#as in: doctors know something is wrong but not what

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Let Me Prove It

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> After months of grieving for Logan, he proves to you he's not going anywhere.

Disclaimer: Descriptions of death, blood, reader goes through grief of losing Logan. Angst, sadness, some fluff. There is a happy ending. Illusions to smut towards the end. Not Proof Read.

You could remember the day you fell in love with Logan Howlett. 

It had been a rainy afternoon. Nothing grand had happened that day. The kids had been in classes all day, most exams were happening all week but by Friday, they’d all be over for the semester. There was stew, heating up on the stove, and you had been reading your book. 

At least, you’d been trying to. 

Often, your mind would wander off on its own and only half way through your train of thought would you realise you had boarded the wrong train and it was already moving. And just like a flash of a meadow, snapping past one of the compartment windows, you discovered you had feelings for Logan. 

And watching him walk through the backdoor only a moment later, confirmed your thoughts. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

Your train came to a halt and you snapped up, focusing on reality. “What?”

Logan grumbled. “Nothing. Dinner ready?”

“Almost. Storm’s looking for you, by the way. She wants to know if you can cover her class next week. She’s got a doctor's appointment and no one’s available.”

Logan still had his back turned as he looked in the cupboard for something. “Sure. What class?”

“History. What are you looking for?”

Logan didn’t fully answer you. He just mumbled a noise before pulling a small box out from the back and closing the door. Turning around he opened it up, took a cookie out before offering it to you. 

“She got a lesson plan?”

Looking down at your book, you dog-eared the page. Sometimes, you’d use a bookmark but considering most of them would disappear without a trace and leave you fending for yourself to find your page again, hours after you’d read it, you gave up on them. 

“Yeah, she’s already left it in your room.”

“Of course she has.” Logan took another bite of his cookie and rounded the kitchen island. 

Your gaze followed him. Mostly out of curiosity. You and Logan were friends. Not best friends. But good friends. Well…

Good enough friends. 

Could you really be in love with him?

Reaching up into the top cupboard, he brought down the set of bowls and took half from the top. 

“You take the rest.”

And for the next ten minutes, you both laid out the table in time for dinner. 

Then you watched as he helped some of the younger kids with their hot meals. Despite all of his grumbling and his small protests when it came to calling him the best baby-sitter. 

Logan was good with kids. 

Yep. 

You were in love with Logan. 

And just like how you could remember the day you fell in love with Logan, you could also remember the day he died. 

It had torn you to pieces. 

It still did. 

It had been on a mission. You’d all faced worse before. And yet, somehow, nobody was prepared for what was about to happen. Everything blew up. Quite literally. You had been helping some of the kids to safety with Storm and Scott. Scott had left half way through, running to find Jean and help her. Storm had given him cover, as well as the kids. 

And once you knew the kids were in safe hands on the jet, you ran back. 

Only, when you got to the top of the hill, having skidded to a halt only to catch yourself on a rotting tree, you looked down to see for the first time, the image that would be forever imprinted in your mind. 

Logan and Jean were at the bottom. Scott had made it just in time to hold his girlfriend back when Logan took the brunt of the attack. It sent him flying and when he fell to the floor, your gut twisted. 

Usually, he’d get up. 

But something was off. 

He wasn’t getting up. Not as quickly, anyway. 

And when he did, an attack came sooner than anyone else had expected. 

Straight through his stomach and a second through his side, Logan was impaled to the tree before being torn from it, sent flying forward with the tentacle branches before being pulled off and sent flying to the ground. 

You remembered screaming his name along with the others before running forward. Storm had made it there before you, but you were the first on your knees beside him, trying to check for any healing that was starting. 

It wasn’t. 

You heard the muffled voices of the rest of the team in your ears, fighting against your own heartbeat as you looked down at Logan. He was bleeding out and fast. 

The bodies beside you disappeared and followed after the attacker and soon everything became…

Silent. 

The ringing in your ears had stopped, your ears had gotten used to your own heartbeat, and you tried your best to focus on Logan. 

His eyes were closed. Begging him through your own tears for him to open his, you took his hand. Feeling for his pulse, it was weak. And getting weaker. 

“Logan…please. Please don’t do this.”

Then your hearing focused on his heartbeat. Each beat took longer to come after the other until finally, with one weak squeeze of goodbye to your hand, Logan died. 

The hours that followed after that became a blur. 

The man you loved but had never told had died in front of you. You had heard his heartbeat stop. You had felt his last goodbye. He never got any last words. Just one last touch. 

And every night that followed after that, you re-lived it. Over and over and over again. Each night, the same. Logan. The branches. The blood. The pulse. The heartbeat. The touch. The silence. 

Sometimes you’d wake just as he touched your hand, the ghost of a feeling left on your palm as you woke. 

The others never bothered to ask. At least, not after the first time you had told them. The Professor had gathered you all in his office after everything had happened. And all you could think of was that Logan’s body was lay, lifeless, underneath the school. 

He had asked you what had happened and, with your arms folded and your eyes on the ground, you answered him. 

“He wasn’t healing. There wasn’t anything I could do. He died,” you explained before looking up at the Professor and giving him Logan’s time of death. “May I go now? I want to make sure the kids are okay.”

The Professor excused you and you left as quickly as you could, the door slamming a little louder than you had meant. 

And for the next two months, you…kept yourself busy. 

People talked about Logan, they were determined to keep his memory alive. But they didn’t have to go to bed at night, just for his memory to die again. Each morning, you seemed to wake up earlier than usual. And with the feeling of Logan’s hand against yours, you busied yourself as best as you could. 

Grading papers, alphabetising the library, cleaning every possible surface including the ceilings, constantly doing the laundry. Weeding out the garden, planting some new flower beds. Fixing the creaky wooden board in the hallway, painting the doors and wooden boards between the windows. Trimming the bushes, scrubbing the pots (even the old ones that weren’t in use anymore). 

You did anything and everything you could. Mostly to keep your mind busy but party because you hoped, if you tired yourself out enough, you might have caught a break. Made it one night through without re-living Logan’s death. 

But all of that changed one afternoon when you were called to the Professor’s study. 

Where you came face to face with…

Logan. 

Everyone was confused. 

Apart from the Professor. 

And throughout the meeting you remained quiet. Obviously, everyone was angry at the fact the Professor had kept such a big secret. 

“We didn’t know if it would work and we didn’t want anyone to have to re-live their grief.” The Professor explained. “It was a shot in the dark.”

“How is this even possible?” Storm asked as she sat down. 

“It seems Logan’s healing abilities were simply weakened. He needed help to heal. Medical help that not I, nor I’m afraid even you, Jean, could give him. There is a doctor I know, based in Alberta. She helped boost Logan’s healing factor and made sure that whatever had weakened him was no longer in his system.”

There was a little more explaining to do, but you could feel yourself drifting from the conversation. You just kept looking at Logan as he stood by the window and the Professor’s desk. 

He had his back turned when you had walked inside, the others all looking confused and annoyed, having to wait for you before they got their explanation. 

He had died. 

You had seen him die. 

You had felt him die. 

And yet, there he stood. His hands in his pockets, looking around the room, breathing and living as if nothing had even happened. 

Not long after all the explanations, everyone got to voice their opinion and you came last. Everyone looked at you, including Logan. 

And all you wanted to do was run.

To him or away from him, you couldn’t quite tell. 

So, with a breath, you forced a half smile and nodded. “It’s good to have you back. Professor, may I go? I’ve got a class that’s about to start.”

“Of…of course. I would have thought-”

Reaching for the door, you looked back. “See you round, Logan.”

Just before you closed the door, you heard Storm announce her way to Logan to give him a hug. But even the Professor couldn’t concentrate on that because he couldn’t help but notice there was something different about you. 

Of course, he’d noticed you’d been keeping yourself busy. Missing out on family dinners, eating yours when you found the time later on in the evening, cleaning up the classrooms after hours, doing a little touch ups here and there with a smaller paint can and paintbrush. 

Little did he know, you had just been filling in the spots you had missed the day before. 

But he had figured you had been like the others. Itching to hug Logan. Being glad he was alive and breathing. 

Instead…

You had barely said two words and had left as soon as you could. 

“Are you okay?” Storm asked you later that night when you were cooking dinner. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Storm lifted herself onto a stool opposite you. “I don’t know. You just didn’t seem…excited about Logan being back.”

“Of course I’m excited he’s back.”

“Then would it kill you to show it?” Storm asked, half jokingly. “Here, let me help.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay, I’m almost done.”

Storm moved her hands away from your chopping board slowly. “Okay. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You smiled. “Ororo, I’m fine. Scouts honour. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

You shrugged, forcing your mind back to reality. “Nothing. It’s just been a long day, s’all.”

Later that evening, you found yourself alone in your classroom. The others were down the hall having dinner but you had found yourself something to do. You could have gone down but whether out of habit of the last two months or fear, you didn’t wish to join them. 

Your appetite had already been worse for wear over the last couple of weeks. If you were sat at the table, across from Logan, you wouldn’t have been able to even think about eating. 

So, taking another bite of your sandwich, you turned back to your essays. 

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Logan looked around the table. You were missing. 

“Whose turn was it to cook tonight?” Logan asked. 

“Y/n’s.” Jean told him. “She’s been making most of the meals lately. Guess she just got the cooking bug.”

“But she’s not here.”

Jean shrugged it off. “She’ll probably get some later.”

“Where is she?” He asked as he went to stand. But Jean stopped him. 

“Oh, no. Stay. Come on, Everyone needs to catch up.”

“Catch up on what?” Logan asked. “I’ve been in a hospital in Alberta for two months.”

“Please, just…stay. Besides, Y/n’ll appear when she wants. She’s probably busy.”

And after a little bit more convincing, Logan stayed. You’d left so abruptly that morning, he questioned if you even wanted to see him at all. 

It continued like that for a week. 

At first, Logan tried to convince himself you weren’t avoiding him. But as the week went on and he began to see less of you inside his routine, he knew you had to be. 

And then he began to notice things. 

Everything seemed cleaner than when he had left. And brighter. Fresher, even. The doors had been given a paint job. Despite it being dry, he could still smell the aroma of fresh paint in the air. The halls were less creaky when he walked down them. The cupboards were tidier. He could find his cookies with ease now. 

And despite the fact he didn’t read all that much, he knew the library had changed. Even the books that no-one ever touched. There wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen near them. And one of his personal favourites – a book he tended to read around winter, where the cover was falling off and the pages were falling apart – had been binded to look like new.

So, taking action into his own hands, he went to look for you. 

And it wasn’t long before he found you. 

You had escaped him when he saw you planting fresh flowers in the garden, and you had escaped him when you had brought in the groceries having used Storm as a distraction for you to slip out of the kitchen once everything was away. 

But he had found you in the library. 

Once again, you hadn’t come to dinner, making up an excuse that you needed to work. And Logan knew for a fact you hadn’t left to come and get your dinner yet so, he brought it to you. 

“Thought you might be hungry.”

You looked up but Logan had already heard the change in your pulse. 

“Oh…thanks. You can just leave it there.”

And he did. 

“You’ve got to eat at some point.”

“I will,” you looked back up at him. “Soon. I promise.”

This was the longest conversation you’d both had since he got back. So, he took a seat across from you. 

“What are you working on?”

“Work.”

Logan smiled. “Funny.”

Then the silence washed over you both. But he didn’t want it to stick. “Y/n?”

You hummed a response. 

“Can you look at me?”

Your heartbeat seemed to jump and you took in a discrete breath. Finally seeing your face, Logan smiled. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve not been avoiding you.” You looked back at your work. 

“Yes, you have.”

“What makes you say that?”

Logan gave you a list. “The constant work, the avoidance of dinners, the silent treatment. Did I do something?”

You shook your head. “You haven’t done anything, Logan.”

“Then can you look at me when you tell me that so I might believe you.”

Finally, you looked at him. 

“Tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on.”

Logan asked again. “What’s going on?”

You laughed, nervously. “Nothing’s going on. Logan, I’m fine.”

“Are you? Because you’ve been avoiding me since I got back and- what? What is it?”

You laughed again, except this time you didn’t know how you’d describe it. 

“‘Got back’ you repeated his words. “You say that as if you left for a vacation. You died, Logan. Or did you forget that?”

“No. Y/n. What’s going on?”

You shook your head and packed away your things as quickly as you could. “Forget I said anything. Thanks for dinner.”

“You didn’t even eat-” Logan watched you walk away from him again. 

He’d rather have you fight him than avoid him, so he pressed on. 

“Talk to me.” Logan followed after you. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. It’s late, Logan. Go to bed.”

“Only when you do.”

“What?” You asked. 

“Your bedroom, it’s upstairs, down the hall from mine. In the opposite direction. The only thing this way is your classroom.”

“I’ve got to finish grading.”

“It’s almost midnight.”

You shrugged. “What teacher doesn’t get enough sleep?”

“Something is going on. Something has been going on. For a while. Please,” Logan begged. “Just tell me what it is.”

You stopped in your tracks. “Do you really want to know what it is?”

“Yes.” Logan nodded, stopping in front of you. 

“Okay then, I’ll tell you.”

And you did. 

“I watched you die, Logan. I heard your heart stop. I watched as blood pooled out of your body with no way for me to stop it. Even after three scalding hot showers, I still had your bloodstains on my skin, under my nails and on my clothes. Every night when I close my eyes, I re-live it. Everything. Every tiny detail. And the silence afterwards…it’s deafening. Sometimes I wake up, still feeling the pressure you put into my hand. Sometimes it’s still there hours after I wake up. I had spent every single day keeping myself busy, finding extra work for myself, just to make sure that I don’t start daydreaming about the waking nightmare I had to watch you go through. I had spent the last two months going over and over in my head what I would say to you if I ever saw you again. But I could never bring myself to do it, because I had watched you die. I had felt you die. So, please. Forgive me if I’m not jumping with joy because I can miraculously forget what happened, like everyone else.”

Logan let your words wash over him. No one had told him. He had a sneaking suspicion they hadn’t because even they didn’t know. Maybe they never asked. Maybe they just hadn’t noticed. 

Gaining back your breath, you went to turn away. 

“Goodnight, Logan.”

Closing your classroom door behind you, you silently locked it and pressed your back against it feeling your entire body start to shake. Slowly, your legs went from underneath you and you lowered yourself to the ground by sliding down the door. You tried your best to squeeze your tears back into your eyes with the heels of your hands, but nothing could stop them. 

Not now. 

Not when you had just admitted the truth to the one man you never thought you would see again. 

Three times Logan turned back to your classroom door, ready to walk inside. But he didn’t know what he would say. 

So he waited. 

Back in his room, he waited to hear the door to your room close. 

And after two hours, he finally did. 

And before he knew it, his feet were carrying him towards your door. Only, he stood there for ten minutes, unsure of what to do with himself. 

At some point, he finally knocked. 

Turning off the tap by the sink, you hung up your flannel onto the radiator bar and dried off your face when you heard the soft knock at your door. 

There was only one person who could have been up so late. 

He knocked again after a minute or two. 

And you opened up the door. 

Whatever Logan had just semi-prepared in his mind, slipped away. He was going to say something. But looking at you, standing in front of him…all words failed him. 

And the longer he stood in front of you, the louder the reminder came to you that he wasn’t dead. He was alive. He could be shot with twelve live rounds and the bullets would pop right back out of his skin. His claws would flare out and he’d be Wolverine. They’d retract and his skin would heal instantly. There would be no evidence that anything had ever happened. 

Then six words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them. Before even your brain could register the thought. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Logan felt his chest crack and his heart impale with pain. 

Pushing the door open a little wider, his arms engulfed you in an embrace that would forever be imprinted on your soul. Your own arms wrapped around him, trying to remember the feel of him both physically and spiritually in case the day ever came where you truly would never see him again. 

That if this was going to be your only memory of him, you could never, ever forget it. 

Lifting you up in his embrace for a moment, Logan walked further inside your room, kicking the door shut with his foot. Even if no one else was awake, he didn’t want to risk anyone walking by. Clearly, no-one else knew what you had been living through in your nightmares. And he didn’t want anyone else to share this moment between himself and you.

“You spared me the pain of being alone.” Logan whispered into your hair. “I was less scared because you were there.”

“I couldn’t have left you.” 

Your tears were back to rolling down your cheeks. “I’m sorry about everything you had to go through.”

Logan softly kissed away your tears, wiping the others away. 

You took in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Logan shook his head. “You saved me. You stayed with me.”

“But-”

With both your eyes closed, and Logan’s, you felt his forehead touch yours as his hands cradled your cheeks. “I’m real, Y/n. I’m alive.”

You felt Logan take your hand and press it to his chest, over his heart. His heartbeat was mostly steady, if a little quick. Spreading your fingers across his chest, you felt it rise and fall with his breathing. 

“I’m alive,” he kept repeating. “I’m alive.”

Logan’s breath was drawing closer to yours. “Logan…”

“Let me prove it to you.”

And you let him.

Capturing your breath in a kiss, Logan remained soft at first. He didn’t want to scare you. He didn’t want you to jump and run away from him like you had done only a few hours before in the library. 

But then you kissed back. 

So he moved his hands through your hair and over your body until you were pressed against him as close as you possibly could be. 

Your own hands pulled him in closer by his neck whilst the hand he’d placed over his heart remained fixed in its position. 

Logan was proving to every sense in your body he was real. That he was alive. Almost counteracting the memory that had been drawn from a waking nightmare. 

And as he lifted you up, your back soon pressing against the wall, you and Logan knew he would be spending the rest of the night doing exactly what he told you he wanted to do. 

Prove it to you. 

As morning rolled around, you felt a warm body next to you, tangled not only in you but also your sheets. 

Logan. 

His arms practically caged around you, you recalled every single detail from the night before. Your argument in the hallways, the classroom, the knock at the door, the hug, the kiss, the proof. 

And then, you felt yourself, for the first time in months, give a real smile. 

Lowering your head, you buried yourself in between Logan’s chest and your bedsheets, feeling his arms tense at your movement, holding you in the bed without a way of escape. 

And as your body reacted to his touch you realised something. 

For the first time since his death, you hadn’t had a nightmare. You hadn’t seen his death play on repeat inside your head. And the touch you were feeling wasn’t in your hand but rather all across your body. 

Parts were aching with a soreness you never quite knew was possible and later when you would look in the mirror, you would find fingertip bruises by your hips, love bites leading down your hip bone and on your inner thigh. Smaller ones were also dotted around your collar and neck, but a rather prominent one was yet to be left by the crook of your neck from behind where Logan’s lips would find themselves before you got into a fresh shower, Logan joining almost immediately. 

But until then, you’d revel in the feeling of Logan’s constant heartbeat against your hand, and for a moment your lips as you kissed his skin. Before he woke up and proved to you time and time again how real he was and how much the memory that had plagued you for two months was something that, although wasn’t easy to forget about, could become something of a distant memory. 

And for the rest of your lives, he would make sure to do exactly that.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Leo is born || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: the long awaited fic of Leo's birth!

Warnings: complications with childbirth, allusion to ppd.

Word count: 1,190

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The hospital room was anything but calm—machines beeping, nurses and doctors moving quickly, their faces strained with focus. The air was thick with tension, a suffocating weight pressing down on your chest. You were drenched in sweat, each contraction crashing over you like a violent wave, sharper and more relentless than the last.

Hours had blurred together in an agonising haze, the pain unyielding, your body caught in a merciless cycle that showed no sign of easing. The baby was still in the wrong position, and every minute that passed felt like a lifetime. You were struggling to breathe through the pain, your vision blurring at the edges. Rafe paced at the edge of the room, running his hands through his hair, his eyes wild with worry. His shirt was crumpled, half tucked in, half hanging loose, as if he had dressed in a rush and didn’t care how he looked.

For once, his usually cool, composed demeanour was completely shattered. His gaze flicked between you and the doctors, desperation and helplessness etched across his face. He had no control here, and it was driving him mad. Another contraction hit, and you let out a sharp cry, your body trembling. Your hands clenched around the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.

Rafe was by your side in an instant, grabbing your hand. But his touch wasn’t soft or reassuring—it was tight, as if he were trying to hold on to his own fraying sanity. “Rafe…” you gasped, trying to catch your breath, your voice cracking. “Hey, hey… it’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe. I’m right here.”

His gaze flicked to the doctors, his blue eyes narrowing with a dangerous intensity. “What the hell is going on?” His voice was low, tight, like a coiled spring ready to snap. “Why aren’t you doing something?” One of the doctors—a calm, composed man in his forties—tried to explain.

“Mr. Cameron, we’re monitoring the situation. The baby is in a breech position, and we’re assessing the safest way to proceed without—” Rafe cut him off, his voice rising, sharp and angry. “I’m not paying you thousands of dollars to asses the situation! Do something now! She’s in pain. She’s been in pain for hours, and you're just standing around doing nothing!”

His hand gripped yours tighter, though he didn’t even seem aware of it, his focus entirely on the medical staff. You could see the way the doctors exchanged looks—professional, calm, but there was a flicker of unease in their expressions. They were used to pressure, but not the kind of raw, unfiltered anger that Rafe was radiating.

“Mr. Cameron, I understand you’re upset, but we have to ensure the safety of both your wife and the baby. A C-section is becoming increasingly likely, but we have to wait for the right moment.” Rafe let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “The right moment? My wife is screaming in pain, and you're telling me to wait for the right moment?”

Another contraction hit, and your hand instinctively tightened around his. You let out a choked sob, tears streaming down your face as the pain shot through your entire body. Rafe’s attention snapped back to you, and for a brief moment, the anger in his face softened, replaced by something raw—something vulnerable.

He brushed a damp strand of hair away from your face, his thumb trembling as it touched your skin.“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he whispered, though the strain in his voice betrayed the fear simmering beneath the surface. “I’m right here.”“Rafe,” you gasped, voice cracking, “I can’t… it hurts so much.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he might break. But he didn’t. He bent down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath shaky, his words barely above a whisper. “I know, I know… I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it away. I’d do anything to make this easier for you. Just—just hold on, okay? You’re so strong. You’re doing so good.”

But the second the contraction eased, his head whipped back toward the doctors, fury burning in his eyes again. “Do something! Now! I don’t care how much it costs. I don’t care what it takes. Just help her!” One of the nurses, sensing the rising tension, stepped forward. “We’re preparing for a C-section, Mr. Cameron. We need just a few more minutes to make sure everything is ready.”

“You’ve had hours,” Rafe snapped. His voice was dangerously low now, the calm before the storm. “If anything happens to her—or to my son—it’s on you. Do you understand me?” You could feel his anger vibrating through his body, his hand trembling in yours. He was terrified, but he didn’t know how to express it except through rage.

And yet, even through the haze of pain, you could see that his fury wasn’t just anger—it was fear. He was helpless in a situation he couldn’t control, and it was killing him. Before you could say anything else, the doctor spoke up, his tone firm but professional. “We’re ready for the C-section. We’re going to take good care of both of you.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked back to the doctor, his jaw still clenched, but he didn’t say anything more. Instead, he turned back to you, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles, trying to offer you the only comfort he could. “You’re going to be okay,” he whispered, his voice soft now, almost pleading. “You’re so strong, and I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” The next moments were a blur. The pain, the fear, the cold sterility of the operating room.

But Rafe never left your side. Even through his anger, through his fear, he stayed with you, his hand in yours, his eyes locked on you, as if you were the only thing tethering him to this world. And when Leo’s first cry pierced the room, Rafe let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding. His grip on your hand tightened, and he leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead, his voice choked with emotion.

“You did it,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “He’s here.” You let out a breath of relief. “Here,” a nurse approaches with your newborn son, freshly cleaned and swaddled. “Hm?” Your voice is distant as she gently places him on your chest. The weight of him feels foreign, almost surreal. You suck in a shallow breath, your shaky hand reaching up to stroke his delicate back, but you pull it away, unable to hold it there for more than a second.

The room feels heavy, and a hollow ache settles deep within your chest. You avert your eyes, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. “Can I… Can I just rest?” Your voice cracks. “I-I want to rest right now.” The nurses exchange quiet glances, their eyes flicking toward Rafe, who is watching you closely, trying to understand the distance in your expression. His brows knit together in concern, but after a beat, he nods slowly, saying nothing, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s waiting for you to come back to yourself.

[writeriguess]

katsuki x reader where the reader is pregnant but in like the early stage and doesnt know she is pregnant yet, she is experiencing morning sickness AGAIN and katsuki takes care of her. she goes to take a test and is positive but doesnt know how to tell him

You wake up feeling that all-too-familiar nausea bubbling in your stomach again. For the past week, mornings had become your worst enemy. At first, you thought it was a bad batch of food or a stomach bug, but this was the fifth day in a row you had sprinted to the bathroom the moment you opened your eyes.

Slumping over the toilet, you groaned, head resting against the cool ceramic. Your body felt drained, and your stomach was still queasy.

"Oi, you in here?" Katsuki’s voice came from behind you.

You barely lifted your head as he walked into the bathroom. His eyes softened, concern immediately washing over his face.

"Again?" he muttered, kneeling down beside you. He gently pulled your hair back and rubbed slow circles on your back. “I thought you were over this crap. Been almost a week now.”

You nodded weakly. “I don’t know… maybe it’s something I ate? But nothing’s off… I don’t know what’s wrong.”

He let out a grunt, not entirely convinced. Katsuki wasn’t exactly the type to freak out, but you could tell he didn’t like seeing you like this. His hands lingered on your back, trying to provide you some comfort.

"You think you should go see a doctor?" he asked, his voice lower now.

You shook your head. "I’ll be fine. Maybe it’ll pass today."

Katsuki was silent for a moment before helping you up. "Here, drink some water. Get yourself together. If this doesn’t stop, I’m dragging your ass to the doctor tomorrow." His tone was gruff but filled with genuine worry.

You chuckled softly, taking the glass of water from him. "Thanks, Katsuki. You’re sweet when you want to be."

He clicked his tongue. "Yeah, whatever."

As the morning went on, you felt slightly better, but something about it kept gnawing at you. The sudden sickness, the fatigue, the strange cravings you’d been having the past week. You weren’t one to jump to conclusions, but there was one thing that kept crossing your mind.

Could I be… pregnant?

The thought alone sent a jolt through your body. You and Katsuki hadn’t exactly been trying, but you hadn’t been overly cautious either.

You excused yourself and slipped out to the drugstore nearby, your heart racing as you picked up a pregnancy test. Back home, you took a deep breath, staring down at the little plastic device. Waiting for those couple of minutes felt like an eternity.

Then, there it was. Positive.

You stared at the result, blinking rapidly, trying to process it.

Pregnant. I’m… pregnant.

The excitement and fear clashed within you. Your mind raced, wondering how Katsuki would react. He wasn’t the most expressive person when it came to emotions, but you knew how much he loved you. Would he be ready for this? Were you ready for this?

You sat on the edge of the bed, holding the test in your hands, trying to think of how to tell him. You couldn’t just blurt it out. Your heart pounded as you imagined his reaction.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Katsuki stepped in, eyeing you suspiciously.

"Why the hell are you just sitting there like that?" he asked, crossing his arms. “You’re all weird today.”

You bit your lip, your hands trembling slightly as you hid the test behind your back. "Katsuki, I… I have something to tell you.”

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “What is it? You’re being all weird again. What the hell is going on?”

You took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage you had. Slowly, you revealed the test, holding it out to him. His eyes flicked from you to the test, his face going from confusion to shock in a matter of seconds.

Katsuki stared at it, his mouth slightly open. "Wait… are you serious?" he asked, his voice much softer than usual.

You nodded, your own emotions threatening to overflow. “Yeah… I think I’m pregnant.”

He remained silent for a moment, just staring at the test as if he couldn’t believe it. Then, slowly, a smile began to form on his face—a real, genuine smile, the kind you didn’t get to see often. He knelt down in front of you, resting his forehead against your stomach gently.

"You’re pregnant," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "We’re gonna have a kid."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you placed your hands on his head. You nodded, your heart swelling with love and joy. "Yeah, we’re gonna have a kid."

For the first time, Katsuki’s tough exterior cracked, and you could see the pure happiness in his eyes. His hand rested on your stomach, and he looked up at you, his expression soft and full of emotion.

"You’re amazing, you know that?" he said, his voice low. "I’m gonna take care of you… both of you."

And just like that, you knew that everything was going to be okay. You were both in this together, and no matter what, Katsuki would be by your side, ready to face this new chapter with you.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[masonmontz]

heeey, just a little one for you :)

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

fluff word count: 1k

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

You threw your phone on the bed again ‘cause you couldn't even respond to Mason's messages. It was an important game for him, but you had such a headache that you felt like you were going to pass out at any moment.

The day started well, Mason left home a few hours ago to meet the team at Old Trafford and you had agreed that you would go to the game because it was the first of the season.

A terrible migraine started to appear, and you took some medicine so you could go to the match and even then it only got worse. You had to lie down because you started to feel sick, and if it was a migraine like the others, you know you wouldn't be able to get out of bed for the next few hours.

Mason would be disappointed not to see you there, and you knew it and felt terrible.

Before you could answer him, you fell asleep, you had already taken two painkillers and couldn't help but fall into a deep sleep.

You didn't wake up until you felt Mason shaking you, the room was dark because it was already night and you couldn't even close the curtains when you lay down. You put your hand to your head when you felt it throb, and it was much worse than it had been this afternoon.

“Hey, what’s wrong, babe?” Mason held you and sat beside you, placing his hand on your forehead trying to ease your pain. “Does it hurt that much?”

You just nodded, placing your cold hand on your hot forehead trying to find some relief from the pain. It was the worst pain you could ever feel, and the migraine had been haunting you for years and there was nothing you could do.

“I'm sorry for missing the game” you whispered, still with your eyes closed, and Mason left a kiss on your forehead. “It never hurt this much.”

“Have you taken medicine?” Mason asked and helped you lay down on the bed again, but you felt unwell and held onto his arm as you felt dizzy. “Y/N?”

“I think I'm going to die, Mase” you started crying because your head was hurting so much that you felt like you were going to throw up at any moment. The sobs made the pain worse, you clung to Mason and he tried to calm you down by stroking your back.

“Shall we go to the hospital?” he asked you, and Mason was in agony as he watched you cry in pain.

He knew that migraine was something that haunted you and made you feel terrible whenever you were in pain, and sometimes you spent days suffering and Mason almost cried as he saw you suffering in the corners.

“Please” you agreed and Mason sighed in relief because you never want to go to the hospital, and he always gets worried when he knows you're in pain, afraid that something worse will happen. Mason became distressed when he realized that you were in so much pain that you wanted to go to the hospital.

“Come, I'll help you” Mason helped you up as he put a sneaker on you, your hands were busy pressing on your forehead from the pain. “C’mon, you'll get better soon.”

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

You sighed as Mason helped you sit on the couch hours after you left. You had to take medication intravenously at the hospital, and the doctor told you it was a terrible crisis, but there was no solution other than strong medicine.

“Do you want to eat something?” Mason asked, placing his keys and cell phone on the coffee table.

“Not yet” you murmured, still in pain but much better. “I think I'll take a shower.”

Mason reached out and helped you up, and you walked towards the bedroom.

“Oh, I didn't even ask if you won the game” you said as you searched for pajamas in the closet.

“We did, babe, I gave an assist to Marcus” he said with a smile and even in pain you smiled, but you were sad for not having gone to the game. “What's that sad face?”

“I'm sorry for missing the game, I know it was important to you” Mason came closer and hugged you, leaving kisses in your hair while you hugged him around the waist.

“It's okay, love, I'm happier that you're getting better now” he muttered, and then you went to the bathroom. Mason followed you without asking, you had the habit of talking while one took a shower, or else you took a shower together. “Let me help you.”

Mason took off his clothes and got into the shower with you, and it was one of the few times he just did it to take care of you and not to have sex.

He washed your hair, helped you apply conditioner, always leaving loving kisses on your face and shoulder, always asking if you were better.

Mason is so caring, he pretends he isn't but you know that whenever he can he checks if everything is okay, with you or anyone else, and that makes you love him so much because he is genuine when he cares for someone.

“Thank you for taking care of me” you whispered as you hugged him, and the hot water ran down both of your bodies and it was so intimate, you would never have that with anyone else. “I love you.”

“I will always take care of you love, always” he kissed her forehead, holding her face with his hands and smiling. “I'm completely in love with you.”

“Yeah, I think I'm fallin’ all on you too.”

“Oh you think?” he asked smiling and you shrugged.

“Nah, you know how much I love you.”

“Much better.”

[triannel]

Okay angst...I wanna try and request one with Bill...

Where Bill is doing his absolute best to save Human Female Reader from dying after one of Bill's Manipulated Human puppet came in and took reader out thinking that Reader is the root of Bill's Imprisonment in Theraprism

(PS: He successeded but now his more wary and more Protective and more clingy to reader)

Well...I think I got even more spoiled of TBOB lol. Not really sure how his power works right after being imprisoned so things might not make sense...

There You Are

Bill Cipher x Reader | Oneshot | Angst/Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of Blood, Injuries, Bill Cipher lol, Unhealthy Attachment to Reader, Possession, Near Death Experience

---√-------√-------√-------√-------√----

Heaving in distress, you held your stomach tightly, trying to stop yourself from bleeding out. Taking in deep breaths, you slowly descended to the ground as the puppet stood in front of you.

Slowly but surely, your consciousness was slipping away. The utter terror in your mind becoming blurry as you began to black out. You didn't even know what you did to deserve this. However, before your body accepted it's fate, your eyes managed to catch a glimpse of someone else quickly approaching.

----√----√----√

Once Bill found out what happened, he quickly took over another worshippers body. From head to toe, all he could feel at that moment was absolute terror. He could not even feel anger towards the person who did this to you. All he cared about at the moment was you.

He can't afford to lose you. No, he just can't. You're his better half, his love, the one person he managed to care about in a trillion years, the only person he'll consider his equal remember? You can't leave him now...

Doing all he can, he rips off some of his clothes or anything that he can use to wrap your wound. He doesn't exactly know how to drive so, quickly he'd force someone to drive both of you to the hospital.

Holding a knife out, he holds you close behind the driver's seat.

"Whoa man. I don't want any trouble..." The driver spoke in a panicked state, seeing the bloody mess you both are in.

"DRIVE TO THE HOSPITAL NOW!!" He shouts loudly from behind, pointing the knife to the drivers neck.

"Okay! Okay.." The driver mutters under his breath.

"AND SPEED IT UP WILL YA!?" Bill shouts once more, slightly making the edge of the knife touch the drivers neck for a second.

The driver complied and stepped on the gas pedal, making the car speed up greatly.

(Bills POV)

Flashing by the pastures of the town, Bills gaze landed on your unconscious body. A pang of... guilt? No, a pang of extreme worry, he guessed, was all he could feel right now. Although there might be a tinge of anger in between for that stupid meatsack...

You really got him more messed up huh? All this commotion just for you. He hasn't been able to feel this way in an incredibly long time, he's never gone out of his way to actually do something like this, so please, for what's left of his sanity deep inside, please be okay.

Fixing your position, a few strands of your hair then manages to cover your face. After placing it back behind your ears, he held your chin for moment as he felt a slight twinge of discomfort seeing you so lifeless.

Once you both got to the hospital, he pushed through the doors and demanded a doctor to treat you right away, almost triggering security guards to lunge at him, but fortunately, they saw your critical state and directed a team to take care of both of you.

"THIS ISN'T MY BLOOD, JUST GO AND HELP HER!" Bill spoke, pushing a few nurses off him.

----√---√---√---√---

He was restless the whole time. Walking back and forth his mind managed to make him feel even worse as he thought about the great possibility of losing you.

What if you lost too much blood? What if something wrong happened while the healthcare workers are treating you? What if you actually died right after they took you? What if-

Shaking his head, he forces himself to calm down, taking deep breaths as he fiddled anxiously while he continued to stand near the door separating him and you. 'Relax! It's okay...it's not a big deal...' He thought, quickly trying to make peace of the worst possible thing that could happen.

Looking down at his hands, he held his fingers together, touching your dried blood on his palm. Standing quietly, he continued to wait, strangely taking comfort on the only thing he could associate to you.

Sooner or later, a few people managed to farce him to go clean up and take a shower as this was a hospital after all. The blood staining his clothes was not at all welcome. Begrudgingly, he did end up complying. He would never have done so, but he knew he had to if he wanted to see you.

Quickly stealing clothes from somewhere, he went back to his post as soon as he got cleaned.

...

After a few more hours, his mind could not let him rest at all. Sitting impatiently outside, waiting for someone to let him see you again.

Finally, after a long wait, a nurse approached him, "Hello...Mr..?"

"Cipher." He spoke in a passive but eerily empty tone, it seems he couldn't hold out his charm right now as his worries managed to eat him up when he was waiting.

"Ms. Cipher is now stabilized" the nurse spoke, assuming both of you are together, "You can now go inside."

Quick on his feet, his quirky smile appeared once more as he saw you. You were not awake yet, but it was enough for him to feel relieved.

(End POV)

After Bill entered the room, he absolutely refused to go out right after. Not until...

Fluttering open, like a butterfly starting to spread it's wings to soar through the air, you opened your eyes slightly to see... him. Blinking even more, you woke up feeling groggy.

He held your chin up to him, his smile seeming genuinely joyful to see you.

"There you are..." He mumbled under his breath.

"Good morning sleeping beauty!" he spoke, the window behind him showing the dark night sky, "You had quite the hit there..."

"Good evening to you too?" You spoke, still trying to register where you are.

"Aww don't you recognize your old pal?" He made a triangle shape with his hands, before bending down near you and placing his eye in the middle of the shape to make his thin pupil more noticable.

Rasing your eyebrows, you slowly start to become more active as a smile sprouted on your face, "Bill!"

Standing straight, he fixed himself slightly,

"Yep, the one and only!"

Slowly looking around, your mind registers the hospital room you're now in. Hearing the heart rate monitor, you quickly get reminded by the wound on your stomach.

Thinking about it, you mind quickly connected the dots, "Then that would mean-"

"Yeah, yeah, it's not a big deal toots!" He spoke, adjusting his outfit once more.

"Still though, thank you." You spoke, continuing to smile up at him.

"Well, when you get out, remember to pay me back okay?" He spoke, in a joking manner, before giving you a wink.

You chuckle at his remark, nodding your head slightly.

----√----√----√----

Right after that day, the same person who slit your stomach came by to apologize to you. You soon found out how you even got wrapped into this mess. The person did end up paying all your hospital bills though but right after that, you never saw that person again.

Night after night, you'd always get visited by Bill Cipher himself. Maybe as an apology or some sort of penance, he'd always manage to make your dreams relaxing and more amazing. If you mention it, he'd flat out ignore you and make your dream even more amazing to distract you.

Although he doesn't talk about it, you do notice his clinginess level reach even higher than before. He'd subtly sneak tiny compliments here and there, he's always near you in your dreams, he'd frequently try to visit you in real life by possessing the same person he used in the hospital.

You're also not entirely sure if it's his doing, however, you found yourself to be quite lucky a bunch of times. When you're about to get hurt, you or something else often manages to stop anything from hurting you. Perhaps it's just luck, however something tells you it's most likely not.

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine:

Your first autistic burnout with Logan

It was days like today that got you. It didn't happen all at once you noticed that things begin to get harder. Self care was a necessity but sometimes you just didn't have energy for it. For you it felt like time was speeding up, like you thought it was Friday but it's really Monday. Like the world spinning but your stuck where you are. That your trying to process every day and everything that happens but it's already tomorrow.

But you don't stop pushing yourself, they tell you have to push through. That you have the break time you need so why would you need anymore? That you barely taught any classes anyway, barely a teacher there. You felt selfish most of the time because if you listened to yourself you'd try to put yourself first. But no one else understands you? Unless your autistic it's hard to understand what it feels like to be burnout.

You started having bad mood swings, unable to regulate your emotions, as you usually would be to. It was hard to get around, to do just about anything because your body was tired. Your mind was fatigued, and the wrong words come out of your mouth a lot easier. Because you weren't acting normal you usually started beating yourself up because you shouldn't feel this tired. You shouldn't feel like even breathing can be hard for you. Which in these moments because a problem because of your unrelentless anxiety about having to put your mind to anything, or having to be social situations that you didn't want to be in.

But you had to show up for your job or you were going to lose it. Charles could only be so patient with you right? Even with accommodations in place, there was a certain point where you felt like in other people's brains there was no coming back, you just didn't want to get better. That you decided one day that you were just coming to become depressed. For so long doctors who didn't know you assumed you were bipolar, though you didn't have manic epsiodes. You just really intense happiness that could last for a little while but it was usually because you were in a mood swing.

Logan was instantly drawn to the moment he met you. You had the same type of darkness he recognized in himself. When you looked at him you had the same pain in his eyes that were reflected in his. The two of you had gone through very different pain and trauma, but when he learned about yours it didn't think it was any easier. Not with the mental and emotional manipulation you grew up with. The hours you spent alone and isolated because the world was simply too much for you. That you rather stay in your little bubble and never leave.

You'd been doing good for so long, you could have a bad day or a bad week, but you always got back up. Logan had never seen you practically paralyzed. You could barely keep your eyes open, you could barely move without groaning or crying, it was like your limbs were almost lifeless.

The room was pitch black, something he knew you didn't like. You always had a night light on, and now you couldn't even open your eyes long enough. You'd even covered your ears when he tried talking to you, a faint 'shh' coming out of your mouth. He felt the pain shoot through him as he saw the pain all over your face, you almost looked lifeless. Logan spoke quietly as he checked on you, before reaching for his hand and grasping on tightly while you started to cry. "What's wrong?" He whispered.

"I-is just too much." You bawled. "H-hold me tight please." Logan's arms wrapped around you without hesitation, listening to you as you laid your head against his chest, his arms tight around your body.

Eventually you needed space, feeling almost suffocated, but you didn't want him to leave. You didn't know how to communicate this, your own anxiety of just having to talk practically making you mute. You just climbed away from him, before whispering, "Stay." Laying your head on the pillow, and he laid next to you. You moved forward eventually, wanting the comfort of his hand in yours. Logan traced your features with his hazel green eyes, trying to make sure he was prepared for whatever you were feeling. Trying to understand something that he knew you couldn't explain to him right now.

All he knew was that you needed him and he wasn't going anywhere.

note: cried while writing this, i'm sorry i'm not filling in requests rn feeling a lot executive dysfunction and just trying to remain positive.

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland

[sexsylexi]

Can I request a Jason Todd x reader where the reader has a health scare

Of course, I'm not exactly sure if this is what you wanted but i did my best! 💗

Through the darkest hours.

Jason Todd x Reader

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You had just gone in for a regular check-up, a routine visit to make sure everything was fine. It had been a while since you had seen a doctor, and you figured it was time to make sure everything was still in order. After all, you didn’t feel bad, not exactly. Just a little more tired lately, a bit more sluggish than usual, but nothing that couldn’t be blamed on stress or a long week.

But then the doctor’s face grew serious. The casual conversation you had been having shifted into something else, something tense. He asked you to wait a moment, left the room to consult with a colleague, and that’s when the fear set in. Something was wrong.

You sat on the cold examination table, the paper crinkling beneath you as your mind began to spin. What if it was something serious? What if…what if this was something that couldn’t be fixed?

By the time the doctor returned, your hands were clammy and your heart raced. He explained that they needed to run some additional tests, and while he tried to assure you it could be nothing, the words lingered in your head: could be nothing. Which meant it could be something.

You managed to keep it together long enough to leave the doctor’s office, to walk to your car and sit behind the wheel and drive home, your hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly. The fear had grown inside of you, threatening to spill over, and you didn’t know who to call..

Jason. Of course, Jason.

Your hand shook as you grabbed your phone and dialed his number, pressing it to your ear as it rang. Each second that passed without him picking up felt like an eternity. Finally, on the third ring, his familiar voice came through the speaker, gruff but warm.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Jason… I’m scared.”

The line was silent for a beat, and then his voice was filled with concern. “What happened? Where are you?”

“I—I’ve been to the doctor’s. They found something, and they need to do more tests, but I don’t know what it means. Jason, I don’t know what’s happening.Im outside our apartment. ”

You heard him shift on the other end of the line, like he was already getting ready to move. “Okay, okay. Stay right there. I’m coming to you. Just breathe, alright? I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Relief flooded through you at the sound of his calm, commanding voice. Jason always had a way of making you feel safe, like no matter what happened, he’d be able to handle it. You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Okay. I’ll wait.”

After you hung up, you sat there in the car, staring out the window but not really seeing anything. Your mind kept racing with possibilities, with worst-case scenarios that you couldn’t quite shake. But you held onto Jason’s words, repeating them in your head like a mantra: Breathe. I’ll be there soon.

True to his word, it didn’t take long for Jason to arrive. You saw him through the windshield as he parked his bike next to your car, his leather jacket catching in the sunlight. He was already looking around, scanning the area for you, and when his eyes landed on you, you saw the tension in his face relax just a little.

He opened your car door and crouched down beside you, his hand immediately reaching for yours. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady. “I’m here.”

The moment you saw him, the tears you had been holding back broke free. You reached out, gripping his hand like a lifeline as you sobbed. “Jason, I don’t know what’s wrong. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

He pulled you into his arms without hesitation, holding you close as you cried into his chest. He didn’t say anything at first, just let you cry, his strong arms wrapped around you protectively. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat under your cheek, and somehow, that grounded you. Jason was here. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.

After a while, when your sobs had subsided into quiet sniffles, Jason pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “We don’t know what’s going on yet. It could be nothing, okay? I need you to trust that whatever happens, we’re going to deal with it. Together.”

You nodded, your chest still tight but feeling a little more steady with him here. “But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’” he interrupted, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you pause. “Not until we know what’s going on. You don’t have to do this alone. I’m with you. Always.”

His words, simple as they were, settled something inside of you. You took a deep breath, leaning into his touch as you nodded again. “Okay.”

Jason smiled, a small but reassuring grin that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright. “Come on,” he said, standing up and offering his hand to help you out of the car. “Let’s go home.”

---

The days that followed were filled with a strange kind of limbo. You were waiting for the results of the tests, waiting for some kind of answer, but all you had was silence and uncertainty. And in that silence, the fear grew.

Jason could see it. He wasn’t the type to hover, but every time you saw him out of the corner of your eye, he was watching you, concern etched into his face. He didn’t push you to talk about it, but he made sure you knew he was there.

He did little things, too. Things that might have gone unnoticed if you weren’t paying attention. He cooked dinner more often, even though you both knew his culinary skills were limited. He’d pick up your favorite snacks on his way home, or slip an extra blanket over you when you fell asleep on the couch. He even spent more time at home than usual, even though you knew he was itching to be out on patrol. But Jason didn’t say anything about it, and you didn’t either.

One night, as you were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling while Jason scrolled through his phone next to you, the weight of it all started to feel unbearable. The tests were supposed to come back soon, and the anxiety was eating away at you. You couldn’t pretend everything was normal anymore.

“Jason,” you whispered, not sure if you wanted to bring it up but knowing you couldn’t keep it in any longer.

He immediately set his phone down, turning toward you with full attention. “What’s up?”

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip. “I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice so small you barely recognized it as your own.

Jason sighed softly, reaching over to take your hand in his. “I know,” he said. “I know you are.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do if… if something’s really wrong.”

He was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand. “You don’t have to figure that out right now,” he said eventually. “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. But worrying about it before we even know… that’s only going to drive you crazy.”

You let out a shaky breath, blinking back the tears that were already forming. “I can’t help it. It’s like this… this thing in my chest that won’t go away.”

Jason shifted closer, pulling you against his chest. “Then let me take some of that weight,” he murmured into your hair. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself. You’ve got me, remember?”

His words, so simple but so full of love, made you feel like you weren’t drowning anymore. You buried your face into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, the leather and gunpowder that always seemed to cling to him. It was comforting in its own way, a reminder that he was real, that he was here with you.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Jason said softly, his fingers running through your hair. “And even if—even if—it was something serious, we’d fight it. Together.”

You stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in his warmth, letting his steady heartbeat calm the storm inside of you. It was easy to forget, sometimes, just how much Jason understood about fear, about fighting battles you didn’t know if you could win. But he always fought anyway. And with him by your side, maybe you could too.

---

A few days later, the phone call came. You were sitting on the couch, your leg bouncing anxiously as Jason flipped through the channels on the TV. You weren’t even watching, your mind too preoccupied with waiting for the phone to ring.

When it finally did, you almost jumped out of your skin. Jason’s eyes were on you immediately, watching as you picked up the phone with trembling hands.

“Hello?”

You held your breath as the voice on the other end spoke, and with every word, the tension in your body began to ease. It wasn’t serious. The tests had come back clear. It had been nothing more than a scare.

You hung up the phone, staring at it for a moment as the relief washed over you like a tidal wave.

Jason was still watching you, his brow furrowed. “Well?”

A smile broke across your face, your chest feeling lighter than it had inweeks. "It’s okay," you whispered at first, almost as if you couldn’t believe it. "I’m okay, Jason. It was just a scare."

For a moment, Jason stared at you, his face unreadable. Then, all at once, the tension in his shoulders seemed to dissolve. He let out a deep breath, one that he must have been holding ever since this whole nightmare began. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours as you both sat there, feeling the weight of the relief that had finally come.

"Thank god," Jason murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled you into his arms again, holding you as tightly as he had that day in the car when everything had first spiraled out of control. But this time, his grip wasn’t one of fear—it was one of gratitude, relief, and an overwhelming sense of love.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You sat in Jason’s arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing. It was over. The worry, the uncertainty—it was all over, and you hadn’t even realized how much it had been weighing you down until now.

After a long while, Jason finally spoke, his voice a little lighter than it had been in days. “I told you it’d be okay,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His tone was teasing, but there was a tenderness to it that made your heart swell.

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “You did,” you admitted. “But I didn’t believe it.”

Jason let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Of course you didn’t. You’re stubborn as hell.”

You laughed too, the sound light and freeing in a way it hadn’t been in what felt like forever. “I guess I am.”

He tilted your chin up slightly, his eyes searching yours. “But you don’t have to be strong all the time,” he said softly, his thumb grazing your jaw. “I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you. You don’t have to go through stuff like this alone.”

Your throat tightened at his words, and you felt a fresh wave of tears welling up in your eyes—this time, not out of fear, but out of gratitude. Jason had been your rock throughout all of this, even when you hadn’t known how to ask for help. He had just been there, steady and unwavering.

“I know,” you whispered, leaning into him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jason.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. “You’re never gonna have to find out,” he said, his voice low and full of certainty.

And in that moment, you believed him.

[hjartasalt]

As much as being on T has objectively been a positive change in my life I do also want to discuss something that doesn't get talked about very often and it's that being on HRT when you have OCD can be incredibly challenging at times.

I personally dread my shot days not because I'm scared of needles but because I'm worried it could go wrong. Getting a nurse to do it for me helps a lot but still doesn't get rid of all the anxiety. I still catch myself worrying after the fact if maybe something did go wrong and neither of us realised at the time.

I worry about my levels a lot and obsessively check that I've put in the dates for my shots into my calendar correctly because what if I get it wrong and suddenly my dose is too high or what if my doctor misread my levels or what if I missed a memo telling me to change my dose etc. etc. etc.

I go through periods of time where I'm absolutely terrified I might be balding and go through old photos checking how my hair looks there so I can make a comparison even though I know if I were to start balding there's a multitude of ways I could deal with it, I just can't stand the feeling of uncertainty.

All of these are things that take their toll on my mental health and in full honesty it is difficult for me sometimes to be on T because of the intrusive thoughts it triggers for me but ultimately the joy my medical transition has brought me still makes it worth it to keep challenging my OCD about it and if you can relate to these things just know you're not alone and it's okay to be scared, it doesn't make you any less trans to sometimes struggle with being on HRT

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Ch 10 part 1

masterpost

“Tyranny!” Damian bellowed. His little face was red with fury.

Cass crossed her arms and nodded agreement. She was not accepting any more changes to her life at this time. Things were already happening, too much.

“Nevertheless,” said cruel Batdad. “The pediatric nutritionist will be here tomorrow.” He was trying very hard to seem composed and unaffected by their upset. But he was affected. So affected. And yet he persisted on traveling down the wrong path.

Cass hissed.

Their natural ally, Alfred, put his nose up a little as he cleared the dinner dishes. He sniffed as he left, unhappy-stiff. Cass did not know how he had been defeated. Food was his domain, not some interloper with a pathetic weepy Doctorate of nutritional sciences.

“He designs the meal plans for child Olympians,” Batdad coaxed. He wanted them to like him soooo much. “Standard advice is not necessarily very useful for extreme athletes. You might feel better afterwards. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Gentle, gentle, pleading.

No!!!

Damian stabbed his fork upright into his cinnamon roll and pointed an index finger at their tormentor. “I will not submit. I consume an adequately varied and nutritious diet. Whatever your true aims are, I will not be moved.”

Cass scarfed down her own dessert messily, scowling at Batdad the whole time as if to say: come and take it from me. Can you? You can’t.

Duke watched this with clever eyes darting between Batdad and his siblings. His body said: I don’t care. But I won’t pick Bruce publicly. What can I get? Can I make trouble? 

Hmm. Cass didn’t like that. She narrowed her eyes at him. He should philosophically agree with their cause. She was going to crawl under his bed and hiss, scary sounds to wake him up and go BOO. 

She made a mental note to do that before patrol tonight. If she could even fit it in, jeeze.

Ugh. So busy. Always so much to do.

The tension was high when they trooped to the cave for briefing, before Duke went to bed and everyone else took their pre-patrol nap. Cass lingered sullenly because she wanted to hear Duke’s report on the mechanic. Jacqueline’s apartment had been sneakily snuck through. The conclusion?

“There’s a lot of work clothes in the apartment, but no tools or anything like that. No references or books, aside from a couple of ones from the university library.” Duke fidgeted, micromovement. Not an interesting report. Not an enjoyable detour. “There’s no indication as to what she’s been working on. I took DNA samples off some dirty dishes and hair off the sofa. They’re filed for processing.”

Disappointing. The next step was unclear. Cass frowned. Should they try to observe again? Wait for Jacqueline to leave her lair and follow? Perhaps they should enter the apartment and lurk, ask questions. Tell her: We know your criminal associations. Stop it. Stop it, Jacqueline.

Damian stuck his lips out. He would say: This is not a pout, Cain.

It was a pout.

“I see.” Timbird took notes, fingers flying. Tap tap tap. “You’re passing the case back?”

“It’s all yours,” he said, nodding to Damian. Babybat nodded solemnly. My responsibility. He looked at her. Cass nodded: I have your bat-back. Let’s creep on Jacqueline, as a family.

Hmm. It was too quiet. Usually, there was Batdad commentary. She snuck a look at him even though she and Damian were ignoring him for his cruelties.

Batdad was pondering. He was paying enough attention, but his mind was on something else. Hmm. Cass prodded him. “Ah- Tim, did you upload your conclusions about the Amity Park case?”

Oh. Cass kept her body still, letting it say: I’m bored, I don’t care.

Timbird sighed and ruffled his hair. The gel made a little crackle sound. “It’s a massive government coverup,” he said. Unhappy. “I think a few residents fled, but it looks like it was a mass murder of the residents. The tank tracks came from a subdivision called the GIW, which is ridiculously over militarized.” He opened a file on one of the many Batcomputer screens. It showed a complex of buildings, taken from above. Superboy photography? “They’re doing weapons development, and it appears to be based on the designs of local scientists, also missing.”

“These scientists were affiliated with the GIW?” Batdad asked.

Tim shrugged. “Unclear.” His mouth twitched, unhappy. “There’s evidence of some collaboration, but it seemed a relatively normal exchange of information. Now, the GIW appears to have all their patented inventions and is replicating them.”

“So either these scientists are on staff or they have been removed,” Damibat scowled. A grumpy line formed between his eyebrows. So cute. 

“Removed?” Duke repeated, amused.

“From this mortal coil,” Damibat repeated. Impatient. Keep up, Thomas.  Haha. Cass sniggered and stuck her tongue out. Yeah. Keep up, Duke.

[604to647]

Sniffles

1.5K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

A/N: Inspired by @bebsjo’s ask about Tim wanting to take care of Shutterbug when she’s sick. I answered it but couldn’t get the thought out of my brain; thank you for the ask, love - please consider this a more complete answer! 💕

This is our The Rockford Portfolio couple but as always with their stories, can be read as standalone (though there is a relationship milestone in this one 😊).

Summary: You’re sick and you don’t want to give Tim your germs.

Warnings: None! Fluff. Snot. Soft!Tim, established relationship, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous).

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕 / Series Masterlist

Tim is just putting the finishing touches on the arrest report for a pair of mid-level Pie henchmen when his cellphone starts to buzz with an incoming call.  He picks up upon seeing from the caller ID that it’s you, “Hey Shutterbug.”

“Hey baby,” you croak.

“What’s wrong?  Where are you? Baby, are you okay?” Tim stands up, ready to sprint out of his office to get to you.

Laughing at your sweet boyfriend’s reaction to a simple cold, you try to talk him down from the ledge in a soothing, albeit scratchy, tone of voice, “Don’t worry, Detective - it’s just a cold!  But I left work early so I wouldn’t spread my germs around.  I took some medication and I’m just getting into a bed with a hot cup of tea right now.”

“Can you FaceTime?  Need to see you, gorgeous.”  Not that he doesn’t believe you, Tim would just feel a lot better getting visual confirmation that you’re all tucked into bed, getting the rest that you need.

Your tired but still cheery face lights up Tim’s phone screen, and he exhales a little sigh of relief to see you already in your pajamas even though it’s still early afternoon, “Do you have everything you need?  Soup?  Drugs?  Tissues?  Throat lozenges?”

“I do, Tim – thank you, but baby,” the you on his screen chews your bottom lip and looks at him apologetically, “I don’t think you should come over tonight.”

Tim tilts his head, confused, “What do you mean?  Who’s going to take care of you?”

You start to laugh but it immediately devolves into a coughing fit, “I’ll be fine, Detective!  It’s just a cold – I’ll take drugs, I’ll sleep, I’ll get better.  I don’t know how contagious I am, but I don’t want to get you sick, Tim.  I know you.  You’ll insist on going to work even when under the weather and you’ll be miserable.  While I’m sick you should stay at your place, just to be safe.”

“But-”

“No buts, Detective.  It’s not my first cold!  I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Tim is about to respond when his Captain peeks her head into his office and gestures with her hand for Tim to follow. 

“I gotta go, Shutterbug, but text me if you need anything and I’ll bring it over, okay?  Feel better soon, baby.  I love you.”

“I love you too, Detective Rockford.  Be safe!”

Four days.

You’ve been sick for four days.  Tim takes some solace in knowing that you’ve taken the time off work to properly recover, but still… it’s been four days.

After the first night back at his house, Tim takes to sleeping on the couch in his office.  Even though the mattress in his master bedroom is indisputably less lumpy, the couch is less depressing.  At least his office is something: it’s work.  His house constantly reminds Tim of what it is not: it’s not his home. It’s not with you. 

Every time you and him talk on FaceTime, you’re decidedly still sick (are you actually getting worse?!) and the tiny bit of hope Tim harbours that he’ll be able to come home to you soon evaporates.  He decides not to tell you where he’s been sleeping - you’ll just worry for his back, and then he would have to explain how miserable he is without you and make you feel bad.

Instead, Tim listens as you tell him you took yourself to the doctor to learn that you have the flu, not the cold, and listens at your wheezing laugh at how ironic it is that you had your flu shot scheduled for next week.  Tim nods approvingly when you confirm that you’re having groceries and meals delivered and bites his tongue from saying that he could - wants to - do all that for you.  He watches as you trudge to the kitchen in your bathrobe with your runny nose and messy hair to make food, and he tells you you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen - because you are.  You tell him he’s silly but still give him the biggest smile you can manage in your exhausted and achy state.

You fall asleep every night while still on the phone with Tim as he tells you all about his work day and his current case, lulled to sleep by his soothing baritone voice.  Even after you’ve nodded off, Tim doesn’t hang up right away – partially to make sure your breathing doesn't get too laboured through your stuffed up nose, but mainly so he can look upon your peaceful visage for a little while longer.  He misses you so much.

By night five of sleeping without you pressed up against his chest, Tim has had enough.  After work he makes stops at the grocery store and pharmacy before heading to your place.  Laden down with bags full of soup and frozen lasagna, cold medication, ice packs, a new hot water bottle, cough drops, plus one plushie (something called a "Squishmallow"? Its "bio" on the tag says she’s a nurse) among other supplies, Tim turns his key in the lock of your apartment for the first time in nearly a week.  Immediately, he’s hit with the familiar scent of your perfume and the peppermint of the tea you’re currently making; he knows you're in the kitchen just from the soft shuffling and sniffles he hears - all of it a comfort to his senses.

Now all he has to do is see you and hold you and he can finally feel complete.

At first you think you’re hallucinating when your big, burly detective appears in the doorway of the kitchen.  You must be sicker than you thought - or maybe you accidentally took an extra dose of flu medication?  But the strong, thick arms that wrap around you feel real.  And the rough hands that cradle and massage your head feel soothing.  You melt right into that hard but cushiony chest despite not being 100% sure it isn’t a figment of your fever addled imagination.

“Whhhharrhwudoongnhrrrrtm?” you mumble.

Petting your hair indulgently, Tim chuckles, “Want to say that again, Shutterbug?”

You tilt your head back to look sleepily at your handsome boyfriend, “What are you doing here, Tim?”

“I’m here to take care of you, baby,” Tim says matter-of-factly, “You’re not getting well fast enough for my liking – I’m missing you too much.”

You melt a little at Tim’s puppy dog look, but sigh, “Baby, I miss you so much, too.  But if you’re here, you could get sick.”

Tim presses a soft kiss to your hot forehead, “Shutterbug, when we live together, we won’t be able to escape the other person when one of us is sick.”

Your gasp transitions into a cough and you have to wait until your throat clears before you ask, astounded, “You want to live with me?  Even with all this snot?”

Tim nods as if to say, even with all this snot, adding, “Only if you want, Shutterbug.”

You wonder how long he’s been thinking about this, “When were you thinking would be the right time for you to move in?”

Very aware that you haven’t actually agreed to live with him, Tim answers with truthful, but carefully chosen words, “I’m ready whenever, if ever, you’re ready, baby.”

You look up at Tim wide-eyed, trying to make sure that he means it - that he’s serious about taking this next step in your relationship; when you see nothing but eagerness in the softness of his eyes and the steadiness in his bright, reassuring smile, you throw your arms around Tim’s neck, germs be damned, “I’m ready, Detective!! As soon as I’m better, please move all your stuff in!”

Tim hugs you back tighter than he probably should - absolutely over the moon that he’s never going to have to leave your side again, that he and the woman he loves are going to make a home together.  So lost in his own reverie, he’s jolted back when you let out a whimper of pain, “Oh fuck, Shutterbug, did I hurt you?”

Shaking your head, you’re still beaming at your considerate boyfriend, “No, I’m just achy all over, all the time.  You could never hurt me, Tim.”  You genuinely believe this with all your heart.

“How about I run you a bath with these bath salts I bought and you have a nice warm soak while the lasagna heats up?” offers Tim.

“Will you sit with me while I’m in the bath, Detective?”

“Of course, gorgeous.”

“And we can make plans for the big move in?” You grin, eyes twinkling - you haven’t felt this energized in days.

“Nothing I would like more, baby,” Tim smiles as he hands you the plushie cat he bought you, grinning even wider when you squeal with excitement and crush the stuffed animal to your chest in elation.

You titter with happiness, grabbing Tim’s hand to lead him towards the bedroom. But when he doesn’t come readily, you turn back and to your confusion, you see Tim wincing, the hand not in yours reaching behind to press against his lower back as he arches in a painful stretch.

Eyes narrowing, you place the hand that’s still clutching Cassie the Nurse on your hip and tilt your head suspiciously, “Timothy. Where have you been sleeping?”

Btw this is Cassie the Nurse:

[itsnotbird]

Orphic ~ File 2

Yonderly (adj.); mentally or emotionally distant; absent-minded

Bucky!Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warning: Talks of past trauma, needles, Tony Stark being an ass

Find part 1 here

Dr. Bruce Banner hadn’t left your side in hours.

He ran as many tests as possible, and the results laid out on the table so he could discuss it with Tony. Confirmed that you were an enhanced individual, they could only make a scientific guess that you had some kind of psychokinesis, or the ability to manipulate energy, given the fact that Sam and Bucky were still having fantom jolts.

One thing that was left undetermined, was the reason why you weren’t waking up.

“She’s perfectly healthy, well, a little malnourished but nothing medically significant that is preventing her from coming out of the coma.” Banner says as he rubs his eyes and puts his glasses back on.

Tony watches your heart rate, your oxygen levels, then walks over to the screen where the 3D scan of your brain is actively showing an almost hibernating state. He shakes his head, trying to understand.

“There’s nothing we can do to just wake her up? Inject her with something?” He asks, making the doctor shake his head.

“We don’t know how her powers are going to react to it…” His tone suddenly trails off, then he looks around the area to make sure that the super soldier who flat out said ‘no poking or prodding’ wasn’t around. Then when the coast was clear, he presents his idea. “We could test her platelets, it’s a small procedure I can do quick. It might give us more answers and I could use them as separate test subjects.”

It peeks Tony’s interests, he looks back over to you.

“I wish we could just be in her mind, see what the real problem is. It feels…wrong, treating her like an alien.” He says with a hint of protectiveness. Normally, before he had his daughter, he would have jumped at the chance at using someone spectacular for science.

Now, he can only frown and say no.

Though, another idea comes to him.

“We need to see inside her mind, we can’t but we have someone who can do that.” He says, then calls out for FRIDAY’s attention. “Tell the little witch her services are needed.”

Bucky sits with his arms folded in the common area. Steve sits in the chair opposite of the couch, they’ve been having short conversations for about an hour, though Steve is getting rather tired of his best friend’s unamused attitude.

“So…you kidnapped a girl.” Steve says, breaking the silence.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I didn’t kidnap her, you can’t kidnap an adult…I just abducted her.”

“Yeah, that’s not better, Buck.” Steve chuckles.

The tap of boots walks past the two men, making them turn and watch Wanda hurriedly make her way to the MedBay. Immediately after she passes, Steve and Bucky share a look.

That had to mean something.

“You think they’re going to force her awake?” Steve asks, face etched with concern and question.

Bucky purses his lips. “They’d be smart to not force her to do anything, I think she might blow the whole building up.”

It’s in the next coming minutes that they are laughing and finally feeling like their old selves then they hear the commotion. Taking off in a run, they both rush to the medical bay.

Tony thought it was going to be smooth. Wanda used her wiggly woo powers (as he calls them) and searched your mind.

“She’s simply asleep…like she’s almost comatose. I think she’s strained herself and her powers are regulating her.” She said, shifting her red strands of power to affect your brain differently. “I can wake her up.”

“Yes! Wake her up.” Tony eagerly states, then moves him and Bruce back a few feet. He’s been doing this super power thing long enough to know that it isn’t always a smooth sail.

Then it happened so fast.

Your heart rate spiked, you stirred slightly. Then, your eyes opened, they were a soft shade of steel blue, almost grey. Your vision clears and your senses came back to you. The ceiling above you didn’t look right, as you looked around, the scene wasn’t familiar.

Your legs and arms were bound.

You struggle, then look to the woman that comes into your vision.

“Hello.” She says softly.

You panic.

More unfamiliar faces come into frame, telling you to calm down and breathe as you thrash in the bed.

Tony watches in concern as you grunt, and when you do speak, a series of red flags raise in his mind.

“Где я?” You shout, trying to flex your hands but they are still covered with Sam’s anti-shock mitt solution. You pant heavily, the blood pressure monitor starts to beep rapidly.

“Okay, this isn’t ideal.” Tony says, watching in horror as Wanda tries to calm you.

They don’t expect for you to break free from the restraints.

“Кто ты?” You look around, shouting.

“Not good!” Bruce agrees, watching as you rip the mitts off your hands.

A surge of blue power gathers at your fingertips, ready to defend yourself. Your head on a swivel, you jump from the bed and try to figure out an escape route while the three strangers in the room all shout for you to stay calm. The woman, red hair, unsure expression, she steps towards you.

“Не подходи ко мне!” You cry, seizing your hand forward, admitting a blue light. She barely has time to defend herself before she’s shoved into the nearest wall, knocking countless things over as she goes.

That’s the noise that sends the two super soldiers running.

Bruce quickly dives for a sedative, throwing it to Tony who comes up behind you and jabs the needle into your neck. A scream tears from your throat, you stumble over your feet.

“Tony? What the hell is wrong with you!” Steve shouts as he comes in to see the mess.

Bucky immediately rushes forward and pulls the needle from your neck, trying to steady you as you fall into a drowsy state.

“She isn’t a happy camper when she wakes up.” Tony states, then points to Wanda who stands from the ground and rubs her head. “Look what she did.”

“I’m fine, Tony.” She says, coming back over to where Bucky catches you as you pass out again.

“How long was she awake?” He asks, placing you back on the bed.

“Oh a solid two seconds before she started screaming in Russian.” Tony exaggerates.

“What?” Bucky fumes. “So you tranqed her?”

Bruce comes to make sure you were okay.

“Oh I’m sorry, you just wanted her to kill us all?” Tony shouts.

“Tony, she woke up in a strange place, she’s like a scared puppy.” Steve says before making sure Wanda wasn’t injured.

“We’re calling S.H.E.I.L.D, and I’m telling them that the man the government just pardoned, brought a threat home.” Tony grits, then looks to Doctor Banner. “Let’s wake her up and put her in the empty discussion room, she’ll be fine in there until Fury comes.”

It really isn’t up for discussion. Though he protests, Bucky still does what is asked of him and helps lock you in the empty room. He doesn’t stick around though like the others do, not interested in watching as you wake up and proceed to have yet another panicked melt down.

“Buck.” Steve calls out as Bucky turns from the two way mirror and leaves the room. Sam joins the group in that moment, pausing as Bucky walks off.

“She’s your responsibility now, congratulations.” Bucky dryly says, proceeding to leave the compound all together.

- - - -

You don’t know how long you freak out, but eventually you give up hope and sink into the shadows of the half lit room, keeping to the corner like a scared animal.

Your mind races, not sure where you were or how you ended here. The last thing you remembered was the fight for your life, then a feeling of utter exhaustion as you trudged down an unfamiliar street. Then the next thing you knew, everyone was shouting at you like the words you were saying were sinful.

Your clothes were dirty and wrinkled, you shivered, alone.

Just as you begin to fall asleep, you hear the click of the door open. You curl further into yourself as a tall man enters the room. He gazes into the dark corner. “It looks like you made Tony Stark scared, good job.” He chuckles.

He stops in the middle of the room and folds his hands together. “Why don’t you come on out, I won’t hurt you.”

Slowly, you rise to your feet. Carefully, you come into the light.

“So you do speak English?” He questions, making you nod and not say anything.

“I’m Nick Fury, can you tell me who you are?”

You want to speak, but the fear of being reprimanded is too strong. So you just stare blankly.

He nods. “Alright, how about this.” His hand reaches into his pocket and you jump back, knowing what he could possibly have. But he raises his hands at your reaction. “Hey, it’s nothing to harm you.” He promises, then slowly goes to pull a bar of chocolate out.

“See? Snickers. It’s my favorite. Do you like chocolate?” He asks.

A ghost of a smile appears on your cracked lips. You weren’t allowed to have treats, they were only rewarded when you completed a task successfully.

“I’ll give this to you if you tell me something about yourself. How old are you?”

Your eyes squint, trying to form the answer to that question. Slowly, you answer. “Twenty four…”

No one slaps you for answering in English, so that’s a good sign.

Fury nods in approval, then holds the candy bar out.

Slowly, you approach. Your shaky hand grasps it and pulls it to your chest. Then with a victorious grin, you open it up and take a bite.

It feels good in your mouth, feels warm in your stomach that aches for substance.

“Can you tell me your name?” He asks one more time.

“505.” You answer, occupied by the candy.

Fury’s eyebrows draw together. “Your real name. What’s your real name?”

You shrug. “Don’t remember.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Your head snaps to him, eyes wide.

You go silent again.

Though, you don’t fight any of it. You willingly walk with Fury, you leave the compound with no fight. Tony lets out a sigh once you were gone.

“Well, crisis averted.” He says.

“I really don’t think she was a spy.” Steve says, silently criticizing the man for how stuck up he’s being.

And after everyone goes back to their living quarters, Steve calls Bucky.

Bucky watches the phone ring, stares at it until the screen goes black.

And that’s how things are left.

[storm-angel989]

how would vox and the other vees react to his teenage daughter getting piercing and tattoos without them knowing?

Hi friend,

I like to think that Vox has better control of his emotions than Val- take a peek at what I came up with!

<3 Mandy

Vox could think of at least sixteen ways to handle the situation with an instantaneous result. Killing the person who dared to put a needle to the skin of his underaged daughter for one. An all girls boarding school, set in the furthest ring of hell. At minimum, screaming and yelling with he promise of infinite grounding would at least get his anger and disappointment out in the open.

When Velette called him down to her studio, he expected to be handed a file or six. Or more likely, be bitched at for some reason beyond his control. But when Velvette greeted him with little more than a command to follow her, and led him towards her office, he knew it was something much more pressing. Outside the door, Velvette paused.

“You can’t get mad, Vox,” she told him quietly. “You can’t. We need to handle it so she comes to us again. Got it? Promise me.”

“Uh, alright. I promise?” Vox replied. 

“Good. Now take a breath and keep that promise,” Velvette said as she pushed the door open. 

Inside, his daughter sat on top of Velvette’s desk. Wrapped loosely in a cotton robe and surrounded by tissues, Vox felt his heart drop. 

“Baby? Baby, what’s wrong?” He asked as he rushed towards her. He cupped her chin and tilted her head up to face him. “Talk to Daddy.” 

To his surprise, she shook her head vehemently. 

“You need to show your Dad, so we can get you to a doctor,” Velvette said gently. “Come on, he won’t be mad. Promise.”

She looked to him and to his surprise, his usually feisty teenage daughter had an expression that begged for confirmation of her words. In the back of his mind, worry began to form. A heartbeat of silence. A sharp elbow from Velvette and he winced. 

“That’s right, Reader,” he said finally. “I promise I won’t be mad.” 

With hesitation, Vox watched as Reader slowly turned away from him as she lowered her robe. Vox bit back as gasp at the sight of red inflamed skin sprawled across her lower back. Black lines rose to form an incoherent pattern and here and there he could barely make out parts of a word. Several words, perhaps. The broken up image of a butterfly. 

He felt his temper flare and Velvette’s hand tight against his shoulder. He took a deep breath and tried his best to keep his voice steady.

“What happened?” 

“I, my friends and I were at the mall and we decided to get matching tattoos,” she mumbled in response. 

“Where? How? You’re not old enough to get a tattoo, or a piercing without parental consent,” Vox said as he carefully examined her back. 

“Some guy in the back of the mall. He did my cartilage too,” Reader muttered as she lifted up her hair to reveal swollen, black and blue skin. “It’s all…it hurts, I’m sorry Daddy.” 

Vox couldn’t believe his daughter had done something so egregiously stupid. Gingerly, she pulled the robe over her back and turned to face him. 

“Daddy? I…”

“First things first. Let’s get you down to Val’s studio and have the doctor on staff take a look. You’re probably going to need a round or two of IV antibiotics and then we can go from there.” Vox said as calmly as he could. “We can talk about the rest later. For now, let's get you taken care of.”

Vox watched as his daughter broke down into tears. Instinctually, he reached out and wrapped her in his arms. 

“I know it hurts, baby, but we’ll get you some antibiotics. And probably a pain killer and you’ll feel much better,” he said as he held her. “Shush, sweetheart. Daddy will take care of you.” 

“She’s not just crying from pain, Vox,” Velvette said softly. “She’s afraid. Of disappointing you.”

Vox swallowed and carefully kissed the top of her head. “Honey, you know I love you. That won’t ever change, I promise.” He paused, “I know you’re too old to be carried, but if it hurts too much to walk.” 

To his surprise, his teenager leaned into him. As carefully as he could, he lifted her up into his arms.

“Don’t worry baby,” he said softly. “Daddy will always love you.”

[lagataprrr]

is it possible to get a short blurb of Satoru and plus size girl friend and how they go costume shopping, and he sees reader staring at a ghost face mask

hehehe

OH! I LOVE THIS

I hope this satisfied your ask <3 currently still working on chapter five of the series and its taken me longer bc kind of stuck on a scene lol

Ghost face Mask

"What about this one?" You ask, and Satoru looks up from the rack of costumes he was looking through to look at you. He raises a brow at the costume in your hand of what seemed to be a sexy witch, it was a long dark purple sleeveless dress, that had a slit that probably stopped high enough on your thighs. It brought purple gloves and a black witches hat and a garner belt for the exposed thigh???

Satoru's mind began playing a scene of you coming out of his room dressed in it, how sexy you'd look prancing around in it while wearing your hot platform boots. He could see himself dragging a hand up the slit of the dress, caressing your calves and up your thick thighs. In fact it would be so easy to slip his hand between your thighs and touch your pu-

"Baby?" Satoru is snapped out of his daydream at your voice. Clearly knowing the look on his face as you let out a laugh, putting the costume back on the rack and walking elsewhere.

"Wait," Satoru pouted, grabbing it and stuffing it into the basket he was carrying for you. "I like this one too."

"Toru, I only need one costume. You've said yes to four of them, we're gonna have to choose one."

"We can get all of them."

"Halloween is only one night."

"It can be halloween every night if you just wear these for me." He says, arm wrapping around your waist, as he presses a smooch on your cheek. You giggle and softly push him off from his antics.

"Let's find you a costume." You say as you pulled his hand, finding the men's costume area. Eyes scanning through the many options, as you found a couple of possible ones. "What about this one?"

"You want me to be your sexy doctor, hmm?"

You grin, stepping over to him as you leaned into him dramatically. "Oh yes, doctor. Somethings terribly wrong with me."

His hand comes to your waist again, dramatically dipping you back and lifting one of your legs up making you squeal. "Of course, my sexy patient, I as your doctor will do a thorough full body check up," He says, momentarily letting go of the basket on his other hand to grip the thigh of the leg he'd raise. "Starting with the most vital place." Unabashedly patting your inner thigh, so fucking close to your cunt.

"Satoru!" You gasp, laughing loudly, probably catching the attention of a few onlookers but paying them no mind. He leans down and kisses you a couple of times before letting you stand normal again, still attached to your lips. You're giggling into the kisses, never a dull day with your boyfriend. He picks up the basket again and takes the costume from your hands and puts it in it. "So that one?"

"We can keep looking, you already have a sexy nurse one picked out so I can match it. Now let's find one about a wizard or warlock or something so I can match that sexy witch costume." You shake your head and glance around the racks, though your eyes caught a white mask that was hanged up near a corner of a display. Walking over and pulling it off the mass of masks from the wall and suddenly it was you who were having lewd thoughts about this costume.

A ghost face mask. And suddenly you're remembering all the hot tiktoks you'd seen on your for you page, about girls having a fun time with their boyfriends while wearing the mask. And fuck, you could definitely see Satoru in this.

He'd be standing on the doorway to your bedroom, mask on, his full on toned chest on display, delicious rippling abs and toned V on his hips leading down to a pair of black pants and boots covering his lower half. And then it was an image of you being fucked by him, ghostface mask still on, you're on your stomach, his full weight on you as he had both your hands behind your back. Cock dragging in and out of your pulsating cunt. The skin of your ass and thighs rippling at his hard thrusts, the contionous sound of skin slapping against skin.

All the while you're staring at the mask, Satoru caught on to the look on your face. Blown out pupils, completely out of it in your little head and he has the biggest smirk on his face. He takes quiet steps towards you and stands directly behind you, a hand slowly gripping your hip to pull you back into him. This makes you look back at him, now out of your little daydream.

"We're definitely getting that."

You clear your throat, a nervous laugh stumbling out of your lips. "What? Why?"

"I've seen your TikTok for you page while you've showered." And your jaw drops, he smirks at you, hands grabbing the mask out of your hands as he walks away to look at other costumes. "Come on baby, the faster we find other costumes the faster we can get home so I can put on the mask."

Credits to @super-marvel-dc for the gojo divider!!! the Ghostface pic I found online and added a purplish filter on it for the purposes of this blurb

I've added this to the Blame it on the Club's Playlist| Series Masterlist, under Blurbs :))))))

Tag List:

@bankaixx

@shiftinghoe

@uniquecutie-puffs

@thewomans-stuff

@plathsotherib

@lanaismotherrrrrrr

@fangirllookingforlife

@tluvr777

@sunehry

[bigslutr]

Yelena Lock & Ellie Sallow

Prompt?: Darling being sick for around 2 weeks and gets worried before calling an old friend from highschool which is Yelena. But when Yelena takes interest in Darling and Ellie cannot stand.

-_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_-

It’s been two weeks. Two long, painful weeks of watching my angel struggle. I've done everything I can, getting someone to run to the store for medicine, ordering my cooker to make her soup and staying by their side when their fever spikes. But its not enough. They’re still weak, still not themselves, and my heart hurts everytime they wince or turn away from me.

I hate it. I hate not being able to fix this.

I sit on the edge of the bed, brushing their damp hair away from my worry etched on my face. My angel smiles fainty, it makes my heart race but it was only a shadow of the smile I loved. “You’re doing great Ellie,” They whisper, their voice weak and tied. But i know they’re just saying that to make me feel better.

I bite my lip, feeling the frustration coil tighter in my chest. I need to do something. I can’t lose them. Not to this. I won’t.

That’s when it hits me. Yelena.

My stomach twists at the thought. I haven’t talked to her in years, not since high school. But she’s in medical school now, training to be a doctor. Maybe she’ll know what to do. Maybe she can help.

I glance at Y/N. They’re so fragile right now, so vulnerable. I can’t bear it. I have to do whatever it takes to make them better, even if it means calling Yelena.

I quietly slip out of the room and grab my phone, my fingers trembling as I scroll through old contacts. Her name pops up, and for a second, I hesitate. I’ve always hated how perfect she seemed, how calm, how patient, how she always had this air of control. I know she’ll come in, take over, and make me feel small.

But I push that feeling down and hit the call button. It rings twice before she picks up, her voice bright and warm on the other end.

“Ellie? Wow, it’s been forever! What’s up?”

I forced a smile, even though she couldn't see it. “Hey, Yelena. Yeah, it has. Listen, I... I need your help.”

There’s a pause. “Help? With what?”

I take a deep breath. “It’s my Significant Other. They’ve been sick for a while, and... I don’t know what else to do. Could you... maybe come and take a look at them?”

She agrees almost too quickly. “Of course! I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

I hang up, staring at the phone in my hand. It feels wrong. I’ve always taken care of Y/N on my own. Now, I’ve invited someone else into our space, her and I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve made a mistake.

Yelena arrives the next morning, a bundle of energy and smiles. Y/N perks up the moment they see her, which sends a pang straight through my chest. I try to push it down, but it’s hard when they’re looking at her like that.

“I’m so glad you called me, Ellie,” Yelena says, brushing past me like I’m an afterthought. She heads straight for Y/N, checking their temperature, asking them questions, all while giving them that sweet smile of hers.

“Thank you for coming,” Y/N says, their voice so much lighter than it’s been with me. “I’ve been worried, but Ellie’s been great.”

I know they mean it, but Yelena’s eyes flick to me, and I catch the hint of something…pity? maybe? Or is it amusement? I can’t tell, but I hate it.

Yelena quickly takes control, slipping into the caretaker role as if it were made for her, and Y/N lets her. They trust her. Every time Yelena touches them, I see Y/N relax in a way they haven’t with me in days. I can feel the distance growing, as if with every touch, Yelena pulls them further from me. But I can’t stop it. Not when Y/N is smiling, even if it's because of her.

The days blur together with Yelena by Y/N’s side more often than I am. She’s always there, her hand on Y/N’s shoulder, her voice soft and reassuring. I feel like a ghost in my own home, watching from the sidelines while they build something…something I’m not a part of.

During the quiet moments when Yelena leaves to “grab more supplies” or to take a break, I seize my chance. As soon as she’s gone, I slip into Y/N’s room. They’re still lying there, looking pale but awake. I sit on the edge of the bed, brushing their hair back gently.

“Hey,” I whisper. “It’s just us now.”

They smile, a small, weary thing, but it’s still there. I hold onto it, like it’s proof that I still have a place with them. I need that reassurance, even though it feels fragile, like it could shatter at any moment.

“How’re you feeling?” I ask, though it’s a question I’ve asked a hundred times before.

“Better,” they say softly. “Yelena’s really been helping.”

It’s always Yelena now. That name sticks in my throat, the way they say it, like she’s some miracle.

“I’ve been trying, too,” I add, my voice almost too quiet. “I’ve been doing my best.”

They glance at me, their hand reaching out to squeeze mine. “I know, Ellie. You’ve been amazing.”

But it feels empty, like they’re just saying it to make me feel better. I look at them, studying their face. The light in their eyes that had dimmed during those awful weeks is flickering back—but it’s not because of me. It’s because of her.

When I hear Yelena’s voice outside, talking on the phone, probably getting more advice or prescriptions from her colleagues, my body stiffens. I quickly press a kiss to Y/N’s forehead before pulling away. I have to make them remember—it’s me who’s been there through everything.

“I’ll get you some water,” I mutter, retreating before Yelena can walk in and reclaim her spot beside them.

When Yelena’s gone, I fight. I sit with Y/N, talk to them, bring them their favorite snacks, anything to keep them focused on me. But it never feels like enough. It’s like Yelena’s shadow lingers, even when she isn’t physically there. Y/N’s eyes glaze over sometimes, like they’re waiting for her to come back.

The next morning, I wake up early, earlier than Yelena for once, and make breakfast. Pancakes—Y/N’s favorite. I set the table, making sure everything is perfect, hoping for some alone time before Yelena swoops in.

Y/N smiles when I bring the tray to them, but it doesn’t reach their eyes. They take a bite, but I can tell they’re not really hungry.

“This is really sweet, Ellie,” they say, pushing the plate aside after just a few bites. “Thank you.”

I force a smile. “I just want you to feel better.”

As if on cue, the front door swings open and Yelena steps in, holding a bag of supplies. “Morning!” she chirps, her eyes bright and full of energy.

Y/N’s face lights up, and my heart sinks. The food on the table, my effort—it’s like it all disappears the second Yelena walks in. I watch her sit beside Y/N, easily picking up where I left off, as if I wasn’t even there.

Yelena’s laughter fills the room, and Y/N leans into her presence, their mood lifting effortlessly. My throat tightens. I feel like I’m suffocating, trapped in the space between them, like some kind of outsider.

The worst part? Yelena’s so... nice. She doesn’t flaunt her place in Y/N’s life, doesn’t throw it in my face. She’s sweet, caring, patient—the exact opposite of how I feel right now. And that makes it even harder to fight her.

But I keep trying. Every time Yelena steps out, I rush in to take her place. I pour Y/N water, fluff their pillows, brush their hair, desperate to reclaim my spot in their heart. And every time, Y/N smiles, but it feels smaller, more distant.

I can’t stand it.

Late one evening, after Yelena’s left for the night, I sit beside Y/N in the dimly lit room. The house is quiet except for the steady ticking of the clock. I reach for their hand, squeezing it gently.

“Y/N, do you... do you still need me?” The question escapes before I can stop it.

They look at me, surprised, like the thought never crossed their mind. “Of course I do, Ellie. Why would you even ask that?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “It’s just... ever since Yelena came, it feels like... like I’m not enough anymore.”

Their expression softens, but there’s a hesitation that wasn’t there before. “You’ve always been enough. You’ve been taking care of me all this time.”

But it doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like they believe it. And I don’t either.

Because every time Yelena walks through the door, Y/N’s eyes light up in a way they never do for me anymore.

Later that night, I find myself standing in the kitchen, staring blankly at the knife block. I’m not going to do anything, of course. I’m not that kind of person. I wouldn’t hurt anyone... would I?

But the thought lingers, gnawing at me, and when I hear Yelena’s voice from the other room, laughing softly with Y/N, I wonder just how far I’ll have to go to keep them safe.

Because Y/N is mine. And I won’t lose them. Not to Yelena. Not to anyone.

[lilsoftext]

•~* THE WARMTH OF HER CARE*~•

- chris sturniolo x female reader

-summery: chris had fever and all he needed was her

——————————————————————————

Sof was peacefully sleeping, wrapped in her warm blanket, the world outside still dark and quiet. She was drifting deeper into her dreams when her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Groaning softly, she reached for it, her fingers fumbling in the dark. Squinting at the bright screen, she saw Nick’s name flash across it—Chris’s brother.

Her heart sank. Nick didn’t usually call her this early unless something was wrong.

She answered quickly. “Hello?”

“Hey, Sof. I’m really sorry to wake you.” Nick’s voice sounded unusually serious. “But... Chris is really sick. He’s been like this since yesterday, and he’s not getting any better.”

Sof shot up in bed, fully awake now. “Wait, what? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Chris didn’t want me to,” Nick explained, his tone soft. “He didn’t want to worry you, but honestly, he’s gotten worse. I think he needs you.”

Sof’s heart squeezed. “Does he need any medicine or something? Has he been to a doctor?” She was already swinging her legs out of bed, her feet hitting the cold floor as she searched for her shoes.

“He’s been stubborn about taking anything, as usual,” Nick said. “He’s just been in bed all day, barely moving.”

“I’m coming right now,” Sof said firmly, already grabbing her keys and slipping into her jacket. “Tell him I’m on my way.”

“Thanks, Sof,” Nick said, the relief clear in his voice. “He’ll be glad to see you.”

Sof hung up, her mind racing with worry. She rushed out the door without even thinking, her only focus on getting to Chris as quickly as possible.

When she arrived at the triplets' house, Nick and Matt were waiting at the door, both wearing worried expressions.

“How is he?” Sof asked breathlessly, her eyes darting between them.

“He’s been pretty quiet, just lying there,” Matt said, folding his arms across his chest. “He’s burning up.”

“He’ll feel better once he sees you,” Nick added. “He’s been kind of out of it.”

Without another word, Sof hurried inside and up the stairs to Chris’s room. Her heart pounded as she knocked gently on his door.

“Come in,” came a weak, muffled voice from the other side.

Sof pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside, her eyes immediately finding Chris. He was lying in bed, curled up under a mess of blankets, his face pale and flushed at the same time. His normally bright, lively eyes were half-closed, looking dull and exhausted. The sight of him like this made Sof’s heart ache.

“Hey,” she whispered, walking softly over to him and sitting on the edge of the bed. She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his back. His skin was warm—too warm.

Chris looked up at her and managed a small, tired smile. “Sof...”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” she asked softly, brushing his damp hair away from his forehead.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Chris murmured, his voice hoarse. “Thought it would just go away...”

Sof shook her head, sighing. “You don’t have to hide things like this from me. I could’ve been here sooner.”

Chris’s eyes fluttered closed, and he nuzzled into his pillow. “Didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Sof’s heart clenched. She touched his forehead again, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. “You’re burning up, Chris. You’ve got a bad fever.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “Feels awful.”

“Come here,” Sof whispered, gently guiding him into her arms. Chris shifted closer, resting his head against her chest like a small, tired child seeking comfort. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as he let out a shaky breath.

For a moment, they just stayed like that, the room silent except for the soft sound of Chris’s breathing. Sof could feel the tension in his body, the exhaustion, and it broke her heart to see him like this.

“Why didn’t you let Nick call me sooner?” she asked, her voice soft as she stroked his hair.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Chris whispered, his words muffled by her chest. “Didn’t think it was this bad.”

“You’re never a bother to me,” Sof said firmly. “I want to be here when you need me.”

Chris didn’t respond, just let out a quiet, almost inaudible sigh. Then Sof felt his body tremble slightly, and she realized—he was quietly crying.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she whispered, holding him a little tighter. “You’re okay.”

“I just feel so… weak,” Chris muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “I hate this.”

“It’s okay to feel that way,” Sof reassured him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “You’re sick. You’re allowed to feel weak. You just need to rest.”

Chris didn’t say anything, just curled up a little tighter against her, burying his face deeper into her chest. Sof could feel the heat of his fever against her skin, and it made her even more determined to help him.

“I’m going to take care of you, okay?” she said softly. “Just let me help.”

Chris nodded slightly, too tired to respond. Sof carefully shifted him so he was lying back against the pillows, then got up and went to the bathroom. She grabbed a washcloth, ran it under cold water, and brought it back, sitting down beside him again.

“Here,” she whispered, gently dabbing the cool cloth across his forehead. Chris let out a small sigh of relief, his body visibly relaxing at the sensation. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Chris murmured, his eyes fluttering shut. “Feels nice.”

Sof smiled softly, continuing to gently cool him down, running the washcloth over his forehead, his temples, and down the sides of his face. She worked slowly, carefully, making sure he was as comfortable as possible.

“You need to take some medicine,” she said after a while, reaching for the bottle of pills on his nightstand. “This’ll help with the fever.”

Chris groaned, his eyes barely opening. “I hate that stuff…”

“I know, but you’ll feel better. Please, just take it for me,” Sof pleaded, her voice soft and coaxing.

With a small, reluctant sigh, Chris opened his mouth, and Sof carefully gave him the medicine. He swallowed with a grimace but didn’t argue any further.

“There, that wasn’t so bad,” she said with a gentle smile, brushing her fingers through his hair.

“Still tastes awful,” Chris muttered, his voice barely audible.

Sof chuckled softly. “I know.”

Once he had taken the medicine, she helped him lie back down, pulling the blankets up to his chin. Chris reached for her hand, squeezing it weakly.

“Do you need anything else?” she asked, sitting back down beside him.

“Just you,” Chris said softly, his voice so weak it was almost a whisper. “Stay with me?”

“Of course,” Sof said softly, lying down beside him. Chris immediately curled up against her again, resting his head on her chest like he had done before. She wrapped her arms around him, rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “You’re going to be okay.”

Chris didn’t say anything, but Sof could feel his body slowly relaxing as he began to drift off. His breathing grew slower, steadier, and before long, he was asleep.

Sof stayed awake, watching over him, her hand still gently rubbing his back. She could feel the weight of his body resting against her, his trust in her to take care of him.

As she lay there, Sof pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, whispering quietly into the stillness of the room. “I love you.”

And though Chris didn’t respond, the way he nestled closer to her in his sleep was all the answer she needed.

part 2

-——————————————————————————

i hope you enjoyed it and lemme know if you have any ideas or wishes for me to write.

lilsoftext<3

[tj-crochets]

If you don't want to answer this, I understand, but I'm really interested in allergies and I have a question. Are you also allergic to wine? I might be wrong but I'm p sure vinegar is made from wine, so I was wondering if that also triggers your allergies.

The short answer is yes, kind of? The longer answer is, I *think* the thing I am allergic to is acetic acid, and vinegar is made up of acetic acid and water. Some vinegars are made from wine, but not all are - Wait, okay, I googled this and ended up calling my mom (who, among her many other jobs she's had, has been a winemaker) and you were totally right. Wine has acetic acid in it, just in a lower concentration than vinegar, so I am allergic to wine. Very good to know!

Separate from the vinegar allergy, I also can't really have alcohol. It's not an allergy, exactly*? I have a mast cell disorder**, and alcohol is both very high histamine and a histamine liberator, so this means wine is the trifecta of thing I shouldn't have lol I'm on high enough doses of daily antihistamines*** that on good days I can tolerate a very small amount of alcohol when cooked into a sauce, or a very VERY small amount of vinegar (also only when cooked into something), but I still avoid them, and will be bumping wine up my list of "things I should avoid" right next to vinegar. *there's a difference between histamine intolerance, mast cell degranulation, and IgE mediated allergies, but I'll be honest I'm fuzzy on that science. I just know most if not all of my allergies are not IgE mediated (there's no allergy test for vinegar so I can't say for sure one way or the other about that one) **idk which one yet, but probably MCAS. Tests are inconclusive but the allergists are pretty sure something ain't right with my mast cells lol ***do not take the level of antihistamines I am on without talking to a doctor. Mine are prescribed and keep me from being covered with hives 24/7 but I am taking twice the recommended dose of two different antihistamines, plus montelukast