#h/c

[aliteralsemicolon]

I'm not doing well right now. My heart physically cannot take this trope of yearning.

“They never do. No one ever gets them like you, lo—” 

Every fucking word was like a punch to the gut. Margot it would be in your best interest to start running right now.

called you again | s.r.

in which you make a late night phone call to your ex-boyfriend because you're convinced he's the only thing that can lull you to sleep

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (h/c) content warnings: exes but they're still in love so... a lot of yearning, briefly mentions a bau case, inspired by a mattress and a tiktok. word count: 1.84k a/n: shout out to whichever anon from yesterday told me to post this!! you're a real one

Rolling over on your bed again, you tugged the comforter over your shoulder, hoping the fabric would form a cocoon around you. Mimicking the feeling of someone behind you, warm arms wrapped around you. You begged for the comfort that you needed in order to fall asleep, but sleep never came. 

Your exhaustion had come and gone, any hint of sleepiness wiped away when you moved from your couch to your bed. Insomnia had come to find you, a face so familiar that you had begun to greet sleepless nights with open arms. 

On your nightstand, your phone buzzed. Likely a social media notification or a news email telling you the end was near, but you rolled over anyway on the off chance that it was a text. Every night, you remind yourself that you should turn on do not disturb, but you’d spent years waiting for your phone to buzz at all hours, hoping for the opportunity to tell Spencer how your day was. That’s why you had to check your phone, hoping to see the contact with the heart next to it, remaining unchanged since you broke up with him two months ago. 

Cringing at the blue light on your sensitive eyes, you squinted at the notification. It was an email, holding the weekly advertisement for the grocery store. You tried to resist the disappointment that roiled in your brain, but it took over anyways. Disappointment that it wasn’t Spencer and shame that you’d thought he’d reach out to you after everything that happened between you. 

You clicked on your messages, looking at the short exchange from the day he came by to drop off a box of your things. He’d brought you coffee. You’d broken his heart two days before, and he brought you coffee from your favorite kiosk near his apartment. That kind of love was the epitome of Spencer Reid, and that was why it had killed you to let him go. 

As if your thumb had developed a mind of its own, you tapped on his contact and initiated a phone call, quickly sitting up in bed and ending the call, tossing your phone in the depths of your down comforter and glaring at it in horror. 

It must’ve been less than a minute before your phone started to buzz again, you rifled through the bedding to look at your phone, and there it was. The purple heart that you’d placed next to his name the night of your first date. It seemed cruel to take away his heart when you knew very well there was no love lost between the two of you. Swiping at the screen, you lifted the phone to your ear and took a nervous breath, “Hey.” 

“Are you okay?” He asked immediately, not responding to your greeting and instantly trying to get to the root cause of why you had called. 

You tried not to read into it, staring at your lap and fiddling with a loose thread on your pajama shorts. “Spence,” you said meekly, your voice hovering over a whisper as his question echoed in your head.

He was silent for a moment. You imagined he was considering hanging up on you until he spoke again, “Hang on.” 

You heeded his instruction, shifting awkwardly on your mattress and listening to the shuffling on the other end. It was almost two in the morning, and he didn’t sound like you had woken him up, so he must be out on a case. Something akin to deja vu came over you then, imagining him in some city that he’d never be able to explore while you waited in your apartment for the slightest bit of contact. 

“Y/N?” Spencer said your name, and every bit of embarrassment you felt related to this call faded away. You could deal with the humiliation if it meant you got to hear him say your name just one more time. “What’s wrong?”

Because it couldn’t just be that you wanted to hear his voice, the only reason you could possibly be calling him in the middle of the night was because something was wrong. You were stranded when the metro stopped running or someone had stolen your wallet. No, the pounding of your broken heart was keeping you up at night. Even now, it slammed into your ribcage, ricocheting with the reminder that this was all your fault. “Where are you?” You asked, sniffling through the question and wiping you face with your sleeve. 

He sighed on the other end of the call and you told yourself it was in relief that nothing was wrong. “Bismarck,” he responded softly, matching your tone of voice in only the way he could. “We got here this morning for a family annihilator,” he explained in more detail. 

You felt yourself falling into a familiar pattern, settling your body back in bed with your phone pressed to the side of your face. Family annihilators were hard on the whole team, but Spencer was someone who held family dynamics with the highest regard. It always broke him to see that destroyed. “How was the flight?” 

“It was alright,” he answered, entering a similar pattern as you. “We had to fly over tornado alley. It’s storm season, you know?” 

Humming, you nodded despite the fact that he can’t see you. “And I’m sure no one appreciated your facts about turbulence,” you said, a teasing lilt finding its way to your tone. 

He chuckled through the phone and your heart soared, “They never do. No one ever gets them like you, lo—” 

Your body stiffened as he caught himself. It would’ve been so easy for you to move past the initial comment if his instinct was to follow it up with a pet name. Lovey. He liked to call you lovey as a term of endearment. Your previously floating heart came back down to earth, “So it’s a bad case, huh? I should probably let you get back to work.” 

“Between you and me, I’m supposed to be at the hotel right now, so this would count as my break,” he told you, managing to coax you into staying on the phone. 

It was hard to be broken up with someone who hadn’t strictly done anything wrong, and it was hard to deny him conversation when he was wrapped up in such a dark case. “What’s the weather like?” You asked, choosing to talk about things that don’t truly matter. 

He sighed, “Cold, but I’m sure you could’ve guessed that. JJ whines about it every time she steps outside. We’re inside most of the time anyway, so I’m not really bothered.”

Weather was never an issue for Spencer, you used to think he’d be miserable in the winter, seeing as he grew up in Las Vegas, but it would seem that his time in Boston had completely changed him. 

“It’s finally getting warm here,” you mentioned. Though, of course he knew that already. Spencer hadn’t taken up residence in Bismarck, but sometimes it felt like he was 1,500 miles away, even when he was just across the river from you. It reminded you of all the times you’d disagreed on the temperature you should leave the thermostat at, and it brought a pit back to your chest. You used to insist that 68 degrees in the winter wasn’t the same as 68 degrees in the summer, and he’d tell you that it was the same temperature, it just felt different because of changing variables. 

Laying in your bed, you wished he was there to explain how the tilt of the earth’s axis affects the temperature, but instead, you could only talk to him about the weather. The cherry blossoms would bloom soon, and you wished he was here to take you to see them. “What’s wrong?” He asked you again, his voice was so gentle that it nearly crushed you. 

Looking at the other side of your bed, the side he used to sleep on, you sighed helplessly, “I can’t sleep.” It felt infantile to say it out loud, the average person would’ve taken something by now, but you could barely get yourself to stand up, let alone go to the medicine cabinet. 

“Have you taken anything?” He asked, reading your mind just like old times. 

You hummed, keeping your eyes on the other side of your mattress, “No. It’s too late anyway, I wouldn’t wake up for work.” 

“Maybe you should take something and take the day off, you sound exhausted,” he told you, a familiar worry crawling into his voice. 

The reminder of why you had left overwhelmed you. Spencer could give you all of the advice in the world, but he’d never be there to help you. Yours wasn’t the first relationship to fall victim to the BAUs hours, but it hurt nonetheless. You loved him so ardently that you’d forgotten to love yourself, and when you couldn’t take the distance anymore, you’d called the whole thing off. It was hard to love someone who wasn’t there, but it turns out distance does make the heart grow fonder. “Maybe,” you mumbled, looking at the divot on his side of the bed. 

It hurt you to acknowledge that the inanimate object you slept on had its own memory of Spencer. The impression of his body across the cushion reminded you of the space left by people in Pompeii, their suffering had been immortalized for people to gawk at 2,000 years later, but in 2,000 years, your romance with Spencer wouldn’t even qualify as a blip in the universe’s timeline. There would be no lasting impression of two lovers holding hands because he wasn’t yours and you were no longer his. 

“Spence?” You breathed into the receiver, looking at the memory foam imprint with tears in your eyes. 

He waited for a beat to respond, “Yeah?” 

Your chest ached to tell him that you loved him—that you had made a mistake, but that wasn’t fair to him. That wasn’t fair to you. “Stay safe, okay?” You whispered, hoping that one day things might be different, and if that day ever came along, you’d want him to at least consider the possibility of coming back to you. 

“Okay, sleep well,” he murmured back to you before the phone clicked off. 

At a sloth’s pace, you crawled onto the other side of your bed and curled yourself into a ball. When trees had objects left around their roots, they simply grew around the invasion, but your mattress was an inanimate object with no way of moving or growing or adapting to a life without him while you had no choice but to do so. Closing your eyes, silent tears streamed to the pillow that smelled faintly of his shampoo—no matter how many times you washed the pillowcase. Finally, you let your body relax into the memory of him. 

You supposed you could always buy a new mattress, but that would mean fully letting him go.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“I kind of hate all this self-improvement talk. You know…all that ‘forgiving others’ and finding peace and all.” The villain shrugged gently and averted their eyes. Away from the hero. Away from that broken form, that torn skin and the broken bones. They needed a second. “I…hold grudges. A lot. It’s unhealthy, everyone says so at least.”

The hero’s breath was raspy. Wet, even. No doubt, their lungs were filling up with blood. And yet, their eyes were pinned on the villain.

“And everyone knows better, don’t they?”

A gurgle as answer.

The villain sighed.

“Everyone around me says I have to let go of others, especially those who hurt me in the past.” The villain lowered their voice and kneeled next to their nemesis. This time, they actually stared at the wounds, observed the blood. “But whenever I meet someone, they etch themselves into my soul. That’s not my fault now, is it?”

They touched the hero’s throat gently and the hero - who was choking on their own blood - that suffering and poor hero was finally able to close their eyes and breathe again.

“Maybe that’s why I loathe you so much. You did it so gracefully. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. One day you just showed up and demanded a place in my life.”

They clicked their tongue and let their hand move over the hero’s battered body, slowly letting their powers flow through them. Killing the hero would have been the smartest decision.

But when it came to the hero, the villain was never rational.

They touched the wounds and slowly, blood was drawn back into the hero’s body and their muscles, their skin weaved itself back together like fabric.

“I did all that stuff everyone else does; blaming myself, shaming myself, hating myself whenever I made a mistake. I’m thinking about what I have done in the past constantly. I’m thinking about all my flaws, about everything that makes me so despicable. It never goes away. I don’t know peace.” They took in a deep shaky breath. Their voice was breaking. “I know it’s pathetic.”

The villain was done with the hero’s torso now and felt themselves grow weaker. The hero had been close to death and the villain was by no means someone who could bring back the dead.

Nevertheless, they concentrated and continued their work on the hero’s broken knee.

“You talked about being imperfect last week, that’s why I’m saying all this…I don’t know if it’s just us. But I believe at some point, everyone thinks they’re not enough. Or a horrible person. So…if that makes us human, the mere idea of perfection has to be a human concept as well. Which means it’s just in our heads and not real.”

The villain smiled softly when they finished. They could feel the weariness of their muscles, the pain in their eyelids. Healing someone else requires energy. A lot of energy.

And since the villain was directly using their own energy, they were exhausted.

“I disagree,” the hero whispered. Their eyes were still closed. “But I understand what you mean.”

They took the villain’s hand and squeezed gently. The villain would have been flustered if they hadn’t been this terribly tired.

“You’re giving others too much power over yourself. You’ve never let that happen in combat, so why should it happen in your head? All those thoughts are real, real enough to control you.”

“I like you better when your mouth is closed,” the villain said. They let out another shaky breath and moved slowly; turned around and laid down next to the hero.

“Hm.” They could hear the hero smile. “Thank god I etched myself into your soul, then. You’re not getting rid of me, darling.”

“Hm.” The villain closed their eyes, falling asleep on the hard and uncomfortable concrete within a few seconds.

Hand in hand with the hero.

[whumblr]

Hands cupping their face, hurried kisses and touches, words of comfort, fearful glances back over their shoulder, footsteps getting closer, foreheads touching and a whispered "I'll be back for you" when a character is restrained or stuck is just 🤌 *mwah*

[thinkingofausername]

can yall imagine the giddiness you'd be feeling if you were with astarion? cause like... i'd never digest it, i just couldn't settle down.

imagine having that gorgeous gorgeous man, so very charming and special and attentive and fun and sweet as your partner. sometimes he seems unreal, an eternal and divine being with starlight in his hair and passion in his eyes. underneath the snarky, flirty, uncaring performance is a person so unique, so enduring, so unfalteringly strong in his persistence. amidst the horror and abuse he didn't go crazy, didn't lose that innocent and yearning spark. you'd look at those vivid and expressive eyes, hear that wavering and genuine voice, feel those tentative and soft hands and you'd be undoubtedly sure of the goodness in him; the goodness within his capability.

imagine looking at a person so deeply precious and knowing he's been hurt and used so much. imagine feeling nauseous at the thought. imagine knowing that despite that he's still brave enough to seek and receive affection and companionship - the things he's never known and yet he has enough courage to trust you to show it to him. you're his first and only experience with softness and boundaries and a person who has never had control of himself has given himself to you - given you the chance to teach him.

you get to look at that inhumanely beautiful person, so very clever and appreciative, and you know that he chose you. he holds you so tightly because you're the first thing he's had. you're the refuge, the kind word and hand he never thought he'd have. sometimes you look at him and get struck with the potential and power in him, and not the materialistic, ugly power. the power that lies within a person who has emerged from agony and given the world a chance to treat him differently instead of giving up entirely.

he's all that and despite his bravado, you know he doesn't see it. you know he feels a phantom rot within himself. you know that he could be the most beautiful person in the world, and he will - with time and love and healing. and you get to watch it happen. and he cherishes every second you spend by his side.

[witchrealms]

(x)

[roses-ink-dipped-pen]

Hero would have never thought that embracing their archenemy would be anywhere close to therapeutic, but here they were. Villain had finally found their weakness, and despite being the villain they couldn’t bring themselves to use this as an opportunity for their evil deeds, not now at least.

Hero closed their eyes, letting Villain scoop them up with strong arms. Villain supported their back with one arm, the other held their bottom as they hoisted the Hero against their chest. The warlord wasn’t used to being the first to initiate a hug, or the whole concept of hugs in general, but they did their best to make sure Hero felt at ease.

“Is this too much?” Villain looked down at their rival with so much care and concern, it scared Hero for a moment. Hero shook their head, squeezing Villain’s torso as a sign to encourage them to deepen the hug.

Villain smiled in contentment as they held their hero, swaying left to right while humming a small tune. Hero listened in, enjoying it despite the unfamiliar notes.

“I have a feeling you’ve been needing this for quite some time.” Villain purred in a singsong voice. They couldn’t help but press a kiss to their rival’s temple, their thumb traced small circles onto their cheek. Hero smiled brightly, a singular tear trailed down their face. Villain wiped it away, pinching their cheek as they began their tread down the empty sidewalk.

“Let’s get you home, it’s late.” Hero happily obliged to the Villain’s request to stay for the night on the way there.

[qpjianghu]

The First Shot (2024)

Ep. 15 ~ Gu Yiran whump + bridal carry

[bloodredfountainpen]

If there’s one thing in fic- honestly even in my own head- that makes me go feral every single fucking time, its gratitude for things that no one should ever have to be grateful for.

A bowl of soup

Permission to sleep

Not being beaten today

Not being abandoned

Basic sympathy

Or simply being loved

Like- Characters A and B are in a relationship, and A has got it in their head that B has cheated on them. Instead of being angry, sad, or just plain hurt, A is grateful that B sticks around, because A thinks they’re so fundamentally unlovable, and really, they’re grateful B even talks to them, never mind wants to be with them. If B wants to fool around on the side, A will wait at home and hope B will kiss them when they get back, because what right does someone so unworthy as A have to demand loyalty from someone as amazing as B? And if A senses B getting bored with them, they’ll make themself as fun and interesting as possible just to keep B around the littlest while longer. Now, personally, I would make it so it really was all a big misunderstanding. B isn’t cheating, nor are they getting bored, and everything comes to a head and they have a tearful convo where all is made clear and A gets some well deserved comfort.

Or or, like A has been a prisoner or a slave so long they don’t know what basic decency feels like, so when they’re finally out of the situation and B gives them a bowl of soup and a bed to sleeps in, A is swearing eternal loyalty because of B’s immense generosity and kindness. And when A drops a glass and it shatters, and B doesn’t kick them out/beat them/starve them/whatever A’s worst fears are, they almost cry at B’s magnanimity. They swear not to waste this second chance- that they don’t deserve but refuse to squander- to be so perfect for now on, that B won’t regret having mercy on someone so clearly undeserving.

[neon-onyx]

“You must be stupid as all hell,” the villain spat, but panic tainted their words, glimpses of honesty to their enemy. Their bag landed beside the hero with a dramatic sigh. The hero let out a strangled laugh, still all too sweet to echo off the grimy alley walls.

“Good to see that you care.” The hero’s voice was weak, but they still managed an infuriating smirk. Perfectly casual with the added effect of blood-tinted teeth. The villain's stomach turned.

“Of course I fucking care.” The villain dropped to their knees. Frantic hands tore at the hero’s suit, peeling away blood-soaked layer after layer in search of the source.

“What would I do without you?” The hero sighed, all saccharine.

“Bleed to death.” The villain placed a hand over the hero’s wound, careful to keep their pressure light. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

“Seemed better than the alternative, ” the hero replied, all too nonchalant for the villain's taste. Beneath the villain's fingertips, sinew and flesh began to mend itself. The hero writhed, shattered cries escaping their lips.

“Still seems better?” The villains glared at the hero as they focused on healing. It felt deep, possibly enough to expose their ribs, and terribly jagged. A nauseating mixture of fear and anger boiled the villain's blood.

“Compared to losing you? Yeah.” The hero spoke through gritted teeth. The villain's focus faltered.

“Shut up.”

“Sorry, I know you hate that self-sacrifice-talk.” The hero was barely able to finish their sentence before the overwhelming, burning, tearing sensation of healing returned. Their hand closed around the villain's wrist like a vise.

“But I’m-“ the hero cut themselves off with a string of swears as their rib cage reassembled, “-I’m being serious.”

“If you’re contemplating a confession, I suggest you pick a better time,” the villain warned. The hero’s hand twisted around the villains, pulling them back. When they met the hero’s gaze, their face bathed in the warm glow of the street lamp and painted with crushing sincerity, they could feel the impending crossroad.

A moment that could only have happened when they were both inebriated from blood loss and almost losing each other. They felt the hero’s lips, cold and iron-laden, press against theirs. The villain would swear that the hero initiated. The hero would swear the opposite. The truth lay in the muddied middle, neither party innocent.

The villain did rest their palm on the hero’s cheek. They also definitely pulled away; dopamine and oxytocin making their head spin. The hero watched them with silent curiosity, a red handprint now decorating their (already colorful) face.

“I- that- you’re still bleeding.” The villain rushed to cover the would on the hero’s chest with their hands. The hero quickly returned to their gasping, writhing state by their enemy's touch.

Only once their skin was whole again did either of them speak. The hero muttered a quick thank you, sitting up with great effort. The villain nodded, eyes fixed on the cracked concrete under their knees.

“I can fix up the bruising too,” the villain suggested, vaguely motioning towards their face. The hero only laughed, leaning into the wall behind them.

“You don’t think it’s sexy?”

The villain met their gaze, a smile creeping onto their face for the first time that night.

“Black and blue suits you.” The villain stood, offering a hand to their exhausted enemy. The hero smirked, delicately placing their hand in the villain's.

“If you keep talking like that I’m gonna start to think you like me-“

“Shut up.” The villain pulled the hero close, wrapping them in an embrace. For a second, the hero was certain they’d have to heal their rib cage again.

“If you ever do some shit like this again, I swear, I’ll take you out myself.” Tears burned the corners of the villain's eyes as they spoke. Their hands twisted into the hero’s shirt, fingers sticky with the hero’s blood.

“Only you’re allowed to kill me?” The hero teased.

“Shut up.”

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hiiii! LOVE YOUR WRITING!!!! I was wondering if you could do a Hero and Villain “only one bed” trope that maybe turns spicy or maybe some hurt comfort with a protective villain! Whatever you are comfortable with! Thanks!

“Looks worse than it actually is.”

“Looks like someone shot you in the shoulder,” the villain replied. “I am impressed by your pain tolerance. I would've wept uncontrollably.”

The villain let their fingertips brush against the hero's naked lower abdomen and pushed gently until the hero sat down on the hotel bed. When they had checked in two days ago, the hero had looked quite embarrassed. After all, one bed for two “business partners” was a little unusual.

“Yeah, they kinda put you through a lot of training, so you don't feel pain that much anymore. Still hurts a lot. The first time I got shot I actually vomited.”

“Yuck, I didn't need to know about that,” the villain mumbled. They couldn’t quite bring themselves to stop staring at the wound. It looked like the hero had treated it - it wasn’t bleeding - but that didn’t put the villain’s mind at ease. “I guess we’re not going separate ways anymore from now on.”

“Oh, please. I don’t need surveillance.” The hero scoffed and looked somewhat…annoyed? The villain supposed they had to deal with quite a few controlling people in their life.

Undoubtedly, an observant boss.

Or…maybe the hero was in a relationship…? Unlikely, they were sharing a bed. Someone in a relationship wouldn’t do that.

Right. Right?

“If you keep frowning like that, your face will stay like that,” the hero said. They smiled gently when the villain’s eyes jumped back to theirs. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“Nothing.” The villain shifted until they sat on the edge of the bed, their back towards the hero.

The hero being injured was setting them back. The time schedule was ridiculously tight - undercover missions were usually not this stressful, but then again, the villain only did them when the hero asked. And the hero had asked to end this before elections were over. Two weeks until then.

They took in a deep breath.

Someone knew about the hero’s civilian persona (or else they wouldn’t have been shot). An enemy? Maybe it was a controlling boss? Or partner?

Was it a warning? Very crude, if that was the case.

The villain sank deep into their thought spiral, sighed again and let themselves fall onto the bed, right next to the hero. They stared at the ceiling.

Someone was focused on the hero, someone wanted to kill them. It was probably better to stay in the hotel room for a while; things needed to calm down before they could investigate further.

Suddenly, they felt the hero’s fingertips creep under their shirt, brushing their collarbone.

Immediately, the villain turned around.

“You’re brooding again.”

“I’m not.”

“Come on. Let’s just relax. I’ve lost a lot of blood. I need to take a nap.” The villain stared at them.

“I mean it, I’m not letting you go on any adventures on your own anymore,” the villain said.

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Now, it was the hero’s turn to frown and, in fact, this seemed to be a touchy subject.

“It’s not about controlling you, it’s about protecting you. You may think being shot is no big deal, but it’s kind of completely insane. That you managed to take care of the wound alone in a hotel room isn’t normal.”

The hero looked at them and their fingers went to the villain’s biceps. They touched them lovingly, absentmindedly even.

“Yeah…okay, fine. You’re right. I’m too tired to argue anyway.” The hero looked at the villain with those horribly sweet eyes.

“It’s not about arguing either, it’s…I…” The hero’s finger slowly made their way down to the villain’s forearm.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t careful enough back then.”

“No, that’s not…it’s not your fault. I was just worried, that’s all.”

“Aww, you’re sweet.”

“Well, not about you, obviously.” The villain could feel their cheeks radiate heat. “I was worried about the mission.”

“Of course,” the hero said. They took the villain’s hand, shuffled a little closer. They yawned. “Can we take a nap together then? For the mission, obviously. You need to relax, too.”

“I don’t see why not,” the villain mumbled.

Despite trying to keep some space between the two, the hero was snoring on top of them when the villain woke up.

[kimuracarter]

Voltron fanfic! What! Why!

I've waited a long time to post this. I hope you enjoy it. And here's some amazing art by @crazycookiemaniac to go with it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63173911/chapters/161794117

[secretobsessionstuff]

The Early Days 💜

In the early days of their relationship, Riley tried his hardest not to burp around Madix. Really, he avoided any bodily functions for the first three months of their dating. It wasn’t a big deal—just a slight aversion to showing vulnerability. Definitely not something he needed to bring up in therapy. 

So, imagine his embarrassment when his belly started to gurgle nauseously on their fifth or sixth outing that happened to be a double date with Madix’s roommate. Dakota was very friendly and loud. His girlfriend, Blair, was more relaxed. They wanted to do something more social than a movie, so Madix suggested a boardgame café just off campus. The combination of new people, a colourful environment, and an upset tummy made him dizzy.   

It was early in the evening. The four of them talked about splitting a plate of nachos as long as they kept the cards and game pieces clean. Riley agreed to everything they said, knowing full well that he wouldn’t eat anything. His stomach still felt full from lunch, and the idea of adding greasy cheese to the mix made him shiver. 

“What’s your major, Riley?” Blair asked after taking her turn to play a card. She had a soft smile that made Riley wish he could engage better in the conversation. 

“Um…psychology.” 

“That’s exciting. I almost took psych but changed my mind because…” 

A hot layer of sweat coated Riley’s body when he felt a gurgle move through his intestines. He shifted in his seat, trying to dull the squelching sounds. He caught bits and pieces of Blair’s story, but his attention was entirely stolen by the writhing in his belly. 

This was bad. The nausea and lower stomach cramps battled for dominance. He was most worried about the bubbling sensation in his bowels. Sweat gathered under his armpits and his neck. Pretty soon he would have to find the bathroom and pray that nobody else needed to go. 

Blair finished speaking but Riley apparently forgot to say anything in reply. There was a long, drawn-out pause. He startled when he felt Madix’s hand softly touch his leg from under the table. 

“Oh, that’s cool,” Riley said lamely, pushing his chair back to get out from under the table. “Sorry, I’m just gonna find the washroom.” 

For the next half-hour, Riley came and went from the table. Sometimes he made up excuses about getting a drink, yet never coming back with a cup. Sometimes he left in the middle of a game without saying a word. Most of the time, he hid himself in the single-person washroom, thankful that no one else could come in. 

His belly couldn’t make up its mind about being empty or not. Whenever he thought that there could be no more water left in his cells, he was once again proven wrong by the urgent rumbling in his guts. At least the stomach cramps were never enough to make him vomit, despite the nausea that clung to him like humid air. 

• • •

“Madix, I don’t think your date understands the concept of ‘taking turns’,” Dakota remarked as he rearranged his hand of cards for the fifth time. “He does know that the turns will eventually come back to him, right?” 

“Be patient, baby,” Blair answered for Madix. “He’s probably just nervous. Eat more nachos while we wait.” 

Madix sighed and leaned back in his chair, trying to see down the hallway that led to the bathroom. He was beginning to think that he chose an overly-stimulant place for their date. Riley had confessed to him that meeting new people was difficult for him, and here there was a whole other level to the socializing. No wonder his date kept taking breaks. Even Madix found the sounds of other people playing games distracting. The lights were too bright and the rules to every new game were complicated.  

“I should have picked a quieter place for him to meet you guys,” Madix said sadly. “I really want him to like you both.” 

Dakota nodded. “It’ll get easier. I’ll try to shut up more.”

“If he even wants to do this again,” Madix mused. 

Finally, Riley returned to the table. He ambled unsteadily down the hall, keeping his arms crossed over his body. Madix’s face lit up with a big smile as he pushed Riley’s chair out for him. That smile slowly fizzled away when Riley remained standing. 

Riley ran a shaky hand through his hair and spoke with a faint voice. “Madix, can I talk to you alone for a sec, please?” 

The boy was on his feet before Riley could finish the sentence. The two of them stood alone in the corner of the room. Madix lightly touched his arm, waiting for Riley to speak, dreading what he would say. 

“I think I’m gonna go home now.”

Madix tried to keep his expression neutral, as much as he wanted to pout and beg with Riley to stay. “…Okay, if that’s what you want. I’m sorry if this place is a bit much. It’s very busy, isn’t it?” He wanted to hug Riley and take his saddened look away. “And I’m sorry for touching your leg like that earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Oh gosh, no. It’s not you,” Riley said pleadingly. Fuck, this is not what he wanted. He couldn’t let Madix think the date made him uncomfortable. But the only other option would be to admit how he felt.

“My friends really like you, I promise,” Madix rambled on. “Dakota is just an ADHD mess who never knows when to be quiet. He doesn’t realize he’s doing it. And Blair said she wants to be your best friend.” 

“Madix, it’s not you or your friends or this place.” Riley grabbed his arms to keep him from saying anything else. It was nice to lean on someone. Suddenly the fatigue, nausea, and dehydration slammed into him all at once. He swayed forward. “To be honest, I’m not feeling so hot.” 

“What?” Madix became aware of the weight he was supporting. He watched Riley’s eyelids droop, and his shoulders relax as the truth came out. Now that he knew what to look for, it was easy to see the signs in Riley’s baggy eyes, ashen skin, and sweaty palms. It explained his absence for most of the date. 

Riley let out a heavy exhale. Madix’s face softened as he began to understand. He might as well try a little exposure therapy and tell Madix the rest. “Something in my stomach isn’t sitting so well.”

“Did you throw up?” A realization dawned in Madix’s eyes. “Shit, you have that phobia thing, don’t you? What can I do? Maybe you should sit down.” 

“N-no, I’m okay for now. The fear is mainly towards other people. Like the sounds and stuff.” Riley shuffled his feet awkwardly on the floor, feeling his neck grow warm. “I haven’t thrown up. It hasn’t exactly hit my stomach yet, just um…other areas.” 

“Oh?” Madix cocked his head to the side, waiting for his brain to catch up. “Oh, right. Jeez, I’m sorry. That’s—that’s not fun.” 

Riley shook his head. Nothing about this was fun…okay except maybe Madix’s undivided attention, his strong grip on his arms, and the gentle way he spoke. Still, he didn’t want Madix to be around when the next wave hit. He didn’t want to be here at all. “So, I need to go home.” 

“Of course, yeah. I’ll order a ride.” He looked back at their table. “I’ll make up some excuse for why you have to leave. Can I wait with you outside?” 

“Sure.” 

The curb was cold on their butts, but it was better than standing. Their knees knocked together. Madix wrapped an arm around his date, trying to keep him warm. Occasionally, Riley moaned and leaned his face into Madix’s shoulder. 

“I got you. Everything good still?” 

The gurgling was back, this time causing Riley’s stomach to roil. His actual stomach. The organ ached beneath his hand. He couldn’t decide if that was better or worse than before. Nausea climbed higher up his throat, filling his mouth with saliva that he spat on the concrete. 

“I think I need to be sick,” Riley said, wiping his mouth. He opened his legs further to lean his head down into.

“Do you want me to leave?” An excellent question that Riley didn’t know the answer to. He liked the warmth pressed into his side. He liked the feeling of Madix’s hand rubbing his back. Without a reply, Madix continued by saying, “I don’t mind staying. You won’t gross me out.” 

A thick belch erupted from Riley’s mouth. He let his mouth hang open for saliva to trickle between his legs. “Ugh, please stay. I feel awful.” 

“I know, love, I know.” Madix rubbed big circles on the boy’s back. He vaguely wondered if Riley was going to overthink the term of endearment. All he knew was that his mom called everyone that, and it seemed to bring them comfort. It certainly brought Madix comfort when he’d been upset or sick.

Riley gagged over the puddle of saliva. The empty heaves rolled his shoulders forward with a harsh retch. He breathed heavily, hoping the vertigo would lessen before he actually started to vomit. His vision was obscured with black shadows at the edges. Madix remained sturdy, allowing Riley to anchor himself to him. 

A few hiccups and burps later, Riley brought up a watery wave of sick. Each successive belch became thicker until the full contents of his stomach were splattered on the ground. He felt disgusting. The view at his feet was sickening. But there is no point in describing it because none of it deterred Madix from staying by Riley’s side. 

After a lull in the vomiting, Madix squeezed his shoulder. “Do you feel better?” 

Riley sniffled. “A little. Thanks for keeping me company. I’ve never allowed a date to see me like this.” 

Madix placed his palm on his chest. “Well, I’m honoured.”

[whumpandthings]

Poolverine hurt/comfort prompt

Writers I need you xoxo

[roses-ink-dipped-pen]

“This is absurd.”

Villain muttered defiantly as they were forced to swallow bittersweet tea, the mug that was brought to their lips was held by Hero. As if the night couldn’t get any worse...

The evil doer failed to make it to the docks, located about fifteen miles West from their underground headquarters. Somehow their ego convinced them that they could simply walk there with no consequence.

They had some pretty hefty equipment waiting for them, completely at their disposal. Unfortunately, Villain was too impatient to wait out the blizzard.

“Nobody asked you to take a hike in the middle of a snowstorm, dummy.” The hero rolled their eyes to the sky as Villain let out a disgusted whine, a dramatic display of their discomfort.

Villain swallowed hard, their face contorted into a grimace.

“Did you have to put wormwood in this…?” The warlord coughed.

“It helps, don’t ask me how I know, I just do.”

Hero adjusted the pillows behind Villain’s neck, leaning forward against the armrest of the couch Villain groveled on. Hero placed the empty mug on the coffee table, before kneeling down beside their sick rival.

“That’s so reassuring.” Villain drawled.

Hero chuckled lightly, reaching an arm out to cup the Villain’s face in their right hand, caressing their cheekbone with a thumb.

Hero didn’t bother rubbing Villain’s folly in their face any longer than they usually would, Hero knew when it was time to stop.

Villain simply groaned, thoroughly embarrassed that Hero of all people had to be the one tending to them. A part of them did enjoyed the attention they were receiving, despite their archenemy witnessing them at their weakest. It felt nice..

But Villain wouldn’t dare speak that out into the atmosphere.

[fayecreates]

I Will Die Your Daughter.

Premise: uhhh totes not a self insert because my day left me a few weeks ago and im now only coming to terms with it… you and sevika have daddy issues and y’all talk about it. The reader is an errand runner for Silco around S1. Also fem reader, Sevika doesnt like men, sorry.

A/N: 100% inspired by robotxm’s edit on tiktok, please go watch it it’s the best edit ever. I’m also making this bc im tired of all Sevika fics, as beautifully constructed as they are, are all smut. also its not a crime to make stuff up so dont be mean to me… i may or may not be taking requests…

Warnings: mentions of abandonment, allusion to harmful habits/behaviors (kinda leaning towards self harm), daddy issues i guess?? Probably a bit ooc Sevika

Words: 1,466

It was late at night, the new moon up in the sky barely allowing sight. You were tired to say the least, not only physically from all of stupid small yet tedious tasks from Silco, but also just your life. Nobody thought it was easy growing up in Zaun, at least compared to Piltover. Sure you had food, a roof over your head, and a blanket to keep you warm at night, but a part of you still felt like a desperate little kid. Dad was not around much, staying for a few days, taking some cash and then leaving to go do whatever he wanted. It sucked for sure, but it was a routine at least. Once he really left, not on some vacation but just for the fun of it, it just felt weirdly empty. Today being the five year anniversary of these untouched emotions didn’t help work go by faster either.

Being Silco’s errand-girl also meant being up for his beck and call. sleep weighed down your eyes, it was only one in the morning but it felt like six already. Staying in the little ‘home’ with all Silco’s goons was weird, it was like living with all your estranged cousins who you couldn’t tell if they hated you or not, well all but Sevika. She wasn’t the stereotypical ‘nice girl’ but staying by her for a while now wasn’t so horrible as the rest. Maybe it was trust, maybe it was some weird friendship, either way Sevika was the one and only girl you could call to for help.

Walking towards the kitchen, deciding that maybe a glass of cold water would wake you up miraculously, you saw Sevika sitting at the usually empty breakfast nook. Giving her a small nod, barely having enough energy to muster up the ghost of a smile, you walked towards to cupboards. Grabbing a shitty mug, you just get some water from the sink, sure it probably wasn’t the best for you considering Zaun, but it didn’t matter all too much. Standing at the counter, a ways away from Sevika, you take moments to sip then stare at the wall.

“Something wrong?” Sevika’s voice rang out, her voice was rough but not in an emotional way. You glanced up at the sudden question, looking at her with a semi surprised expression. You knew people didn’t care, i mean could you blame them? People down there spent their lives working to just barely survive, caring or even asking was rare. You shook your head slightly, it was a lie of course. How could anything be right? Everyday just felt like the knife dug deeper into your chest. She simply hummed in response, she didn’t buy it but she wouldn’t pry anymore.

“…he left me five years ago today.” You spoke up after a second, like a rush of adrenaline just to say something so simple. Your eyes stayed locked with the chipped paint. She glanced back to you, her expression not moving much but the movement alone showed her attention was on you.

“Some boyfriend or something?” Sevika asked, sure the statement was unclear but you had already wanted to just yell sorry and run off. “My dad.” You say, your voice hinted with a sort of apathy. “I dont know, i dont really miss him to be honest, it just sucks i guess…” You continue, it wasn’t honest, it didn’t just ‘suck’ it felt horrible. Keeping up a constant unfeeling mask felt like living in the wrong skin, you felt things so deeply but you couldn’t risk showing it.

“��i get you, dads suck.” Sevika says, snapping you out of your headspace. You looked towards her, her arm was relaxed, holding a cup of god knows what. Her expression was the same as always, but she looked at you in a way no on else bothered to try. She was simply understanding, connecting even, but it was such a strange surprise. “…they really do.” You respond, a look of almost happiness if it weren’t for the context. “You wanna talk about it? I can tell it’s a bit more than just ‘it sucks’.” Sevika says, her tone a little joking, only to keep the lighter mood.

“…its not like that was the first time he left me, he’d do it like once a week. He’s done it on some of the most important part of my life.” You explain, your body turned towards her, your hand grasping the handle of the mug, but your eyes never met her as though it would make you really understand each word. “Sometimes i wish… i wish he’d like me enough to just come back. He never wrote to me, he never dropped by, it’s like i never existed to him.” You continue, anger growing in your voice just slightly.

“I want him to just stand me, im not asking for the world!” You say, growing a bit too agitated over the long over issue. “I hate him… but i loved him too. I was always a daddy’s girl, y’know i was a tomboy, a girl who loved all the stuff he did. I dont know what i did wrong, i was just a kid. When did i just become not good enough? I got better, i stopped hurting myself, i got better grades in school, i was a good person!” You yell even if it wasn’t super loud, your tone changing from anger to just sadness and confusion. Your eyes finally met Sevika’s, she was just look at you, giving small nods when you finished talking. She didn’t even have that pitying expression everyone had when you even mentioned feeling down. You stayed silent, really realizing that you weren’t just speaking in your head.

“It’s not your fault.” Sevika said as though it were basic knowledge, not in a condescending way though. “No matter how hard you change, he’d probably still stay away.” She says, her tone was a bit comforting.

“…i know… it just pisses me off, sorry.” You apologize, you just felt bad for wasting her time on something she didnt really care about. “For what, answering the question I asked?” She asked rhetorically, putting her forearm on the counter and leaning forward. “Stop saying sorry all the time, you’re not wrong.” She reprimanded, looking at her with the same semi soft look. All you wanted to do was say ‘sorry’ again.

“…okay…” you muttered, knowing you needed to respond but not in a pathetic way. You shift your weight on your feet, leaning a bit to the side. “I won’t like and say i know how you feel, but i didn’t always like my old man either.” She says, taking a sip of her drink. “We’d fight, we’d make up, but never once did he try to leave me.” She says simply. “Ouch.” You respond, taking it as a jab to your lack of present father. “Not what i meant, I mean your dad’s a douche. No real man would leave their child like that, especially not you.” She continues, giving you almost a compliment? Your expression changed again, it was one of surprise and maybe a bit flushed.

“… i dont know how to feel better, its like everything i try fails.” You admit, your tone quiet instead of its usual projection. You take a sip of water, hoping it’ll do something for you. “It won’t feel better.” She says bluntly, standing up from her stool and starting to slowly walk around the counter. “It might feel less bad day by day, but thats if you stop avoiding it.” Sevika says placing her hand on your shoulder in an attempt of comfort. “And saying that you don’t care, when you so obviously do, is avoiding it.” She says leaning down just a bit.

You didn’t know what to say, your eyes started to tear up a bit, definitely not by choice. You let your head fall, refusing to meet Sevika’s eyes. You just started crying, it was rare, every once in a while you’d spend hours sobbing and punching till it felt fine, but this was different. It was a moment of vulnerability, you didn’t know why Sevika chose you to give a moment of her little time open. You felt guilty, you always felt guilty though. Her hand pull you closer for a small hug. It was for sure awkward, but you wrapped your arms around her waist, burying your face into her shoulder.

You cried probably a bit too much, tears stained her shirt. Either way she kept patting your back as you attempt to not make an awkward noise. Sevika didn’t care though, no matter how awkward or weird the things you did it was no big deal.

She cared, unconditionally and irrevocably.