Clovers-reblogs - Reblogs

idk what transmasc needs to hear this but being a man is not smth you have to apologize or make up for. it's just not. you don't need absolution for being a man. you don't need to beg on your knees for forgiveness for "shunning" the "gift" of being a woman. you aren't "unfortunately adding one more guy to the world". your manhood is a gift. it adds so much richness to the world. do not let anyone make you think you need to spend your life suffering in purgatory for the crime of transitioning. you don't need to throw yourself to the floor and repent and suffer because of other people's discomfort with who you are.

CRUMB MY BELOVED

Sometimes We Say Things We Don't Mean | Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male Reader | Angst with Comfort

Minors/Fem DNI

Warnings; Alcohol consumption, verbal fighting, decent apologies, hangover, hurt/comfort, this is kinda shite, randomly named character that doesn't matter but they needed a name so 🤷🏻

Request; "reader gets super fucking drunk cuz them and ghost had an argument earlier and they dont know what to do and ghost finds them about to pass out and goes wa wa wa and then they wake up and they hug because ghost thought he was gonna lose them"

A/N; I'm sorry this took so long but for the better part of a month i was like "wtf am i supposed to write for the fight" and then went "ohhh, i can search why couples fight". so work it is!

2.0k words

Y/N leaned against Ghost as he cooked dinner, a comfortable silence between them. He had come home from a long mission, not more than a week ago, and Y/N had missed him the entire time. Now that he was home, they could have gentle moments like this. Ghost could enjoy simplicity in domestic life for a change.

“I like it when you’re home,” Y/N murmured, watching Ghost cook from behind him. His arms were wrapped around his torso as he worked on a soup. “You should stay home more often.”

Ghost’s stirring faltered and he stiffened under Y/N’s embrace.

“I…” He started, grabbing a bowl of mixed spices from beside the stove, “Price informed me about something going on in Eastern Europe… They leave on Tuesday.”

Y/N moved to rest his chin on Ghost’s shoulder, side-eyeing him. “What do you mean by that?”

He didn’t respond, simply swallowing down the uncomfortable feeling in his throat when Y/N pulled away from him to lean on the counter and face him.

“No, don’t ignore me,” Y/N demanded, staring at Ghost, who avoided eye contact at all costs.

“He asked me to go with him and the Task Force to-”

“No,” Y/N cut him off, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean ‘no’, you aren’t going.”

“What makes you think you have the right to tell me what I can and can’t do?”

“I don’t, it’s just,” Y/N stared at his socks as he grew aggravated. “You’ve been home for 5 days. You would leave in, what day is it… Sunday? In one day?” He asked, glancing at Ghost. He had turned off the burner and pushed the pot onto the back burner to settle, turning to face Y/N.

“Yeah,” He responded curtly.

“You think that’s okay? Just, being gone all the time?”

“It’s my job.”

“Well, yeah, I get that, but you can turn this one down. You can spend some more time with me. Price didn’t give you an order or anything, right?”

“That’s not how that works and you know it.”

“I know…” He sounded dejected, embarrassed even. “I just… I miss having you here…”

“I know, but I have to do this.”

“Why?!” Y/N shouted, startling Ghost, who jumped at the sudden noise. It wasn’t often that Y/N would yell. He was rather soft-spoken and understanding, so it was almost scary to see him so upset. “Why can’t you be here?! Just for a few more days, that’s all I want!”

“I-” Ghost choked, eyes scanning Y/N’s face.

“I’m sick of it! I hate you leaving me for weeks on end, months, even, and once you come home it’s- it’s all you talk about! Work! I hate it!” Tears beaded in his eyes as he screamed. “I just- I want you, Simon!”

Ghost stared at him speechless. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to articulate a sentence, for the right words to say that would soothe the ache in Y/N’s heart. Nothing could come to mind.

“You said it was okay when we started dating,” He said, eyes dark. Y/N scowled, hot tears falling from his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“This wasn’t what I signed up for. Being neglected.”

“Neglected? Are you kidding?”

Y/N huffed. “It’s not my fault that I feel like y- you love your job more than me.”

“No, it’s not your fault. It’s mine. It always is, isn’t it?”

“S- Stop it! That’s not wuh- what I meant-”

“No, but it’s what you thought. Listen, I like what I do. You can suck it up and deal with it.”

“I- I know you do, I just-”

“Stop stuttering, for fucks sake!”

Y/N choked out a sob and felt his knees wobble. He puffed out his bottom lip slightly and stared at Ghost with a hurt look. When Y/N was anxious, he would stutter. Ghost knew that he was insecure about that.

“I-” He paused so that he could sound out every word without stumbling over them. “I hate you.”

Ghost twitched, hands flexing around nothing.

“Then leave,” He said without thinking. Y/N whimpered and shoved past Ghost before he could process the words that spilt past his lips.

By the time he did figure out what he said, the front door had slammed shut and Y/N’s coat was gone, his house key still on the hook. He took a shaky breath and walked to their shared bedroom to lie down and cool his head. Maybe a walk would help Y/N regain his thoughts.

“And then- he- he made fun of me,” Y/N sobbed, choking on tears while he drank a beer. “Then he told me to leave.”

“Oh, my god…” The bartender murmured. She was one of Y/N’s close friends, and he always took the bus to get to her bar when he was upset. “What a cunt!” She exclaimed. “I can’t believe you’re dating that bastard!”

“Ally, gimme a scotch,” He said before finishing his beer. “And another beer.”

That went on for some time. Drinking and sobbing and ranting, Ally listened to every word with a comforting presence.

“Do you think…” Ally turned her head from where she was fixing someone a pint of Guinness, “that it’s my fault?” Ally turned back to the glass, placing it down so it could settle, before walking over to Y/N again.

“Maybe a little,” She said, reaching out to wipe his cheeks with a towel that was in her apron. His face was burning hot, and his eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Y/N cried harder at her words, and she continued to wipe them off his face. “But you came from a good place. You should talk to him with a level head.”

Y/N looked at her with snot running down his nose. “He hates me.”

“No, I’m sure he doesn’t hate you, darling.” She walked back to the Guinness to fill it the rest of the way before handing it to an older gentleman who took it with a smile. Y/N watched her as he felt the beginning of a migraine seep through the back of his skull, creeping into his brow bone and making the back of his eyes ache. Beer doesn’t substitute water well, especially when you’re expelling all of it through your face for hours on end. His eyes drooped and his head felt heavy, so he went limp and let his forehead smack against the bar.

“BloodyJesus!” Ally jumped, glaring at Y/N. Her gaze softened at his pitiful figure: an odd bloke, drunk off his arse, sobbing in the furthest corner of the bar. It was a miracle he hadn’t thrown up yet. “Christ, don’t you dare blackout in my bar, Y/N.”

Ally’s phone buzzed in her pocket, and she fished it out to check the caller ID. ‘Simon’. She huffed and picked up, pressing it to her ear and being met with a very frantic Ghost.

“Have- Have you seen Y/N? We had a fight, he left and I- He hasn’t come home yet. I’m worried,” He said. He sounded close to tears if they weren’t already falling. A thick frog in his throat was making him choke on his words.

Ally sighed and looked at Y/N, who had managed to lift his head and reach for his unfinished beer. She smacked his hand away and grabbed the glass. “I’ve got ‘im.”

“Fuck, thank god. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

“What? It’s a 20-minute drive, how the hell are you… He’s hung up on me,” Ally groaned, pocketing her phone and dumping the beer in the sink. Y/N whined at the sight but didn’t audibly complain. Not in English at least.

“Gimme another,” He slurred, leaning on one of his arms. Ally shook her head and tended to another customer, fixing him a glass of whiskey and setting it in front of them.

She glanced at the front door when it burst open not 10 minutes later, slightly peeved at the sudden loud intrusion, and more so at the fact that it wasn’t a regular. Her eyes softened, however, as she saw that it was Simon. He was frantically scanning the room, noticing Ally and rushing over to her before seeing Y/N, utterly ossified and nearly asleep.

“You get this drunk out of my pub,” She said. He nodded and wordlessly helped Y/N up, wrapping an arm around him before deciding that he would fare better at bringing him home by lifting him up. Ally watched as Ghost lifted Y/N up onto his back with ease, piggybacking him.

“Thank you,” He said quietly. Ally shook her hand and shooed him, desperate to get this show out of her pub and back onto the streets where it belonged. As the door closed behind Ghost, one of the men sat at the bar looked at Ally with a confused face.

“What the feck was that holy show?” He asked, leaning forward as if it were a secret.

“Two very sad man-children.”

Y/N woke up in bed with a hangover feeling entirely shattered. He groaned and shrank back under the blankets, burying his face in his pillow to avoid the blinding morning sun.

“Oh my god…” He whimpered, rubbing his eyebrows with his fingers and groaning again. He heard the bedroom door open, but couldn’t will himself to look over to see who it was.

“Good morning,” Ghost said, walking beside the bed and setting a cold glass of water on the nightstand with 3 Dexibuprofen and a Lucozade Sport. “For your hangover.”

Y/N poked his head out of his little cocoon to look at Ghost, who was now crouched down to be eye level with him, his eyes welling up with tears at the stupid, sorry look on his face. Y/N reached out his hand and cupped his face, rubbing his stubbly cheek with his thumb. Simon leaned into his touch, eyes glossy as he looked at Y/N.

“ ‘M sorry…” Y/N whispered. His head was throbbing, but Simon was here in front of him and that was good enough for him. “I don’t hate you…”

“I know,” He responded, cupping Y/N’s hand and moving it to press a kiss to his palm. “You worried me.”

He blinked away his tears and leaned in to kiss Y/N softly, who welcomed it tenderly, holding the back of Simon’s neck. He pulled back and rested their foreheads against each other, gazing into each other's eyes carefully.

“Could you,” Simon whispered, “say that you love me?” His voice cracked at the end, his face reddening slightly with embarrassment as a tear rolled down his cheek.

“I love you, Simon,” Y/N said, leaning in to kiss him again. “I love you.”

“Take your pain killers,” He said, pulling away from Y/N so he could sit up enough to drink the pills down.

A wave of relief washed over his face when he swallowed a mouthful of cold water. It felt as though it went straight to his migraine, cooling his brain that was aching. His eyes finally felt like they weren't going to pop out of their sockets.

Simon watched as Y/N began to relax. He drank so quickly that water dripped down his chin and onto his chest. Simon smiled at Y/N with a certain fondness that was reserved just for him. A smile that only he had seen, or one that maybe Soap or Price would see a glimpse of when thinking of him.

Y/N finished the glass and set it on the side table, wiping his chin with the back of his hand and looking at Simon.

“Will you lay with me?” He asked. He looked tired again, and Simon felt tired, too.

“Yeah,” He said, crawling into bed with Y/N and laying with his head on his chest. “I love you.”

drowning in sentiment

pairing: Severus Snape/Reader

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: Severus is quick to break the distance between you, as he kneels down next to you and places a hand over your forehead. “You’ve been dosed with Amortentia and you thought it pertinent to send a letter?" His voice possesses a confusing mix of irritation, fury, exasperation, and something surprisingly close to concern.

The following snippet is meant to serve as the sixth part to my ongoing series featuring Severus/Reader.

word count: 4k | ao3 version

Warnings: non-consensual drugging (amortentia), vomiting, nausea, unconsciousness, sickness, medical fare (think the infirmary, medical recovery processes, etc.)

Disclaimer: I do not support or condone the actions and beliefs of HP’s author in any way whatsoever. I thoroughly believe in fanfiction’s transformative, restorative, and healing power. Therefore, I write HP fanfiction not to encourage the author’s beliefs, but instead to directly challenge and disprove her prejudice; I write to further strengthen, validate, and support minority identities that are harmed by She Who Must Not be Named’s dangerous ideologies. I'm not taking any questions, comments, or criticisms regarding this. Don't like it? Don't read!

It all starts at lunch. At least, that’s your most educated guess. 

You ate your typical meal and drank from your goblet—just like every other lunch. None of these occurrences should’ve been indicative of future turmoil. Yet, hours later, when you find yourself hunched over your desk with tunneling vision, shaking hands, and sweat along your skin, you have to come to terms with the fact that something likely happened at lunch. You’re no Potions expert, but you know the telltale signs of an Amortentia dosage when you see them.

You summon a piece of parchment and grab your quill, writing a quick letter to Severus and handing it to your owl. Your owl lets out a weak chirp, pecking your forehead in evident concern before flying away. Severus will certainly be able to brew the necessary Potions to get the Amortentia out of your system. Ordinarily, you’d simply walk over to his office—but you’re not very confident in your ability to walk at the moment. Indeed, the moment you had gotten up from your desk, you were hit with such an intense wave of dizziness that you fell to the ground. You’ve since managed to move back to rest against the wall behind you, closing your eyes in a feeble attempt to distract yourself from the feverish sensation at your core and your blurring vision. 

Meanwhile, Severus is grading papers in his office when he hears an owl tapping at his closed window. He huffs and turns around, tempted to ignore the creature until he recognizes it as yours. The Potions master gets to his feet and opens the window, only for the owl to nearly collide with his chest as it frantically flies at him. Severus frowns and takes the parchment tied to its leg. The message only deepens his frown.

Severus, Apologies for disrupting you. When you get the chance, would you bring me some potions to treat Amortentia dosage? They’re for a student.

Severus stares down at the parchment for a moment longer, unease prickling along his skin. He wonders why you didn’t simply come to his office to ask him in person. Even more troubling is the uncharacteristic slant to your writing. He can’t seem to get rid of the unfounded feeling of dread settling in his chest as he looks at your message. It’s innocuous, and yet… he knows something is wrong. 

Furthermore, if the Potions were for a student, then you’d likely supply their name—after all, Hogwarts faculty are trained to practice ultimate discretion when it comes to the health of their students. Your messy writing and the omission of the student’s information aren’t significant on their own; together, however, they unsettle him. Your owl bats him with a wing, breaking him from his thoughts. Your owl—which is usually quite calm—seems to be stressed, too. Quickly coming to a decision, Severus heads for the door to his office.

And in the time since you first penned the letter, you found yourself falling to the floor. You’re now lying on the ground with your back to the wall—sweat dripping down the back of your neck. Your clothes feel extremely constricting and you want nothing more than to run out of your office and find the person who slipped you the potion, the object of your affections, the target of your obsession- 

Suddenly, your office door is nearly thrown off its hinges as it slams against the adjacent wall. You look up at the sudden noise, only to find Severus standing in the doorway, looking truly menacing as he wears a furious expression on his face. “Severus,” you say. You don’t think you manage to successfully hide the relief you feel from your voice, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You don’t have the energy —not when your skin feels like it’s oozing off of you into puddles on the ground. 

Severus is quick to break the distance between you, as he kneels down next to you and places a hand over your forehead. “You’re the one who needs the potion,” he states. His voice possesses a confusing mix of irritation, fury, exasperation, and something surprisingly close to concern. “You’ve been dosed with Amortentia and you thought it pertinent to send a letter?”

“It didn’t seem pressing at the time.” You choke out, shivering and sweating at the same time. You feel like you’re stuck in quicksand—even a small gesture with your hand feels like an uphill battle against a powerful current. 

“Merlin,” Severus mutters. 

There are tears sliding down your cheeks now. You wipe at your eyes, your hands trembling beyond belief as your vision tunnels and sways around you. The professor leans closer and you flinch, guilt flooding through you when you recognize the instinct.

But Severus doesn’t seem to take offense. He’s staring at you with a clinical gaze, taking in all of your symptoms and evidently developing a plan in his head. He opens the satchel at his side with nimble fingers, grabbing an unfamiliar vial. “Take this,” Severus implores. At your blank stare, he continues. “Don’t make me force you.” The dark expression on his face suggests that he will do exactly that, if necessary. Not wanting to approach death, you bring a shaking hand to the vial. Expecting him to relinquish his grip, you bring the vial to your lips and tilt it back—only to realize that Severus’ hand hasn’t left the vial either, instead moving it to your lips and ensuring you don’t drop it. The potion burns as you swallow it and you cough briefly, shuddering at the awful taste. 

Then a weak, utterly humiliating sound wrenches its way from your lips. Your skin feels like it’s on fire. “Severus-” You try to say. Your words are garbled and your tongue feels far too thick to create anything coherent. In one last burst of energy, you try to reach out to him—only to succumb to the darkness creeping along the edges of your vision. 

You wake up in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing and, at first, you feel as if you’re a student. Then, the memory of what happened rushes back to you and you’re forced to remember that you’re a professor who was poisoned by a student. The thought unsettles you, so you try to distract yourself by looking around the space. 

To your surprise, Severus is sitting at your bedside, looking entirely unimpressed. The pinched expression on his face looks somewhat painful to maintain, yet his scowl is so deeply-set that it doesn’t even flicker in intensity. You try to avert your eyes, but it’s too late—he’s noticed you’re awake.

“...Hello,” you try. Severus arches a brow. For a long moment, there is nothing but a horribly tense silence that descends across the space. You glance around the Hospital Wing, relieved to find that there aren’t any students present. It’s embarrassing enough for Severus to be here—the last thing you need is for one of your students to be seeing you like this. 

His form is strung together with a silent fury. “What could have possibly possessed you to consume a gift from a student?” Severus eventually seethes. It takes you a few moments to process that accusation. 

“A gift from a student?” You then ask, your voice a little hoarse. You clear your throat before continuing. “Do you really think so little of me? I’m not that foolish.”

Severus stills. “Where do you suspect the potion was, then?” He asks carefully, clearly sensing the implications of your confession. 

“It must’ve been in my goblet during lunch.” You answer. 

Severus’s expression morphs from vicious fury to calculating precision. “That is… even more concerning,” he admits with a stormy expression. “I will speak to the elves about this.” He resolves. 

“Severus, that’s not-” That’s not necessary, you want to say. Except it sort of is. You don’t want anything like this to happen again—you don’t want to feel doubtful or suspicious of the meals in the castle. Severus must sense your thought process, because he continues as if you hadn’t said anything at all. 

“The offender will be expelled,” he asserts easily. “Since they are likely a student.” 

“Expelled?” You choke out, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Sure, you’re unsettled by the whole situation, but you don’t want to completely ruin a child’s future. Preventing them from returning to Hogwarts seems a little extreme. “Severus, expulsion is a little extreme. I don’t want that to happen; we can negotiate something less severe-”

“I don’t remember inquiring about your desires,” Severus states coldly, bringing you back to reality. You once again feel like you’re a student, as you’re coming face to face with the professor’s unflinching authority. You resist the growing urge to shrink back against the pillows at your back. “And need I remind you that administering Amortentia without explicit consent is a felony?” 

“No,” you sigh resignedly. You bring a shaking hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose. You’re still struggling to get a handle on everything that happened. It all feels like a blur. “I just… I don’t want to make this a big deal.” 

“This became a big deal when a Hogwarts professor’s life was endangered by a student’s foolish actions,” Severus asserts, raising a brow and challenging you to argue. You remain silent and, once he senses that you won’t voice any dissent, he continues. “Now, tell me who it was.” 

Somehow, that statement is what makes the reality of it all set in. You were so distracted by your symptoms that you didn’t stop to think and internalize the fact that a student was likely the one to do this. Someone in the castle wanted this to happen to you. At the mention of the culprit, dull grey eyes unwittingly come to mind. You’re suddenly hit with a horrible wave of dread and infatuation all at once, as the student’s visage appears in your mind’s eye. Even the thought of uttering their name is enough to summon the taste of bile. Every time you close your eyes, you see their cool gaze and shimmering hair and- 

You’re vomiting into the bowl at your side. When you’re finished, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and place your hands on the mattress, feeling the need to brace yourself. Severus vanishes the evidence of your sickness, which you are thankful for—the smell would not have helped your persistent nausea. He’s patiently waiting for your explanation, and it’s abundantly clear that you’re not going to be able to escape this. 

“Just-” You choke, shaking your head. It all feels like far too much. You take a shuddering breath, pretending not to feel as helpless as you do. Their name feels caught in your throat. A verbal admission is too much for you to handle right now. “Look at me.” You implore the professor. Severus understands quickly, as his eye contact with you quickly turns probing. You try to drop your Occlumency shields and summon the student’s visage to mind, showing Severus rather than telling him. The effort isn’t exactly difficult, given the potion that’s coursing through your veins. If anything, it’s harder not to think about the culprit. 

“Legilimens,” Severus says quietly. For a moment, it feels as if you’ve been plunged into ice water. There’s the faintest sensation of a frigid breeze rifling through your mind. Then, within moments, the professor’s looking away with thinly-veiled fury in his eyes. He seems moments away from walking out the door and interrogating the student, until a cough rips its way out of your throat and his attention is evidently thwarted. 

Severus squints at you before getting to his feet and approaching your bed. He places a hand to your forehead before holding your jaw and looking into your eyes, tilting your head slightly as he evidently looks for lingering effects from the potion. His hands are cool; you have to resist the urge to keep them pressed to your skin, if only because of the boiling feeling running along your skin. “I’ve provided a strict Potions regimen to ensure the Amortentia leaves your system,” Severus explains, his gaze flitting to the parchment on the bedside table. Then he looks at you sternly. “It is imperative that you maintain this regimen.” 

“Okay,” you say, too tired to argue or question him any further. You blink at him dazedly, struggling to clear your vision. The air seems to fall still. “Thank you, Severus.” Severus just nods, his right hand still cradling your jaw. The infirmary descends into a tense—but not uncomfortable—silence. 

There’s some bustling in the corner of the room. “You have another visitor,” Madam Pomfrey says, promptly breaking the strange moment that had been created between Severus and you. Severus leans back and nods at you, before making his departure. You watch him leave with conflicting feelings. 

“Albus,” you greet the headmaster, who walks into the room with a concerned expression.

“How are you faring?” Albus asks, settling at your bedside. 

“I’m fine, thanks to Severus,” you respond honestly. You’ve been better, but without his help, you’d be feeling much worse. 

“He seems worried, the dear boy,” Albus says, leaning forward conspiratorially. “He has been on edge since you fell unconscious.” 

“Oh.” You’re not really sure what else to say. Judging by the way Albus is smiling, he’s trying to tell you something. You just don’t know what it is. 

Over the next few days, Severus accompanies you to every meal. He always performs spells to ensure nothing has been tampered with. You want to be thankful for the thought, but at this point, you’re just frustrated that you have to go to such lengths. 

You’re slowly starting to recover. The Potions regimen Severus left you is dwindling down, as you take lower doses with each passing day. But there are still lingering side effects. Your hands still have tremors; your vision still has brief bursts of painful clarity. You still feel a little nauseated when thinking about the student who constructed this charade.  

The paranoia has to be the most debilitating aftereffect of all, though. You’re sure it’s a logical response to a near-death experience, but it’s making things rather inconvenient. Despite all the reassurance you’ve been given—by practically every member of the Hogwarts staff and several Ministry officials—it still doesn’t feel like enough. You still have moments when you can’t even stomach the thought of eating—meal times spent huddled in a corner of your office, shaking as you’re assaulted with the prickling sensation you’ve grown to associate with Amortentia. 

You start to think you’re getting better. But then you get up from your desk late one night, only to crumple to the ground like a broken marionette. You can’t even push yourself up to your feet—instead left to slowly fade away on the floor of your office. You’re commanding your muscles to move but they’re ignoring your demands. Your skin is licked with flames and sweat. Suddenly, your throat feels extremely dry. Your office is spinning around you and, within seconds, you’re slipping into darkness once more. 

There is a cool cloth draped over your forehead when you wake. You stare up at the ceiling, your vision slowly returning to you. You attempt to push yourself up to a sitting position, but the effort is annoyingly difficult. There’s an almost imperceptibly quiet noise of frustration, before you’re being helped up with a hand on your forearm and another at your side. Your breaths are labored once you finally sit up. 

When your vision finally starts to calm down, you find yourself staring into familiar black eyes. “Severus,” you say. Your vision is spinning a little, but not enough for you to miss the irritated furrow to his brows. 

“I distinctly recall ordering you to notify me if any of your symptoms returned,” Severus states flatly. He looks entirely unimpressed. And damn it, now you’re feeling guilty again.

“…I didn’t want to bother you.” It sounds pathetic, even to your own ears. Severus briefly looks to the ceiling, as if wishing for it to swallow him whole and end his life. He seems to be exercising a nearly infinite amount of patience; you can tell by how much time he takes to respond.  

“This is the second time you’ve taken the liberty of making that decision for me,” he says coolly. It’s clear there’s a lot more he wants to say, but he holds his tongue. Instead, Severus scowls and casts a diagnostic spell. “No fever.”

“That’s good.” You say weakly. 

“The dosage must’ve been high,” Severus then says, his brows furrowed. You can’t tell if he’s speaking to you or himself, at this point. “It should be out of your system.” But it’s not, you think. It’s not out of my system, and I’m scared. 

“Severus-”  You try to say. 

“It will fade soon enough,” he states. That’s as close to reassurance as you’re going to get. “Rest. I’ll ensure you’re awake to take your next potion.” He says sincerely. 

And so you rest.

Seeing you in this state unsettles Severus far more than he’d like to admit. He tells himself his concern is of a professional nature and nothing more. He’s concerned for his colleague; and the implications of this Amortentia incident. After all, the bare facts still paint a startling picture: a Hogwarts professor drugged by a student, in the Great Hall during mealtime. The castle has always been regarded as one of the safest places in the wizarding world; yet a staff member has been harmed within its walls. 

Severus expected you to show resistance at the thought of seeking out the culprit; he was surprised, therefore, that you allowed him to sort through your mind in his search. No one has shown him that kind of trust before. Yet you unflinchingly met his eyes, and implored him to look into the depths of your mind. 

Severus did nothing of the sort, of course. He did not want to betray your trust, and so his perusal through your mind was quick and purposeful. The unusually tangled web that structured your thoughts did not escape his notice, of course. He knows you to be a rational person; such disorganization is an indicator of a deeper issue. In your case, it is a sign that the Amortentia hasn’t been completely removed from your system. 

Severus spends an immeasurable amount of time brewing the potions needed for your treatment. Brewing is usually a tranquil experience for him. Yet, today, he’s lost in his thoughts as he prepares ingredients. Fortunately, for a wizard of his expertise, distraction will not truly affect the result. He does seem to be in the lab for longer than usual, but then again, he doesn’t typically have occasion for brewing these particular potions. If everything goes according to plan, Severus will not need to brew any more potions like this for you. 

When he’s finished with the first few doses, Severus breaks away from the lab and returns to his personal quarters. You’re reclined on the sofa, looking exhausted and…vulnerable. Severus tears his eyes away. Truthfully, he has never allowed someone into his quarters before. It’s strange. Severus was convinced he would dislike it—that your presence would feel like an intrusion. But he knew he would be able to care for your symptoms much more effectively if you were near. And somehow, the sight of you manages to alleviate some of his prior concerns. He’d daresay your presence comforts him. 

…Maybe the Amortentia was transferred to him, too. He scoffs at the unlikely thought, but decides to subject himself to a quick diagnostic spell just in case. As Severus suspected, there is nothing wrong. These strange feelings are entirely of his own creation.

You’ve been looking at him with such a trusting gaze throughout this healing process that it makes Sevwerus want to vomit. He immediately wants to roll up his sleeve and force you to take in the warped mark across his forearm, if only to dispel you of the notion that he is in any way deserving of your trust. 

He only averts his eyes from your sleeping form instead, his throat feeling tight. What is it about you that provokes such sentiment within him? Severus shakes his head quickly. He doesn’t have the luxury to contemplate such things at the moment; right now, your health is the priority. 

When he has a moment to breathe, Severus informs Albus of the culprit. It slips his mind, for the briefest of moments, that the headmaster is stubbornly idealistic—and sees the best in everyone. Indeed, he should have expected Albus to provide an alternative method of disciplining the child. 

“Suspension.” Severus states blandly, glaring at the headmaster. “You believe suspension to be a suitable punishment for the unlawful administration of Amortentia.”

“And what would you suggest, Severus?” Albus asks, his eyes twinkling. He’s setting a trap for him. For some reason, unknown to Severus himself, the headmaster wants him to argue. 

“Expulsion, of course.” Severus scoffs. He isn’t sure what the old fool is trying to do here. 

“I can’t imagine your colleague was quite pleased with that suggestion.” Albus remarks, that damned twinkle in his eyes still taunting him. 

“Not at first,” Severus admits with a scoff. “Of course, upon discussing the likelihood of a similar incident occurring, the suggestion was better received.” He crosses his arms over his chest. 

“I see.” Albus responds. There’s a thin smile on his face. 

“What?” Severus nearly spits. “A professor has been drugged. This is no laughing matter, Albus.”

“Of course not.” Albus says sincerely. “Alas, I fear you are correct. Expulsion would be the wise choice. I shall inform the boy’s parents at once.”

Severus’s jaw clenches in irritation. That was far too easy. Albus is never so easily persuaded; and yet, he conceded without much argument. Just what does the old man have planned? The Potions professor regards him warily. 

“No need to be suspicious, dear boy.” Albus reassures him. The reassurance only makes Severus more suspicious. “I’m only thankful that you have found tolerable company here in the castle.”

Severus glares at him for several moments. His jaw is clenched and his teeth are gritted. “And how is this relevant, exactly?” He manages to spit out.

“It’s merely an observation.” Albus surrenders. He senses Severus is growing tired of this conversation. “And how is our young professor faring?”

“I’m developing an enhanced regimen to eradicate the Amortentia.” Severus responds, thankful for an excuse to talk about something else. “I brought my colleague,” he borrows the words of the headmaster, “to my quarters, to ensure proper adherence to the regimen.”

“Your quarters?” Albus asks lightly. He looks rather pleased with himself. The Potions professor’s wand hand twitches. “That’s rather forward of you, Severus.” Severus’s jaw nearly cracks with how hard he grits his teeth at the remark. Albus is wearing a victorious smile; the Potions professor immediately steels his composure and stares right back at the man. 

After what feels like far too long, the headmaster relents. “Keep me updated, Severus.” Albus remarks, his expression returning to an appropriate concern. 

Severus nods jerkily, before making his escape. He is never quite certain when a conversation with Albus will morph into an interrogation; this time was particularly catastrophic. He takes a few slow breaths as he returns to his quarters. 

Unsurprisingly, you are awake to greet him. Before either of you can descend into empty small talk, you’re breaking through the silence. “You… don’t mind me being here, do you?” You ask, glancing around the room as if realizing your surroundings for the first time. “I can return to my quarters, I’m sure.”

“Given the return of your symptoms, that would be unwise.” Severus says after a moment. It takes him longer than he’d like to formulate a response. “I’m afraid I will have to be… inconvenienced by your presence a bit longer.” Yes, it is truly inconvenient—because you provoke such unusual feelings in him. Every time he sees you in his quarters, he has these horrible urges to embrace… domesticity. It disgusts him. 

“If you insist.” You say hesitantly. Neither of you decide to acknowledge the tension that has settled in the air. Severus promptly returns to asking you about your symptoms, in an attempt to ward off these strange sentiments that spring to mind in your presence.

©2025, @defectivevillain | @defectivehero, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

endnotes: I feel like Severus is in a perpetual state of disgust: with himself, with the world around him... sigh. he's very fun to write for, though.

I genuinely forgot I wrote this and was so happy to find it in my drafts again. And then a few weeks passed and I forgot about it *again.* When I stumbled upon it again, I was very surprised to find it 99% complete, bahaha.

anyways, thanks for reading! <3

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I love you people with neurological disorders, I love you people with neurological diseases, I love you people with neurological issues, I love you people who have issues with motor functions, I love you people with memory issues, I love you people with speech problems, I love you people who have spinal/brain/neurological damage, I love you people with dementia, I love you people who have violent mood swings, I love you people with Alzheimer’s disease, I love you people with Parkinson’s disease, I love you people who are prone to/have epilepsy and seizures, I love you people who have had strokes and anuerysms and I miss you people who didn’t make it because of them, I love you people who get migraines, I love you people with muscular dystrophy, I love you people with meningitis, I love you people with multiple sclerosis, etc.

this tops anything I was going to say 

A fate worse than death, part two

Summary:The rest of the time find out what happen to you and the others

Type:Scenario: 141 + Los Vaqueros X M!Reader

Version:Mw2

~

Gaz was trying to get it out of Price about what happened while Soap was helping Rudy get Alejandro to the medic and Ghost was sitting in his room thinking. And you were no where to be seen.

"Come on cap, tell me what happened"

Gaz and Price were headed towards the Kitchen, and Price was getting alittle annoyed with Gaz.

"No Gaz"

Gaz didn't know what happened so he didn't know how it still affected Price in ways he's never been affected before. When they reached the kitchen there were two newer recruits talking, they have been in the military before and actually worked alongside of you for quite some time but they were new to 141. When Gaz and Price sat down Gaz was just staring at him trying to get it out of him, just silently this time. But now Gaz could see how the captain was still alittle shaky from early.

"Yeah he's crazy man, one time he used his sledgehammer and bushed his way up to someone's head, hitting every spot."

One of the new recruits said. Gaz stopped looking at Price, turning his head slow enough for it to creak. Gaz was horrified with what he just heard.

"Damn, that is crazy"

The other recruit said like it was a normal thing. But then again you are named death after all.

"Wait, wait a second. Who are you talking about?"

Gaz asked still in complete shock. The recruits looked at him alittle confused.

"Death? You know y/n?"

Gaz looked at Price then back to the recruits quiet. He couldn't believe it, no. He refused to believe it. You were one of the nicest people, yeah you scared alot of the people on the team but he never seen why.

"Are...are you serious?"

The recruits nodded. Gaz was shocked, far beyond shocked. Like yeah your code name is death, but he never took it seriously. You? Brutally kill a guy? He couldn't believe it.

"Yeah, actually funny thing I heard one day that apparently he stabbed someone multiple times, and while they were still alive he shoved a smoke bomb down their throat and the smoke spewed out of the holes he made in them"

Price was still silent.

~Off to Soap~

Putting Alejandro on the bed in the medic room, Soap looked at Rudy worried.

"What happened?"

Rudy looked at Soap with a face that basically said 'I don't wanna talk about it'. Soap couldn't see what happened so he was clueless to what you did. Alejandro looked up at Soap.

"Wanna know what happened? It was death, that's what"

Alejandro stopped to cough abit. Letting out a disgusted sound.

"He was crazy, he beat the shit out of a shadow before bashing his hea in. I....I couldn't watch"

Alejandro looked down, ashamed, disturbed, disgusted. Soap chuckled abit, but by the looked of Rudy and Alejandro he knew they were serious.

"Wait? Y/n? Are you serious?"

Alejandro nodded, Rudy just looked away. Soap stood there silent, taking it all in. Before Rudy spoke.

"The captain was horrified"

~On to Ghost~

Throwing a ball up and down he thought to himself, 'what happened when the shadows head dropped?' That's all he could think about. One second the shadow had a gun pointed at someone, and the next second that someone hit the shadow in the head with the gun causing him to disappear from all the snipers view. Not that Gaz and Soap were paying attention. Ghost could see Price's horrified reaction, the look of pure shook and disgust in Rudy's face, and Alejandro start throwing up, violently. It dawned on Ghost that he could always ask you, or go back to see what you did. He'd rather ask you. Getting up Ghost went to find you. When he did he grabbed your shoulder, causing you to turn around.

"Sir, what did you do to that shadow?"

The devilish smile on your face told Ghost, it wasn't pretty.

~The story of what did, from all their perspectives~

Price looked at Gaz, and signed.

"He...The moment he had a open window he grabbed the gun, smacking the shadow in the face with it"

-

Rudy, gulped, and Alejandro glared at the ground.

"He crushed the guys cheek bone, so bad you could hear it crack all the way over by us"

-

You grabbed Ghost's hand and leaned in.

"I bashed that bastards head until be fell to the ground, he, I could alright see the blood dripping from his head.

-

Gaz listened carefully, leaning in he didn't want to miss any details.

-

Soap stayed quiet, not wanting to accidentally interrupt.

-

Ghost shivered slightly at how you spoke, it was creepy. Almost inhuman

-.

Price looked back at the table, in thought.

"Taking the gun, he didn't kill the man. No he did worse"

Gaz carefully got up, to make him and Price a cup of tea.

-

Rudy looked Soap in the eye, now stern.

"He continuously hit the guys thigns until they bleed no more"

Soap started to get nervous, just the thought of getting your thighs bashed in with a steel gun made his thigns tingle slightly.

-

You leaned back alittle seeing the discomfort in Ghost's eyes.

"He was screaming so loud, if was like music to my ears. As I watched his legs turn to mushy flesh infront of my very in eyes"

Ghost stepped back abit, now more cautious due to your creepy and low chuckling.

-

Price nervously messed with his fingers.

"He didn't stop beating his legs in until you could see the shadows nerves and veins sticking to the beaten muscle, that....ugh"

Price groaned at the thought of what you did, as Gaz listened getting uncomfortable himself from the way Price was unsettled.

-

Alejandro groaned loudly and stood up.

"He was like a senseless beast, when he turned around to look at us he bent in a way he shouldn't."

Alejandro practically yelled as Rudy nodded, Soaps full attention now on Alejandro. Soap was a tad bit uncomfortable, he's never seen Alejandro this freaked out over something. Neither has Rudy.

-

You stepped closer as Ghkst stepped backwards

"He begged begged me to not kill him, so I yanked him by the hair and asked him 'how?'"

Ghost has never felt this way around someone before, he didn't like it

-

Price looked you at Gaz seeing him making the finally touches in the tea.

"After he dropped his head, death was gonna stomp on his head, he was gonna kill him."

Gaz nodded and brought Price his tea. Recruits still standing there, listening.

-

Alejandro walked around the room to try and get the unsettling feeling out of him. As Rudy continued to inform Soap about what happened.

"He didn't get a chance to crush his head actually, the shadow stabbed the bottom of his foot causing him to jump back."

Soap thought that was the end and let out a sign of relief.

-

You grabbed Ghost by his mask and pulled him to you. Having the same devilish smirk you started with.

"He tried to get away Ghost, he tried so hard but I wouldn't let him, I stabbed him with the knife he stabbed me with."

Ghost was about to pull away but remembered, it'd be useless you'd only pull him back. He knows you get to worked up in telling a story.

-

Price nervously took a sip of tea, staring down at it as it swirled with the steam.

"He-....He used the knife to stab between his shoulder blades....before cutting his back open, all the way down to his lower back."

Gaz almost choked on his tea when he heard that. He pictured it to well, the thought made him wanna run away from this conversation.

-

Rudy looked down, legs and arms shaking slightly. Soap took notice of this.

"Y/n...he grabbed the sides of open flesh, and, oh my god... he ripped the shadow open like he was nothing."

Soap took a step back, horrified by what he heard. How, no, why? Why would you do that.

-

You pulled Ghost closer, now whispering in his ear, likely to keep this part a secret.

"I wanted to do worse Ghost, but instead I broke. Every. Fucking. Rib. He had, his screams only got louder."

Ghost eyes widen, realizing you met you had grabbed his bare ribs and snapped them all in half. Now Ghost has done some crazy things but this? It's on a while nother level.

-

Price rubbed his temples to calm himself.

"When he finished he, well killed him. With his foot"

Gaz had finished his tea by then. Still has that unsettling feeling.

-

Alejandro walked back over to Soap and grabbed his shoulder.

"Wondering how he killed a soldier with just his foot? Yeah? He stepped on him, well more like bashed."

Soap looked at Alejandros hand alittle nervous.

-

You chuckled darkly pushing yourself off of Ghost.

"I dropped my foot so hard, I still have his eye juices on my shoe"

Ghost gagged as you walked away laughing, the whole base could hear you. The ones who seen you kill that Shadow shivered remembering that laugh.

~

[A/n:I got lazy in the last part. But hear you have it. I hope you enjoyed]

Hey there, could i ask ghostface, wesker, joey and deathslinger when a survivor constatly gets sandbagged and bodyblocked by other survivorw, and do the puppy eyes to see if they spare them?

I love this ask sm <3

Killers when you do puppy eyes at them

Ghostface

You were getting chased and doing good only 2gens remained

You were hit and bleeding bad but you were still hanging in there

You headed to the shack

YunJin pops outta no where and slams the pallet down on your head

You fell back and groaned, clutching your head

Ghostface stood behind you

He was agitated that YunJin did that fucking white ruined the chase

He looked down to see you looking at him with puppy eyes

Instant boner

The way you were on your knees with big teary eyes and lip trembling

He took pity on you and destroyed the pallet and let you free

He killed YunJin and then came after you and then fucked you

Wesker

He was chasing down the halls of RPD

You are doing good dodging him

You tried to vault a window but YunJin who was working on a gen close by vaulted it in front of you

She was uninjured and you were so she fucked you over

Wesker stood right behind you

He just stared down YunJin

The fucking bitch wasn't even getting chased or even an interest to him

You turned around and looked up at him with wide puppy eyes

He softened a bit and took pity (he loves you <3)

He went after her and slammed her against many walls and then hooked her

Joey

You were constantly sandbagged by Meg everytime you were in a match with her

You don't know why but she just did not like you

Joey has seen this and felt bad

Especially when you made puppy eyes at him when it happens

He always took pity on you (lil softie)

Although he tries to kill Meg, sometimes she wastes him time and he's not able to

But it's the thought that counts <3

DeathSlinger

You were avoiding his gun and doing good

You went to turn into a building to avoid it

But Meg ran in front of you and blocked the entry way

You tried to push her but it was too late

You screamed when his gun hit you and pulled you back

DeathSlinger saw what happened and it irked him

He looked at you who looked at him with big wide eyes

He sighed and let you go

He then went after Meg

actually no one is allowed to make fun of transmasc names anymore. i dont care if it's a 13 year old trans boy named after his favorite cartoon or whatever you're not allowed to make fun of trans guys' names

Fred: Did you hear that?

George: Hear what?

Fred: The sound of Mum’s wrath coming for us.