and egotistical nature. He also attracted an uncomfortable amount of attention to you, though where Harry’s attention was not accumulated wholly by his fault, Mattheo’s was, the Slytherin seeming to thrive off of the endless rumors and gossip. Between his family, his inclination for fighting and the relentless list of lovers he gathered there wasn’t a soul who wasn’t aware of Mattheo Riddle.  

“Nothing! They’re both just… too much.” You asserted.

Luna looked at you, as her best friend you could see the hidden knowledge lingering behind her eyes. “That’s too bad, Harry thinks you’re cute.”

Now your face was flaming, in all the time you’d been at Hogwarts you thought yourself to be somewhat invisible. You shared your year with other Gryffindors like Harry, Hermione or Neville, or even Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who people were aware of for one reason or another, you didn’t think yourself remarkable enough to be noticed. 

Then you’d felt it, a feeling now etched into your memory from the last week, a light warming sensation around your throat. You could feel your body stiffen, your mind already urging you to start running. 

Black Lake.

You praised the founders silently in your head, if you ran you could get to the Black Lake in four minutes.

“Luna, I’m sorry, I have to go. I-I just remembered I needed to do something.” You rushed out.

Luna’s face turned to worry, with a hint of guilt. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“No! Of course not! I just have to go, I’ll see you at dinner though, I promise. Let me know if you find the Nargles!”

Luna nodded at you, casting you one of her knowing smiles and turned back to the rocks, looking under each stone in hopes of finding the mythical creature. 

As soon as you were out of Luna’s eye line, safely behind the cover of various bushes and looming trees you burst into a sprint. The necklace was not burning yet, but slowly becoming uncomfortably hot. You pushed yourself even harder, jumping over sticks and plants, eager to dull the fevered feeling around your neck. 

Breaking past the forests’ tree line you quickly scanned for Mattheo, immediately spotting him lazing against a tree near the lake with the rest of the Slytherin boys. 

Your lungs were burning and your legs trembled, still weak and sore from all the running you’ve done during the week. Still, the choker was now causing a searing pain against your skin, you needed to get over there now. 

Mattheo noticed you hurriedly coming towards him, a cruel smirk spreading on his face as he leaned against the trunk. The rest of the gang stopped to notice your approach as well, their eyes of spectacle filling your stomach with embarrassment. 

As you’d slowed your run you’d tripped on a tree root sticking out of the ground, sending you tumbling down at Mattheo’s feet. All five boys bursting into laughter watching your clumsiness, causing more embarrassment to flood you. 

“Wow mate, you’d already got her falling at your feet!” Enzo cackled.

Mattheo’s face was all too pleased, his friends feeding his hubris with their laughter. 

“I know, and it only took a week. My pet is so obedient.” 

You were on your knees, still trying to catch your breath from running. Angrily glaring at Mattheo, trying to hold back your temper at the demeaning compliment.

“You called for me,” you huffed, “Sir.”

Though you’d begrudgingly used the title all week, it had not worn out its novelty to the boys or Mattheo. More laughter ensued and Mattheo’s self-satisfied smile widened, his puffed up ego practically suffocating you. 

“Yes my dear,” He drawled sarcastically, “I’d like to rest my head on something soft. I think those thighs of yours will suit nicely.” By the look of his face this was meant to be a trap, obviously he was bored and had nothing better to do than torture the poor Gryffindor he’d blackmailed into being his servant.

Internally, you’d wanted to cry in frustration, he’d made you run all the way out here to be a fucking pillow for his stupid head. You’d wanted to argue, to tell him to go fuck himself, tell him that if he wanted a pillow so damn bad he could go to his fucking bedroom, which was ridiculously close because he lived at the bottom of the castle like the evil reptile he was. Alas, such a display might attract the wrong kind of attention, so you sighed and shrugged off your chunky sweater.

Not willing to sit on the bare ground, you’d folded your cardigan, placing it on an empty spot closest to Mattheo before sliding over and sitting down. You tucked your skirt between your legs, not willing to let Mattheo get a peek up your skirt if he turned his head, and then stretched your legs out. Mattheo laid his head on your thighs, satisfied smile not leaving his face. 

“Did you come from the Forbidden Forest?” Theo broke the silence. 

You’d looked at him suspiciously, not expecting to be talked to by the boys who considered you Mattheo’s plaything. “Yes.” 

“What were you doing there?” Blaise asked, eyes displaying mild interest.

“Luna and I look for magical creatures together, every weekend.” You’d answered curtly, not wanting to give much more information. Even though Hagrid knew of you and Luna’s exploring and encouraged you both to be safe, it was still technically off limits to students.

“Seriously? Like what?” Enzo joined in, the three boys looking expectantly at you, curiosity on their faces, unlike Draco who sneered from above on a tree branch, preferring to read his book and ignore your presence. Mattheo, whose head was in your lap, had his eyes closed, uncaring. 

He looks like an angel like this.

As quickly as it came you shook that thought out of your head.

“Not much today since someone interrupted me,” Mattheo’s lips twitched into a smirk at the subtle dig, “But we’ve seen all kinds of creatures in there. Nifflers, Bowtruckles, Doxies, Dugbogs, a Porlock a couple times, we’ve seen Augurey nests but never the Augurey, a couple of Thestrals here and there and a Unicorn two times.” You chattered off a list, each mention inviting a core memory to the front of your mind. 

While talking you realized you were absentmindedly combing your fingers through Mattheo’s hair, but he made no move to correct the behavior. You allowed yourself to keep going, rationalizing that if you’d stopped Mattheo would join in the conversation to annoy you. After all, a relaxed Mattheo was more beneficial to you.

The three formerly curious boys stared at you, a mix of caution and fascination on their faces.

“You can see Thestrals?” Blaise hesitated. 

Fuck. 

You tried not to tense, not wanting to show any vulnerability in front of the boys. You should have held back, too lost in your interest of magical creatures to remember what revealing that information meant. You could feel Mattheo’s eyes on you, the impenetrable stare sending a cold sweat down your spine, you willed yourself not to look at him.

“Um… yeah. But it’s not like, bad or sad or anything. It’s… just what it is.” You choked out. You could feel your face flushing from embarrassment, you did not want to talk about this at all. 

“I’ve seen ‘em in books. They look fucking terrifying!” Enzo joked, grateful for the change in tone you smiled lightly at him. 

“Honestly, I’ll take them any day over an Acromantula. There’s a whole huge nest in there.” You joked back. This seemed to break the mood into something more lighthearted, Blaise’s eyes popping wide. 

“An Acromantula nest? As in there is more than one of those in there?” 

You laughed at his astonishment, “Yes! Luna showed me! Harry showed it to her after he’d been in there!” 

“It’s not enough for you to be hanging around with Loony Lovegood, you hang around Potter too?” Draco snarled, his full attention now on you. 

Your fingers had slightly tightened in Mattheo’s hair when Blaise had asked if you could see Thestrals, your body automatically tensing from the uncomfortable query. But now you were clenching his hair so tight he let out a low groan, the sound zapping nerves in your gut. You mumbled a soft ’sorry’ before turning your furious attention completely on Draco. 

“I don’t hang around Harry, he’s friends with Luna, not that it’s any of your business Draco,” You seethed. You could feel the lion inside of you foaming at the mouth, encouraging you to hex Malfoy in protection of your best friend. You tried to swallow your wrath, assuming Mattheo wouldn’t take too kindly to any action against one of his friends. 

“Well, hardly surprising that Loony is friends with a blood traitor and a mudblood.” Your entire body felt like it was dipped in lava, your head ignited with the urge to rip the blonde apart with your bear hands. Mattheo’s mocking and bestowing you with a fucking torturous collar felt small in compassion to how you were feeling now, the seething heat of venom in your mouth threatening rupture.

“Come down here and say that Malfoy.”

Draco dropped down from the tree, squatting in front of you to get on your level, “I said, you’re a mudblood and your friend is a-“ Without any hesitation you brought your head back and, with as much force as you could muster, slammed your forehead into Draco’s nose. A sickening crunch was heard, followed by spewing blood from Draco’s nose as he fell backward. 

“Did you just head butt me?!” Draco cried, hand going up to his face in an effort to stop the blood. 

“Fuck yeah I did. Say what you want about me, I don’t give a shit, I’ve heard worse. But you won’t talk about my best friend that way.” You snarled. The instant pain and headache that rocked you after was well worth it, watching streams of blood gush from the young Malfoy’s nose.

“Mattheo, do something about your little pet!” Draco demanded, his voice nasal from holding his broken, bleeding nose.

“Oh, I will. But she’s mine to mess with Draco, let this be the first and last lesson not to do it again.” Mattheo shrugged. 

“Come on man, let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey” Blaise sighed, pulling a frustrated, sputtering Draco away from the group. Blaise respectfully nodded at you, before walking away with a whining Draco. 

You sighed, looking down at Mattheo, “Okay, how much trouble am I in for that?” You’d hoped to get it over with as soon as possible. 

“Oh, a lot. You can’t just go around head butting my friends, Kitten.” Mattheo laughed. 

Your eyes rolled at him and your shoulders slumped a bit but you didn’t seem too down. “Worth it.”

“Okay, her, I like.” Theo announced, his voice a pleasing mixture of shock and amusement over what he’d just witnessed. You took this as high praise from the Italian Slytherin, he was typically known to disregard mostly everyone.

“I’ll say! That was a sight to see.” Enzo joked, “I can’t believe you head butted him. I bet you he’s in the infirmary right now doing the ‘my father will hear about this!’ thing.” Enzo, Theo and Mattheo laughed, completely agreeing that Draco would very well be bitching about this right now. 

When Theo and Enzo turned to their own conversation, you looked at Mattheo, whose eyes were already on you.

“So…” you whispered, “What’s the punishment?” 

“Oh Kitten,” Mattheo huffed, a wicked promise in his voice, “Just you wait and see.”

[murderdogwater]

How I think the Bachelors and Bachelorettes act when their sick:

Haley: A menace. The type to spit medicine at you like a camel, she'd whine about feeling awful but refuse to take any kind of medication. Don't even try to hide pills in things. She will find them and pick them out. Probably also the type to fake being sick when she was younger just to get princess treatment.

Maru: The type to not tell you she doesn't feel well, and you only find out when Harvey has to carry her back to the farm because she passed out at the clinic. She's probably pretty chill about medicine, but she'll get restless and want something to do while she's on bedrest. But keep an eye on her, or she'll be up trying to make another robot ai nurse or something.

Leah: One of the few who's probably being serious when she says she doesn't get sick. If she does, she'll be pretty chill and will stay in bed, probably sketching, until she's better. If she's sick, she won't stay that way for long, unless it's a real injury, then she's also pretty chill.

Penny: She's probably pretty self-sufficient. She can't exactly taste with how stuffed up she is, so she doesn't know how bad her food tastes. She'll probably eat and sleep a lot and explain it away, saying that Pam left her alone a lot as a kid, so she took care of herself. She'll probably cry if you take care of her.

Emily: She says she doesn't get sick, don't listen to her. Maybe worse than Haley about medication, because she insists that she needs natural methods to heal. She probably gets really delirious and tries to fix it with crystals and burning sage. Just make sure she gets what she needs and give her something to do in bed, and she'll wear herself out.

Abigail: Another one who says they don't get sick and is actually right, more likely to get injured or get food poisoning from her weird diet. Either way she’s pretty chill, and the biggest problem she'll have is boredom. Give her some soup, medicine, and attention, and she'll be fine. Probably plays video games until she feels better.

Sebastian: A BABY. Maximum level baby boy. His two favorite things are soup and tea. He gets sick often and stays that way often. And I feel like Robin is the type to baby him to shit, so he's pouty and needy for attention. Honestly, it will probably get worse if you keep him in bed, so it might be better to make him go outside if possible so he can actually get some sun.

Elliott: He's dramatic but very grateful if you take care of him. If he's really bad, then he'll start talking in Limericks that don't make sense until he falls asleep. Not exactly a baby, but certainly a drama queen. Will complain about his hair being messed up while he's in bed. Might feel better if he goes back to his cabin like a dying woman in a Victorian novel.a

Shane: Oh god, if you think Maru is bad about not telling you when she feels bad, then Shane is 10000 times worse. This man will be throwing up, coughing his lungs out, sneezing loud enough to wake the dead, and still tell you he's fine. You gotta call Jas and have her beg him (from a distance) to lay down and take care of himself. After that, he's chill about everything except his diet, is pissed he can't eat pizza all day but will eat soup and some vegetables if you tell him to.

Alex: Doesn't get sick and is right, but if he gets injured, then he wants princess treatment. He needs his pillows fluffed, his meals hot and on time, and DEMANDS cookies and attention. Evelyn probably spoiled him a little bit as a kid because it was so rare for him to get sick. The only bright side is that he'll gladly take medication without complaint as long as it's followed by a cookie.

Sam: Rarely gets sick, when he does he's a self regulater. If he's really sick, he'll sing softly to himself. His colds come with nightmares, and he'll probably wake up a lot. Cuddle him and make sure he's okay after, and he'll be okay.

Harvey: You'd think that either Harvey would be the type to not get sick or be a big baby. And you're wrong either way. Harvey is sickly and is a horrible self regulator, but he's very grateful for you taking care of him and will be the most cooperative patient ever. Will make dad jokes the whole time. Is very sweet.

[tales-of-wocdes]

How would they react to mc that just does and says thing on their mind? Like zero impluse control also probably has rabies

"Kid, stop biting the table." Lexia says and detaches you from the table.

"No!" You grab on to the table, and try to hold on. "It deserves it!"

Lexia just pulls you away, gently but firmly making you let go.

"Stupid!" You try to hit her. She catches your tiny fist.

"Kid, we need to see Havard, so to him you go."

Your head hurts... Your nose is running. It's hot. Everything hurts.

You are not happy, so you try to squirm and bite her a few times. You might also throw up a bit. She just changes her grip on you, and carries you along. Biting armor is no fun. Not that stops you from trying, but still.

In Havard's office, he comes over and feels your forehead.

You try to bite his hand. You miss. Stupid Havard... why does he have four hands anyway?

"To the baths." Havard says.

Lexia nods.

"No! No water!" You try screaming and fighting. "Will not drown!" You fight with all of your might, kicking and screaming.

It does not save you from Lexia dropping you into the massive bath.

You feel the water surround you. You are going going to drown! They killed you!

Something pushes you to the surface and you are left staring upwards, floating there.

"Lexia! That was not necessary."

"It's an enchanted bath, it's fine." Lexia said. "See, they are back to the surface already. No way MC was going in willingly."

You float there for a moment... Then decide you should make your feelings known.

You splash them both with water.

Both of them look at you.

"Feeling better?" Havard asks, not even addressing you splashing them. He seems... worried.

Now that you think about it... You do feel better. Not so hot, your head is clearer and it does not hurt all over.

You nod... Then splash them again. Serves them right for making you take a bath! "Stupid!" You shout at them.

Lexia laughs... and soon a water war commences.

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

Even Havard takes some time to participate int eh water war. MC needs to stay in the healing baths for as long as possible after all to make sure whatever they had caught is dealt with. He would need to thank Lexia later for the quick thinking.

Then again, seeing her splash MC, and laugh with glee... maybe she didn't put that much thought into it.

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

I might have focused on the wrong thing...The rabies took over more than I thought, damn it has a lot of symptoms. Including fear of water. Still, a snippet is a snippet :D

[soft-pine]

@angelsdean: #i think cas is good at cutting thru the bullshit and just saying things succinctly (and often bluntly)#and i think he's a good listener and is also someone dean himself actually chooses to open up to#and often WANTS to talk to (unlike w/ sam)#but yea he's not giving dean a therapy session. cas is not the wise all-knowing master of emotion#it's all actually very new to him! he's still getting the hang of human stuff!#and sam. well. he's mr. projection and deflection boy#and pretty bad at his own emotional processing#and should in no way be giving out advice let alone playing Perfect Therapist (and often Queer Expert) Sam#like obvs ppl can write what they want forever and do as they please in fanworks#but when ppl conflate this specific tropey depiction of them w/ canon it gets annoying#bc they very much are not like that in canon

@ilarual: #they are all deeply traumatized people with a shit ton of issues#and they all NEED the space and security to be able to heal and grow#but that doesn't mean that ANY of them are equipped to be each other's live-in therapist#Cas is more emotionally intelligent than he gives himself credit for but he's not a particularly verbose communicator#likewise while Dean is absolutely a safe person for Cas to open up to it's not his responsibility to be Cas's therapist#in fact your partner is probably the absolute WORST person to try to play informal therapist#and the less said about Sam in the therapizing your family conversation the better

@shallowseeker: #cuts through bullshit#also good at communicating without fluff which is what dean tends to appreciate#a lack of artifice

@indistarlight: #he's very blunt which helps dean as its the opposite of literary fictional reference word vomit mixed with vulnerability encased in bravado#but his biggest speeches are all literally when he thinks he'll be too dead to deal with the aftermath#he is very good at showing empathy and care when he's present tho! which i think dean appreciates despite how much it disarms him

@im-some-lionheart: #also Dean is canonically the one out of the three of them who most often initiates emotional conversations..#It don't mean Sam and Cas wouldn't ask him about his feelings but rather that it's most likely Dean's gonna ask THEM first#also what I love about dean and cas' heart to hearts is that it's almost always a variation of:#Cas: how are you#Dean: fan fucking tastic#cas: doubt#dean: ok I'm not fine I'm actually crumbling#cas: *offers support in the form of a killer one-liner or a shared moment of comfortable silence*#Top tier chef's kiss dynamic 👌🏻#which is why fics where they have long open and honest conversations about their feelings always take me out of the story#I'm sorry but it's not just that he would not say that (and he wouldn't)#it's that he wouldn't say ALL OF THAT. These are emotionally stunned and deeply traumatized “straight” (allegedly) Men#have you ever TRIED to talk to a man about his own emotions????#that entire conversation needs to be filled with short sentences tense silences and half said stuff

i think the confession made people forget cas is not really a consistent verbal communicator/processor.

i just dont know if like the verbose and florid speech he'd held in for years and finally spilled on his deathbed is like the best roadmap for how he'd communicate on a random wednesday....

[a-spes]

Can I request a Kate Bishop fic with a fem reader where they're dating and the reader finally opened up about their mental health struggles and past attempts and shows Kate the scars that formed from self harm and they have a serious conversation and the fic is very fluffy? If this is too dark or triggering I completely understand.

Down A Dangerous Road. — One-Shot. (4,344 words).

" The woman would never judge you for the things you have done when you were at you lowest, but some had in the past, and sometimes you could still hear their voices in the back of your mind. You were a disapointment to everyone. Everyone, but Kate. The archer was able to see past the darkness that stained your heart. She saw the person behind the pain, and gave you a chance to feel love. "

| Tags & Warnings — Kate Bishop x Reader. Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic. One-shot. Comforting and Happy Ending. Crying, Depression, Healing, Mental Health Issues, Recovery, Implied Past Self-Harm, Self-Harm Ideations (No Act Is Described Or Happen), Suicidal Ideations. Please, read carefully, and take care <3

| MAIN MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES.

You can't recognize your face.

And it doesn't matter for how long you've been starring at your reflection, because the image returned by the mirror still feels foreign.

You looked at it until the details became blurry, until it became a shapless form that blends in with the rest of the room. You looked at it until you could not tell what you were looking at anymore.

Your gaze lost in emptiness, you wonder where did your smile go. And you may have been watching yourself in the mirror for hours, but you still haven't found it.

At some point, you tried to forcefully bring the smile back on your face, forcing the edges of your lips to rise again. Yet, it looked wrong. It was ridiculous, and painfully fake.

It was the eyes.

Because they never lie, and there was no chance that Kate wouldn't see past the act you were trying to put up. The woman knows you too well to fall into your traps, and as soon as she enters the appartment you share, she will know something is wrong. Without asking any questions, without speaking, just by looking into your eyes, she will know, and that is the last thing you want.

Kate Bishop may be your girlfriend, but she also is a hero, and you know how demanding her job can be. Every day, she puts her life in danger to save thousand of strangers — Something for which you deeply admire her. The last thing you want is to add your problems to the weight she is already carrying.

After a day spent in your bed, thinking about all the things that needed to be done, blaming yourself for not being able to complete the tasks,

You wish you could give your girlfriend the comfort she deserves. Usually, by the time she is back home, you would have taken care of most of the chores.

But not today.

Today, you have been unable to achieve anything. You spent the day in your bed, and if you were unable to move, your thoughts were racing the whole time, not giving you a moment to rest — How could you, when you had so much to do?

The dirty laundry was still in the basket, despite your promise to do it. The bed was undone, exactly how she left it this morning. And there was no warm meal waiting for her on her return, you didn't even have the energy to cook yourself anything, too busy drowning in your guilt, and shame.

When you woke up this morning, you tried to ignore it.

You tried to get up, and go about your day, as if your body didn't weight ten times what it usually does, as if every breath you took wasn't stealing all your energy.

It is a feeling you knew all too well, one you thought you would never know again. That's why you had ignored the signs that appeared in the previous days, fooling yourself into thinking that everything was fine when it was not.

It is your fault, you thought.

It is your fault because you preferred to pretend that you were just tired, even though it quickly became obvious that it wasn't the cause of your torments.

Soon, the few more hours of sleep became a day spent in bed, unable to leave the comfort of your sheets. Suddenly, everything was overwhelming, even the idea of getting up, and so you just kept putting off the moment when you'll have to do it, until the day was already coming to an end — It is too late, now.

You had tried to pretend that everything was fine. You had tried to push these feelings away because you didn't want to face the truth — That you were slowly going back to the state you were in months ago, when you were at you lowest. You wanted to ignore the signs of your distress, not wanting to go back to the days when you were so hopeless, in such agony, that you've resorted to drastic measures.

It has been months — fifteen exactly, and three days — since you last did it, a bit less than a year since you last thought about doing it.

Fifteen months.

Almost a year, and a half.

It is a lot of time, and so you thought your struggles were behind you. You may never forget the things you have done, the scars on your arms being a constant reminder of where you come from, but it felt like those things happened ages ago.

How could you have imagined that, fifteen months later, you would suddenly be back where you started, feeling as distraught as the day you decided to stop? You couldn't, because you never thought that life would be cruel enough to try to tear you away from your newly acquired peace.

Now that you had tasted how sweet life could be, you didn't want to give up this privilege, knowing you wouldn't be strong enough to survive losing everything for the second time. It is a battle you barely survived the first time, one that left permanent scars on your soul and body, and you have spent years trying to rebuild yourself after that — Something you recently achieved, or so you thought.

Everything has been so perfect since you met Kate.

One day, you bumped into each other, and since, you have been unable to pull apart. Your lives became entangled, creating a mess you didn't want to get rid of.

She gave you a reason to stay. Not only for her, but for yourself. She gave you something you have been missing all your life, something you couldn't find on your own — Hope. She gifted with you the most important thing in someone's life.

At first, you were staying because you wanted to read her next messages, because you were waiting for your next encounters, eager to see her smile and hear her laugh at least one more time.

But then, you stayed because you have learned how it felt to be loved, and seen. When you were by her side, it was as if everything became clear, and the future you have long refused to imagine, thinking that you would never live to see it, suddenly became a reality. One that was filled with the best this world had to offer, things that you always thought you didn't deserve.

And so you stayed.

The path to recovery hasn't been easy, but you made it, and thought that it was eventually behind you — You wanted it to be, because you felt ready to move on.

Until today.

Today, you are standing in the bathroom, seconds away from doing something wrong — Really wrong.

Today, your hands are gripping so tightly the rim of the porcelain basin that your knuckles are turning white, because you are scared of the things you might do if you free your hands.

Today, you can't let go of these ideas that poison your mind, you can't silence those vicious voices.

Today, you went back two years, and you are powerless again as you try to fight the same demons than the ones that used to haunt you. You have tried to ignore them, but instead of making them go away, it made them stronger.

Your breath is erratic, and your chest rising quickly, as you feel the panic rising up inside you. You are doing everything you can to ignore the aching feeling in your arms, fighting against yourself to not draw more blood out of them, to not break the promise you made yourself sixteen months ago — To never do it again. Ever. To prove them that you could be stronger than they thought, that you could be a lot more than just a disappointment, a failure.

You refuse to draw new lines along the old ones.

But your determination alone was not enough to save you from this situation, and you felt like you were merely postponing the inevitable. The whole day, you have tried to ignore these thoughts, but your mind was restless, and your thhoughts always returned, invitably, those dark scenarios.

You were consumed by this sense of hopelessness. It was blinding you, preventing you from seeing anything but the worst — What was the point of trying if you were doomed to fall back every time? There is nothing more frustrating than your inability to get better despite your attempts.

You want to be fine, more than anything, because Kate deserves the best, and because now that she is by your side, you are no longer sure you want to leave this life.

But when you look at yourself in the mirror, all you see is a girl that You have dark circles so pronounced that no amount of concealer could hide them. Your eyes were puffy, and red, because you spent most of your day crying in frustration.

But even the tears hasn't been enough to ease your mind, and you eventually ran out of them before you feel any better. On the contrary, it was even worse.

You wanted to cry, to get rid of the emotions that have settled in your body, those that were too much, but you couldn't, and nothing seemed to bring you comfort.

Your favorite food tasted strange, and the characters of your comfort were only getting on your nerves. Today, everything was too much, nothing felt right, and the things that were supposed to bring you comfort, only elicit cries of frustration for you.

You have tossed in bed most of the day, unable to rest, or to do anything else. And, as the hours went by, the thoughts you first tried to ignore, became obsessive. They looped in your mind, like a music that would play a little too loud, but that you couldn't stop.

You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn't hear when the door clicked, nor the footsteps that followed. Even when the woman swore, because her keys slipped out of her hands, you didn't react. Yet, usually you would have reprimanded her, shouting from the other end of the apartment.

But not today. Today it remained silent.

Yours ears were ringing, and you couldn't quite make the difference between the noises in your surroundings, and the things that were in your head. You were enveloped in a kind of mist that blended everything.

It was only when she entered the room that you realized she was home — Already? But you had so much to do, and barely time to do anything. She could not be home already, it is impossible.

Kate has been cautious, trying to not startle you because she noticed that you seemed.. absent. But, despite the gentleness of her gesture, you jumped when her hand came to rest on your shoulder.

A gesture that was supposed to be gentle, and tender, but which simply accentuated your confusion — She couldn't be home, not yet. She couldn't see the evidences of your inability. Yet, before you get a chance to say something, to try to find an excuse, the woman spoke.

"Love, what's wrong?" she whispered, the concern evident in her voice as she talks.

She is not asking if you are okay, already knowing that you would lie, brushing away the question. You always do this, you always tell her you are fine when you are not.

In addition, it seemed like an unnecessary question to ask. Even if she wasn't your girlfriend, she could have seen it, the sorrow on your face. It was written on every feature of your face — And that made her feel terrible.

It had been a long time since she has seen you in such a state, and in the past, the woman had hope that it would be the last every time because she couldn't stand to see your suffering. In these moments, Kate wished she could take it all, and replace your pained expression by a smile. But she can't work miracles. She is not a witch, only an archer, and her weapons were of no use to her in such a situation.

There was nothing she hated more than this feeling of helplessness. She is a hero. If she can save the world, if she can fight villain, then she should be able to make your demons go away — Right? What was the point of being strong, if she wasn't strong enough to help the only person that really matters?

But your problems couldn't be solved with a fist.

It was something invisible, something more vicious. A battle against yourself, and whatever dark thoughts the voices in your head came up with this time. It was a battle she couldn't fight for you, one you had to win on your own.

But you weren't sure you are strong enough to fight it, and you would rather run away — After all, it is your specialty, isn't it? You had this bad habit of burrying all the things you didn't want to feel deep down, where they could not bother you anymore — At least, until they eventually became too much to be kept hidden.

And that's exactly what you wanted to do, when Kate asked this question — "What's wrong?" The second the question crossed her lips, you wanted to answer it with a lie — "Nothing, I am fine."

But you knew better than to lie to Kate.

The woman is not dumb enough to believe anything else than the truth. She could already read the reasons for your torments on your face, and strange attitude.

Usually, when she comes home, you wait impatiently for her return, throwing yourself into her arms as soon as she walks through the door, and never you have hidden as you did today.

You were torn between two opposite needs, and while a part of you demanded that you remain strong, another part whispered to you to accept the comfort Kate was offering. You were craving for it, wanting nothing more than to throw yourself in her arms, but for that you needed to admit your weaknesses first, to share your darkest thoughts with her despite the fear that knotted your throat.

What if she leaves? One of the little voices says.

What if she eventually realizes that she deserves better? Someone that is not a complete mess. Someone she could build a future with.

But when she saw the tears in your eyes, when saw your hesitation to accept the comfort she was trying to provide, none of these thoughts crossed her mind, not even for an instant, because Kate could never see you as weak.

On the contrary, she was amazed by your strenght, and resilence, witnessing all the battles you have fought in silence, believing it was your burden, and only yours, to carry.

That is what was worrying Kate the most, your silences. She always made sure to keep an eye on you from afar, and even when you tought she was unaware of your mal-being, she was providing small, and almost invisible, acts of reassurance, waiting for the moment you would be ready to talk about it soon.

But she might have forgotten how stubborn you are.

When she came home that day, she feared that she had given you too much space, that she waited too long. The relief she felt when she saw you were fine came with the promise that she won't allow you to hide in silence anymore.

However, it seemed that you were eventually ready to accept a bit of the comfort the woman could provide. In fact, you came to the same conclusions — You waited too long, and it almost led you to make a big mistake.

When you walked up to her, the woman immediately opened her arms to you, a silent encouragement to chase away your last hesitations.

It is when you eventually find comfort in her embrace that your last barriers collapse, and then you can't hide your tears anymore. Your face may be burried into her neck, but she knows that you are crying. The woman does not need to see your face to reach this conclusion, your body being shaken by each of your loud sobs.

For the next few dozens of minutes, your cries are the only thing that break the silence. You desperately want to explain yourself, but you can't stop the tears long enough to say a few words — What could you say, anyway? How could you admit your darkest thoughts to the person you love the most?

You can't, because the urge not to worry her is surpassing all of your fears. You are ready to fight this battle alone, and to lose it alone, if it means not dragging the archer into it.

Kate is so gentle. She always finds time for you despite her hero obligations. She shows a patience with you that no one has ever shown before. She made you feel loved, and seen, even in the toughest moments.

Sometimes, you feel like you do not deserve her sweetness, the woman having given you more than you will ever be able to give her back — She gave you hope, a reason to stay, to try again.

She cradles you, pressing soft kisses on your forehead from time to time. Kate provides reassurance, but she doesn't try once to make your tears stop, or to force the words out of your mouth.

The archer simply waits.

She waits until your tears dry on their own, until you feel ready to speak, because that is not her decision to make.

But, when you eventually felt ready to pull away, and to leave the comfort of her embrace to meet her gaze, the words didn't come, still stuck in your knotted throat. You looked at her, your eyes puffy from your intense crying, and you really wanted to say something — you had to — and yet you remained silent.

Your thoughts were a mess that you couldn't make sense of, partially because of a headache, coupled with the excessive emotions you were feeling at the moment. Everything was so overwhelming, and you knew that, the second you would try to speak, you would cry again, and that's the last thing you want.

Fortunately, Kate seemed to understand your silent pleas for help. Of the entire evening, if she hasn't broached the subject again, waiting for you to do it first, she has been keeping an eye on you at all time — The woman was scared of what you might do in her back.

It is only later in the evening, when you were both in the living room, lying on the couch, that the words suddenly came back.

Kate was sitting with her legs crossed, and you were lying down with your head resting on her thigh. One of her hands was unconsciouly stroking your hair, a gesture that was enough to take all your worries away. You were supposed to watch a movie, but you weren't able to stay focused for more than a few minutes, your thoughts being louder that the voices of your comfort characters.

"I was thinking about harming myself," you bluntly admitted, and the woman didn't reply — not yet, because she could feel that you were not done, that more words wanted to escape your lips, but they were heavy, and not easy to pronounce.

The last thing she wanted was to pressure you, fearing that it would push you further into silence. However, despite her apparent lack of reaction, you can feel that the news trouble her, her hand halting its movement for a moment before resuming.

When you spoke, you were cautious, afraid that the woman would scream, but the anger never came to replace the tenderness of her gesture, and so, despite your initial hesitation, you eventually found the courage to continue your explanations.

"Earlier, in the bathroom, that is what was wrong," you explained further, "but I didn't do it, I promise," you immediately added, feeling a sudden need to justify yourself, probably because you didn't want Kate to worry too much. "It has been months since I last did it, and I haven't even thought about doing it since. But tonight, it was.. different.. and when I saw my old scars, I- I don't know, I felt so desperate. It is as if there is no point in trying, as if I could never get better, and these scars will always be there to remind me that I am a mess," you paused for a second before sharing the last few words that were on your mind, the hardest. "Tonight, I almost gave in to those urges," you said, eventually admitting the darkest thoughts that crossed your mind earlier that day.

"Love, you are not a mess," she whispers softly, trying to not show how touched she is by your confession. Kate has seen the scars before, but she never mentioned the subject, waiting for the day you would be comfortable enough to open up on your own. "Do you know what I see in these lines?" She asked, as her hand stop stroking your hair and move towards your arm, where she traces your scars with a tenderness that no one has ever shown you before.

You shake your head — No, you don't know.

"I see all your strenght," she softly answered the question, "because you've come a long way, and you did it on your own. You never gave up, even when the world was against you," she added, and that is when your gazes eventually met.

"What if next time I can't stop myself?" You mumbled the question after a silence of several minutes. You were hesitant, and your words were carrying all your fears.

"Then I'll be here to stop you," she promised, and her hands cupped your face, preventing you from looking away as she talks. "I won't let that happen, I will catch you before you hit rock bottom, and we'll get through this together as many times as it takes, okay?" She added, but despite the confidence in her voice, the woman is worried — What if you decide to remain silent once more, and she can't see the signs of your distress before it is too late? The thought that she might loose you was consuming her from the inside.

And you believed her, and every of her words, because when you looked in her eyes, you only saw the promise of a better future — You saw hope, and determination,something you have been desperatly lacking the past few days.

"I know it is bad," you confessed, "I know that I shouldn't do that, but.. you know, sometimes, it's.. the pain, it won't go away, and these voices won't shut up..," you took a break to take a deep breath that will give you the courage to go on.

You know the woman will tell you that you do not need to explain yourself, but you still feel like you need to, as if the explanations could make the situation less embarrasing.

The woman would never judge you for the things you have done when you were at you lowest, but some had in the past, and sometimes you could still hear their voices in the back of your mind. You were a disapointment to everyone. Everyone, but Kate. The archer was able to see past the darkness that stained your heart. She saw the person behind the pain, and gave you a chance to feel love.

"I don't want to go back to it, Kate," you said, almost begging, and she could see the tears that filled your eyes, she could hear the way your voice broke on the last words despite your attempt to stay strong.

"I know, baby, and I won't let you," she promised again, "we will figure it out together, you don't have to face it alone anymore, okay? I am here for you, now," she soflty said in your ear, right before she lays a comforting kiss on your forehead.

When she thinks about the things you had to endure in silence, about the ones the battle you fought alone, her heart breaks. She can't accept that you had no one to take care of you when you were at your lowest, and she is determined to make things different this time.

If the archer had to take a step back from saving the world to save you, she would not hesitate, not even for an instant — What was the point in being a hero if she couldn't save the only person that really matter, the one she loves?

"I am proud of you, for telling me," she later whispered, when you were already in bed, entangled in each other. She was holding you firmly in her arms, as if she was scared that you would disapear if she wasn't careful enough.

Kate was aware of how difficult it was for you to accept being vulnetable to others, and the praise meant more to you than she could have imagined when she said those words.

You knew that the next weeks wouldn't be easy, because healing never is. It was a constant battle against oneself. Yet, this time, you feel ready, and sure of yourself, because Kate is by your side. She said it, she promised it, and knowing that you wouldn't have to face your demons alone made them less scary.

She is your reason.

Your reason to stay, your light, your everything.

| MAIN MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES. | Thanks for reading! Do not hesitate to leave a comment if you appreciated the fic', and/or to reblog it to share with others. It only takes a few seconds, but it would mean a lot to me <3

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

resident not-so-evil

i have been inspired by the positivity challenge in the pedro pascal fandom to start up the same thing over here because we are in dire need of some good vibes. i know it's called 'resident evil' but we don't have to be evil all the time!

here's the 'challenge', if you will:

📌recommend as many of your own fics as you want -- the more the merrier!

📌fics must be about resident evil characters (any pairings, any genre, any length)

📌fics must have been posted in 2024

📌tell us anything you want about the fic(s) -- your inspiration, your favorite lines, your favorite scene, etc.

📌feel free to include any art, memes, and any other fandom content you've made this year

📌your recs must be your own fics, but do consider tagging some other writers so they can participate too!

📌provide links to your fics (tumblr or ao3 are both fine) so we can read them

📌if you participate (and participation is open to everyone!) tag me so i can see it!

*I will be creating a masterlist of everyone's recommendations so we can all see each other's things

here are my personal recs:

💗never penelope, always calypso (leon x reader) - my magnum opus, truly. i love angst (no happy ending) more than any other genre. this was inspired by the poem "after the threesome they both take you home" (and the odyssey, hence the title)

💗 take your fast car and keep on driving (fem! leon aka 'leah' x reader) - obviously, i'm a sucker for f/f as a lesbian, but i really liked writing the subtle sex as opposed to explicit sex. I also love to write scenes that include other RE characters besides the main pairing (especially chris and rebecca in this one)

💗but the fighter still remains (chreon, but more of a leon character study) - writing about dealing with homophobia and sexual assault, moreover, not knowing your own sexuality and thinking the way you feel during sex with someone you're not attracted to is normal, was healing for me, honestly. this fic half about leon, half about me.

💗 three's company too (reader x leon x chris) - there had to be at least one ddlg fic on here, okay? i think that as i've progressed as a writer, i've gotten pretty good at characterization. when i look back on this fic and see leon and chris' dynamic, i like the way i wrote it. this was originally titled differently but i had the three's company theme song stuck in my head when i finished the fic, so

💗 the ring leader (claire x reader x leon) - it's not cleon dw i believe in gay claire forever. i've barely written claire in fics so i thought it would be really hard to pin down her character, but the inspiration kinda hit me all at once and i like the result. to me, this is canon.

bonus content:

some memes: the normie memes vs the deep cuts (i laughed so hard while making the richard meme and nobody cared and i got so sad)

tagging some people here:

@vaaaaaiolet @wokelander @dollfacefantasy @rigorwhoring @lipglossanon @pupwashing @leonkennedybreedingkink

+anyone else who would like to join!

[inkandarsenic]

Ok, so expanding on this post for @heartofmortis, meet my newest oc, Nymeria Targaryen

- youngest daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell, born in 283 AC, like a month or so before the sack of KL

- conceived as soon as possible after Aegon, just before the maesters declared Elia unable to have more children and Rhaegar subsequently ran off with Lyanna

- named Nymeria because Elia knew Rhaegar would’ve wanted her named Visenya, but Rhaegar ran off to have a third child with the Northern girl before he could even be informed of this pregnancy, so Elia decided to name her daughter after the legendary warrior Princess of Dorne (call it rebellion if you will — this pregnancy so soon after Aegon’s nearly killed her, and he decides he needs a daughter with the Stark girl? Fine. Elia will name her daughter from her culture, not his. Let him get his Visenya elsewhere.)

- Smuggled by her wetnurse through siege tunnels out to where Rhaella and Viserys were evacuating to Dragonstone. in the chaos after Rhaella’s death, only Viserys and Daenerys are smuggled off of Dragonstone. Stannis arrives to find a terrified nursemaid and a screaming infant less than a year old.

- Raised by Stannis Baratheon, who heard how his brother laughed at the two dead children of Elia, and refused to hand over Nymeria — Stannis is many things, but he isn’t a child-murderer yet

- She’s his ward, and technically also a hostage to keep Dorne from rising up over Elia and her children’s death — Nymeria is the last link to Elia Dorne has.

- Uses Martell name when introducing herself. Tries to distance herself from her Targaryen lineage — was raised on stories of all of the bad parts of the Targaryens as her bedtime stories and history lessons, and doesn’t like them at all.

- Oberyn and Doran work it out with Stannis so that Nymeria can be visited — under supervision, and mostly Oberyn as Doran is busier ruling Dorne — on Dragonstone by her mother’s family, and when she’s a bit older, she often spends a few months each year in Dorne. (You can pry reluctant friends Oberyn and Stannis out of my cold dead hands.)

- Robert tries HARD to get Nym betrothed to Jon — in his mind, Ned’s bastard son is more than deserving of a former princess, and what better way to keep the Targaryen spawn from rising against him than marrying her off to the son of his best friend? To his endless frustration, this goes nowhere — both Stannis and the Martells (who are actually responsible for Nym’s marriage prospects) refuse the idea — Stannis because Jon’s a bastard, the Martells because they very much do not like Robert — and Ned also refuses with no real explanation (“Jon is free to choose his own wife, Robert” when really it’s because Jon is Nym’s half brother through Rhaegar)

- Likes to help out Stannis’ maester and takes an interest in healing — both Stannis and Oberyn agree that this is a useful skill, and let her learn all she can.

- Rides out with Stannis when he goes to war; Melisandre keeps trying to convince Stannis to sacrifice her, and after Renly dies, Davos convinces Nymeria to leave, for her own safety.

- She originally intends to go south to Dorne, but comes across Catelyn and Brienne first. Upon hearing how Renly died and recognizing the account of Melisandre’s work, she realizes Dorne would be the first place Stannis would look for her — whatever Melisandre so desperately wanted Nym sacrificed for cannot be good — and she decides to go with Catelyn and Brienne to Robb’s camp instead. You can never have too many medics in a war.

- Our boy is WEAK to the pretty healers, weak I tell you, and this one is Westerosi, highborn (a princess, technically— rightful heir to the Iron Throne) and she’s a politically advantageous (the princes of Dorne would surely be on his side if he married their niece) match to boot??? He doesn’t stand a chance.

[lazylittledragon]

forgot to post this the other day but i gave myself a little nameless ghoul :3

[youssefguedira]

K or N for Joe and/or Nicky

K. On the edge of consciousness.

Yusuf wakes slowly, so slowly that he can’t see and isn’t even sure he can open his eyes, only half-sure he still has eyes, and that’s how he knows there’s something very, very wrong. He can’t move, can’t hear, can’t even smell anything. He doesn’t remember exactly what happened to him, but every part of him is burning, and he’s fairly sure the weird aching sensation in his head is his skull knitting itself back together, which. He really, really didn’t need to know what that feels like. 

There’s a scraping in his chest when he breathes in, but at least he’s breathing. 

Where is he? He could be anywhere. He could be in the middle of the street, could have been dragged away from the fighting from someone who had seen him breathing through a wound that should have killed him immediately. When he wakes, what will he find? Will they have taken his weapon? How long has he been dead? 

Will Nicolò be able to find him, if they are separated? Will he even try?

Slowly but steadily, he starts to hear something: a high pitched whistling that sounds like it’s coming from deep inside his own head. The darkness begins to lift, leaving flickering amber lights across his vision, and a shadow in front of him. 

There’s a voice, too, one that sharpens into words as Yusuf’s hearing begins to return. He doesn’t understand their meaning, but the cadence of them and the voice itself is familiar. 

“Are you awake?” Nicolò asks softly, switching to Arabic. 

Yusuf tries to make a sound in response. Whether it’s audible he doesn’t know, because the only noise he can really make is a rasping exhale, but Nicolò hushes him anyway.

“Do not… you can be slow,” Nicolò says. He’s more comfortable with the sounds of the language now, but still doesn’t always string sentences together well. “We are safe. I am here.”

He’s made aware of where his hand is by the feeling of Nicolò reaching for it. Yusuf manages to make an actual sound this time, but still can’t form words. Nicolò squeezes his hand gently. 

“I am here,” he says again. 

Eventually, Yusuf’s skull seems to piece itself back together fully, and his vision sharpens, letting him see that they’re backed into the corner of the two remaining intact walls of a house ravaged by fire, Nicolò crouched in front of him with his sword in hand. There’s a trail of blood leading to where Yusuf is lying now, and a section of the room that has collapsed. He can piece together enough. Nicolò would have had to drag him over here.

This time, he manages to make a sound, even if he can’t quite form words. Nicolò looks down at him over his shoulder, and there is blood on his face and in his hair, and only then does Yusuf notice the bodies in the room. 

“Okay?” Nicolò asks. 

Yusuf manages to nod, and it sends a spike of pain along his spine. Nicolò turns slightly to look at him properly. 

“You are almost done, I think,” he says. “You did not… you were asleep for a long time. I did not know if…”

“Nicolò,” Yusuf finally manages, hoarse.

“Rest,” Nicolò says. “I am here.”

(letter asks)