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#hurt/comfort event!
captainkirkk · 1 year
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I want to see characters being taken care of in an explicit and worshipful way. Home-cooked meals. Hair brushed and braided by gentle hands. Little gifts just because.
I want to read about characters who are not used to kindness being bombarded by acts of service. This trope works romantically and platonically. Give me found family and acts of service - all the ways a character is wrapped up in wordless, explicit care after years of cruelty and having no idea how to handle. I need it.
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sicktember · 10 months
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Official Sicktember 2023 Prompt List!
[Faqs Post]
[How to Submit Content Post]
[2023 Sicktember Collection on AO3]
[2023 Content Promotion Changes]
** Please remember to read the FAQs before asking event related questions**
[text version of the prompt list below the cut]
Prompts:
1. Hopelessly Bad at Self-Care
2. Quest for a Cure
3. "What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?"
4. Hiding an Illness
5. Preventative Measures (Not Taken)
6. Sick and Injured
7. “You’re a Jerk When You’re Sick”
8. Persistent Fever
9. White Coat Syndrome
10. “The only place we’re going is to the pharmacy”
11. Beginner’s Guide to Faking Sick
12. Old Wives Tale
13. Anxious Stomach
14. ‘‘I shouldn’t be worried about you, but for some reason I am’’
15. Sick in an Inconvenient Place
16. Consulting the Internet/Web MD
17. Magical Remedy/Healing Potion
18. “Wear Your Coat, You’ll Catch a Cold”
19. Curled Up With a Pet
20. Cramping Pain
21. "But if you stay, you'll get sick too"
22. Terms of Endearment/Nicknames
23. Coughing Fit
24. “Did you just sneeze?”
25. Confused/Disoriented
26. Pink Eye/Conjunctivitis
27. Uncooperative Patient
28. “I should have stayed home”
29. Side Effects/Adverse Reaction
30. Patient 0
Alts.
“I Could Really Use a Hug Right About Now”
Fuzzy Socks
Pounding Headache
Forehead Kisses
“I’m so sorry”
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steddieas-shegoes · 9 days
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my body is my weapon
for @steddieholidaydrabbles popup event for 'spring'
rated t | 734 words | cw: canon-typical violence, mild blood | tags: self-sacrificing steve, hurt/comfort, getting together
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩
Steve was good at this, springing up from nowhere, nail bat in hand, ready to protect his found family. It was a natural instinct at this point.
Didn't matter the cost, didn't matter if he was the only one willing. If Vecna wanted to take someone, he could take him.
With Eddie barely recovered from his first bout in the Upside Down, Max still in a coma, and Lucas being glued to her side to make sure nothing happened, the crew was a little short staffed.
But Steve would make sure that didn't matter.
They prepared as much as they could, which wasn't nearly as much as they should. Vecna was strong, stronger than they expected him to be, and his creatures were wearing them down before he even came to fight.
But El was stronger.
As Steve lay on the ground, bleeding more than he ever had before, certain of his life being over, he thought about every time he'd put himself in front of the kids.
He had no regrets, but he wished it could've played out differently.
Hands on his shoulders made him open his eyes, but his vision was blurry and his head was pounding. Probably another concussion.
"You don't get to die."
Eddie? How was he- why was he here? He was supposed to stay topside to call for help the moment he was signaled.
Maybe Steve was delusional in his last moments. Eddie mentioned that he was hallucinating from the blood loss when it happened to him.
"Steve. Keep your eyes on me," Eddie's voice was panicked. "God, you always have to spring into action, huh? Can't wait ten seconds for someone to help."
"Ed."
Steve could make out the outline of his head, but not details.
"'S what 'm good for."
"That's bullshit."
And then everything went black.
Steve's only thought was that he wished the last things he heard weren't those words.
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩
His head was pounding again, and the incessant beeping surrounding him wasn't helping.
"If it hurts, don't open your eyes."
The voice sounded an awful lot like Eddie.
"Mm. Thirsty," Steve whispered.
"I got you," Eddie's hand was on the back of his head, gently lifting, while the other must have been holding a cup of room temperature water to his lips. "Little sips."
Steve didn't think much of what was going on. If this was the afterlife, at least he had someone taking care of him.
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩
The next time Steve was conscious, his head wasn't pounding and he could tell the room around him was dark.
He opened his eyes, slowly taking in the hospital room.
Eddie was asleep in the chair next to his bed.
He looked uncomfortable.
Steve tried to shift onto his side, but a lightning bolt of pain shot from his shoulder to his knee, and he couldn't quite contain the gasp he let out.
Eddie's eyes shot open as he stood from the chair, leaning over Steve to see what hurt.
"Shit, are you okay?" Eddie asked as his hands hovered over Steve's heavily wrapped up body.
"Mhm. Jus' hurt," Steve managed to say, his voice raspy. "How?"
"How long have you been out?" Eddie waited for Steve's nod to continue. "First bit was about three days, then you woke up for a minute yesterday."
"Alive?"
"Yeah," Eddie's tone shifted to something more serious, darker. "But no thanks to you. You're good for a lot more than standing in front of monsters, Stevie. You know that, right?"
Steve shrugged one shoulder. "Kinda."
Eddie's hands gently cupped his face, eyes softening as Steve focused on him.
"You're more than a weapon. You're more than an expendable body. You understand me?" Eddie's voice shook as Steve gave a short nod. "You're my world. I can't see my world end."
"I am?"
"Despite my best efforts of trying to move on from the stupid crush I had on you, yeah," Eddie sighed. "Nursed me back to health and made me fall in love with you."
"Not bullshit?" Steve's eyes felt heavy, but he had to fight it, had to have this talk with Eddie before he passed out again.
"Never. You're everything, Steve Harrington. And when you can keep your eyes open for more than two minutes, I'm gonna kiss you so hard it bruises."
Steve smiled as his eyes closed.
Eddie's hands carried him out of hell and into forever.
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m1d-45 · 8 months
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second chances
summary: baizhu knows he isn’t your favorite, but he still finds himself hoping for the impossible. maybe, with enough prayer, he’ll get it.
word count: ~2k
-> warnings: major spoilers for baizhu story quest + lore + liyue archon quest, based on me and my experience (vaguely disliked baizhu at first due to partial information, immediately changed my mind w his quest and now adores him, doesn’t have kirara)
-> gn reader (you/yours) and unspecified traveller (they/them)
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr
< masterlist >
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baizhu knows he isn’t the most favored.
from the first moment the traveller set foot in his office, he knew. he wasn’t met with anything special, no big flair from his god when you first saw him. it was to be expected, with how much time he spent praying—could gods have regulars?
it was simple. a quick ‘oh, the snake talks?’ thrown his way, a comment or two about his choice of outfit or the jade pendant hanging off his vision, and that was that. mostly, you seemed preoccupied with qiqi and the funeral parlor’s consultant, something to be expected. he was a quick stop on your journey, a note in the margins about the doctor you met at the pharmacy. it made sense, of course, that you’d be occupied with the death of rex lapis during the failed rite of descension, and the return of osial and beisht surely took priority over him. he offered little, only a dialogue or two actually shared between him and the traveller when you were present. he’d gathered as much of his energy, saved it for your arrival to make a good impression, so… it made sense you’d fret over qiqi, constantly forgetful as she was.
it made sense. he’d… made his peace. he had more to worry about, surely, what with orders to fulfill and his own condition to manage. maybe not more important—never, not maybe, what was he thinking?—but certainly more.
when your attention on qiqi flared, spurred by some unknown whim, he delighted a bit in being close to her, even if your thoughts on him weren’t entirely positive.
it was fair. you liked qiqi, and were concerned. it made sense you didn’t know every detail of teyvat, and since he’s never had the chance to come to you and spell out his story directly, it made sense you’d make some assumptions.
“i guess that makes sense, but still… qiqi deserves better.”
she probably did, in truth, but hearing it from you…
he’s had his vision for years by this point. he’s hd it for as long as he’d had changsheng, to be exact, and she was always able to remind him of exactly how long that had been.
“ssseven yearsss, four monthsss, thirteen daysss, and counting…”
“ah… thank you, changsheng.”
he knew he wasn’t special. out of the thousands of vision wielders across teyvat, only a handful have started having their constellations appear in the sky. just under a hundred, by his approximation, but he tried not to count. if he sought out the proper numbers, tried to pin down a percentage of those with a vision that had a chance to hold their god’s attention, then he’d start trying to find patterns. he was a doctor, patterns and rhythms were his literal job, but he knew that wouldn’t end well.
(a librarian, an alchemist, a lawyer: did you perhaps favor more studious types? a bartender, an exorcist, a detective: or those with a drive in their lives? a nobody, a traveller, a wandering samurai: or those seeking one out for themselves?)
there wasn’t a pattern. it was random. and part of him hated it.
baizhu had had his vision for seven years, eight months, and thirteen (was it fourteen? the sky was growing dark) days, and had never once seen his stars in the sky.
he had one. he had a constellation, something he knew was rare among vision wielders, but it didn’t guarantee him a spot in the sky any time soon. kirara had hers long before she had her chance in the heavens—they’d spoken about that, both hesitant to show the other their divine gift, but willing to speak of its existence.
and now kirara’s turn had passed. though her vision didn’t shine any brighter, he could see the pride in her smile when she dropped off another delivery at the pharmacy. sign here, check these, make sure this is what you ordered, goodbye have a good day, pretend like yours doesn’t weigh more after seeing hers.
it wasn’t as if he was unremarkable. a perfectly healthy man who had thrown himself into illness to find the cure for all of them? surely that was interesting, wasn’t it? but it wasn’t his time, he was being impatient, slipping back to the same mindset he condemned his patients for.
“patience. medicine doesn’t work in an instant, and you’ll need to be taking this for the next week at minimum.”
“but it’s so bitter!”
“then tell me, what tastes worse: bile, or this pill? if you want to stop being sick, you need to take it.”
patience.
qiqi was blessed with a place in the stars near instantly after she’d gotten her vision, but she was not the norm. perhaps his expectations were weighted, then? or maybe you disliked his work entirely? he didn’t like entertaining what ifs, but when various aches kept him up, there was little else he could do while he waited for his medication to take effect. patience, he tried to remind himself, counting his breaths. be patient. wait, be calm, don’t agitate yourself. count in, count out, are your breaths getting shorter? just stay calm, be patient…
the first time he saw you, he knew you were coming. he’d saved as much energy as he could, doing his best to make a good impression. but now, with changsheng nudging him awake urgently, pushing him into his shoes and putting his glasses on for him, the first thing he’d expected was the millelith, maybe, or perhaps the ministry of civil affairs. maybe he was needed urgently, maybe something had happened to qiqi, maybe he was late for his medication and he’d get terrible headaches if he wasn’t quick- oh, but then why would she bother to coil around his shoulders?
and yet, out of all those possibilities, none were correct.
“hey! who’s talking about me behind my back?”
“changsheng, qiqi meant that as a compliment. there’s no need to be upset.”
it had been so long since he’d felt your light, far longer since he’d been properly healthy. he’d forgotten how it felt to walk without the dull ache in his joints, and yet here he was. standing by gui and a familiar looking child, speaking with your traveller. it was easy to say words he didn’t choose, his throat not getting dry despite the lack of his morning tea.
the quest was long, and by the end he should have been exhausted. between taking on jialiang’s sickness to turning him into a zombie, he should have been out of commission for the next few days. as it was he had a nasty cough, his breath coming shorter than typical… but that was it. he took his regular medication at the dinner with your traveller, the linger of your aura on them still seeming to dull his pains. how curious, that you could cure ailments even he couldn’t name anymore…
“baizhu, are you alright?” idly, he wondered if the traveller noticed the change in their voice when they were speaking for you. it always sounded a bit lighter, a bit of your emotions bleeding through… a pity he’d never know why. “today must have been taxing for you…”
all eyes were on him now, even qiqi’s. “i’m doing fine,” he said simply, taking another sip of his tea. “better than normal, if anything, which i have to owe to our guest.”
paimon still seemed nervous. “but what about when we leave? what if everything hits you all at once? normally you stay at the pharmacy, and using your power so much…”
a fair assessment. while he was no stranger to combat, to be thrown in the middle of a pack of such vicious hilichurls was a shock. still, he had made it through—even if, privately, he doubted it would have been so clean without you there. “i will be fine. even if my condition declines, i am well equipped to handle flare ups.”
it seemed the whole group was hesitant to let him go. changsheng insisted he stay up until three hours had past since the traveller left, when his limbs again felt heavy and his head began to hurt. something odd was stirring in his chest, and he was eager to get to bed before it sparked into anything more. it was reasonable, he knew, but there were only so many prescriptions to prepare before he had nothing left to do. gui had long since went to bed, leaving just him in the lobby of the pharmacy, quietly double checking his stock of herbs.
eventually, he stood from his seat, returning the sweet flowers to their proper place. he held up an hand to let changsheng climb up his arm, closing up the pharmacy. she curled around his shoulders twice, a familiar weight. the night was cool, a slight breeze bumping the chain of his glasses against his cheek. it had been a long few days, and he was happy that everything was settled. he’d done all he could for jialiang, and he and his family hopefully wouldn’t be coming back for quite some time. back to routine…
“…baizhu?”
he checked the lock with a quick tug, “yes? what is it?”
“the ssstarsss… they’re due, aren’t they?”
ah. the cycles of constellations, switching through the sky. if he thought about it.. yes, they were, weren’t they?
“by my memory, they are. why?”
her head was turned, looking off to the part of the sky not obscured by the roof of the pharmacy.
“…changsheng-“
“look.”
“it’s late.” his heart began to pick up, false hopes being raised. patience, he chided himself, but what follower did not wish for acknowledgment from their god? “we should go to sleep before we fall too far out of schedule.”
“baizhu! i know you have better sssenses than that.”
perhaps he did. his vision burned where it was clipped to his side, invisible vines creeping up toward his heart. “don’t be too hasty,” he said quietly, the words tasting as bitter as his pills.
don’t be too hasty. you could still be wrong. don’t get your hopes up. be patient.
one hand went to his hip, undoing the clasp of his vision, the other settling on the railing. a few clouds dotted the sky, but he lifted his vision anyway, searching for any stars tinted green.
everything happened at once. the terrace was replaced with an ocean of skies, the slight mumble of “i do have a guaranteed…” getting lost in the whirlwind around him. he was weightless, trapped in by an invisible box, only dimly aware of the fact that his pain had once again disappeared. he was floating, dressed in the attire he normally saved for formal events—dressed in what he’d put on when you’d first arrived—with no sight of the pharmacy below him. it was just him and changsheng, him and changsheng and the bright light that came from everywhere, lifting him from his unseen prison.
a laugh, a smile, a rush of power flooding through him, and when he next set foot in front of the pharmacy, he did so with a new gleam to his vision. he could hear a door open behind him—qiqi, if he had to guess, as why wouldn’t she be drawn to the power the adepti could only hope to imitate?—but couldn’t turn, breathless.
“welcome home, doc.. it’s good to see you.”
it had taken seven years, four months, and 25 days, but he was here. and it was more than he could have ever asked for.
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Note
I hope I got quick enough for request for the Cupid event!!🫢
The 14-“i would live for you” for law, I quite struggle to voice my feelings, all I have in mind for the thing about me 🫡
Maybe law feel depressed and the reader told him that… idk 🫢🫢🫢
Hello! It's funny bc I think that phrase thinking specifically of Law and may be that with you "struggle to voice my feelings" make me do this so sad- im sorry. I hope you like this and have a nice day ♡
Live for you
Trafalgar Law x gn!reader Note: angst. mention of intrusive thoughts and depression. this is a little much sad. happy ending. just hug this man please.
wc: 1k
Something you had learned after years of knowing Law, long before the two of you formalized your relationship, was that Law was broken. At some point, we're all broken, but Law was an exceptionally depressing case. One of his greatest fears as a result of his entire personal history was the tragic fate of the beings he loved with all his soul. The death. That was also the reason why he was so careful about your relationship. He rarely expressed in words his true feelings and desires with you, the person he trusted the most. It also doesn't help that you're also a person who finds it difficult to express your thoughts, desires and feelings. But it was impossible for both of you to be away from each other. An invisible connection seemed destined to unite them. And you didn't need words when knew for sure that you two would always be there for each other, that with small gestures you could express all the love you felt.
However, sometimes our own head is our worst enemy. It makes us believe things that are not real, see ghosts of doubt and resentment where there is nothing. It's hard, especially with someone as closed off and hurt as Law, but you're always there for him. As he is always there for you. Nonetheless.
It had been a while since the last episode, even longer since the last time Law shared with you the intrusive thoughts dancing through his mind. As a consequence, Law ended up isolating himself from everyone, leaving his office only to fulfill his duty as Captain. It was exhaustive for everyone around him, everyone understood the situation, but that didn't make his explosive humor any less bearable.
Law was always a demanding and perfectionist person, but never cruel. During those episodes his humor seemed like that of a delicate bomb, throwing malicious and cruel comments at anyone who would demonstrate a degree less than perfection. The crew understood that those words were not true, that their captain adored them, but hurt. And then your job was to put together the pieces that your boyfriend broke. It was really exhaustive. You knew that when he got over it, he would apologize and make up for all the damage done. But this episode was even more serious than the previous ones. In this there were no shouts or insults, only orders and absolute silence. Which was worrying. He barely ate, and because of his physical appearance, the need for sleep and hygiene were ignored. It's normal that you worried about your boyfriend and captain.
You tried to reach out after giving him a few days of space, but you were ignorant each time. Two weeks passed before you gathered the courage and entered his office, along with a bowl of soup and vitamins, ready to help the love of your life.
“Law,” you call, entering the darkened room. "I brought you some soup."
The office is barely illuminated by the desk lamp, but you can see the mess everywhere, the smell of confinement and Law's body lying on his chair. He doesn't look at you, doesn't really look at anything specific, he just stares blankly at the ceiling. His hands are over the pit of his stomach, bony and trembling slightly. A lump gets caught in your throat. You've never seen it like this. If it weren't for the trembling of his hands, you would think he was dead. The mere thought makes you want to cry.
“Law,” you walk up to him, taking his hands in yours. "What's wrong my love?"
You ignore the pain in your chest when he forcefully pulls away from you. His expressionless face takes on a sarcastic look and there is a dark gleam in his eyes. You feel like vomiting.
"Love? What do you know about love?" He spits in disgust. "I don't deserve to be your love. Nobody loves me, nobody should love me. Especially someone like you"
You can hear both hearts breaking. Your vision blurs with tears when you see him so helpless. His words are like daggers in your chest, but you don't let that get in the way. No matter how he tries to push you away with what little strength has, you cling to his body in an almost suffocating hug.
"Do not be stupid!" You scream at him, pressing your face tightly into his chest, crying. Trying to express everything you feel at that moment is a disaster. "You deserve all the love I have for you, and more. Everyone here loves you, Law"
"But I-I-don't," you interrupt his pathetic, self-convalescent speech. His voice broken by the tears it contains.
"We all want you here, with us, alive and being the fucking Pirate King!" You finally let go of him only to take his face in your hands. "Do you know why? Because we love you, Law."
Law can't speak, he's just feeling too much to process anything. After all, everything you don't say suffocates you. This is how Law felt before you arrived, before you as always opened his chest in two and hugged his heart. You will kiss his soul. Law knew what it was like to feel loved and love, he just sometimes forgot it. But in your eyes and your words he would always find the right path again. You are always there to show him a reason to continue.
"I would live for you" he confesses to you, with the sincerity of an open soul dedicated to love.
"No," you whisper before touching your noses together in a soft gesture. "Live for yourself, and so we will live together."
In a soft kiss, a light pressure of lips flavored with tears and love, Law promises to continue living. For his family, for Cora-san, for his crew and allies, for you and for himself.
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ax-y10 · 3 months
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mopey and majestic
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in which; wilbur has plans for the night you come home sad and upset
requested by 🎧 anon; wilbur x reader go on a romantic picnic wilbur set up at your favourite field after you were upset (not the full request) linked with; picnicking together in a spot where couples usually picnic together. “we’re defying the norms,” character a says while being all snuggled up in character b’s comforting embrace
about; reader is upset, physical touch, 'killed' is mentioned once - i didn't do field because i had an idea for the beach but i hope this is still alright.
word count; 813
celebrate here;
wil <3
4:18 pm hey sweetheart, i'm starting dinner now. see you soon
5:42 pm dinner's ready. be safe on your way home for me. i love you
6:57 pm darling, how long will you be? your dinner is in the microwave staying warm. let me know when you'll be home
7:25 pm work finished at 5:30, what's happened?
---
he knew something was up when you wouldn't respond to his messages. he could understand that you wouldn't reply to his first message because you hadn't finished work, but he was weirded out by the fact that you hadn't responded to any after his second message.
the dots suddenly started forming a coherent reason. you were upset. you needed comfort as soon as you got home, and you were probably walking around the seaside to calm yourself down.
grabbing your dinner from the microwave and putting it in an air-tight container, he made his way up to your shared bedroom. he grabbed a comfy sweater of his and a beanie, alongside a small backpack and shoved the items in.
he grabbed your dinner and pretzels for himself, also stuffing them in his backpack, and called you.
after a few seconds of waiting, you picked up, sniffles sounding through the call.
---
"hey sweetheart, where are you right now?" he quietly closed the door and started walking towards the beach.
"um, i think i'm near that one cafe on the beach. why? do i need to be home? i can go hom-" he cut you off and shushed your rambling.
"no no no, don't worry. can you go to that one spot on the beach we went yesterday with tommy?" he panted a little, quickening his pace.
"uh yeah. it's hard to see but i'll go there," right now, it was best that you ignored your worries and got there on the beach safely.
"okay, thankyou," he went quiet and created a soft environment on the other end of the call.
---
quick footsteps were approaching you, and you panicked, until you saw his dark figure sitting down next to you.
the light of the moon and the street lights illuminated his face perfectly, outlining every dimple and curve on his face with a golden glow, a halo where his hair was poofed up, and his smile was highlighted by the soft glow of the moon. he looked ethereal. he calmed down your entire being from just standing there, and he may have noticed.
"hello" his gentle voice filled your ears, accompanied with a small smile. he looked absolutely beautiful and you couldn't get enough of it. it was not the right time to try for a kiss. he was here to hopefully comfort you and calm you down.
"come here" he leaned closer to you and stretched out his arms, inviting you into a warm hug.
"thankyou. for being here," only now did you have the chance to check his messages.
you had headphones in, and your phone was on silent. you were still in your scratchy work uniform, and all you needed was to keep your head warm, a headache creeping into your skull. but as you looked at the messages, everything else was forgotten. you probably stressed him out so much, and your dinner was probably cold, and he probably thought you got killed.
"give me a second" he reached into his backpack and pulled out his sweater and beanie, laying the items on your lap. he helped you pull the sweater on and pulled the beanie over your eyes, causing you to erupt into a small fit of giggles.
he then pulled out his bag of pretzels and your dinner, still tightly sealed in the container.
you almost cried when he pulled out your dinner, you having not had a chance to eat all day, and being caught off guard from a warm dinner presented to you, having not been eaten for almost two hours at this point.
still being rested and warm in wilbur's arms, you had started eating dinner, listening to the waves crashing against the shore and wilbur's obnoxiously loud chewing. everything was so much better now that you had wilbur right next to you and being wrapped up in his comfy clothes.
you were snuggled up into his side, your shoes inside his backpack, and his head rested on yours. his arm was wrapped around your middle, tracing soft circles into the soft skin of your waist. his free hand was fidgeting with the hair tie on your wrist, being careful to not accidentally snap it against your wrist.
"we're defying the norms" he spoke into the blue, not expecting an answer. he just wanted to let his thoughts out to someone, and that someone was you. but he got a whole hearted laugh from you, and you both packed up and headed home, opting to fall asleep in a bed and not on rocks.
taglist; @phxntomsdusk (ask to be added)
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midnight-pluto · 5 months
Note
First time trying out an event
Fandom: PJO/HOO
Trope: Comfort/Hurt, Angst
AU: Riordanverse
Style: One-shot
How about a Percy Jackson x mortal gn!reader who can see through the mist where Percy hears about a prophecy of how he must lose (death or just leave him) his s/o for a quest, and in trying to find ways on how to stop it, ends up not giving reader any attention or care that they break up and possibly die or just leave.
(sorry if it's too confusing, you can change parts of it to your writing style)
NO ESCAPE — percy j.
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TROPES: fluff, angst, comfort/hurt
UNIVERSE: canon-ish
PAIRING(S): percy jackson x gn!reader
WARNING(S): set place after pjo and before hoo, talks of trauma and PTSD and death
A/N: it’s been a while since I’ve written for the pjo fandom so I hope I did ur idea justice
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“NO,” PERCY DEADPANS, looking Rachel. “I refuse to believe that this prophecy is about me and Y/N. Absolutely not, the gods have fucked up my life enough - I am not allowing it to happen, again.”
“Percy my prophecy’s haven’t failed to be true,” Rachel replies, feeling remorse for the boy in front of her.
“No, see, remember? Remember the prophecy where you thought it was me who was the hero but it was actually,” Percy swallowed hard to mention his former friend, “Luke.
“Maybe it’ll happen but it still doesn’t mean it applies to me and Y/N.”
“Percy the fates are inescapable. You can’t cheat them, you can’t trick them, you can’t escape them,” Rachel sternly tell before speaking a tired and small, “Sorry.”
“No, it’s well- not okay, but it’s not your fault,” he sighed, burying his head in his hands. “I better find Y/N soon,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets and walking out of the cave.
It was supposed to be just a fun, small, 3-day trip to camp due to it being spring break for him. But that turned out to be just another time where he was forced into serving the gods with zero thanks.
By the time Percy was informed of his fate, he didn’t have enough time to cope during his trip and was picked up by his mom, Paul, and you later that day.
“Percy! How was camp?” you smiled at the boy walking towards the three of you, running up to him and giving him a hug.
“It was alright,” he said blankly, continuing his walk to the car.
That made you pause - and not just because of the blank remark.
But because he didn’t hug you back.
You shot a worried look towards his parents automatically knowing something was off.
Paul was driving while Sally was sat in front so it was just you and Percy sitting in the back together. Normally, the car would be full of chatter with Percy rambling about whatever happened at camp while he was there while holding your hand.
This time though, there was no chatter, and there was no holding hands.
“So did anything exciting happen at camp?” Paul tried to break the stiffening silence, “Want to get to ice cream?”
“Nah, I’m not hungry,” Percy replied, eyes fixated out the window seemingly lost in thought.
To you it seemed that while you weren’t sharing loving touches with each other, you both still seemed to be sharing troubled thoughts and minds plagued with worry.
He wasn’t possessed - you’d know - and he was still himself; but not. What could’ve happened in the past three days that could’ve caused him to act like this?
You knew his dreams were ridden with trauma and flashbacks and sometimes a horrid future awaiting but he’d normally speak to you about such things. You could only hope if it were such a case he’d talk to you about it soon.
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IT SEEMED THAT soon couldn’t come soon enough. Spring break had already passed, and it’s been a near month and Percy has barely spoken to you throughout it at all.
Percy on the other hand felt at his absolute worst.
Well, that was of course an exaggeration but knowing the fate of the relationship you have is still really terrible.
It wasn’t his intention to distance himself from you, it’s just something he did subconsciously - a desperate attempt to preserve what was already made.
“Percy?” his mother knocked on his door, “I brought you cookies.”
“Thanks, uh, can I talk to you about something?” Percy asked, taking the plate of cookies and placing them on his bedside.
“Yes of course you can,” Sally smiled, and shut the door to sit on the edge of his bed.
“When- when I was at camp I of course had the fortune of being part of a prophecy… again,” Percy inhaled a sharp breath, “And it was about me and Y/N and- Rachel said that I was gonna lose them and I just- I don’t want that.”
“Oh Percy,” she frowned pulling her son into a hug, rubbing his back softly as his tears spilled onto her shirt.
“And I don’t want them to die- they don’t deserve that, not because of me,“ he muttered.
“Percy, listen to me,” Sally gently pushed him away to look at him in his eyes, using her sleeves to wipe away his tears, “What matters isn’t in the future, but now. Regardless if you’re going to lose Y/N, make the best memories to look back on when they’re gone. That’s the meaning of life - to cherish it, and the limited time you have here with everyone you’ve ever met.”
Percy nodded at his mother words, smiling to himself at the thought of spending more time with you. “I’d like that.”
“Good,” she softly tussled his hair, “Now I’m going to set something up between the two of you to go hang out tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” he smiles, wiping away his own tears.
“Make sure to eat those cookies,” Sally reminded before shutting his door with a soft click.
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YOU TOOK IN a deep inhale before angering the small café Sally had arranged you and Percy to meet. Prepared to face him with a look of defeat on his face you open the doors, and see him sitting in the back with a cup of hot chocolate warming his hands.
But he didn’t look sad like all the other times you tried to talk to him, he didn’t look dismissive, he looked like himself. He looked like Percy.
Seeing the face you had come to love the past year return didn’t make your heart flutter as it used to however. One of the only reminders of your true intentions behind accepting the invitation.
Walking over to the table, you take the seat across him and give him a small smile that you could muster.
“You’re not gonna order anything?” Percy asked, head tilted towards the chalkboard’s beautifully written on displaying the menu.
“No, I don’t feel like it,” you shook your head, “Um, Percy I just wanted to talk to you and I’m sorry.”
Percy could feel his heart drop the moment you said those words. His head kept on making up words and phrases of what you were going to say next - anything but what he knew you were going to say.
“I just don’t think we’re going to work out,” you spoke in a soft and gentle tone, “I don’t regret the time spent with you, but it would be better if we no longer saw each other. Romantically, at least.”
It took every once ounce of Percy’s body to spill out tears from the corners of his eyes but he managed to choke out, “I understand.”
“Thank you, for everything Percy,” you hung your head low, beating yourself up for hurting the boy in front of you who had already been through so much, “I hope to see you around.”
And just like that, you exit the café as Percy’s eyes trail your figure from the window until you disappeared around the block. It doesn’t take long for the nearest fire hydrant to burst open, water spewing out when his eyes couldn’t.
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A/N: did I manage to make you guys feel something? also, my 200 follower event is currently ongoing so please feel free to request!!
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189 notes · View notes
lees-chaotic-brain · 5 months
Note
Hey :) this is the same anon who announced they'd send two requests.
Idea Nr. 2:
Character: Green (Fushiguro Megumi)
Theme: sky (hurt/comfort) idk maybe it's more ocean tho... Not sure.
Prompt: #5 the name of your soulmate appears on your body only after that person falls in love with you. As in: Megumi knows his name is written on reader's body (he's seen it) but he doesn't have reader's name so he thinks either they're not his soulmate or not in love with him and he feels awful, but reader just takes longer to fall in love and in the end reader's name appears on Megumi too? Again: just an idea ;)
hi anon! thanks for sending in this lovely request! your other one will be out soon!
note: in this fic your soulmates name only appears on you after they have said that they are in love with you out loud
Selfish (Megumi x Reader)
Word Count: 1.9K
CW: Insecurity, implied childhood trauma (bullying, abuse, toxic relationships, it's up to the reader), angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, swearing, anxiety
Event Masterlist | Event Guide | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation
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All your life you had considered yourself unlovable. With the way you were raised, how could you?
No, you believed that you were unlovable, unworthy of good things, and incapable of good.
Because of that, when you started at Jujutsu Tech and met your classmates, you were closed off, opting to sit on the sidelines and be alone. You told yourself that if you joined them, you would ruin their fun. It was impossible for people to enjoy spending time with you. You were annoying, a nuisance, why would they-
“Hey.”
You ignored the voice. They were probably talking to someone else.
“You. Sitting on the bench.”
Startled, you looked up.
You were surprised to see none other than Fushiguro Megumi, one of your peers standing before you.
“Mind if I sit there?”
He nodded his head towards the empty spot next to you on the bench.
“Um, sure.”
“Thanks.”
He sat down, folding an ankle of his knee and propping his chin on his fist.
“Those damn idiots.”
He said, watching Kugisaki and Itadori chase each other around squawking.
“Giving me a headache.”
He turned towards you.
“Say, wanna ditch them and go do something else?”
And so began your friendship with Fushiguro Megumi.
Over time, you began to get closer with Kugisaki and Itadori as well, but Megumi always had a special place in your heart. After all, he was your first friend.
But even as you became more and more comfortable with yourself, a small part of you couldn’t help but to believe that he’s only spent time with you because he pitied you.
So when your soulmates name appeared on your wrist, you couldn’t believe that your fellow first year and friend Megumi had not only fallen for you, but you were his soulmate.
After all, you were unlovable. You were incapable of loving him back the way he deserved.
And he was sweet and kind and caring and awkward and smart and so, so much more.
He deserved so much better than you.
So, logically, the next course of action you took was ignoring him at all costs. You wouldn’t let him be in love with you. If he never saw you, surely he would move on, his name would disappear, and the two of you could go back to being friends.
A small part of you was pained at the idea, but you didn’t dare take a closer look at it. If you did, that meant acknowledging that a small part of you yearned for love and-
No. You mustn’t think about it.
For Megumi’s sake.
Even though it was extremely unlikely that he is be your soulmate (you weren't even close to good enough for him) if by a slim chance he was your soulmate, the last thing he needed was your name inked around his wrist, shackling him to you.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Megumi had been elated when he noticed his name on your wrist.
After all, when he had realized that he was hopelessly in love with you and quietly confessed his feeling to his empty room, he hadn't dared to hope that he would be lucky enough to have you as his soulmate.
But he hadn't had a chance to talk to you about it, because you were avoiding him like the plague.
It had been months.
Did you really dislike him to the point that the idea of being his soulmate sent you running?
Did you really hate the idea of him loving you that much?
Was he really that unworthy of you?
Suddenly a thought occurred to him.
Maybe he wasn't your soulmate. Maybe your heart belonged to someone else.
Something primal in him writhed merely at the idea of you being with someone else.
He wouldn't, no, couldn't, accept this. He had never asked for much in life. He had never asked people to stay, or for any lofty dreams.
If you truly loved someone else, or didn't want to be with him, he would be okay with it. He had to be. At the end of the day, all he really desired was your happiness.
But for the first time he deeply desired something, and that something was to be with you. And he'd be damned if he let you walk away without even an explanation.
Didn't he deserve at least that much?
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
For months you had successfully avoided Megumi, but it appeared that ended now.
When you heard the knock on your door, you assumed it was Nobara coming to ask you to go shopping with her.
Unsuspecting, you had called out that you were coming, and opened the door.
Only to be faced with the one person he was trying to avoid.
Fushiguro Megumi.
"We need to talk."
You panicked and slammed the door in his face.
Shit. Why did you do that? You just want him to fall out of love with you, not think you hate him!
Your internal word vomit was cut off by him speaking.
"I'm not leaving until we talk. And don't even think about leaving through your window. My demon dog is waiting out there for you."
Fuck. Shit. He had you cornered.
"Why do we need to talk?"
"Just let me in."
His voice was slightly muffled by your door, but you could hear the determination in it.
Accepting that you had no other choice, you sighed and took a deep breath to calm your nerves.
Opening the door you gave him a weak smile.
"Want to come in?"
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Minutes had passed, but neither of you had spoken.
You were perched awkwardly on the edge of your bed, and he was sitting in you desk chair that he had pulled in front of you.
Externally, his face was blank, but inside he was in turmoil.
Every time he attempted to open his mouth and speak, his stomach churned and he felt nauseous. What if after he said everything, you still avoided him? What if you decided he wasn't good enough for you?
Still, he had to try. He walked into this ready to accept it if you didn't feel the same way and continued to avoid him.
"I really, really, like you."
You jumped, startled by the sound of his voice breaking the silence.
He cleared his throat awkwardly.
"I mean like, more than a friend."
"Uh-"
"Although, I know you are already aware of that."
His eyes darted to his name inked around your wrist, and you slapped a hand over it.
Megumi's heart panged at your reaction, but he continued speaking.
"And I understand if you don't return my feelings. I just wanted to say it to you officially, I guess."
"Okay..."
You said hesitantly, unsure of what to do. On one hand you wanted to accept his feelings and vocalize your own, but on the other hand you wanted to cry, because you couldn't do that to him. You couldn't trap him in a life spent with you. You would just hold him back.
You heard him inhale, and tensed, nervous about what he was going to say next.
"But...I have to know- why have you been avoiding me for the last couple of months. Did I do something?"
"You fell in love with me!"
You snapped, unable to keep it in anymore.
The hurt was evident on his face.
"Is it really that bad...that I love you? Am I really that repulsive to you?"
"No. No no no no."
You waved your hands, tears blurring your vision.
"You don't understand."
You broke down in sobs, your body curling in on itself as you heaved.
"Hey, hey. Are you you okay."
Megumi's heart ached watching you sob. Reaching out, he stopped himself right before he touched your shoulder.
"Would-Would it be okay if I held you?"
You didn't respond.
Unable to continue doing nothing, he grabbed your sleeve and tugged you into his chest.
"I've got you."
He murmured, rubbing your back reassuringly.
"I'm here. I'm here. I want to understand."
You sobbed harder, gripping the front of his hoodie.
"I-It's not you -hic- it's just you can't love me."
"Why not?"
"Because-Because I don't deserve your love! You deserve so much more than me, and I won't allow you to resign yourself to a life shacked to me!"
"Why won't you allow me to!? It's my life, isn't it?!"
"Because I love you!"
The words formed wings, forcing themselves up your throat before bursting out of your mouth.
Stunned silence filled the room, then slowly, both of you dared to look down at his wrist.
And in a single second, your worst fears and his greatest desire were fulfilled. For there, inked upon his wrist, was your name.
Several moments passed as the two of you stared at the letters inked on his pale skin.
"Oh my god."
You breathed, covering your mouth with your hands.
"I'm so, so sorry."
His head snapped up.
"For what?!"
"I'm so sorry you're my soulmate- god you deserve so much more, this is why I was avoiding you. I thought if you didn't see me long enough your feelings would disappear. And even if they didn't, at least I wouldn't be holding you back. I'm so sor-"
"Apologize one more time."
His voice was low, and angry.
"Apologize one more time for loving me back, for being my soulmate, for having me as a soulmate. I dare you. Apologize to me one more time for making me the happiest I've ever been in my life."
"What-"
You didn't understand what he was saying.
"It's up to me to decide what I do, and don't deserve. In my book, I don't deserve you."
You let out a little scoff.
"It's true."
He looked you square in the eyes, his jade green eyes fierce and brimming with intense emotion.
"You make me a better version of myself. When I'm around you, I'm softer, happier, kinder. You make me greedy. You made me truly desire something for the first time in my life. You make my world brighter, and more beautiful."
He clasped you hands in his.
"I don't know why you think you don't deserve me, and we'll talk about that later, but for now, can it be okay if the two of us just agree to be undeserving of each other together, and be selfish?"
You stared at him with your mouth slightly open and tear tracks on your cheeks.
"Can we just selfishly be together, just selfishly seek our own happiness? Who cares if we don't deserve each other. If we're both happy, nothing else matters in this world. When I'm with you, everything else fades away. So please, will you be selfish with me?"
Putting aside all of your insecurities and fears, you leaned forwards and captured his lips with your own in response to his question.
"I love you."
You breathed, pulling back.
"I love you more."
He responded before leaning in again.
I love you. The three most selfish words you had ever said. But you would say them again and again, if it meant that you got to stay by his side.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Omg I had so much fun writing this! I just love him so much.
164 notes · View notes
lesbiradshaw · 2 months
Text
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every time i write this man’s internal monologue
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natdu · 1 year
Text
When they don't come to an important event
Characters: All timeskip! Atsumu, Semi x Fem! reader
Genre: Angst to fluff, hurt/comfort
Synopsis: You were going to present something you had prepared for months, putting your blood, sweat and tears onto that. What a shame your lovely partner didn't attend
How will they amend your heart?
Warnings/content: Grammar - Event or career specified on each scenario - Communication problems (with a twist) - Dizziness and Nausea - Reader gets physical in one of the scenarios-petnames
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Atsumu x Singer reader
While you were wandering backstage your thoughts couldn't get in shape
While you had made some little concerts before, this was different. This was the first time you would be presenting some original songs and for that, you were a nervous wreck
That and the fact that... He hadn't arrived
"is he OK?" was the first question
"Did I inform him?" was your next overthinker brain move
And then... you were called on stage. Having no time left you touched up your hair and outfit and went out
There were fewer people than you expected but you just looked for a light blond point in between the "crowd-not-crowd"
"So he isn't even into the spectators...."
"Deep breaths darling" , you said to yourself, "in and out, don't cry"
Well, at least some of the songs were sad, you would take advantage of it
But
It didn't make it hurt less when some of the songs were written when you went to the gym to keep him company when he pouted and whined of you not being enough time with him
It didn't hurt less when sometimes you delayed your personal deadlines to help him relax with at home plans or to take a breather for a couple of hours outside
It didn't hurt less when you had given all and almost risked it to be supportive to him
Love songs never tasted so bittersweet
Timeskip
When you laid down onto a backstage box you checked your phone and nope, not a single message or call
You felt like throwing up or wailing, no in between. You didn't even drink water between songs and you felt the migraine coming
That's why you jumped put when you felt a cold bottle touch your temple
"I gotta close up but uh I picked up all your stuff and put it aside tho so you have like 10 minutes more to..... Get yourself together"
"Sure.... Thanks"
No way a stranger cared more about it than him
Was that it?
Was it the only thing you were for him? A toy to be there when he needed it? Someone to fill up his ego and personal desires?
It didn't help that your performance was barely average or that the concert hall was half empty. It fueled the frustration and tears
The sudden knocks that echoed through the hall startled you and you went running to open up
You found the previous strokes of color, now disheveled, you were looking for a couple of hours ago
"Baby I -"
"No"
"No?"
You sniffled and went back to finish packing your things. You were sure as hell that if you said anything else you would spit venom
He just followed you, sometimes helping you to close bags or taking stuff out of the way
You hated the warm that those simple actions brought to you
He finally carried all to the car and thanked the owner (who looked at him like he just kicked a cat)
"Do you wanna go home or..."
"Home, I need a shower"
The ride was as quiet as a funeral and the anxiety of confronting him was eating you up.
"'m sorry...."
Or yeah let's do it now. Sure. Why not
"'m truly sorry baby I...... We had this extended interview I didn't know 'bout, then the traffic was hell and I'm sure that if I had listened to you about checking out my schedule this.... This wouldn't had happened...."
It was a little shocking to hear him list all his faults and not taking a run out of it. Still, it hurt
He finally parked and you let out a wobbly question
"Did you wanna go?"
"Come again doll?"
"Did you wanna attend my concert, at all?"
He looked at your red eyes and the rasp of your voice, he felt like crying himself
"I did, I do. It's just..... I didn't organise myself how I should had to I... There's no one else to blame"
He tentatively linked his pinky with yours
"What can I do to make it up to you?"
"it's wathever.... It wasn't even that good" You sighed remembering the aggravants of the situation
"What do you mean baby?"
"I didn't even sell more than a half of the tickets and I.... I was so bummed out that you didn't come that my singing was barely there...."
Oh he wanted to punch himself so bad right now
"I hope you know that I always think you are the best singer out there"
You finally looked at him
"I promise, your voice is like an angel and I never never get tired of listening to it"
His own glossy eyes were matching yours
"And the songs? I know how hard you worked to make them, how you could even write an' compose when I was there doing whatever"
He finally held your face and cradled it with so much care that you didn't have other option than to give up
"Everyone is losing up the chance to hear ya and to cherish ya, I did too today and I'll make sure it doesn't happen again"
The kiss on your forehead felt like heaven
"I'm so sorry, next time I'll definitely be there and I'll be screaming every single lyric to the top of ma lungs just how you cheer for me"
"You promise?"
"I promise...
'cuz you deserve all my attention too"
Semi x Painter Reader
"Just 5 more minutes I know he will be here" The pleads were starting to irritate your curator you were sure, but how could you not? This was your biggest set of works and you just wanted him to be the first civilian spectator
"These are the last five, the line is getting bigger outside and we have this place scheduled until 9 pm"
She grabbed your shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze
"I know you want him here but you can't risk all you've done" she then left to talk to the entrance bodyguard and you were left with your thoughts
Semi wasn't supposed to have any type of concert today, nor practice, nor interview. And if something had happened he would tell you, right?
Right?
"The 5 minutes are up...."
You felt the tears accumulate in your lash line so you looked up and took a deep breath
"Let's do this"
Timeskip
It was all successful. Not only art lovers came but some well named artist you knew went and talked to you, asked about your technique and so on
You were tired while taking down the paintings, it was a good tiredness on a bigger percentage. Your endless hour of sitting in front of the canvas and the sharp tongue of some colleagues paying off just for this night
You had still a good 20% of bad tiredness
You didn't received a call or a text from Semi and you feared the worst. Something specific? No
But what good thing could you expect from your absent lover in such an important night?
"This will be all for today, thank you for letting me being your curator. It was an honor to work with you"
She offered little claps that made you smile
"Thank you for being here and for the hard work. Let's do this again sometime"
And like that the night concluded
While you were driving back home you let the waterfalls open. Happiness mixed with the heaviness in your heart
Suddenly you stopped in front of one of the places where Semi played. Grief turned into rage and you went out of the car to throw the hardest punch to the main door, tearing up a little bit of skin of your knuckles in the process
At this point you didn't know the emotional source of your sobs
That punch felt good tho
What didn't felt good was the voice of the very person who you were crying about
"What are you doing here? Why are you hitting the door?"
Honestly you knew you looked kinda feral right now, but you just cleaned up your eyes and looked at him
"What does it look like? Can't I release some pent up stuff after YOU didn't care to show up?! Uh?!"
"Show up? To where are you oh?...."
His smoky make up did little to nothing to hide the embarrassment
"Uhu 'where' you say? My efforts thank God paid up but you weren't there and I don't know if I should be more mad cuz you didn't have the decency to write or call or something, or that you entirely forgot"
The way you were looking at him felt foreign.
"You were playing here! It's not even a kilometer away Eita!"
"I really thought it was tomorrow love. Why didn't you call?"
"I did!"
He furrowed his brows and showed you his phone. You snatched it out of his hands and oh
Oh no
There were, indeed, no calls from your contact
You checked your own phone frantically
The lack of "My pretty boy 🖤" into your call record made you dizzy
The you remembered and proceed to groan into your hands
"I didn't hit up call and then I was so worried I didn't try again oh my god how could I-"
His scent enveloped you and little pecks were given into your shoulder
"Don't fret about it pretty, I did forgot it was today"
He stayed into the crook of your neck and whispered, apologetically
"I'm at fault, I'm sorry"
You let yourself breath again
"Still, if I had called you you would had remembered.... Right?"
"I would had and you know it love"
"I'm sorry I didn't call"
"No no no, I'm sorry I didn't show up"
You caressed his unruly hair and felt a little bit better
"Why did you have a gig today?"
"It was a last minute decision. This dude really needed it for today, but that's not excuse for me"
"Can we go home now? Do you want to look at the paintings?"
He smiled and felt at ease
"Of course
Why would I deprive myself from the pleasure of praising you? "
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Hi guys! This is Heavily based on that scene from La La Land, I had to open my notes app really quick to write it down
Semi's was kinda messy? I hope it makes sense. I just reaaaaally wanted to write this concept
Hope y'all enjoy it!
Natdu
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cherry-pop-elf · 2 months
Text
Cold hands, Warm Heart
Ghost Fred X Reader
You wouldn’t say you and Fred weren’t the closest, but to say his death didn’t bother you was an understatement. You never got a chance to correct your feelings, and it’s left you hollow. You figured George still deserved to be checked on, as well. He lost his twin after all. Little did you know, someone was praying you would show your face around the shop again.
Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Talks About Death, implied suicidal tendencies, it is a fluffy fic don’t worry.
Commissions open
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“Georgie-!” You would beam, as George would turn around. It took you a few shouts, but he finally heard you. As if you could sue him. He’s missing an ear, in a busy shop like WWW. The fact he heard you, at ALL, was a blessing from Merlin himself. Oh how it was so vivid, and lively. Despite the war, there was so much love and life still. Fred would be proud. You knew he would be.
“How are you-?” You asked, as you rubbed his arm. Trying to test the waters carefully. Wizard twins aren’t the same as muggle twins, after all. You wanted to see where his head was. He’s your friend, after all. A friend that has seen so much, so young. How it hurt your heart to see the age in his face.
“Could be worse….Could be better.” He would admit to you, as you patted his cheek. You wondered who was more hurt by the passing, sometimes. Some days you were kept up at night. Wondering if you said anything, admit your feelings, that things could have been different. It’s haunting, and you tried to push it back.
“Hey, no long faces here. Go and run around. Be a kid again, and all that jazz.” He would quickly call you out, able to read you like a book. You would give a huff, as the taller man ruffled your hair. Those damn Weasleys. Maybe running around the shop would be nice. See what new products he’s come up with.
Up the stairs you went. Enjoying the beautiful sounds, and wonderful colors. How the world was just in this bubble of warmth. You wondered how George was able to keep up such a healthy environment, while being all on his own. Those two couldn’t be separated. Suppose death just wanted to prove that they could.
Once you found an interesting floor, you began to look around. It was up on the higher levels, so you were able to have a bit of privacy. Let you think a bit, as you would hold a potion in your fingers. Such fond memories filled your heart, as you recalled the origins of the product. Oh you swore you would never forgive Fred for sneaking this in your cup. Fred…..
“You REALLY want that? Damn, thought I knew you better than that.” You heard behind you, making your eyes roll. “Har Har. Maybe I’m feeling nostalgic.” You defended back, before placing it on the shelf. You tsked, and turned. Your brow was raised, as you were met with no one behind you. You swore you heard George, clear as day, behind you.
Maybe he was being playful. Apparition and all that, but you didn’t hear the familiar whip crack it echoed. Did he just change the sound? If anyone could, it’ll be a Weasley twin. You brushed it off, as you kept walking. Maybe he just had to snap back downstairs, given he’s the only CEO here again.
Over the railing you looked, as you admired the floors below you. Such as that familiar ginger tending to the kids. Showing them some muggle trinkets, and seeming to still be kicking. That was comforting, until you heard something that made your blood run cold.
“Welcome to the nosebleed seats. Never thought the shop could get this high.” You heard behind you, while your eyes were still glued on George. That’s impossible. George was right in front of your eyes, yet you clearly heard him behind you. Your body felt utterly frightened, and you were drawing your wand. With a spin, your soul wanted to leave your body. Just like how his did the same.
It was Fred. Right there, but not in the flesh. In a mimic of his living twins attire, but in shades of transparent blue. That same hair cut, smile, and eyes. Just in shades of that deathly blue hue. All the same, if not for keeping his ear. He was right there, and your brain was trying so hard to process it. Seems it wasn’t the first time, as the ghost shrugged.
“You really think I would leave George behind that easy? Thought you knew me better than that. I am so hurt.” He gasped, as he placed his hand over his heart. Ever playful, even in the grave. As if you could really register that, as your eyes were watering from the realization. Not the first time for him, as he opened his arms.
“Come on. I’ve gotten this ghost thing down, thanks to Peeves. Bring it in.” He ordered, and you did. You hugged him, with your wand clattering to the ground. It was a strange feeling, as you held him. It was like hugging silk. It was so cold, soft, light. As if embracing a cloud. How those cold fingers would stroke through your hair, and chill you to your core. You don’t know how long you were like this. You just had to cry it out. As if he would rush you. Maybe you were imagining things, but you swore you felt something cold drip onto your head. Fading through, as if just whispering into reality. Just for a moment.
“I know. I know.” He hushed, as he kept playing with your hair, while George got worried on your whereabouts. Having expected you to come see him again. That was the only man to ever make you want to separate from the grips of deaths fingers. The sound of his foot steps were on deaf ears, ironically enough, as you never wanted to let Fred go again.
“If you hug him any tighter, you’ll be dragged to the grave next-!” George snorted, as he found where you were. “About time you saw him. He was begging me to invite you over some time. ‘Oh please George. I miss em so much-! Oh I miss em!’ And ugh-! Out of all the things to wail about-!” He complained, before the dead twin was quick to let go. Now smacking his younger twin on the back of the head.
You couldn’t help your laughter, as you wiped your tears away. You should have known better. Of course Fred would haunt the shop. What were you thinking? You laughed, as George kept hanging Fred’s dirty laundry about you. Suppose the feelings had been more mutual than you thought.
“Is that what will make you move on? Finally getting laid by your childhood crush?” George asked, before things were suddenly flying after him. A very flustered, and angry, ghost isn’t the safest thing to deal with. “OK IM LEAVING IM LEAVING-!” George shrieked, as he quickly ran down the stairs. Leaving you both alone, mostly.
“I’ve never dated a ghost before….I guess there’s a first time for everything.” You tried to be playful, or else you’ll cry all over again. Suppose those were the right words, as it calmed down that angry ghost. Maybe even made him blush, but the dead don’t really have a heart beat to work with. Maybe it was your imagination.
“I mean, us Weasley twins do like to experiment.” Fred tried to play it cool, by resting his hand on a shelf. Leaning on it, like he always did in school. Course, he ended up just phasing through it. Now falling through the stock, and down through a floor. He quickly flew back up, and brushed himself off. “You didn’t see shit-“ He warned, as you giggled.
You wondered how long the feelings were returned, and if he had similar thoughts. Did he regret never telling you, before he died? Were you one of the people keeping him from moving on? Did he think about you, in his final moments? You had so many questions, but you settled on just one. For now, anyway.
How does one, as they say, Smooch A Ghost-?
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@george-weasleys-girl
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i-luvsang · 6 months
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song for the dead — kang yeosang
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pairing : hecate!yeosang x gn!ghost!reader ➖⟢ genres : angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, fantasy, strangers to lovers ➖⟢ cw : murder & death, drowning, mythological inaccuracies, nightmares ➖⟢ wc : 2.5K ➖⟢ for : the elysium falling collaboration event !
bonus : inspo pinterest board & playlist
about hecate : hecate (often pronounced heh . kah . tee) is the greek goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, the moon, ghosts, necromancy, and is the protector of entryways/crossroads. she is closely associated with dogs, torches, and liminality.
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if you were an idiot, you’d think the strikingly handsome man with a doberman at his side could see you. he’s all the way across the street, looking right in your direction, but you know it’s the old stone wall behind you that he’s really seeing. you turn your head to look for anything interesting, maybe a plant growing in the space between the rocks.
there’s nothing, just grey, boring stone, lit by the yellow-tinted street lamps lining the road.
when you turn your head back in his direction, you nearly yelp aloud. he’s staring straight into your eyes.
the thought that he’s like you flashes through your mind, and then a pedestrian who’s distracted by the phone in their hand swerves at the last moment to avoid crashing into him. that means they can see him. people who are seen are alive and people who are alive can’t see ghosts.
but the way his eyes stay trained right to yours sends a shiver crawling up your spine. as if he’s challenging you, telling you that he can see you.
you're convinced he can when his gaze never falters from you as your dead feet carry you to him. the solidifying factor is the way his dog’s eyes follow your figure too.
“you can see me.”
“i can.” the doberman doesn’t move from the man’s side, but its gaze is somehow wary and calculating. you’ve never seen that kind of look in a dog’s eyes before. you turn your attention back to the man in front of you.
“but you’re not a ghost.”
“no, i’m not.” it’s almost disappointing when he says that. you think it would have been nice to have a gorgeous ghost friend to wander the streets and coffee shops with. he would perfectly fulfill the “gorgeous” part of the application.
“so what are you?” you’ve found yourself to be far more brazzen in death now that you reckon there’s nothing else for you to lose. 
“a god,” he answers simply, no conceit to the word, just honesty. that’s what convinces you it’s true. a human who thinks they are a god thinks they are better than what they really are. a god is a god, you suppose. he certainly looks like a god, his features sculpted to perfection and dark attire immaculate. the combination of his turtleneck, dress pants, oxford shoes, and long wool coat compliment his dark hair and eyes perfectly.
“not the god?” you question further, both of you easily ignoring the strange glances that people passing by throw at the man, or god, rather. he appears to be having a conversation with the air in front of him.
“not the one you think of.” he’s keen to giving answers that are straightforward, and yet they beg the asking of more questions. “there are many gods.”
“so which god are you?”
“i’m the god of many things. magic, the moon and the night, necromancy. and you, among other things.”
“me? how so?” you can’t lie and say he doesn’t intrigue you. it’s interesting that he can claim to be your god without sounding like he thinks he’s everything better than you.
“you’re a ghost.”
“so you’re the god of ghosts. and what, you’ve come to collect me and bring me to the underworld? seems like quite a menial task for the god of so many grand things.”
when he says your name aloud without ever having asked for it, you begin to wish you could take back the sarcasm you put into your words just moments ago. and yet, the tone of his voice is not threatening, more chiding than anything else. “you are right, it is not my duty to collect lost souls who still roam the earth. but the world is far different now than it once was for gods such as i. in the modern era, most ghosts do not know that i see them. evidently, you can tell. thus, you fall under my protection.”
a sort of warmth is planted in your chest at these words, a warmth you’ve been missing since the moment you realized that you were dead. you’re always, always cold. you’d think physical discomfort would leave you in death, but you can’t escape the chill that’s settled all the way down to your ghostly bones.
“but i’m already dead. what’s there to protect me from?” you keep up the cold front regardless of the way he made you feel just now. his gaze softens.
“your human life is over. your consciousness, clearly, is not. i think you’ve forgotten that you can still feel. ghosts are haunted too.” this time his words make you want to cry. you didn’t forget to feel. you simply choose to ignore it all and now he’s pulling it out of its box and showing it to you. you tear your gaze away from the sincere look on his face.
“can i pet your dog?” you make eye contact with the animal instead. he sighs.
“you may. she doesn’t bite unless i say.” talking about her he doesn’t sound so stern anymore, despite the vaguely threatening nature of the words he says.
a small smile finds its way to your face as you crouch to be more level with her. she’s stunning, her look just as god-like as her companion.
“hello,” you say, voice soft, but full of respect. reaching out, the feel of her fur and the warmth of her very living body sends a shiver through you. you forget you haven’t touched anything alive and breathing since you became a ghost until you feel her move underneath your touch. it’s exhilarating and comforting all at once. a breath you didn’t realize you were holding falls from your lips in a heavy, heavy sigh. as if she knows the way you feel, she steps closer to you and rests her long snout on your shoulder. it’s the closest thing to a hug that you’ve received since the night of the dark new moon and the dark eyes and the dark water and your breath catches in your throat as if it’s been stolen from you.
a hand on your shoulder startles you and breath comes rushing into your lungs in the form of a gasp. suddenly, you’re not dying anymore, like you were just a moment ago. then you realize you were dying over again in your head, that you’re already dead, and the god is calling your name softly.
you look up at him and the hint of melancholy in his eyes. the dog’s comfort is still there.
“you see now? i’m not forcing you to come with me or accept my help, but there are things i can provide you that no one else can. and i’d like to help if you’ll let me.” he’s genuine. who knew a god could be so kind.
when he holds out his hand, you are quick to take it. his flesh is not warm like that of his dog’s, but there’s comfort in his grip notheless. you stand and let your hand fall from his.
“thank you.” your voice is barely audible, but he hears it. you let your eyes meet his and realize you don’t know his name.
“you may call me yeosang.” he gives you the answer to the question you didn’t even ask aloud. then he does it again. “and, no, i can’t read your mind. but i can read enough from your eyes.”
“thank you, yeosang.”
“you’re welcome,” he says with that velvety deep voice of his. “i’d like to take you to a place for you to call home from now on. is that alright?”
it sounds lovely, but you hesitate. you think of the people you loved, the one’s you’ve been searching for. somehow, you can never find them, like they’re the ghosts and not you. you’re almost grateful, barely able to acknowledge how much seeing them would hurt.
your hesitance speaks loud enough for yeosang to know. “you will not ever be able to see them. just as they cannot see you, the people you loved in this life will not appear to you again until they too are dead. i’m sorry.” you sigh at the confirmation of what you already expected.
“then yes. take me there.” anywhere but here.
he nods to you, then to his doberman and she takes the lead, down the cobblestone road.
that night is the first time that you see magic. you see it now everyday. first is the moon, almost full, and following you as you walk. really, it’s following him, forever hanging right over his head no matter which direction you turn. you’re sure no one else can see it, but you can’t stop watching it move through the sky, completely disregarding any laws of science.
then, you get to see the way sparks fly from the palms of his hands and cast flickering shadows on the walls of a darkened alleyway. this time, when he grabs your hand, it’s so searing hot that you shut your eyes tight and almost yank yourself away despite the warning he gave moments ago. then, there’s wind whipping at your hair and a numbing chill in the air that wasn’t there moments ago. you open your eyes and it’s clear that you’re no longer in that alley. of course, he warned you about this too—the fact that you’d be teleporting halfway across the globe to the edge of the human world and walking into the prison turned paradise of the old, forgotten gods such as himself.
that night is the first night that you sleep in his home. you sleep there every night now. he gives you a room in the house that he claims is far smaller than anything he lived in during his prime, but is grander than any building you think you ever set foot in during your life.
slowly, he introduces you to friends of his. some gods, a few other ghosts or servants from the old underworld.
and slowly, he introduces you to feeling again. sometimes, it’s a nightmare. literally. you’ll wake in a cold sweat, the kind you thought you could avoid after departing from your physical body. but still, even in front of his warm hearth, you can’t rid yourself of the cold that soaks you through. those nights are the ones where you forget how to breathe for a moment, the ones where he started with holding your hand to calm you, the ones where, now, he’ll pull you right into his arms and tell you that it’s alright. that it’s over. 
other times, feeling isn’t too bad at all. nice, even. because he’s learned how to make you smile, with a joke or a clumsy mistake you didn’t know a god could make. he gives you books and flowers for your room. his dog, basillea will curl up next to you by the fire and fall asleep with her head in your lap. he shyly taught you an oddly comforting lullaby called song for the dead, and he’ll press a kiss to your forehead and hum it when he thinks that you’ve finally fallen back asleep after your nightmare. you’re glad that you can feel all that too.
but every time, you reject his suggestions to find out how it happened. how you died. he thinks it will help you move on. you think you’d rather not know. 
you haven’t told him that you remember some of it; you know why you feel soaked in coldness, why you can’t breathe when you wake up. but you don’t want to know how it came to be, because it feels like there’s something horrible lurking in the deep end of your memory, waiting to be uncovered.
but you’re insistent on ignoring that. until it can no longer be ignored.
this time, there’s a scream, so raw and terrified that yeosang uses his magic to be by your side in an instant.
“what’s wrong?” he demands, convinced of an active threat. you’ve never woken from nightmares with a scream. but it takes him less than a moment to see that it’s just you, gasping and clawing at the blankets like you’re drowning in them. soft and careful, his voice calls your name and begins a mantra of “it’s alright” and “i’m right here.” when his hands meet your shoulders to pull you up and into his arms, you bolt upright with a start before melting into his embrace. your tears are already wetting his shirt and he feels his own eyes well up at the sight and sound of you so afraid.
“breathe,” he reminds you, hand rubbing up and down your back to mimic the rhythm of “in” and “out.” when you can finally breathe properly, you’re still crying, clinging to him like he’s your lifeline. in that moment, he is.
he doesn’t speak once you’re still in his arms, save for the rise and fall of your chest. he just holds you close, for so long he thinks you’ve fallen back asleep without saying a word. and like he always does, he presses the gentlest of kisses to the crown of your head and whispers, “goodnight, my love.”
“don’t go,” you whisper back, before he can begin humming your song, voice pleading and broken. there’s a long moment of silence. “i- i drowned. in the lake.” he doesn’t say anything because he knows there’s more. you try to speak again, but the words get caught in your throat. “it…it wasn’t— yeosang, it wasn’t an accident.” your voice is so quiet that he can barely hear it. his heart drops. he feared it before, as the reason why you were trying so hard not to remember it. but he certainly didn’t want it to be true.
he wanted to protect you from the moment he saw you, out of duty and the natural role of protector he’s always been in. but it’s different now that he’s in love with you. it fuels a deep, deep despair and the kind of rage that he’s never been prone to have. for a moment, his heart seeks revenge, before it recenters itself to you.
for once in his immortal life, he’s a god at a loss for words. he’s seen murder and treachery far more brutal than yours, and yet nothing could have prepared him for this. he feels so humbled when he can only hope that his words will be enough.
“you’re safe now. i’m sorry, my love. i am so, so sorry. you did not deserve a death like this, or death at all—” he means it, even though it means you would not be his had you been given a fraction of what you did deserve, “—but i promise, no one will ever hurt you again.”
you nod and bask in his words. while you don’t think you can even begin to process your death all over again with this gruesome detail added, you find comfort that it will be with him by your side.
and with your throat ragged from crying, you begin to sing, still curled up in his arms. he joins you on the second line. and you sing until your voice gives out, and he sings until long after you’ve fallen asleep, the song for the dead.
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sicktember · 7 months
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It's Not Too Late To Join In The Fun!
Sicktember is a month-long whump/hurt/comfort prompt event that takes place in September. This event focuses on sick characters and their caregivers.
There are still about two weeks until the official start of the event- but hey! Being fashionably late never hurt anyone.
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Link to the original post with a [text version of prompts]
Link to [Faqs] Post
Link to [#event faqs] blog search
Link to [How to Submit Content] Post
Link to [#2023 prompt clarification] blog search
Link to [#resources and advice] blog search
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szlez · 7 months
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Stay - destiel fanfic by ani_ona and me with my fanart Feverish
Written for https://sicktember.tumblr.com prompt. Dean & Cas
Stay
It was Sam, who noticed first. Knowing every muscle of his brother's face and years of studying every one of his tiniest expressions helped, but at the end of the day it was due to that unexplainable connection between the two of them. The strange force that made his time at Stanford less enjoyable and more sleepless. So now he just knows that something is wrong with his brother. And when Dean orders his beloved chili fries and doesn't suck in every last bit in a matter of minutes, Sam and Cas exchange worried looks.
Their case is solved, dinner finished, and they are in for a 9-hour drive home. Another cue that something is not just as it should be is when Dean decides to let Sam drive after an hour and doesn't take a shotgun seat but joins Castiel in the back instead. When Sam glances in the rear mirror, he sees his brother's head resting on the angel's shoulder and the intense stare of the blue eyes.
Dean doesn't wake up the whole ride home. Cas somehow manages to arrange him into a more lying position, with his head on the angel's lap. Sam would have smiled at the sight if he wasn't focused on keeping his eyes open and on the road.
They reach the bunker at dawn, and Dean lets Castiel maneuver him out of the car and down the stairs.
“Get him to his room,” Sam says, his voice hoarse from not using and tiredness. “And I’ll bring some supplies.” Cas just nods and adjusts his grip around Dean's waist. He is taking off the hunter's shoes, when Sam comes in with water and some pills.
“Looks like he is going down with something…” Cas murmurs, letting the back of his palm touch Dean's cheek. He frowns and crouches beside the bed to lightly press his lips to Dean's forehead. “Definitely. His fever is high.” He whispers, now real concern lacing his voice.
The gesture looks a lot like a kiss. Dean would undoubtedly freak out if he was awake. But now Sam is too tired to analyze it further.
“Make sure he drinks a lot. And takes these once he is conscious enough.” he points to the meds. “Want me to stay with you?”
“No, Sam, I got this, you drove the whole night, go get some sleep.”
Sam nods and leaves, though he feels strange. He's never left his brother's side during an illness. Even as a child, he used to cling to his brother when any of them was unwell. Perhaps it had something to do with losing the only source of safety and care. Now Dean has his angel, Sam tells himself, lowering his pounding head onto the pillow. He is out in a few minutes.
In the meantime, Castiel frees Dean of most of his clothing, careful with every movement, expecting the hunter to shove him away and yell. But he doesn't react more than with a quiet sigh, and feeling his skin radiating unnatural heat makes Castiel worry even more. He tries to wake Dean up, but only succeeds in making him swallow some pills without choking. When the fever is still high, regardless of the meds, Castiel's anxiety reaches a dangerous level bordering panic. What if he is doing something wrong? Or not doing enough? He stares at the pale face of his friend, thinking. Dean would know what to do. He always does. Dean dealt with countless of Sam's childhood illnesses, even more wounds requiring various types of stitches, his father's drunken fits and hangovers. But now it's Dean who needs help, and Cas feels uncertain and incompetent. Afraid that he could make things worse. What is he supposed to do? Should he go get Sam?
Dean stirs in his sleep, and Castiel's train of thoughts is interrupted. He focuses on his friend, whose brow frowns, and his whole body tenses under the covers. Hands grip the sheets tightly and suddenly he opens his eyes wide, staring terrified and unseeing through the ceiling, breathing shallow, quick breaths. What is he seeing, Cas can only guess, but he is afraid he can guess correctly.
“Hey… Easy…” Cas reaches for Dean's hand and feels fingers clutching his wrist like a lifeline. “Whatever you see, it's not real. You are safe here, with me. It's just a dream. It's not real.” Cas whispers over and over again until Dean rests his head on the pillow and falls asleep, not letting go of his angel’s hand.
So until he loosens his grip, Castiel has no other option but to sit down on the floor by the bed and try to make himself comfortable. He feels Dean’s quick pulse under his fingertips and watches an unhealthy blush coloring hunter's cheeks. After what feels like hours the idea pops into Cas’ mind, and he makes a quick run to the sink with a handful of handkerchiefs. As soon as the wet cloth touches hot skin, Dean shudders violently and makes a little sound close to whimper. Cas's heart tightens. He puts his hand on Dean's cheek to calm him down, and the hunter leans into the touch as if trying to find some relief. The angel sits on the bed and cradles Dean's head, wanting to absorb the heat, illness, and pain.
“You are going to be ok, I'll take care of you.” He whispers to the unconscious man and feels Dean's chaotic fear and suffering flooding him, leaving him breathless. He has to do something, anything, to help, and fast. The echo of Dean's headache pounding in his own skull.
Dean is drifting in and out of consciousness, never lucid enough to hold a real conversation, just searching the space with glassy eyes that close with relief once he makes sure Castiel is with him.
“You are not alone,” Castiel tells him, knowing very well that Dean won't remember anything. “You won't be anymore.”
Hours go by and Castiel fills his time with wiping Dean's face, trying to get some water into him, changing cold compresses, and constantly checking the temperature. With zero improvement so far. Why is nothing working?
Finally, Cas knows he can't delay it anymore and a decision has to be made now. It's been hours and they haven't made any progress. Dean is exhausted and completely out of it from pain and fever, and Cas can't look at his dry lips and glistering, unseeing eyes any longer. It's time to take serious steps.
Dean is heavy. The dead weight of his nearly unconscious body is hard to carry. But not for the angel, who lifts him with ease, just like all these years before when they were leaving Hell. Castiel carefully lowers his trembling burden into the tube, and Dean immediately curls into a tight ball, shivering uncontrollably. Cas starts the lukewarm water and strokes Dean’s chest and back,
“Easy… try to relax” he murmurs, enfolding the hunter's arms. “This is going to help, you will feel better soon, just relax.” And finally, Dean does. Once the tube is filled, he straightens his legs and seems to be drifting off again. He slides a little and would go under if it weren't for Castiel’s grip.
“I’ve got you,” the angel sighs softly. “Don't worry, just relax and rest” he whispers, gently rubbing his chest and stomach in a slow circular motion.
This could be so much fun in different circumstances, Castiel thinks to himself, taking in his lover’s slim, muscular figure under the clear surface… What is he thinking about?!, he scolds himself immediately. It's definitely not a good time for such things. He has to admit to himself that he appreciates the sight before his eyes, though. 
Returning to the bedroom is surprisingly difficult because Dean, now somewhat conscious and wrapped tightly in the biggest towel the bunker can offer, insists on going on his own. This proves to be not the best idea when after a few steps his legs fail to support him, and he is forced to accept Castiel's outstretched arm reluctantly. 
The angel doesn't speak much now when Dean is able to comprehend what is being said to him. Helping Dean change into fresh clothes, and passing him pills and a glass of water, Cas carefully observes his patient, not daring to think that the worst is over now. Once Dean dozes off again, his fever rises a few degrees but only to break after a few hours, leaving the hunter drenched in sweat, weak and tired but finally fully awake and aware of his surroundings.
Seeing Dean putting on his T-shirt without help convinces Cas that his job is finished. He stands up slowly, mutters some “I’d be going” and turns to leave. That's when his hand is gripped one more time this night.
Cas catches Dean’s gaze lucid at last and though the man doesn’t utter a sound, the angel can hear one word, clear as a bell: Stay.
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thatstonedwriter · 4 months
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⋆。「 Affection Prompt 8 」⋆。
◉ Sinopsis; listening to them when they vent
◉ feat; Loona
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___˙•˚∘✮🌙ᯓ🪐˙•˚∘___
"I swear to fucking Satan, I'm gonna punt a motherfucker into the next afterlife. UGH!!"
In the room over, you can hear Loona's muffled screams- and what sounds like a garbage can being kicked around. After a good fifteen minutes of what can only be described as the sounds of pure rage, it seems Loona tires herself out- at least physically. You hear a knock on the door to your office, and Loona enters when she hears your affirmative, "Come in."
Loona trudges into the room wiping her face, eyes strained from crying. At first, she whips around, ready to slam the door before taking a breath and closing it gently. She slumps into the chair across from you, throwing her head back and groaning. For a moment neither of you speak up. Then, Loona lifts her head and somewhat straightens her posture.
"I'm uh.. Sorry if you heard any of that. It's been.. ugh. It's been a day, you know, " she growls, pulling a box of cigarettes and a lighter out of her pocket. Loona huffs, tapping one out of the box. "Y'know, I really fucking try at this job and nobody- nobody takes me seriously! I'm just 'Blitzø"s hellhound,' and do you know how infuriating that is?"
She takes the cigarette between her fingers, lifting it to her mouth and lighting it. Loona takes a long drag before leaning back and puffing the smoke out toward the ceiling. "I don't know.. It's so fucking frustrating to not be seen by anyone" she sits up quickly, looking at you, "you don't do that though! You get me. And you're like, one of the only ones who gets me. And that's nice, but sometimes.. I wish I had more people who got me. You know?" She takes another drag.
You take a moment, thinking of what to say; wanting to offer comfort, but not wanting to invalidate how Loona feels. . "Yeah, no matter how much I love you- and I love you a lot," you wink, "you deserve to have more people who can understand an support you. I totally get what you mean," you say. You sit back in your chair, gesturing to the cigarette between Loona's fingers. "Now put that out before you set off the fire alarm," you chide playfully.
"Shit- sorry," Loona hurriedly puts the cigarette out, tossing it into the trash can. "And um.." She scoots to the edge of her seat, tail swaying gently. "Thanks for listening to me.."
"Anytime."
You and Loona sit in your office, finding comfort with one another. There's no need to rush to a solution. No one gets anywhere being told to just "cheer up". So for a while you sit together, sharing a burden.
___‎˙•˚∘✮ 🔭๋࣭ᯓ🌙˙•˚∘___
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Note
HI HI DOVE!!!! :D you were so thorough with the rules of your event (I NEVER THOUGHT TO ASK PEOPLE FOR BACKUPS HELP?????????)
but ofc ofc you can probably guess who i was going to ask for LMAO but i promise my backups will NOT BE FOR AZUL PROMISE!!!!
i was immediately intrigued by the prompt "By the babbling brook" so i would like to request azul and that!! maybe friends to lovers vibes because im a suck for that??? AS FOR BACKUPS HMMM
"Caught in the rain" WITH VIL WOULD BE SO CUTE :((( I CAN IMAGINE HIM BEING CONCERNED FOR HIS APPEARANCE??? even though his makeup is probably waterproof LMAO
"Stargazing" with trey sniffle cough cough.,.,.,. it would be so soothing AND ACTUALLY I DONT REQUEST TREY CONTENT LIKE EVER EVEN THOUGH HES MY BESTIE?!?!?!?
so yea atcually i think ALL of these are cute so i dont even really have backups LMAO JUST WRITE WHICHEVER ONE STRIKES YOU!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH OF HOSTING TIHS DOVE IM GOING TO BE SCREAING IN YOUR REBLOGS WHENEVER YOU POST WHWAHAWHAWHWAH <3333
By the Babbling Brook; Azul Ashengrotto
Content; Gender-neutral reader, friends-to-lovers, a smidgen of hurt/comfort
Word Count; 700+
AN: Auburn, why did you give me so many good ideas /hj. But I hope you enjoy your Azul. Everyone coming for the Fish Mafia content (3 more are lined up). As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist
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You sat on a large boulder sitting in the middle of a shallow brook, dipping your legs in as an attempt to try and escape the heat of the day. Even from under the shade of the willow tree from above, the heat and humidity was still oppressive. And the chirping of cicadas only underscored the fact. And sitting on the boulder just a few centimetres away was Azul, pant legs rolled up to his knees and his legs in the water as well, trying to cool off as well.
The two of you had arranged a day to hang out, since the Coral Sea isn’t really the most hospitable place for anyone without fins or gills. So Azul had agreed to set aside some time in his schedule so that he could spend some time with you, and this time there was no Grim or nosey Leech twins to interrupt you. But why, why did today have to be so insufferably hot.
“Why couldn’t we go someplace cooler,” he groaned, pushing his hair out of his face. “Somewhere with… air conditioning?” At least the water was cold, which helped break the heat a little bit. Plus the shade from the willow tree kept the harshness of the midday sun at bay.
You flicked some water at him, and chortled at the dirty look he gave you. “Just wanted to check this out, see where it led,” you say in a chipper tone. You slipped down the boulder a bit, getting further into the water. The brook was shallow, only reaching about mid-calf.
Your hand brushed against Azul’s and he could have sworn it felt like an electric shock rather than a soft caress. “It led to a tree and some rocks,” he sighed.
You hummed, splashing a bit in the water as the stark coldness of the brook was finally breaking the sticky heat. “Well I think it led to an opportunity.”
“For what?” He didn’t really want to say it, but today, other than the Sevens forsaken heat, was nice. The two of you had just walked together, and had some nice conversations that melted into each other seamlessly.
A mischievous smile spread across your face and you splashed Azul in the face. “For that,” you laugh.
Azul spat out water, and the faintest bit of ink, blue flushing his cheeks. But his brief flash of anger mixed with embarrassment of being bested faded just as quickly as it had arisen. You looked so happy, sitting in the brook with the swaying branches of willows behind you. And Azul felt a lump form in his throat. They look… ethereal.
You noticed him staring and waved a hand in front of his face. “Helloooo,” you called, “ear- erm, Twisted Wonderland to Azul? You good?”
“YES,” he sputtered, getting up from the boulder and trying to get back to the banks of the brook. “I am perfectly fine, Prefect!” But the slight crack in his voice betrayed him. He was very much not okay, no. Why did he feel like there were butterflies in his stomach? Why did he feel weird around you? Why do you make me feel like this? Like a fish out of water?
You got up and followed him, a few paces behind. “I can tell when you’re lying, you know? Come on Azul, be honest with me. We’re friends after all.”
We’re friends after all. That line, why did it hurt so much? “I’m not lying,” he could feel you behind him, but he dared not to look back.
“Now you’re just lying to yourself,” you huff. “Come on, Azul, just say it.”
“Say what?!” He turned around and looked at you. The dappled light, and glittering water behind you only made the lump in his throat grow even more. “That I love you-” He snapped his mouth shut and held his breath.
That I love you. That’s what the feeling was. Love.
Your eyes widened, and you opened and closed your mouth, trying to decide what to say. “Well,” you say softly, “I love you too, Azul. I have for a while now.”
And who would have guessed that seeing where the brook led would lead to this. Two friends confessing that there was indeed something more between them.
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