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kentofic · 2 months

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a bite-sized nanami x f!reader sickfic as i recover from a cold of my own 💖 suggestive but no smut

You give a hearty sniffle, the covers tucked up to your chin as you huddle under the warm blanket, shivering. You sigh. You hate being sick. You’ve been laid up for the past day with a fever, stuffy nose, and scratchy throat. There’s no end in sight yet—but, to your luck, your sweet husband has stayed home to play nurse for you. And you do love being taken care of by him.

“Kento,” you call out, your voice hoarse, cracking around the edges. You cringe at the sound.

You don’t see how Kento halts in the next room, warmth pooling low in his stomach. You have no idea how deeply, how instantly, it affects him—the sound of your voice, pitched low and throaty like this. He reminds himself for the hundredth time that you need rest, that he has no right to jump your bones when you’re sick and exhausted. No matter how infuriatingly sexy you sound. He clears his throat, trying to gather himself.

“Yes, darling?” you hear from the living room. His tone betrays nothing.

“Can you bring me some water please? I’m all out.”

“Sure, be right there.”

You stare at the ceiling, slightly dizzy, as your husband bustles about in the kitchen. Soon he’s by your bedside with a glass of cool water, a small plate, an apple, and a paring knife.

He guides the glass into your hands, watching approvingly as you take a long sip. Then he picks up the apple and the knife and begins peeling it. You watch him with a smile, your cheeks and lips flushed rosy with fever.

“How did I ever deserve such an attentive husband,” you murmur, your voice like warm gravel. Kento’s hands falter for just a second. He clears his throat and resumes cutting small slices of the fruit. He feels the beginnings of a flush creeping up the back of his neck.

“Hush. You know I love taking care of you.”

Your chuckle is like a soft burble of water, punctuated at the end by a sniff. Kento holds a piece of apple up to your mouth, which you dutifully open for him. He pokes the piece between your lips, his thumb grazing your bottom lip as he withdraws his hand.

“Mm, tastes good,” you hum, low and soft, around the mouthful of fruit. The sound goes straight to Kento’s groin, and he coughs to dislodge the breath that catches in his throat. You peer up at him, concerned.

“You’re not getting sick too, are you?”

“I’m fine,” he assures you, smoothing your hair from your forehead. You catch his wrist and tug, trying to pull him closer, even weak as you are in this state. He leans forward to humor you. You scrutinize him with eyes soft and glassy from fever.

“You’re flushed, Kento. Are you sure you don’t have a fever?” you worry, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead. He lets out a soft sigh at the contact, his eyes fluttering for a moment.

“I’m not sick, sweetheart. Just guilty of loving my wife too much,” Kento murmurs. He pulls your hand from his forehead to place a soft kiss to your palm. You shudder at the tender brush of his lips on your skin, made extra sensitive from fatigue and fever.

“Do you love her enough to give her a kiss, even though she’s full of germs?” you wheedle, eyes crinkling at the edges as you smile at him. He chuckles as he laces his fingers with yours.

“I love her enough to give her much more than a kiss,” he smirks. You shiver again, this time not from fever, and you clench your thighs together as Nanami traces the softness of your bottom lip with his thumb. You let out a breathy sigh as he noses into your cheek before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“But, as enticing as you are, you need your rest, love.”

You pout, letting out a disappointed sound as Kento pulls back. His gaze is soft but firm.

“Don’t whine. Get well first, then I’ll lavish you with all my saved up affection. I promise,” he says, his voice hushed, as he presses a final kiss to the top of your head.

You chew your lip before giving him a reluctant nod. You snuggle back under the covers, your eyes slipping shut. You’re filled with the determination to heal now, if you’re to get what you want out of your husband.

Kento watches you as your breathing evens out, your brow relaxing as a feverish sleep pulls you under once again. He sits there for a while, just admiring you—the way your hair splays out on the pillow, your warm cheek smushed so cutely against it, your lips parted as a soft, sleepy moan escapes you.

Kento stands suddenly. He makes a beeline for the bathroom, his pants tight. He chastises himself as he swallows the urge to rip off your blankets and keep you warm another way.

#nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #jjk fluff #jjk drabble #jinnie fic #i usually hate the sound of my own voice but my sick voice is rather nice i think 🤭#I’ve been sick the past couple weeks but I’m finally on the mend !!#if only kento my beloved was here to reward me 🥺 LOL

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honoredalone · 14 days

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𐙚 I’D RATHER BE KISSING YOUR WAIST

❝ move slow, i don’t wanna get in your way. well the words in your mouth sound cool but i’d rather be kissin’ your waist ❞ keep it up - chase atlantic

♡ gojo satoru is the strongest, but that didn’t leave him without his scars. internal and external. the biggest scar making him shy away, but that didn’t stop you from loving it.

content: talk of scars, self doubt, negative thoughts, sad baby satoru, slight angst, tooth rotting sweetness

heavily inspired by @colonelarr0w, “tracing satoru’s scar”. go check out their works!! they’re amazing, so go support!!

it’s ugly, satoru thinks it’s the most hideous thing on his body. the gross texture, weird color and the memories behind it. the scar circling his waist makes him sick to look at. everyone knows how confident satoru is, well how could he not be? he’s the strongest after all, but even the strongest has his moments of weakness and the scar is just a permanent reminder of just that. he resents himself for it though he’s only human.

“what’re you doin’ there sweet girl?” his voice is raspy and deep from fatigue, a long day of teaching at jujutsu tech will do it to you but he always looks forward to this time of day. when he can lay in bed with you, cuddled into your warmth, his hand caressing the small of your back lovingly. your hand drifting down his torso above his black t-shirt. he didn’t usually wear t-shirts to bed but after the fight he could barely look at his own body without being ashamed so naturally he hid is body not only from himself but from you too. he knew you wouldn’t be disgusted by something so trivial but he couldn’t heals the insecurity that leaked into his brain.

“nothin’ ‘ru just wanna love you.” you whispered, your head resting on his toned chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. your fingers slowly moving to the hem on his shirt. you didn’t miss the way his stomach clenched when your warm hand drifted under his shirt. “you’re so handsome.”

“baby, wait.” satoru almost whines as your fingers feather over the ragged skin. his other hand softly holding your much smaller wrist. you heard the way his heartbeat sped up, the way his breathing became uneven.

“satoru, love.” you sat up, your eyes connecting with his. you hated seeing him so broken over something so small, something that you didn’t care about. nothing about the scar that decorated his beautiful pale skin deterred you away from him whatsoever, he’s your satoru.

“please.” he didn’t know what he meant by that but his eyebrows furrowed together, crystal eyes filling with tears. “it’s not pretty. it’s ugly.” he quietly admits, hand still wrapped around your wrist while the other still sits at the small of your back, thumb caressing you so tenderly. it upset you he thought about himself like that, it crushed your heart. he couldn’t help the fact that the wound scarred and it wasn’t his fault that it made him self conscious but you wanted to show him that it, of course, could never change how you felt about him.

you move to sit on his lap, his hands going limp and laying flat on the plush covers but they find your waist, squeezing them affectionately. looking at him for silent permission to push up his shirt slightly, he only looks at you like a kicked puppy before giving you a tense nod. you slowly push up his shirt, just blow his chest. his torso as gorgeous as always, fair skin strong and smooth. he was beautiful, breathtakingly beautiful. he took your breath away everytime, before and after the wound. you rest your hands onto the scar, thumbs softly rubbing the rough skin. his breath shook, he closed his eyes to prevent tears cascading down his blushed cheeks.

“you’re so handsome satoru.” your voice soft, melting over him like honey. he could just sob, he was barely keeping it together when he felt your warm breath fan over the wounded skin. “my pretty boy. so beautiful.” you place soft kisses, all over. his hands shook on your sides as his fingers tighten attempting to dampen his nerves. his words were stuck in his throat, he could barely formulate a sentence in his head because what could he say. open mouthed kisses making his stomach warm and tickle slightly, making his head spin.

“fuck, sweet girl. i love you. love you ‘s much.” his words wavered as he spoke, his mind nearly blank. kissing up from his waist, to right below his chest he sits up, wrapping both of his arms around his waist. he looks at you so sweetly, almost defeated. his arms retracting from around you to the neckline of his black shirt, slowly taking it off and discarding it to the side and looking over your face again. he knew that he couldn’t fully look at his scar and not feel badly but he could learn to like it, just because you did.

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ma1dita · 10 days

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do we have any sick!trouble and luke taking care of everything for her??(including her hehe🤭) if not then i’d like to think she would probably try to push herself through the day making sure camp doesn’t get set on fire bc older sister core! + dionysus probably dgaf 🤷🏻‍♀️ and maybe only luke noticing that she’s breaking out in a cold sweat and her movements a little more sluggish than usual but shes stubborn af so she refuses to rest

🐥

also ur works are crushing me jo they’re soo good😭💗

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x dionysus!reader

a/n: no trouble tags fuck it we ball! no edits either lmfao fluff :) can be a standalone just know reader is camp mom and Luke calls her trouble/slight cabin 12 mentions but not important (partners in crime series if you wanna check it out)

wc: 860

Luke doesn’t think he’s ever seen you be quiet.

Your voice is synonymous with the harmony of Camp Half-Blood in all of its forms: early morning announcements over the loudspeaker that serve as a wake-up call for campers to be ready for cabin inspections, hollow outcries to keep certain deviants in line (the Stolls and your brothers are a deadly force to be reckoned with), comforting words like kisses for scraped knees for the little ones, down to the gentle blanket of your singing at lights out. Luke also just knows by now that you love to have the last word—gods forbid someone else beat you at something you’re good at. Words always come easy when it comes to you (abilities of sons of Hermes aside) he finds out—but he can’t think of what can convince you to go back to bed today, especially with a temperature of 100.7 F.

He’s been circling you like a hawk this whole morning, not chastising (because clogged sinuses and all you’d probably fight him to your last breath), but rather helping out where he can. He swiftly double-checks counselor assignments once your puffy eyes leave the page, steers you away from walking straight into the fires of the forge instead of the exit at the armory, and waves off any bystanders who dare to get caught in the crosshairs of your bullheadedness.

In times like these, Luke’s almost grateful to be his father’s son (still a hard no, but you get the point). Doing these tasks undetected and mostly through a sleight of hand is better than worrying you even if he’s already at his wit's end; you’re quick in your own right too, body and brain separated today yet working on autopilot through a foggy sick-riddled mind. He hates leaving you like this even for a moment despite your protests of being able to handle yourself, but the two of you are spread thin today with all the work to do.

Luke finds you later after his workshop with your head against the cool stone of the climbing wall. You sniff into your sleeve, a wet sound stifled by the worn-down orange uniform you all wear, though yours looks as exhausted as you are, eyes closed and motionless even with lava slowly trickling from the top.

“Trouble? Are you okay babe? Grover fell off the wall already, you should… restart the mechanism,” he mutters, a big hand clasping at the nape of your neck like someone grabbing a kitten by its scruff.

“He’ll be fine, he’s a big boy,” you mumble with your face still attached to the rocks. “I’ve seen him climb over the Ares table for the last donut at lunchtime, molten lava and boulders should be a piece of cake.”

“At least cake is less painful and more delicious,” the satyr groans, hairs singed down to his hooves. Luke sighs, helping Grover back onto his feet for a well-deserved break.

“Babe…If you don’t move, sooner or later the lava’s gonna smother you.”

He shakes your arm since the controls are wedged between your body and the wall but it’s as if your body is bolted to the floor. A dissonant noise crawls out of your throat, “Dunno, kinda sounds nice. Maybe it’ll clear my sinuses.”

“Maybe it’s time to admit you’re sick.”

Even if he can’t see your face he knows there’s a scowl carved across it, “M’not sick. Just some allergies. I don’t get sick, Lu. Being sick is for the weak!” Lava continues to slide down the wall like molasses, inching you closer to a fate of fire— and your boyfriend watches you try to welcome it with weary arms.

“If you’re not sick, then I’m the best singer at Camp Half-Blood,” Luke drones as he crosses his arms. He can hear Percy laugh from the sidelines at that, silenced quickly by a glare.

“Now that would really clear her sinuses—even better if he dresses up for Theatrics again,” the son of Poseidon sniggers until a stray boulder comes barrelling towards where he and Grover are sitting. Everything’s suddenly less funny.

“It was one time, Jackson, and I wasn’t…” Luke sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Trouble was just mending a costume.”

“It’s okay Luke, not everyone can pull off a corset.”

“Grover, another word out of you man and I’ll make sure your legs are permanently hairless,” Luke grits, finally tired of the chit-chat and more focused on getting you to rest. In one quick movement, he sweeps you off your feet and over his shoulder while his other hand slams on the button to reset the gears of the climbing wall. A delayed reaction falters from your throat, something of a yelp and an exhale.

“Luke! Put me down!”

But he’s already off in the direction of Cabin 12 to get you settled under the covers for at least the rest of the day until you’re up and kicking again. Your protests are scratchy but loud as he takes you away from the two kids and it's as if everything is right in the world again.

“Remind me not to get a girlfriend that stubborn one day,” Percy mumbles, bumping shoulders with his best friend.

#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩#trouble!verse #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎

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propertyofwicked · 3 months

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sea sick | harry lewis

content warning - mentions of sick and throwing up

short, fluff <3

you usually didn’t mind helping the boys with filming. it wasn’t often - only for big videos where the boys split up - and since you were the only girlfriend who wasn’t publicly known, it made it easier to avoid suspicion if you and harry were seen together. it wasn’t a big deal at the end of the day you’d just rather avoid the hassle of having a big online presence.

today, however, made you wonder who you’d pissed off in a past life to deserve this. in hindsight, you should’ve realised that when harry said it was a fishing video that it would involve being on a boat. you’d suffered with bad travel sickness your whole life in cars, boats and planes, so getting on a boat and filming could not have been a worse plan, especially with the hot sun and loud men screaming into the lens. so far, you’d been on the boat for close to an hour, trying to distract yourself from your stomach doing backflips by focusing on filming the boys fishing. as long as you stayed in the centre of the boat you weren’t rocked about too much and it became manageable. but every time you had to move locations, sitting on the side of the boat began to bring your breakfast up to the back of your throat.

as long as you could keep it together for the next hour, no one would suspect that you felt violently sick, and you could maintain some aspect of professionalism. focus on the content, and not the blood draining from your face. and it was going so well.

the boat hit into a wave, sending the boat rocking a little to much for your liking. your response would’ve gone unnoticed had harry not been talking directly into your camera with a direct view of your eyes widening and you swallowing a lump in your throat.

“you ok?” he asked, eyes softening and his voice lowering at the sight of you pale and clearly lost in your own head.

“yeah, don’t worry i was just thinking.” at the end of the day, it was easier to lie - you don’t want to take him away from the video.

“hey, you don’t look great, ill take the camera just sit down for a minute, yeah?” he said, reaching for the camera before you could even respond.

“harry, i promise you im fi-”. suddenly it was all coming up and out of you without a moments notice. thank god he had taken the camera or it would be covered in your breakfast.

he put the camera on the bench and walked behind you, holding the sides of your waist to manoeuvre you to the edge of the boat. you’re hands grabbed the railings and your head stayed over the side, eyes screwed shut. harry’s hands come up to your hair, pulling it back and rubbing small circles on your back until you were done saying goodbye to any food you’d eaten that day.

after wiping you mouth on the back of your hand you turn around and rest your forehead on harry’s chest, tears falling down your cheeks. you didn’t mean to cry, it’s just something that happens when you throw up.

“im sorry i just, i hate boats.”

“don’t apologise. it’s my fault, i knew you got sea sick and i still got you to film for us,” he said, hand on your chin pulling your face up to look at him and using his thumb to wipe away a tear, “don’t cry, it’s ok, you’re ok. i think we’re stopping soon. i’m sorry.”

“it’s not your fault, i could’ve said no - i should’ve said no,” you respond as he presses a kiss to your forehead. at the same time, you hear the sound of someone else being sick, and look over to see tobi sat on the floor.

“oh for fucks sake, not another one,” kon laughs, zooming his camera in on tobi.

#w2s #w2s x reader #harry lewis #harry lewis x reader #sidemen #ksi #wroetos #vikkst #miniminter #zerkaa #ethan pay #tobi brown #tbjzl

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 8 months

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Hey I would like to request a good omens Crowley x reader angsty sad fic where they are pining over him but he loves aziraphale and they don’t want to interfere. Kind of Laufey’s song Let You Break My Heart Again vibes. Thx!!❤️

"Why couldn't I have what THEY had, [y/n]?! Maybe it's...it's all part of God's great ineffable plan! As if fallin' weren't enough...y'know? Why not allow him to walk outta my life and crawl back to the other angelss, too? Keep fuckin' me over, I suppose. This must be karma, I swear.."

"Crowley.." You began, only to stop as the demon on the other end of the line continued his drunken sorrowful ramblings.

He was still clearly hurting, and you were his only company left.

The only one who knew about him and Aziraphale and everything they've done together for the past 6,000 years.

You've been around for a thousand or so, not aligned with Heaven nor Hell, but living as a simple immortal being.

However, only very recently have you learned that they've in fact known each other since the very dawn of Creation.

So their history goes way back.

It's no secret that Crowley's been pining after the angel all these years, forced to pretend he hates him just because he was on the "opposite side".

But he was sick of doing all of that, and finally got the courage to tell him how he really felt. He begged him to stay, to stop taking sides, and to think about just them for once.

In the end, Aziraphale still chose the side that shunned him for conspiring with a demon, halting Armageddon, and hiding Gabriel on Earth...all because he was offered a higher position of power and couldn't so easily let go of Heaven.

Not as easily as Crowley could. He couldn't understand that, or why Gabriel and Beelzebub could go off together and they couldn't.

Now you were here, having to comfort the very same demon that you've fallen in love with yourself.

It felt like such a selfish desire, knowing that you haven't lived nearly as long as either of them. You weren't there at the beginning of Everything. You weren't there at the Garden of Eden.

You could never fully understand their deep-rooted bond.

There's no way he would ever see you in a remotely similar light.

Even still, the heart wants what it wants..even if it's unobtainable.

"Listen, Crowley.." You tried speaking again. "I'm next in line, do you want anything?"

Perhaps that was rather poorly worded, as you heard a sniffle and what sounded like him holding back a sob. "I just want him to come back.." His voice broke.

There was that feeling again, constricting your human heart with pain.

It was such a fickle organ, you often thought. It kept people alive, yet when put through emotional toil..it felt like it was killing them, and they wanted nothing more than to rip it out of their chest to be rid of the pain.

But right in this moment, you felt like that because deep down...you wish he instead said that he wanted-

"W-Wait..you're..at that café 'cross the bookshop, right?" You heard Crowley mumble. "I'll get the usual..assuming she remembers. Actually...don't bother-"

"It's fine, Crow. It'll be my treat. I'm getting something, too...not that we actually need it. But we both enjoy it, right?"

"...right." He chuckled depressingly. "Fine. I'll be outside."

That was a surprise, although when you briefly glanced outside the window of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, you noticed the Bentley parked next to the sidewalk. You sighed, hanging up the phone before you stepped up to the register, smiling at Nina.

"Hello, Nina. I'll have my usual..and Mr. Crowley's, too. Six espresso shots, was it? And one of those [favorite flavor] pies, pretty please." You pointed to the menu.

"On it." She nodded, already getting to work on your order. "You know, I haven't seen that chap around in a while. How's he holding up? I heard he took it pretty hard."

"Yeah." You muttered, recalling how you've talked to her about your own feelings for Crowley.

You weren't expecting a human to solve the relationship woes of immortal beings when she herself was going through her own issues.

She worried that her and Maggie's little "intervention" caused the demon and angel to split up, but you didn't blame her. And neither did Crowley, although he was torn between wishing he didn't kiss Aziraphale and wondering if he'd regret not doing that at all.

He hasn't been back at the coffee shop since.

"Well, do you plan to tell him anytime soon?"

You nearly choked on your own spit. "N-Nina...I..I can't just do that. He clearly doesn't see me that way. He talks about him every day and night. I've stayed up past midnight consoling him, letting him stay with me the moment I learned he's sleeping outta his car. But...it's him he loves, not me. And I can't interfere with that..it would be wrong."

"Then...what's your plan from here?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"..I'm not sure anymore. I guess hope that one day..I'll stop falling in love with him. Maybe his angel will come back and everything will be as it was."

"Sounds like wishful thinking at this point, but I'm sure things will work out. Maybe he'll move on."

"I doubt it, but time will tell."

"Right." After finishing the drinks, she set them down into a cupholder, before giving you the pie as well. You paid and bid her farewell before heading out of the café and to the Bentley.

Inside, you saw Crowley sulking, lost in thought until you knocked on the passenger's window. He sat up with a start, fixing his glasses when he realized it was you. "S-Sorry."

The door opened, and you slid inside, passing him the tall cup with tons of espresso shots. "It's okay. So..where did you wanna go today?"

"I was thinkin'..St. James Park. Feel like I've been neglecting the ducks for far too long."

You blinked. 'Wasn't that..his and Aziraphale's thing-?'

"Yeah, I know..it...was our thing." He responded as though he read your mind. "'s just..been so lonely without him to chatter to. I hate siting all alone on that bench. But it's not like I can just walk Upstairs and tell him to screw all of them, right?"

"Sadly..no." Shaking your head, you glanced over your shoulder at the plants he's shoved into his backseat. Closest to you was a venus fly trap that had spots and other flaws, looking rather frail and wilted and sad.

Not too different from how its owner felt.

You smiled sadly and stroked the top of its head with your thumb, feeling it cease its trembles. Its mouth closed as it seemed to...purr?

How cute.

"Well would ya look at that...ya even treat the bloody things the same as he did.."

You tensed, looking back to Crowley and frowning upon seeing the tears sliding down his cheeks. But he was quick to wipe them away once you noticed them, yet a sniffle still managed to escape him.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to keep doing stuff that reminds you of him.." You set a hand on his back. "Do you...want me to drive?"

"No, it's fine.." He shook his head, sniffling loudly one last time before he managed to pull himself together. "Let's just..go."

You nodded, taking a sip of your coffee and a small bite of your pie, before you reached for the radio-

However, you forgot that the Bentley was sentient, instead turning it on for you and playing a song that nearly made you choke once again.

"--All I've had is coffee and leftover pie. It's no wonder why. Ooooh, still you take up all my mind. I don't even think that you care like I do. I should stop, Heaven knows I've tried..."

Even Crowley froze as he listened to the lyrics.

And not because it wasn't a Queen song.

"One day, I will stop falling in love with you."

Neither of you spoke a word, instead staring at the dashboard with looks of sadness upon your faces. You thought he would've changed the song by now, but...when you looked over, you could see his glasses now resting on the bridge of his nose.

His golden irises have almost completely taken over the whites of his eyes.

What little you saw of them..

Were growing redder and glossier.

"Some day, someone will like me like I like you."

You felt your own eyes start to sting, too, so you looked away and opted to pet the venus fly trap that was nuzzling your hand, clearly asking for more much-needed affection.

Sentient plants were easy to comfort.

If only your demon friend could be the same way..

If only you could show him that you wished to be more than just friends..but this simply wasn't your place to tell him that.

Not here, not now...and possibly not ever. For as long as you lived on this mortal plane.

All you could hope was that one day, the feeling will pass.

If Aziraphale came back, things might be better. You wished the idiot would at least check in with you both once in a while so you knew he was alive.

If that's the last time you hear from him, well....you weren't sure if Crowley would ever want to try loving again after what he's suffered through. He poured his heart out, only for it to get broken and stomped on before being left all alone on Earth.

He couldn't go through that again.

And you didn't wanna say anything about how you felt for the centuries you've known him. He could very well perceive that as you trying to replace him and ruin this friendship.

The wounds in his heart are still clearly fresh..and they likely will be for a long, long time.

For now, you'll just be by his side and be mindful. Perhaps he'll eventually realize how you felt about him...but you doubt it.

"Until then, I'll drink my coffee, eat my pie. Pretend we are more than friends. Then of course, I'll let you break my heart again-"

Crowley's hand suddenly shot towards the button, the car filling with an abrupt silence as he shut off the music. Then he switched between several Queen songs, eyebrows furrowed as none of them seemed to suit his current mood.

If Queen didn't make him happy anymore...he was seriously in emotional distraught.

But eventually he settled for "Somebody to Love", and you smiled, wiping your eyes as you leaned back in the seat. "Good choice."

He nodded absentmindedly, before finally driving off to the park after adjusting his glasses.

No further words were exchanged. You didn't even scold him for speeding down the tightly-knitted roads of London. That's the last thing he needed right now.

Especially since you picked up that habit from Aziraphale.

But even as Freddie's voice reverberated through the Bentley, you two couldn't stop thinking about the lyrics of Laufey's song and what it meant to both of you.

Yet the people it reminded you of...were completely different.

#ough i listened to this song on repeat while editing this </3 #hurts like a bish #clanask #good omens x reader #good omens 2 spoilers #crowley x reader #ineffable husbands #immortal reader #angst

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muldermuse · 7 months

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A Halloween Announcement (Fox Mulder X Reader)

Halloween Costumes and a pregnancy announcement

Ok so I got an anon suggesting a halloween pregnancy announcement???? when i tell u i GASPED like out loud randomly in my flat

if u have halloween fox mulder thoughts/thots pls pls pls lemme know them <;3

Fox knew you weren’t well, you looked tired and your emotions seemed to be all over the place. You constantly felt uncomfortable, and the meals you loved to sit and watch Fox make for you now had you running for the bathroom. You put it down to the change in seasons, your low mood was due to the the end of the summer, work had been draining so that’s why you’d been exhausted and the sickness? There was a bug going around, someone at the grocery store was talking about it and that was all your questions answered.

Until a friend made a passing comment to you over a coffee (you couldn’t face your usual macchiato so you sipped a lukewarm water), “sounds like you’re pregnant”.

How hadn’t you thought of this?

You’d been stressed and run down but to ease your mind and to stop your friend insisting, you went to the drug store and bought a pregnancy test. You downed a bottle of water as quickly as you could and went to the toilet, your friend knew you were feeling anxious so she idly chatted to you as you counted down three minutes.

You and Fox had always talked about having kids, thinking out loud on Sunday evenings wrapped in your duvet discussing the pros and cons of creating your own little family. There was always more pros than cons obviously. Fox didn’t want to tell you but he was so in love with the thought of having a family with you and you felt the same. Desperate with the idea but too terrified to verbalise it.

You checked your watch and saw that 2 minutes 15 seconds had passed, you couldn’t help yourself and had to take a peak.

Two lines.

Two bold lines.

Your friends voice faded into the background and the light in the cubicle felt like it was burning your skin. Your breathing got heavy as you held your stomach, suddenly aware of the cells growing inside you and what that would mean for your relationship.

Leaving the store was a blur, you vaguely remember your friend hugging you and pressing excited kisses to your cheeks but your mind was elsewhere. Fox wasn’t home, he was away on a case for another 2 days and when he got home it would be the 31st October. The day of Scully’s annual Halloween party. She honestly hated Halloween but seeing Fox dressed in a costume once a year made the holiday all the more bearable for her. This year Fox was in charge of deciding the costume, couples of course, Fox argued that in your relationship- couples costumes were compulsory.

The idea came from a drunken evening watching an old VHS of Return of the Jedi.

“I bet you would look so hot in that outfit” Fox said as soon Princess Leia’s bikini’ed frame came onto the screen

“Fox, is the only reason you chose this movie because you wanted to see this scene?” you giggled as you took another swig of your beer

“All I’m saying is that Halloween is in less than four months baby”

Fox had a Han Solo outfit and, much to Fox's upset, you had gone for the classic Princess Leia look rather than the scantily clad bikini. The perfect idea suddenly dawned on you and you had less than 48 hours to execute it.

***

Fox couldn’t wait to get home, the trip away wasn’t traumatic or terrifying or particularly taxing- it was just boring. A boring few days in a boring state with Scully- who was more bored than he was. He was looking forward to showering (with you), getting ready (with you), going to the party together and then going to bed (hopefully you’d do what you usually did when you missed him after a trip- god, he really hoped you’d do that for him).

Before he knew it, he was letting himself into your shared home; his keys opening your front door with familiar ease. He could hear the low hum of your music playing as the smell of whatever candle you were burning hit his nostrils. He was home, he’d spent so long fighting for it but now he had it and he made sure to cherish every moment. To cherish you. To cherish your life together.

As he walked up the stairs, he called out to you but to no avail. As he walked into your shared bedroom, he could hear you humming from the en suite bathroom and smiled when he saw you’d pressed his Han Solo outfit so it would be perfect for him to wear.

He was wearing the costume as you walked back in. You looked stunning, your hair perfectly twirled into two buns on the side of your head, your make up made your face glow but he didn’t have time to compliment you before you pointed a black toy blaster at his face.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you right now?” You teased.

“Okay Leia, I’m pretty sure this is very out of character for you.” Fox grabbed your blaster and threw it onto the bed as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed kisses to every inch of skin he could reach. “God- I missed you so much. I swear I’m only interested in X Files that are in a 5 mile radius”.

Before you could mention that the only local X file would be the stray cat that eats an abnormal amount of dog biscuits; Fox saw the small gift bag placed on the cabinet.

“Oh baby, you didn’t need to get me a present” Before you could get to him, the bag was opened and a look of confusion crossed his face.

“Is this a baby Chewbacca costume? This is very cute but I’m sure that it won’t fit Boo, her whiskers will get in the way and that time we put a cat baby grow on her she nearly had a fit with anger”

You took the bag from him and took out the pregnancy test, setting it in his hands “Fox, I’m pregnant”. You placed the positive test in his hands and rubbed your thumb along his hand and with this movement; you were unsure who you were trying to comfort.

“We’ve talked about it before and I mean…I wasn’t expecting this, I’m sure you weren’t either and I’m sorry to have done it like this. In my head it was really cute but you immediately thought of the cat and I do-“

“You’re pregnant- we’re pregna- you’re having a baby…my baby”

“I’m pregnant with your baby…and I can’t wait”

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captain-mj · 1 year

Text

Whiskey

Part 7 to Selkie Coffeeshop, I'm assisting my wife with the badassification of Rodolfo Parra.

Soap’s father was a stoic man but a rather good dad. He loved Johnny, doted on him.

Sometimes, he made mistakes. He said little things about his mom when he thought Johnny wasn’t around. Comments on how her dead eyed stare after getting orders was hot. How she could never really leave him. He was a shit husband, but even Johnny’s mom admitted he adored him. Johnny hated that about him sometimes. If he had been a bad dad, it would be so much easier to just hate him. Despise him. Not feel the grief and the shame for grieving someone who, at the end of the day, was such a bad person.

One of Soap’s core memories was the moment his father realized that no matter what he did, he couldn’t protect Johnny from his mom’s fate. He had grabbed the coat without thinking. Why should he? It had been laying on the couch next to other blankets.

“Johnny! You need to clean everything up. C’mon kid don’t…” He had trailed off, seeing his large unseeing eyes staring back at him. Johnny’s hands had started to shake, not yet used to this. His first ever order was to clean his room.

Johnny had quietly done it, something eerie around him. His father had looked at his mom, looking sick. His father was tragically human. Unendingly human. And for once, he had to realize that his son would be just like his mom. That someone else who thought the lack of autonomy was a plus. Someone else who wanted someone who could never leave.

Something changed that day. He became better to his mom, but he was overly protective. Afraid. Started teaching Soap how to defend himself. His mom had been nice enough to not point out that wouldn’t change anything. If someone had a coat, it didn’t matter how capable he was. How strong. How violent. How accommodating. How nice. How mean.

Soap was doomed the moment his coat fell from his shoulders as a small baby in his crib.

Wayne kissed along his neck currently. He had pulled the coat on, leaving Soap a slave to his whims. It wasn’t really a problem, it was early in the day and he knew Wayne would get drunk soon. He always did his first day back.

What was a problem was Ghost. Soap wasn’t a good person. He had hurt people like this before. He usually told people in advance that he was married of course, but sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes, he wanted to lash out and hurt someone. At first, maybe he did want to string Ghost along. Just a little.

But he was so sweet.

Seeing him look up at him in his bed. Breathing him in. The gentle way they had cleaned each other up.

When his husband asked, he described him as scathingly as possible. He had to. He didn’t want Ghost being a target. Yes, he could defend himself just fine, Soap was sure he could. But Wayne was a bad person and he’d feel better if he never ever touched Simon. Never even fucking tried.

Watched Ghost walk away though… Soap ached. It felt like he had ripped out his own heart.

His hand lazily went through Wayne’s hair. “What did you say to him?”

“That he could join us for a threesome any time he wanted.” Wayne laughed.

“He seemed hurt.”

Wayne pulled away, looking amused. “He was. I mentioned your little comment about him being clingy. Thought you liked that?”

Soap nodded and pulled him back to his throat. He felt his teeth sink in to a hickey that had been left. “I do. Just wanted to know how you did it.”

His eyes closed and he relaxed into the bed, noticing Ghost’s cologne was still in the sheets.

Was it his cologne? It didn’t smell that strong. Maybe it was the soap he used. Or just him.

“Sorry, I would’ve cleaned up more if I knew you were coming home.” He sounded so cheerful. His voice twisting into something that wasn’t his own. He had actually asked Wayne to do that. It meant he didn’t have to put inflection in his own voice.

“Don’t worry about it, babe. You look wonderful, you know that?” He finally pulled away.

Soap knew at one point he loved him. He had handed him his coat. Trusted him with his soul.

Wayne thought there were improvements that could be made. Ways he could be better. Soap always strived to be better anyway.

“Why don’t you keep the shop closed today? We can stay together all evening.”

Soap smiled. “Sounds nice. Want me to break out the whiskey?”

“There ya go, sweetheart.” He hugged him. It felt suffocating.

Soap tried to shake himself out of this slump. Usually, he could so easily slip into his role of husband, but his hands itched. They wanted to text Ghost and tell him he didn’t understand. That it wasn’t that simple.

But Ghost was human. He wouldn’t get it.

Soap watched Wayne drink himself into a stupor. The whiskey burned his throat. Didn’t go down as smoothly as it should. He kept drinking though. Until it felt like he could hardly stand.

Soap did grab his phone and he did call Ghost.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

A beep with no voice mail. Guess he hadn’t set his up yet.

Soap called again. He counted the three rings and the resounding beep. The third time he called, he didn’t even get the first ring in, it just disconnected as Ghost most likely declined his calls.

Soap sighed and leaned against the wall. Would he come in in the morning? Their little morning routine would be interrupted if he didn’t. He really wanted to see him again.

Soap felt his chest constrict and he looked at Wayne, still wrapped in his coat.

The thought was sudden. It hit him like a freight train.

How would Simon look in his coat?

He hadn’t really seen his face in proper lighting. When unmasked, there were usually bigger things happening that Soap needed to worry about or he purposely kept out of sight. He wished he paid more attention. Maybe he could piece together what he’d look like in it. Soft pale skin, scarred to hell but that didn’t change how handsome Soap thought he was, covered in his fur.

But Soap knew that even if he did date him, if somehow the stars aligned and they were in a situation he had the choice, he would never, ever let Ghost even see it. Soap had learned a long time ago that humans were cruel. No matter how much you thought you knew them, how safe you thought you were, they would betray you.

If Simon betrayed him, Johnny wasn’t sure he’d survive it.

He dragged himself out of bed when he woke up and he opened his coffeeshop up.

7 am.

8 am.

9 am.

10 am.

Ghost wasn’t coming. Soap hated that he was disappointed. Should’ve kno-

The little bell jingled and Soap perked up. He immediately deflated when a different man walked in.

The man was small. Not petite, just a bit shorter and lean. “Hello. What’s your name?”

“Rodolfo.” He stared at him. Rather unnervingly. His dark eyes pinned Soap to the goddamn wall.

“What would you like to order?”

Rodolfo stood in front of him. “You did two things wrong.”

Soap paused. “Huh?”

Rodolfo stared into him. The air around him rippled softly and the light seemed to bend around his hair, making him look like he glowed. “First. You were mean to Alejandro. I get it. You’re a server, I’m not going to be too upset about that, ya know?”

“Alejandro?”

“Second, you hurt Ghost.”

Soap winced, realizing who Alejandro was. He also realized this was going to be a problem. “Ah. Yeah.”

Silence stretched between them for a moment before Rodolfo tilted his head. “That’s it? All you have? No apology?”

Soap stared at him. “I tried calling Ghost.”

“Don’t. From now on, just don’t contact him. He doesn’t need more of this. After everything that happened to him lately. Everything he’s been through, what did you get from this?”

Soap floundered for a moment before shrugging. “I was going to tell him.” Eventually. Maybe.

“You led him on.”

“Yes, I guess I did. I promise I never meant to hurt him. We got to know each othe-”

“Yes. You did. Why else would you do it?”

Soap didn’t have a response. “Is he okay?”

“Of course he is. He’ll be fine. I just wanted to know why.”

Soap stared at him, playing with the wedding ring on his finger. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Why? Because I’m not married?”

Soap continued staring, willing Rodolfo to understand.

“You ever hurt him again, your husband will be the least of your goddamn problems.”

~~~~

Taglist, if you want to be added, just comment! Please make sure you can be tagged though: @the-snarky-dragon @elevenclouds @lukewarm-chickensoup @nervouspsychologynerd @korym @cthulhusstepmom @princess-heathen @revenge-of-the-bucket-demon @roachboy @shadowsnowberry

#johnny soap mactavish #john price #captain john price #ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #soap cod #cod mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #rodolfo cod #Selkie coffeeshop au

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angstyaches · 1 year

Note

i have prompt/starter for you! charlie, inexplicably exhausted, falls asleep on shayne’s shoulder barely halfway through a movie. shayne wakes him up and coaxes him to bed, assuming his clumsiness is because of how sleepy he is rather than that he’s feverish and starting to feel wobbly. once he’s tucked into bed, charlie lies awake, feeling worse and worse, and finally tries to tell shayne that his tummy is sick, but shayne is already asleep. how the rest of the night passes is up to you, but i’ll award bonus points for a forehead kiss. 🐭 (p.s. i hope you had a very good break!)

Thank you so much for the lovely request, my dear. It doesn’t actually reach the point of emeto, but I hope you enjoy it. And I had a very lovely break, thank you for asking!

CW: nausea, fever, mention of recurring nightmares.

Word Count: 2,003

___

Shayne was impressed that he was still awake this far into a movie.

He was very aware of the fact that he rarely made it through any of the movies he and Charlie sat down to watch together. The only ones he'd ever watched to the end were the ones they watched together remotely, with Charlie away at college and Shayne staying at the townhouse, or just one of them spending the night at the Mulberry House. They would play the movie on their respective screens and stay on voice chat throughout. Shayne managed to stay awake for those, purely because he didn’t actually have Charlie next to him.

Because when Charlie was next to him, he was constantly brushing his fingers through Shayne’s hair or lightly rubbing his stomach. How the hell was Shayne supposed to stay focused and awake under those circumstances?

Tonight, Charlie wasn’t touching him. Well, technically, their bodies were touching, but Charlie’s hands were limp in his own lap, and he was lightly snoring with his cheek pressed against Shayne’s shoulder.

Shayne gently laid his head against Charlie’s, reluctant to wake his boyfriend when he knew how exhausted he’d been lately. The nightmares always got worse when Charlie was stressed, but lately, they’d been particularly bad.

It was exhausting for Shayne, too, as much as he hated to admit it; rather than allowing himself to be startled awake repeatedly by Charlie’s screaming, and he’d been fighting sleep himself. That way, he could keep an eye on Charlie as he slept, and attempt to soothe him whenever he started to whimper in his sleep. A hand through his hair or a kiss on the neck or an arm around his waist usually calmed him down and made the look of distress on his face soften.

Another ten or fifteen minutes passed in the movie before Shayne sensed a slight stir next to him. Charlie didn’t lift his head or his hands, but his whole body seemed to shiver, just once, sharply.

Shayne lifted a hand to the back of Charlie’s head, feeling his protective instincts kick in. Was it just the cold, or was this...?

“Mmm,” Charlie sighed. And then his posture stiffened, and his fists clenched.

Shayne lowered his hand again. His heart dropped when he heard Charlie’s breath start to tremble.

“Nn... n-no.” Charlie’s voice sounded far away. Or tiny. “Dnn... don’t – don’t...”

Something tightened in Shayne’s chest. He sat forward, holding Charlie’s head with both hands now. He rubbed his thumbs against Charlie’s temples until he started to come to. “Charlie?”

“Hmm?” Charlie sluggishly lifted his face. He blinked, making his pale eyelashes flutter in a way that made the knot in Shayne’s chest even tighter. “Hi.”

“Hey, love.”

“Was I asleep?”

“Mmhmm.”

Charlie shut his eyes again, lifting a hand to rub at one of them. “Wh’time... What time is it, lovely?”

“I don’t know. Like, ten?” Shayne tilted his head, concerned by the way Charlie barely seemed to be able to keep his up.

Charlie was usually groggy when he first woke up, but this seemed different. Weird. There was an absence in his expression that Shayne didn’t like, as though the dreams and the restlessness were eating away at his soul even when he was awake.

“You okay?” Shayne brought his hands to Charlie’s shoulders now. When Charlie immediately slumped and allowed himself to be held up, Shayne decided that he didn’t even need to wait for a reply. “Come on. Let’s go up to bed.”

___

Charlie was reluctant to breathe. He was reluctant to move. He was reluctant to let his eyes fall shut, despite how badly he wanted to stop staring at the ceiling, because it was spinning. He’d naively hoped the problem of the spinning bedroom would melt away as soon as he was horizontal. And now, it felt like any amount of movement or shift in position would send the heavy, swirling feeling in his belly into his throat and then all over the bed.

He swallowed thickly. A deep cramp settled in his stomach and sent a cold flush across his shoulder blades.

Shit.

“Uh... lovely?” he blurted out softly, saliva pooling in his cheeks and making him slur his words a bit. He swallowed again, and although it went down a little smoother, the pain in his belly was mounting ominously. “L-lovely, I really d-don’t feel too good.”

A beat. Charlie closed one hand into a fist, pinching up the bedsheet.

Shit.

He’d apparently done a decent job of convincing Shayne that nothing was wrong on their way upstairs, because despite only having been in bed for a few minutes, Shayne was already asleep.

Charlie wished he could be, too. He’d slept like the dead downstairs, but since lying down, it felt like he’d thrown back three espressos. He wished he could just turn over and burrow into Shayne and slip into the same nap he’d been having on the sofa, but with how quickly this nausea was escalating, he didn’t want his mouth to be quite so close to his boyfriend.

He had already been feeling like such a burden – and frankly, a pain in the ass – the past few days, since he’d been home, and he didn’t feel like adding puked-on-you-while-you-were-sleeping to the list of annoyances he was bringing into Shayne’s life.

As his mind lingered on the possibility of throwing up, the feeling in his belly seemed to pinch up tighter, until the pressure was too much for him to handle.

Charlie gulped loudly and flung himself upright in the bed.

The room tilted on its side, and he tightened his hold on the bedsheet. His free hand flew to his mouth and blocked a long, awful belch that seemed to ripple up from the very depths of his soul.

Somehow, though, he knew this wasn’t the moment in which he would throw up, so he just let the burping happen and prayed he wouldn’t pitch himself off the side of the bed for now. Sure, he could try to move his dizzy ass to the bathroom and be in position nice and early (he always felt better being ahead of his deadlines), but the nausea was moving up and down his entire body in hot-and-cold waves that made his legs feel a little numb.

The side of Shayne’s hand brushed against Charlie’s thigh. Charlie looked down at his boyfriend, jaw tingling, once again envisioning a spray of his stomach contents suddenly launching in his direction.

He kept a shaky hand pressed to his mouth, just in case.

Shayne mumbled something incoherent, his head stirring on his pillow. And then, he seemed to wake up all at once, shifting from his stomach to his knees and planting himself right next to the headboard, right next to Charlie.

“Fuck. Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah.” Charlie gasped, equally confused as he was relieved that Shayne was awake now, too. “Yeah. I mean... maybe.”

“Holy shit, you’re shaking.” Shayne’s arms pulled Charlie close, with an urgency that seemed a little weird, a little... robotic, almost like the gesture was premeditated. Charlie leaned into the embrace gratefully, but with an uneasiness that pressed against the ache in his stomach.

“It was just a dream, love,” Shayne whispered. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

A dream? He hadn’t even been asleep. Charlie’s heart sank. He curled his fingers into the soft fabric of the black fleece hoodie Shayne wore to bed. How do you know about those?

Shayne’s lips were cool against Charlie’s forehead as he pressed a kiss just south of his hairline. Shayne’s touch was usually cool, sometimes cold, and on occasion icy. Charlie was generally quite neutral about the coolness, but right now, he kind of wished Shayne would place those kisses all over his hot, aching head.

Shayne’s lips came away more slowly than seemed natural. Charlie got part of his wish, as Shayne placed a hand across his left cheek.

“Are you sick?" Shayne’s eyes searched Charlie’s for anything that might give him away.

“M-maybe, yeah.” Charlie’s eyelids fluttered in confusion, and his shoulders convulsed with the effort of swallowing. “Shayne, how did...?”

“How the fuck didn’t I notice you were burning up?” Shayne’s voice cracked a little. “I’m sorry, love.”

Charlie smiled, though his eyes were filling up with tears. He had no idea why he was suddenly so emotional over his boyfriend’s concern for him. He wanted to assure him that it was okay, he didn’t have to apologise for anything, but he felt too queasy and choked-up all at once.

Shayne most likely didn’t see or notice the tears. If he had, Charlie couldn’t imagine that he’d have gotten out of bed just then, without acknowledging them. “I’m gonna get you a cloth and – fuck, I hope we still have ibuprofen. You need anything else?”

Charlie nodded, swallowing against a lump in his throat as well as the taste of acid. “Bowl.”

Shayne took a double-glance at him. “Oh, fuck, you’re feeling sick-sick?”

“Yep...” Charlie clenched the sheets again as he watched Shayne head for the bedroom door. As much as he didn’t want to delay the arrival of the bowl, he couldn’t help himself; “Lovely, wait, come here.”

Shayne looked at him from the doorway. “Huh?”

“Come here.”

Shayne approached Charlie’s side of the bed. “What? Are you o–?”

“How’d you know about the nightmares?” Charlie choked out. He wrapped an arm around his middle, silently begging his stomach to behave itself for a few more minutes. “I never told you they were bad lately.”

“I... I just know, Charlie.” Shayne gestured sloppily towards the bed. “You’ve been sleeping next to me the past couple nights.”

“Have I been...” Charlie paused, eyes widening slightly as he forcefully swallowed against the thick remnants of his dinner attempted to crawl up his throat. A wet belch still managed to slip out, despite his efforts. “Have I been wake – waking you up?”

Shayne didn’t say yes. He didn’t say no, either. He did, however, raise an eyebrow. “Can we chat about this later, maybe when you’re not fighting the urge to vomit?”

Charlie exhaled deeply, and the breath shuddered in his windpipe. “I guess.”

“And then you can tell me all about it, love.”

There wouldn’t be much to tell, Charlie noted with a sharp stab of panic in his chest. Unless he could somehow convey this vague sense that his consciousness was being sent to a foreign, hellish plain while he slept, and that he woke filled with a fear that he couldn’t attribute a single image to, he didn’t see much point in talking to Shayne about his nightmares.

So he hadn’t.

His eyes fluttered shut as Shayne leaned down to kiss him on the forehead again. His hand - god, his hands were so wide and so gentle - rested lightly over Charlie's stomach, separated from his skin by the folds of duvet, for the duration of the kiss. Charlie swore that he could already feel the nausea settling down a bit.

"Mmm," he hummed, gripping the soft fabric of Shayne’s sleeve. He would absolutely be requesting tummy rubs as soon as Shayne was back in bed with him, but he also had the feeling he wouldn't have to make that request in the first place.

"I love you," Shayne whispered as he pulled away, lips and hand retreating in unison. Charlie looked up at him and noticed, for the first time in days, how tired he seemed to look behind the eyes. "I'll be as quick as I can. Hope I can find those fucking ibuprofen."

Charlie was torn between telling him to take his time, or to speak on behalf of his churning stomach and tell him yes, please, hurry.

In the end, he said neither, but he did manage to murmur, “I love you, too”, before covering his mouth with his hand again to suppress another suspicious belch.

#StW Charlie #sickfic #emeto #hurt and comfort #hurt comfort #nightmare whump #requests #anon #anony mouse #anony 🐭#OC sickfic

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friskishdrawings · 6 months

Text

I have not made a vent post on this blog in ages and I'm very sorry to break that streak. This is very much about what's happening in Palestine so if you would rather not read, I understand.

There will be mention of war, discrimination and genocide, and the general uncertainty and hopelessness that comes with being in a nearby country.

In a sense it's not just a vent post but also wanting to let friends know how it's been like here in Egypt.

...also this is very long and rambly, so apologies there. I don't really have the usual tl;dr for this either.

I've tried to write something over and over, tried to voice my opinion on what's going on in Palestine.

I've erased it, over and over, for many different reasons, some because it got too rambly, some because I got scared, and some because it felt like it didn't sound sincere enough

the truth is I don't want to be a spokesperson for my ethnicity nor my faith when all I want to do is help where I can and mourn.

I don't want to have to find an impenetrable rebuttal for every single "what if" or "what about" that would come my way for simply saying "genocide and apartheid is wrong" or "I was thinking of donating to so and so"

yes, I know. There were terrorist attacks. People have been hurt on both sides. People are using this to justify antisemitism and hateful, even dangerous actions. That is horrible. and I know the attempts at mediating have gone nowhere.

but I would like to be able to be upset at the news of hospitals, schools, cultural centers, places of worship (and not just Muslim ones) and families being destroyed and not have someone go "well actually, they all deserved it" when I express sadness

I would like to be able to express my fear of our future and at the possibility that we're next, without being called paranoid or a coward, because we're right next door. because they have already attacked an Egyptian post in Sinai by accident, and because we're being pressured to give Sinai to Palestine, and if Hamas attacks from there, then our peace treaty with Israel essentially goes out the window. And I'll just be among another set of people waved away as "they deserved it".

but also I'm mad at myself for being scared because what if that ends up being the only 'available 'acceptable' solution?

And what right do I have to be scared, when I'm sitting at home in the comfort of my room, surrounded by my family and my hobbies?

I don't know. the background sound, all day, wherever you go is the news and the new death toll. bodies shown on TV in cafes. Angry talk show hosts yelling about the same thing over and over. Discussions on how to help are sobered by the fact that most of the aid being sent are being slowed down, or aren't arriving at all. Frustration that we aren't doing more to help, or so and so country isn't doing enough. We have been watching this happen for decades on the news. Decades worth of seeing people killed and punished in their own country that they can't even call their own. You would think we've gotten used to it by now and in a sick sense, we kind of did.

but every now and then something like this happens.

everything is so uncertain. No one is in the mood to do much. Birthday parties, events, and even weddings have been postponed because no one is in the mood to celebrate anything while our neighbors are being wiped out.

And I don't know what's worse: that it might not calm down, or that it does, and people forget about those left to pick up the pieces.

the only thing I'm grateful for is the unexpected amount of support I've been seeing. It's difficult posting as an Arab, and a Muslim to boot; because "of course you would support Palestine, you're one of them." people automatically assume you support terrorism and antisemitism. At best they assume you're naive and ignorant. You get used to the fact that no one wants to acknowledge that the people dying aren't just numbers and sad photos.

but I've seen people use their platforms here despite being neither Arab nor Muslim in far braver ways than I ever could. I've seen people speak out against their own government for Palestine's sake. So thank you for helping us raise awareness.

I can't speak for all Arabs and/or Muslims, but I know a lot of us are just tired.

We shouldn't have to produce an MLA style list of sources justifying our grief.

#again I'm sorry for making an upsetting post #nothing too bad has happened yet other than the one post in sinai #and the most we have to worry about is our sucky economy #but we're still all on edge #I promise I'll get more art up soon enough and the one don giovanni essay #just don't really feel like doing much when things are like this

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lqfiles · 1 year

Text

(08:11) wet words.

doyoung hated the rain. what brought other people peace and coziness, brought him despair and a feeling of dread. with it came reoccurring questions. questions that would be left unanswered and only known to his own mind, too afraid to let the rest of the world know about what really goes on in his mind. doyoung never carried an umbrella. walking through the harsh pouring droplets as by passers would stare at him with a hint of worry, doyoug continued to walk. he ignored the stares, having learned how to block off the rest of the world and be in his own world, doyoung barely interacted with anyone, though, there was one special person. someone he genuinely loved. "doyoung, my gosh are you insane." the usual tone of your voice worriedly greeted him, not phasing him much. it wasn't the first time you were worried for doyoung, you always were. a part of you felt responsible for him. having met him at the age of 18, the two of you have experienced the best and the worst together. from happy moments when you confessed to doyoung and he answered back by giving you the best kiss of your life, to traumatising moments, when you caught him in the bathroom of your shared apartment, drenched in water and hands covered in blood. you never found out what happened, but you could only imagine the worst. one thing was the same though. doyoung never talked much.

there were times you weren't even sure if he could talk. if he even had a voice and what it sounded like talking all day. if he was actually real. initiated conversations were always left dead within a minute as the only responses you got out of him were a few hums and nods. years of being friends were rather spent with actions than words and conversations. though, you didn't mind. you were convinced you understand doyoung in a way no one else did. the way the two of you got along so well felt surreal. with minimalistic words, you still found out the two of you liked to read the same books, listened to the same music genres and were interested in similar topics. you understood doyoung, he liked that about you. "you make me so worried." you said as you hurried to take off your own coat and pulled his arms through it. he didn't question it or hold you back. once you zipped it up and reached his neck, you wrapped your arms around it and hugged him. soon his own hands found place on your hips. "why are you out here in the rain? you know it only makes you sick." you leaned a bit back to stare up at his face that was looking back at yours. your hands set place on his face, slightly rubbing it. doyoung was the one to lean in and attach your lips. doyoung found himself to be very lucky to have met you at the right time. you were everything he could've asked for. caring, nice, beautiful in and out, pretty, admirable. he could go on. sometimes he really wondered how he managed to get someone like you to call his.

"because i know you'd find me, if i was out here, in the rain." doyoung whispered against your lips. it was one of those occasions where he felt like using his voice. it always managed to catch you off guard, except this time, you smiled. you smiled so widely that doyoung could literally feel his inside burn from the warms you emitted. you truly were a ray of sunshine to him, even on rain days like these. "i'm glad you know me well." you smiled, leaning back in to kiss him. doyoung hated the rain, but he knew it was the perfect opportunity to let the sun shine. because wherever you went, a beam of light followed above you , bringing warmth to him, his sunshine. even if it meant getting sick for a few days.

#doyoung imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct imagines #doyoung angst #nct 127 angst #nct angst #doyoung timestamps #nct 127 timestamps #nct timestamps #nct 127 doyoung #kim doyoung #yuroids.writing

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midnight-moth · 6 months

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I hate being touched during them but the general concept is just kinda nice?? If that makes sense??

With Dew and Rain I just think of how Dews heat can help sooth Rains pain, tense. Even the upset stomach. Heating pads and warm drinks help a lot to settle mine. My cat laying on my stomach even has because he's a mini heater who refuses to be more then 5 ft away from me (he has separation anxiety <3)

So the idea of the boys just being sweet and cuddly taking care of each other while also offering 'distractions' if the other wants is a nice thought

A migraine that isn't too bad with the tummy issues but more head pain and pressure. Dew taking his time coaxing Rain to relax enough and ends up mumbling sweet things into his ear in that hushed raspy tone as to not irritate his head but it's that same voice he does when he's trying to keep it down on tour and it gets him excited

Dew doesn't touch at first but strokes along his thighs and over his stomach until Rains definitely distracted by the touch and soon enough asks Dew to properly touch him

Dew is just slow, sensual, and once Rains made an absolute mess he brings Rain into a hot bath where they probably end up making more until they decide to cuddle up to sleep

ANYWAY- I rambled on for too long sorry 😂

You did not feel free to ramble as much as you like, I enjoy it! And yes I totally see what you’re saying. I think it’s cause I have never really had someone do those types of things while I was sick. Like I’ve had someone be like here’s a glass of water and some pills but nothing like that. So it’s hard to imagine for myself.

But for them, of course I can see all of that happening. Especially the bath. Because well, you’ve read it. I think they enjoy being in there. I think because it’s so private, a place no one should really interrupt you. And it’s an intimate place, usually a place you’re the most vulnerable.

I’m sure the lights would be off. Maybe he’d leave the door open an inch so they could see a little bit. Very quiet, just that sound the surface of the water makes when you dip your hand in it. And Dew’s breath in his ear. Rain’s near silent gasps echoing off the tiles.

I think… they could fall asleep there. I know I haven’t really talked about what Dew is capable of but he could certainly keep bath water warm. (And rain is a bit too long to fall over and drown.)

Also thank you, I have been eying the binder with Kilonova in it and semi dreading/feeling very anxious about starting it again. I feel like tumblr changed the way I think about my own writing. There’s less anonymity than ao3. And as I learned in therapy, I do the fawning thing which means people pleasing which I already knew. And so now I’m worried I’m going to write what I think people want me to write rather than what I want to write. And I’m afraid of fucking it up in general.

It’s so stupid. I started it on a whim and wrote it for fun. And it’s fanfic for fucks sake it’s not that serious. But here I am.

So anyways, this was a fun chat because it got me thinking another them and the universe they exist in. It’s hard to explain. The Dew and Rain in that story are different than the ones everywhere else. They only exist there. Does that make sense?Idk maybe when ppl read it they think of rain and dew like they do with everything else. For me they’re separate. The ones I write about in other stories aren’t the same.

Now who’s rambling :)

#midnight moth answers #midnight moth asks

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eggcompany · 2 months

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Napoleosha has a back ache

Napoleon was so sore. So tired. Thank you Peril, and you magical hands.

After a particularly normal mission Gabby, Illya, and Napoleon were all getting settled in. Gabby had her own room and the boys shared one.

Napoleon was sore. God, he was sore! He didn’t even know why. His arms and hands and back and legs and neck and everything that could hurt did.

Illya had gotten a shower and put on his sleep pants and a t-shirt that yeah maybe Napoleon tossed into Peril’s bag because he hated that the Russian wore button downs to bed. Napoleon however was still in the shower because he was gonna try everything to help his aches.

Illya was almost worried. So he walked over to the Americans side of the room. He stepped close the bathroom door a spoke loudly.

“Cowboy? Did you drown yet?” Peril waited to hear a response or drowning noises.

“I’m fine, Peril. Just aches and pains ya know.” Napoleon said in the most cheerful voice he could muster but it came out sounding forced as hell.

“Oh okay. Well maybe I can help when you are done in shower.” Peril thought he could help his friend.

Peril was turning away from the door when he heard the water turn off. A few minutes later the American walked out of the bathroom in a pair of boxer briefs.

Peril watched him dry his hair a bit.

“Oh how cute! Curls!” Peril though as he saw the cutest curls appear on Cowboy’s head.

Peril cleared his throat and walked over to the American.

“What hurts? Muscles? Sick?” Peril looked Napoleon over. He had a few bruises here and there and a few small half heard cuts, the usual.

Napoleon looked exhausted and tired.

“My everything hurts but I’m not sick.” Peril nodded and thought for a moment.

“Lay down on bed. I’ll message you. Try to relax. Look stiff.” Peril started to rub his hands together to warm them.

Napoleon complied without a word. He laid on his back but Peril just said,

“Flip. Back first. Back, legs, feet,then arms. Hands too.” Peril listed and oh that sounds heavenly to Napoleon.

At the first contact of still a bit frigid hands onto his mid back, Napoleon jumped a bit.

“Sorry, run cold.” And then -oh holy god- Peril was so good with his hands. Napoleon practically melted. Illya knew exactly what to do and by the time he had rubbed down the Americans legs Napoleon was half asleep and a big pale pile of butter.

“Feel any better, Cowboy?” Peril said in a rather soft voice as he started on his arms.

“Yes, much much better. Gonna sleep...” Napoleon spoke in a slurred sleepy voice.

“That’ll be okay, sleep as needed.” Peril kept quiet and Napoleon was almost to sleep but then a rumbly noise filled the air. Peril humming. Sounds like a tune Napoleon should know but he’s far too tired.

Peril noticed that Napoleon had relaxed completely and his breathing slowed and evened.

“Good. Sleep well dear Solo.” And peril pulled a blanket up over his sleeping companion.

#fanfic #egg_company #the man from uncle #napoleon x illya #illya kuryakin #napoleon solo #napollya #tmfu tv #tmfu fic

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domaslut · 1 year

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Clarice Charlotte Blackthrone & Chester Davies + drabble: “I think I’m in love with you”.

Hogwarts Mystery.

I think I am in love with you.

Warnings: fluff + some ravenclaws taunting Clarice about her family

Starring: Clarice Charlotte Blackthrone (mc) and Chester Davies + if you squint, jealous Felix

Plot: Chester confesses his feelings to Clarice

“What’s a slytherin doing around here?” a ravenclaw asked, pouring himself a glass of water.

“She’s probably up to something… – a girl quipped, rolling her eyes at the brunette sitting in front of them – I mean, you know who she is. I wonder if she has already received the mark. Have you ever heard about ‘The Dark Lord’s sons’? Well, they’re the Blackthrone!” she chortled, winking at her friend.

Clarice tensed, her nails scraping the wooden surface of the table in anger. She could not mess it up, not this time, not when Chester had kindly invited her to sit with him and his fellow ravenclaws for dinner. Although they had been friends for years, she had never sat beside him to consume a meal. Her usual companion was Felix, but now he was lost among the crowd of Slytherins, minding his own business. Still, while Felix would have probably let her jinx them, Chester discouraged her to solve her problems with a wand. He was just like Gwendolyn, her sister: rational, calm and kind.

“Hey, miss-I-know-it-all, rather foolish of you to talk shit about my family, when I’m literally here. – Clarice blurted out suddenly, locking eyes with her baffled interlocutor – I suggest you to shut up, unless you keen to see what a ‘death eater wannabe’ can do, huh?”.

Silence swallowed the once cheerful table. Curious and concerned glances landed on her, but she was used to it. People usually had two reactions at the sound of her voice: they either trembled, or walked away. This time, however, she felt the urge to leave. She tried to stand up, yet, a large hand grasped her shaking one under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She was not alone, he was right there.

“Finish up your soup, guys. We might join you for the dessert, alright?” Chester announced, inviting his Housemates to enjoy the rest of their meal and leave him deal with the situation, or better yet, with his jumpy guest.

Clarice rolled her eyes at him and tugged on his hand, leading him out of the Great Hall. Both the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws glowered at them, eyes transfixed on the weirdest friendship ever seen at Hogwarts. Even Felix shot an interrogative glance at them, however, he did not bother questioning his friends and he surely did not plan on doing it later. He felt uneasy at the thought of them spending time together, safe from prying eyes. It was better for him not to investigate.

When the door closed behind them with a dull thud, Clarice let go of his hand and a high-pitched scream of frustration erupted from her throat “They hate me! I’m so sick of it! What’s wrong with me? Why am I not worthy of a chance?” she choked out, stomping her foot aggressively on the floor.

“It’s like everybody thinks I’m a monster! And you know what’s the wrost part of it? – she spoke out again, eyes sparkling in tears – I wish I could tell them they’re wrong about my family, that what they’ve heard are just rumors… But it’s all true” she bewailed, running her fingers through her hair.

Chester sighed and tucked his hands into the pockets of his trousers “You are not a monster, not to me. I know who you are. You may share your parents’s blood and their name, but you are not going to follow their tracks”.

The brunette frowned, arms folded over her chest as she tried to collect herself “How? How do you know what’s going to happen in a few years, Chester? How can you say that? How did you see past the person I am?” she exhorted him, staring at her wise friend inquiringly.

Chester shrugged and hesitantly approached her shaking frame, soft coffee hues boring into her colorful ones. Oh, she was all nerves and he knew it because the charm she had put on her natural blue irises was slowly fading away, leaving the characteristic baby-blue pools on display.

“I might suck at divination, but you are not a bad person. You are not a murderer” he pointed out, a soft smile tugging the angles of his lips up.

“Not yet” she scoffed, burying her face onto his chest.

She felt his breath hitch, just as she heard his heartbeat speed up when her cheek settled right above his heart. Her long fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt and she batted her eyes closed in defeat. How was it that every single time she had a break down he was right behind her to put her pieces back together?

“Would you still love me, if I became a Death Eater?” she whispered then, trying her best not to let some tears spill out. He had seen her crying countless time, but she hated doing in public places, where people could easily figure out her weaknesses and take advantage of them.

‘Feelings are weapons’ she told herself.

It took a moment for her best friend to say something, but he propped his chin on the top of her head and wrapped his arms around her tiny waist. He had hugged her a million times, but the feelings he was experiencing in that very moment were boyond the affection and sympathy he had always felt for her. It was weird and unsettling, in a wicked and good way. It was love.

“I would love you anyway. – he started, cheeks flushing up in a vivid shade of red – Oh, blood hell, Clarice. I think… Ugh, we have a problem” he blurted out, panicking.

Her eyes snapped open as she took a step back and reached for her wand, however, when her eyes landed on him she realised that ‘the problem’ was not a passing by meddler, but him. She blinked, lips parted and head cocked she quirked her eyebrows up.

“Care to explain, Davies?” she chimed, slightly embarrassed by her own reaction.

“I think…” he tried to say, mouth dry as he rubbed the back of his neck in distress. Why was it so hard trying to confess his feelings to her, the girl he had grown up with, the girl he wished to keep by his side for the rest of his life.

“Chester!” she pressed, snapping her fingers ij front of his eyes.

“I think I’m in love with you!”.

A confession, a simple line shouted in a desert corridor of the famous wizarding school left two young people staring at each others in pure abashment. Did Chester Davies truly loved her? No one liked her and, not only he seemed to get along with her and ignored the inheritance she was going to carry on her shoulders, but he also, actually fucking loved her.

Her eye twitched and he held his breath in anxiety, waiting for her to say something. However, he should have known better than she was the type to make a move instead of talking. Before he could realise what was happening, she tiptoed to him and captured his lips with hers. An intense, desperate, first kiss indeed. Her hands cupped his face and she backed him to the wall, proving any man possibly watching them that she was not the girl who sat idly waiting for a kiss.

She was always in control. If she wanted a kiss, she was going to take one.

Chester smiled against her lips and, once they parted, he shook his head in amusement “That was one Hell of a kiss, Merlin’s beard”.

She blushed but grinned at him “Oh, but you’ve not seen anything at all yet. Tonight I’m sleeping over”.

Chester gawked and was about to reply something, but she cut him off with a quick kiss “Ah-ah-ah, don’t you dare giving me a lecture about how reckless it is to break rules… – she trailed off, winking at him – And chill, for God’s sake, I’m a nerd too, you know? We’re going to read all night long, alright? Now, I’m hungry again. See you, Davies”.

And in a nick of time, she was gone, back into the Great Hall and he was alone in a corridor, as red as a pepper with his heart running a marathon into his chest.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! This is dedicated to the lovely @fantasywriter19 because she likes Clarice and Chester❤️ By the way, I just hope you enjoy this!

THE EDIT ABOVE IS MINE! IF YOU WANT TO REPOST IT, GIVE ME CREDITS. AND I KNOW THAT GUY IS ROGER DAVIES, CHESTER’S YOUNGER BROTHER, BUT FUCK IT, HE IS MY CHESTER.

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theinsanereg-1 · 9 days

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Have some lore for insane reg <3

Warning contains murder, blood, throw up, etc (there are no pictures. Just words)

It was just the beginning...(part one)

May 27th, 2013

...

I-it...

It was a regular day... Like no other..

Well at least.... That's what I thought...

You see... I had woken up like I usually do...

You know... Being woken up my Right Hand Man... After only going to sleep at 3 in the bloody morning due to overworking myself....

Either way it's not important. The point is.

It seemed to just be a regular, normal, simple day...

But little did I know...

It'd turn out to be the worst day of my life...

I was peacefully minding my own business... Flying the airship to our destination... The Toppat clan Space orbit... Alot of people thought it'd be the best thing to happen to clan... It would've been....

Anyway... Back to the point..

I was driving the airship when suddenly I heard a noise...

CRASH

I looked at the window to see it had smashed..

I then saw some man had crashed threw it.... In some plastic ball? Confusing. I know.

I panicked a bit... I saw the government helicopter flying just in front of the airship and immediately knew he was one of their subjects... I know this as it wasn't the first time they tried to bring the clan down.... As much as I wanted to fight... I couldn't..

People underestimate me

Say I can't fight... And that I'm weak..

I'm not weak.. I'm just a coward with anxiety that's sensitive and gets scared easily... At least I used to be...

I remember my Right Hand Man say to me.

"Go Go! I'll 'old him off!"

I immediately listened to him and ran off.. I didn't know where to go so I basically just ran in a straight line.

I remember hearing on the radio my Right Hand Man say to the Toppat Members.

"Toppat security alert. Watch out for a guy with a big plastic ball....no im serious.."

I smiled slightly... I loved hearing his voice... No matter what the situation was.. To be honest... His voice was rather gruff and aggressive but I like it... Maybe its because I like him... No..

I love him... And he loves me... We always have and we always will..

I can barely remember what happened next... All I knew is that I was getting chased by the manic.... Ugh... How I fucking hate him for what he did...

I ran down the corridor... I activated the security doors hoping It could stop him.. But no.. Of course it didn't... I ended up running into the hallway that leads to the cargo

...

RHM had dropped down.. He'd probably been following through the vents and pipes... He was sly and sneaky like that... Hence why I used to call him 'my fox'

I truly loved him...

I ran into cargo and closed the door with my keycard, I leaned on the door, sweating and panting. Even though I'm fast doesn't mean I'm fit... Not to mention I was running for my life..

I heard them fighting... It sounded brutal...

I heard a chainsaw rev up... I tilted my head.... One thing I knew is that RHM doesn't like chainsaws... So why would he use one..? But that's the thing... He wasn't the one using it... I had realised this... That's when me and the other members in the cargo heard something... The last thing I'd ever heard from RHM... But before that I opened the door to look.. I wish I never had...

I heard rhm scream and saw the bloody mess he had become... Half his face was basically missing.... Including his eye... It. Ugh... I was dangling out of his face... It was still attached but not in its socket... I felt sick... He was bleeding everywhere... That's when the guy had cut off his entire arm, he screamed and cried... The one thing I've never seen or heard him do... Obviously I couldn't blame him...

Although he was probably about to pass out he got up, ready to fight... He was determined... But obviously... He was too weak. He fell to the floor throwing up blood... He'd passed out.. Cold.. Limp... I thought it was the end... The guy had dropped the chainsaw onto his thigh... Cutting off one of his legs... I felt sick and nauseated..

I wanted to throw up so badly... But I couldn't...

I screamed though, and started crying my eyes out, he came to me and grabbed my chain. Throwing me off the stairs in front of the cargo bay door, he ran over without giving me a chance to get up...

At this point I just wanted him to just take me.... Let fate take me when I go to prison... After I've answered all their questions and in useless... But I still wanted to try something....

"you've defeated me and my Right Hand Man... I surrender the clan to you..."

M heart broke and ache... But.. It was worth a shot... He thought and nodded...

I couldn't help but smile a bit... Just a bit... I still wanted to kill him.. And that was my plan... Make him leader... Gang up the other members.. Gain his trust and stab his back... Especially after what he did to my husband....god I'll never forgive him... Especially after what he did next...he got ragdolls and through them off the airship, I looked down as they dropped... But when no one else was looking... That man... He had the fucking cheek to push me off....i remember waking up on the ground... Bleeding.. Dizzy.. Sick... Their in front of me was the general... His favourite soldier and pilot... I then passed out again... I woke up in the government helicopter, my hands in cuffs.. My head pounding in pain... I couldn't help but throw up violently.... My stomach killed....the bastard took my offer and left me to die... He took my clan....

I snapped... One of my eyes were red... Due to the fact I had already snapped before... At an old friend shall I say..?..

I felt pain as I cried my eyes out... It stung... It always has on my red eye.... I felt fury and grief.... I felt pain in my other eye as it was bleeding... I passed out... Cold..

#reginald copperbottom #insane reginald au #thsc #toppat clan #copperright #right hand man #lore

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fandomsaligninstories · 2 years

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Shopping Gone Awry

Prompt: Sam is usually the one who goes grocery shopping but he’s sick and it hasn’t been done. Cue anxiety and protective Castiel. Song Recommendation: Let Go by This Wild Life ft. Maya Tuttle TW: Anxiety Word Count: 1,159 Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Alex's POV:

"Sammmm," I whined, poking my head into his room, "there's no food! Did you go grocery shopping this week?"

His head popped out from under his blankets, hair in a knotted mess. His scratchy voice rang out, "no, I've been a little busy being sick."

"Oh," I sighed, "right, the flu. Sorry. Is there a grocery list? I'll run out."

"It's in the drawer by the kitchen sink," he buried himself back under his blankets, groaning loudly. Everyone knew Sam was the most mature out of all of us. He kept the bunker clean, made sure laundry was done and there were groceries. Except he'd been sick with the flu all week, so chores were pilling up.

"Right, okay, yeah." I gently closed the door and rushed to the kitchen, grabbing the list. I went to my room to throw on some shorts and a sweater and grabbed my wallet, phone, and keys. Then I rushed down to where Castiel's room was, contemplating whether I should ask him to come with or not.

I absolutely hated going places alone, specifically when it involved shopping. If I were to go grab a cup of coffee, I'd be fine, but grocery shopping? My anxiety would rather scream so loudly that I can't drive straight. I felt bad asking any of the guys to help with such minuscule things, especially since I've never explained my anxiety in detail to them. They probably just think I need their attention, or am too weak to take care of myself if something happened. I shook my head and knocked on the door, I wasted enough time inside my own head.

Castiel opened the door and stared curiously at me.

"Hey, I'm going grocery shopping, do you want to come with?" I asked quickly, eyes darting around his room and cheeks catching fire.

"Sure, let's go," he smiled softly, stepping out beside me. We walked out to my car quietly, the drive to the store slightly awkward.

———

"Cass?" I called out quietly. I had turned around to grab something off the shelf and when I turned back he was gone. My anxiety started to rise. I walked to the end of the aisle and past the next four, but nothing.

By now my hands were starting to shake, so I gripped the shopping cart tightly, "Castiel?" I called a little louder. I walked around the entire store, vision blurring and breathing unevenly. I pulled my phone out and dialed his number, waiting a few seconds for him to answer.

"Alex, why are you calling me?" He sounded confused.

"Why am I- Where did you go?" My eyes darted around as I made my way to the corner of the store, the only place I felt I could be without having the feeling of everyone's attention on me.

"I'm surrounded by toys, the sign says aisle five. Are you okay? Alex? Hello?"

I tried to snap myself out of the daze I was in, but my mind just wasn't having it. I started counting things in detail- five things I saw, four things I could touch, three things I could hear, two things I could smell, one thing I could taste. I did this one more time before I felt a hand land on my shoulder, making me jump.

"It's me, Alex, what's wrong?" Cass spoke softly, standing in front of me.

"You- you left and- and I was alone-" I forced myself to breathe slowly until I was fully conscious again, "I'm sorry, it's ridiculous, I'm done. Let's finish getting everything so we can go." I walked off towards to finish shopping, Cass by my side.

———

After we loaded everything in the car and left, Cass turned to me and turned the radio off.

"Alex, what happened back there? I've never seen you so... panicked." I could hear the worry in his voice.

"Nothing Cass, nothing you need to worry about." I risked a glance at him, only to see him turned in his seat so he was facing me with a worried look on his face. I sighed and pulled over into an empty lot, shutting the car off.

"That was not nothing, Alex. Are you hurt? Did someone attack you?" His eyes roamed over my body, trying to find any sort of wound.

"No, Castiel, stop!" I snapped, slamming my hands on the steering wheel, staring out the windshield, "No one attacked me... Cass, do you know what anxiety is?"

He hummed quietly, "no, I don't. What is it? Is it a disease, like what Sam has?" He sounded curious now, his interest in humans never ceasing, especially since losing his grace a few months ago.

"Sort of, but no... It's a mental thing. It's inside my head, my chest, it's part of me. It's... It's that voice in the back of my head, always telling me negative things. It's the magnifier on all of my fears and worries. It's the uncontrollable anger I sometimes feel, it's the weight on my chest that doesn't allow me to breathe. It's... It's... It's the inability to sleep most nights, to go places alone, to go hunting..." I take a deep breathe, using my sleeve to wipe the tears off my face. I look over at Cass, who's got a perplexed look on, "i'm sorry, it's a lot, I shouldn't be dumping this all on you."

"No! I mean, no. I asked, and I'm glad you answered. Is that truly how you feel all the time?" I thought I saw tears in his eyes, but my own blurred my vision so I wasn't sure.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Have you told Sam or Dean about this?"

"No, and I can't. And neither can you. They have enough on their plates, Cass. I don't want them worrying about whether or not I'll fuck things up more."

"What are you talking about? Alex, you're one of the best hunters out there. Sam, Dean, and I trust you with our lives. You're kind, sweet, funny, loyal. You're an amazing friend, you're family. We worry about you because we love you and we want to help you. There's got to be some way for us to help, right? Is there medication? Or maybe we can find a healer?"

"Cass..." Tears streamed down my face now and I didn't bother fighting it now, "Cass, you guys are amazing, truly. I should've told you sooner, I know, but what with Metatron, your grace, apocalypse after apocalypse... I've always dealt with it alone, and I never thought you'd want to help... Yes, yes there are ways to help."

"Let's go home and talk to the boys. Then we can find out how to help you, okay?" He smiled gently, pulling my hands into his and squeezing gently. I nodded and started the car up. We sat for a few minutes, just until I was able to drive again, then headed home.

#Castiel #castiel novak #castiel winchester #castiel oneshot #castiel fanfiction #castiel fic #castiel supernatural #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural one shot #supernatural imagine #spn fanfic #spn fic #fandomsalign writes

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nancypullen · 2 years

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I’m Excited!

All summer long you’ve heard me say I’m tired, I’m sick, I’m blah blah blah. Today I’m telling you that I’m excited! By the way, that key on my laptop still isn’t working - the one between Z and C. I avoid using words with that letter in them, but when I can’t I type the word I want into my search bar, Google guesses what I meant without the missing letter and offers me the word, then I copy and paste it into my sentence. Does that seem ridiculous to you? It is. But I will copy and paste for months if I have to in order avoid hearing the mister tell me how I’ve abused this old laptop. Then he’ll order a new one and I’ll have to A) get used to it and B) listen to him complain about all of the junk transferring from my old laptop to the new one. “Do you know how many pictures you have on here?!?” Copy and paste doesn’t seem so silly now, does it? Besides, I can usually think of a half dozen synonyms for the word I want to use. I’m a short girl with limited education, I’ve spent my entire life finding work-arounds. Anyyyyywayyyy, back to why I am thrilled, enraptured, electrified, delighted. I did something last week that I have rarely done in nearly four decades of marriage. I put my foot down. My size 6 (well, more of a 6.5 now) foot has scarcely ever been used to get my way. I would almost always rather keep the peace, see someone else happy, or admit that the issue simply isn’t as important to me as it is to my partner. As the third child in a family family of five I was also the model of compromise, it never caused me any heartache. But as a post-menopausal woman I’m finding great delight in getting what I want. That’s not to say that I don’t often get what I want, you know I have a husband who loves to surprise me. I guess I’m finding joy in voicing what I want. That sounds better than demanding. But I digress.... When we were driving home from D.C. Mickey had two choices, listen to me sing along to every song on the radio or talk to me. We were chatting about this and that, stuff that still needs to be done to the house and when we’d do it...and I said, “I’m going to tell you something that won’t make you happy.” He responded, “What’s that?”, and I proceeded to tell him that I’m taking over the room at the front of the house. It sits empty, it’s wasted space, he doesn’t want it for his office, it can’t be used as a guest room, we don’t need a formal dining room, and I am aching for a space that I can call my own and use to create art, write, make jewelry, whatever! I added that we could move my desk out of the grandgirl’s room, I’ll find a cabinet to keep all of my supplies tidy and tucked away, and wave my magic wand to make it a beautiful space. His beef in the past was that he didn’t want a craft room to be the first thing people see when they come in the door. Newsflash - no one is coming in the door. Also, I’m going to make it so pretty that all people will see is a lovely room....that may have some paintings drying in it. I was ready to defend my decision and release all of my pent up frustrations to plead my case when he shrugged and said, “Okay, I’ll get Tyler to help me move your desk.” Wait, what? It was that easy? I leaped into action before he could have second thoughts. Remember that I’d painted the desk pink? As wasteful as it is, I knew it needed to be repainted. That didn’t break my heart - I was really unhappy with the quality of the paint I used. Some people swear by Dixie Belle chalk paint, I hate it. I love Country Chic paint. As a gal who has painted everything paintable, take my word for it. Anywho, the pink desk was brought downstairs and my planning started. Taking into consideration the wall color and floor color, I chose a deep teal called Jitterbug. I’m going to add some floral touches on the desk, maybe a pretty area rug, and I’d like to do a gallery wall behind the desk if I can find enough old frames to paint. Grabbing images online, I slapped together a quick idea. This is crude and basic...but you get the idea.

For the gallery wall I’ll use a combination of photos from our travels, art pieces, and quotes. One of my favorites:

I found that teal background (I think it’s actually a fabric sample) and placed the quote on top. It’ll be pretty in a gold frame. I’ll add a cabinet across the room, nothing huge, maybe put a plant and a pretty lamp on it. In another corner a comfy chair will be perfect for reading. I can do about 90% of this with what I already have, the cabinet and the rug will have to be purchased but you know I won’t pay full price. I’ll go haunt my favorite used furniture store. Isn’t this exciting?!? A space of my own dedicated to creativity! Oh my word!!! I’ll be honest, I’ve really been missing the window in front of my desk in Mt. Juliet. I watched the seasons change, I watched birds nest and bunnies play, I did a lot of cloud gazing and sunset sighing there. I won’t have that again, but I will have more room instead of a corner of a room. I’ve put a bird bath and a feeder (well, Mickey hung the feeder for me) outside the window of the room. Although it faces the street, it’s a cul-de-sac so there’s really no traffic. I’m slowly luring songbirds to our spot. We’re seeing cardinals, chickadees, and finches now. Progress! I’ll carve out another sweet place for us, it’ll just take time. The thought of having this room for making art and stringing words together into poems and silly stories lifts my heart immeasurably. Did I mention that there’s room for dancing in there? Bonus! I haven’t been able to let my imagination run out of my fingertips for months - I haven’t made any cards, earrings, anything since I packed up my supplies in Tennessee. I suppose my outlet has been putting together rooms in this new house - that’s something! But the last couple of nights have been spent designing cards. I made a little something fun that I’ll print and put together for my sweet friends back in Wilson County, and then this one...it still needs some work, I think the caption is a little clumsy and needs to be refined, but it makes me laugh.

It should probably just say “Ed wondered why...” but confused is a funnier word. So that’s all of my rambling nonsense for the day. I’m going to put a last coat of Jitterbug on my desk drawers and let that dry before putting the hardware back on and getting started on the rest of the room. MY room. My space. I could even call it a studio if I wanted to, which it’s not and I won’t, but I could. I think I’ll crank up Daydream Believer and celebrate the possibilities. Stay safe, stay well, stay true to yourself.

Nancy

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