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salembutnotthecat · 2 months

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Novemetober (Rescheduled) | Day Five

@monthofsick | day five: undesirable caretaker

im not really feeling the last few days worth of prompts at this time, so i am going backwards and doing prompts that i was interested in

important note: as you may have seen @simplysickness asked me if i would take the reins of some of their old characters as they dont have time to write anymore. i have taken on the responsibility, but it is kind of scary. as it stands right now, i'm thinking i'm only collecting rowan/caspian and lex/soren. sparrow has told me i am welcome to make any background changes/turn the characters into my own (however, i speak with them often so i always get their approval first, lol). any hate/harassment will be blocked, as the original creator of these characters requested i take those reins.

now that that is out of the way it is fic time!

tw emeto, fever, implied abusive parent

Rowan knew this was going to be one of the worst state dinners to date. Granted, he thought that for every state dinner that he was forced to attend, but this one truly took the top spot for worst state dinners ever. And it hadn't even happened yet.

It started the day before they were supposed to leave. To catch their flight. He couldn't sleep, something didn't feel right. At the moment, he didn't feel sick, he just felt as though something was wrong. But it's the flight that solidifies both what was keeping him up, and that this state dinner would be the worst by far.

Rowan felt nauseous. Terribly so. Not even two hours in to the seven hour flight. He was dozing off while his mother was talking to him, giving him a run down of how his behavior should be. Every time he was dozing off, she would roughly nudge his arm to wake him.

"Listen to me," His mother demanded, "You need to behave, now more than ever."

"I'm listening, your highness," Rowan said, "You could have left me home."

"Absolutely not," The queen argued, "Not after your last stunt. Now, stay awake and listen."

Rowan tried, he did. But he was feeling worse and worse as time passed. Her words made him feel sicker, his mouth salivating and his throat growing tight. He didn't exactly have much faith in the idea that he wouldn't be sick before they even got where they were going.

"For the love of all things sacred," His mother said, "Listen. Can you do that for once?"

"I don't feel good," Rowan said softly.

"What did you say?" His mom asked.

Rowan took a deep breath, "I don't feel good. I feel like I'm going to throw up. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

The queen's eyes narrowed with disdain, "You can't be serious, Rowan. Not now.”

“I’m sorry,” Rowan sighed, “Really.”

“This is so typical of you,” Isabella glared at her son, “You always find a way to ruin everything.”

Rowan knew there was no sense in fighting her reprimands. He wished Caspian was here. Or really, anyone who would at the very least not make it out like he was a terrible person for something he couldn’t help.

The airplane's descent only intensified Rowan's discomfort, and by the time they landed, he was pale and visibly unwell. The royal entourage awaited them on the tarmac, and as Rowan stepped off the plane, he could barely stand. His mother, however, paid no mind to his obvious distress.

"We have a schedule to keep, Rowan," she insisted, her tone unwavering. "You will compose yourself for the state dinner. I won't have you embarrass the family any further."

Barely able to muster a response, Rowan did what he did best. He faked it. He took a deep breath, stood straight, fixed his attire. If he could just keep his mother happy, maybe this would be easier to manage.

The vehicle that awaited them seemed like a sanctuary, but as they approached, the reality sank in that there was no reprieve for him. The queen insisted he join her in the car, despite his plea for a moment to collect himself. He knew that meant several things. The car's interior felt suffocating, and Rowan sank into the plush seat, desperately trying to suppress the queasiness gnawing at him. Queen Isabella, however, showed no sympathy.

"You're always making a spectacle of yourself, Rowan," she scolded, her eyes fixed on him in the rearview mirror. "Do you realize the inconvenience you've caused? We can't afford any more scandals. Certainly not from you, the crown prince himself."

Rowan winced, not from his stomachache but from his mother's relentless words. He nodded weakly, unable to meet her gaze.

"I truly thought sending you to the conservatory would fix you, but here we are, as always causing issues when you can just leave well enough alone," Queen Isabella declared, her disappointment evident. "You're supposed to be the crown prince, for heaven's sake, not a burden. Not after your sister.”

As the car sped towards their destination, Rowan clung to the hope that this ordeal would soon be over.

Deep breath. In and out. In and out.

Rowan stood in front of the ornate mirror, trying to muster the energy to prepare for the state dinner.

He had barely managed to shower and change into formal attire when a wave of nausea hit him with relentless force.

Rowan took his suit jacket off. Then took off the button up. His stomach felt horrendous, yes, but he forced himself to stay composed to eliminate ruining his attire. Saving himself a lecture if nothing more.

Rowan clutch the sink, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. He swallowed saliva, acid, anything. He tried to suppress the nausea to not avail.

He felt his stomach convulse, pulling in with a gag. A sick burp, he spit acid tasting saliva in the sink.

He tried to breathe. He ran the sink. Closed his eyes to ease the dizziness. Nothing helped. The prince retched into the porcelain bowl. The sound echoed in the opulent bathroom.

His mother was probably settling in herself. She probably wouldn’t hear his struggles. Rowan heaved again.

A little more acid, but Rowan could feel there was more. Too much more to stay at the sink.

He went to the toilet, heaving as soon as the lid was up. He heaved so hard that he fell to his knees.

He threw up once. Mostly water, the drink one of the royal assistants gave him that allegedly should have helped him feel better. For a moment, Rowan realized how sad it was that assistants cared more for him than his own mother.

He threw up a second time. It wasn’t much. He was sure it was the little snack and small breakfast from that morning. But thinking about breakfast made him recall dinner and lunch from the night before, and soon enough chunky waves of vomit came up his throat.

A third wave. A fourth. A fifth. Dry heaving. Rowan’s throat was burning, his nose running, and his vision blurred from tears of exertion.

He stood unsteadily. His breaths were shaking and everything felt strange, weak. He flushed the toilet, he rinsed his mouth with the water in the sink. Even rinsed it with mouthwash, not trusting his stomach’s ability to tolerate brushing his teeth again.

He stepped out of the bathroom, grabbed some water. He knew he would probably have to fake health, so the least he could do for himself is try to replace some of what he lost.

"I told you to compose yourself, Rowan," his mother's voice carried from the adjoining room. "We don't have time for your theatrics."

Rowan glanced at his reflection, his eyes reflecting a mix of evident sickness and frustration. The idea of attending the dinner seemed impossible, but Queen Isabella's relentless expectations loomed over him. He took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself.

"I'm really not feeling well," Rowan managed to say, his voice strained. "I think I need to skip dinner. For both of our sakes." Queen Isabella entered the room, her expression stern.

"This is not the time for your excuses, Rowan. You will attend, and that's final."

As Rowan struggled to stand upright, a fresh bout of nausea overcame him. He felt weak and defeated, but his mother's gaze remained unmoved. He leaned on the closest counter for support.

"Enough of this nonsense," his mother snapped. "You're not ruining this for us. Get yourself together and show some respect for your position."

Rowan sat at the table. He didn’t even know who all was here. Each conversation was blending into a cacophony of polite pleasantries. The scent of rich foods and fine wines filled the air, but to Rowan, they only intensified his nausea.

With each forced bite and polite sip, his stomach rebelled further, churning with discomfort. He tried to engage in conversation, to maintain the facade of the dutiful prince, but his efforts were futile. Every word spoken was an effort, every smile strained.

His mother, Queen Isabella, watched him like a hawk, her disapproving gaze a constant weight on his shoulders.

“You're not touching your food, Rowan," she remarked, her voice dripping with disdain. "Are you trying to embarrass me even further?"

Rowan forced a weak smile, pushing the food around his plate. "Just not hungry, Mother," he managed to murmur, his throat dry and constricted.

But as the dinner progressed, Rowan's condition deteriorated rapidly. The room spun around him, and everything around him felt like it became a blur of colors and sounds. Desperately, he reached for his glass of water, hoping to quell the rising tide of sickness within him.

Yet with each sip, the nausea intensified, and Rowan knew he was fighting a losing battle. He glanced desperately at his mother, silently pleading for understanding, but her expression remained cold and unforgiving.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Rowan pushed himself away from the table, his chair scraping against the polished floor. "Excuse me," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "I need to… I'll be back."

Queen Isabella's eyes flashed with irritation, but Rowan paid her no mind as he stumbled towards the exit, the world spinning around him. He barely made it to the nearest restroom before the contents of his stomach emptied, his body wracked with spasms of nausea.

As he leaned against the cool tiles, tears pricking at his eyes, Rowan knew that his mother's disapproval would have to wait. In that moment, his only concern was surviving the night, one agonizing moment at a time.

He heard the door swing open. Queen Isabella stormed into the restroom, her expression a mix of anger and disappointment.

“Rowan, this is unacceptable," she snapped, her voice cutting through the air. "You cannot simply excuse yourself from the dinner without a valid reason."

Rowan tried to speak, but another wave of nausea overtook him. He doubled over, retching violently as his mother watched with a mixture of irritation and disdain.

He threw up everything he tried to force down. To make matters worse, it was almost entirely undigested. It hurt a lot, and Rowan could feel the way he struggled to catch his breath. Before going through another round of vomiting.

When he finally managed to catch his breath, Queen Isabella's tone softened slightly, though her frustration remained evident.

"Fine, you're clearly unwell," she conceded, her words laced with skepticism. "But we can't have a scene. I'll tell the others you suddenly fell ill. But mark my words, Rowan, this will not be forgotten."

With a dismissive gesture, she signaled for her assistant to assist Rowan.

"Take him back to the suite," she ordered curtly. "And make sure he stays there. I won't have him causing any more trouble tonight."

Rowan's heart sank as he was led away, the weight of his mother's disappointment heavy on his shoulders. He knew he should have been relieved to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the dinner, but all he felt was a profound sense of loneliness and despair.

As the night wore on, Rowan's condition only worsened, each wave of nausea more debilitating than the last. Alone in the suite with his mother, Queen Isabella's displeasure was obvious. She paced the room impatiently, her frustration evident in every sharp exhale and furrowed brow.

"I can't believe you're still not feeling well," she muttered, her tone tinged with annoyance. "This is highly inconvenient, Rowan. You know I have important engagements tomorrow, as do you."

Rowan sighed softly, spitting in the trash can by the bed.

"I don't have time for this," Queen Isabella continued, her agitation mounting. "And to top it all off, you won't be able to take your medication tonight. Do you realize what a mess you're causing?"

Rowan's heart sank at her words, the weight of her disapproval crushing him further. He knew his mental health medication was crucial for stabilizing his condition, but to his mother, it was just another inconvenience. Everything was an inconvenience to her and he wished he was back home. Back with Caspian, he would even take Linnea right now. Someone who saw him as a person, not a problem.

"I'm sorry, Mother," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the tumult in his mind. "I can't help being sick."

Queen Isabella's expression softened slightly, though her frustration remained evident. "Well, you'll just have to get better quickly," she replied brusquely. "I can't afford to have you dragging down our responsibilities with your problems. Especially not my responsibilities. Your sister was never this much of a problem to me."

With a heavy sigh, she settled into an armchair, her gaze fixed on Rowan with a mixture of disdain and resignation. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, the only comfort he found was in the hope that eventually, he would find solace away from the suffocating expectations of royalty and the unyielding disapproval of his mother.

#emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #emeto cw #emeto tw #fever cw #fever tw #emetophilia #novemetober 2023 #novemetober rescheduled

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bl00dybat · 2 days

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i have to be a liar. it cant be real. i shouldn't be like this. i dont deserve it. why is mental illness so debilitating to the point where i can barely maintain a full time job without missiny days, being late, having many breakdowns. ive been working part time for months now, 4-5 hr shifts. this becomes overwhelming for me too. i need to make more money and work full time but I'm terrified of a full time job now mentally i am so so scared.

theres no reason i should be like this. i created a false reality with false memories of trauma and abuse. my parents are right i was making it up it cant be real. i exaggerate the past. my brother says he doesnt remember it. i have to be lying right? it didnt happen. im stupid for thinking it happened. im just doiny what they said, my parents and my old therapist, im obsessed with labels, i drive myself to misery, im fucking crazy and its my fault.

i dont tell people my disorders i try to hide everything. i cant hide my cuts i cant hide the dead look on my face. i don't deserve it. people are so nice to me but i dont deserve it. my memories are fake i know nothing. i wasn't there terrified and alone in my room, my mom so drunk and incoherent, she falls off her bed i hear a loud thump. shes groaning and moaning and idk what shes even saying but i help her up. she can hardly walk i have to take her to the bathroom and help with everything. i try to get her back to bed but she wont let me, she wobbles out down the deck into the street at 3am, calling out for david a fucking freak who preys on me and her for our body, giving us food when we have nothing. dropping her when she wont give in. shes calling for him and she collapses in the middle of the street. i get her inside eventually just for her to get in bed and fall again. when she wakes up she tells me not to tell anyone.

it hurts knowing she hurt so much, hurt me so much, yet still tried to love us and provide even though we were so poor we coulent afford toilet paper most of the time. i had my rats as company snuggling up to me and running around my room. i had the hospitals. they smile to my face but they dont believe me. they just admit me and treat me for my self harm and attempted suicides, my mom doesnt let me have my meds anymore. im laying in bed late at night, into the morning. i think i had school but it couldve been the weekend, i usually stayed up all night and slept in my classes.

im listening to kid cudi's man on the moon album, the song mr rager playing as i cry and have taken most of my medicine. im waiting for my life to end, wishing i couldve escaped from here, wishing i could experience freedom and less sadness. i feel pain and weakness and i drift off. but i wake up. im so depressed that i woke up. and no one noticed.

i still had so much to be grateful for, my dad tells me i couldve had it worse when i live with him. people are dying from shit they cant control like covid and im in my feelings about exaggerated bullshit just to make me seem sicker. i just wanted to be sick nothing more. i embraced it because that was all people could see of me even when i tried to escape it. purging everything. using the counselord bathroom because im trans and not safe in the men's bathroom. i go there after lunch feeling defeated when i give into the meal of smuckers pbj with string cheese and fruit. i purge it all and spray as much as i can it hopes it will cover the smell of my vomit. how stupid i am.

i try to come to terms with my experiences. but i always feel like a liar. my friends believe me. my parents have come to see i am severely mentally ill and im not pretendint i cant control it. they acknowledge they werent the best all the time but still "dont remember" or dont think it was that bad but i perceived it that way. my mom drunk teyi got to fight me saying all her boys liked to wrestle, i cant be a boy if i cant even do that im just a girl. my brother pulls her off of me everyones yelling. he gets her phone to call the cops and she comes behind him with her arms around his neck until he lets go. david was in the house. i asked him to get help.

when the cops come he says we attacked her. she believes it because she doesnt remember. the cops dont care they dismiss it. my experiences never mattered. it was never bad enough. they didnt bruise me enough for it to matter to them. im just a liar. i had pictures of how red my arm was when my dad was grabbing me and digging into my wrist, twisting the skin. it doesnt matter. im lying.

no one will read this. if they did it doesnt matter. it doesnt need tags. im crazy because i live in a fantasy where everyone was out to get me but my family was fine. i made life hard for them with all this. my brother didnt react the same way. he was traumatized too. he told me living with mom made him contemplate suicide. his pain is real. i love my brother. hes doing so well now.

yet im still nothing. my dad is worried ill be in a constant loop of instability and living in shitty places. they try to encourage me still. they say i can make it, they believe in me, everyones just waiting for that moment i can do it. everyones waiting on me. time will run out. im disappointing everyone. i was a bad daughter and im a bad son. couldnt go to college. was homeless for so long. ended up with my mom homeless and living with her in a trailer.

im so nothing. i am so, so, nothing. i vent to my friends about killing myself but it doesnt matter. ill heavily contemplate writing everyones notes but in the end my friends will not truly worry because i dont attempt. because there are sharp wires digging into my flesh, pulling me down to earth, my bf, his family, my family, some of my friends. i cant disappoint them. yet im disappointing them because i still havent accomplished anything. i owned a trailer with my mom, worked full time, paid bills. and i moved and now i have lost so much. my transportation, job opportunities, friends, my therapist, faith in myself and my art.

i want to bleed onto my paintings. slice my flesh open, beautiful velvet lines puddling up til they all drip onto my hard work, staining them forever with my essence and my pain and my failure. i deserve to hurt for being a liar. i deserve to hurt for being a failure. for having my boyfriend who is a beautiful human, and his family, become so attached to me that if i died it would be such a tragedy. i dont want to outlive anyone i know. i dont want to see them leave me.

i dont want to hear my thoughts anymore. i dont want ptsd flashbacks about shit that isnt real and isnt worth being this ill over. god am i fucking useless. i will try and try to heal from all my hurt and my mind will pummel me with self doubt. i try to believe in myself i really do. i try to trust myself, that i can still make good art like i used to, i can experiment and love it and make it work like i always used to. i feel hope that i can really truly do it. and then it doesnt happen. i look down at it defeated because everything i loved about my work has been sucked out of me.

my art has always been there. the one constant in my life. always drawing. just a month ago i was spending hours everyday making art for my portfolio. and this month i havent completed a single thing. i think i csn do it everyone thinks i can but im not. im tired of being a failure and fighting myself everyday like a toxic relationship with a lover.

i wish so badly i could take all my pills with a big drink and not wake up this time. but i can't.

i expect nothing from anyone. slowly, people are beginning to expect nothing from me. i am so small and so stupid. i look in the mirror and i see someone who is beautiful but also a walking tragedy. disgusting. tiring.

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the-clowners-blog · 2 years

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Yoyo gasped and quickly ran toward the kitchen, he usually went there during these awful fights..

He slid under the table and covered it’s head.

“YOU WENT THROUGH MY SHIT?!”

Sal cries, feeling like xe was being stolen from or even cheated by xyr own boyfriend.

Yoyo stayed quiet, holding onto a bottle xe had in xyr office. It doesn’t want Sal to have it.

“Dont fucking- stop hiding! Oh my god- do you understand how expensive that shit is?! Give it back!!! It’s mine!!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took off his hat, trying to stop himself from getting *too* angry.

“..it’s not good for you..”

An eerie voice called back to him. Hearing it made Sal clutch his hat aggressively and angrily placing it back on his own head.

“It’s my problem! Stop giving a damn and give me my booze!!

Ugh…you’re impossible…you did this to Clyde as well right?! Moron.”

Sal steps back for a moment and turns red, trying to calm himself down. He put a hand on the wall and gripped it tightly hoping Yoyo wouldn’t respond to his stupid remarks.

“…clyde…”

Yoyo mutters and holds the bottle tighter. Remembering that name made it want to cry.

“Enough about clyde…you can’t just mention him in every argument we have thinking you’ll win because of it…”

Sal looked at the floor. An impossible anger flooded into him as he tried to keep himself straight, the ground twisted and twirled to his drunkenness and soon he blurted out.

“Why can’t you be more like giggles huh?!”

Realization sets in. He continued to step back until there was no more ground to tread on.

“…..giggles…”

The jester mutters, putting the bottle down and getting out from under the table.

“…Yoyo I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

Sal was interrupted by the abrupt movement of his now somewhat terrifying boyfriend who walked toward the door humming a sickening tune that somehow made xyr vertigo worse.

It put its mitten on the door and then abruptly turns its head around to a worried Sal.

“….have I ever told you how funny you are…?”

It said, Its voice cut through the tension from the argument like a freshly sharpened deli knife into a thin slice of meat and made Sal more anxious.

The toy smiles at xem and then walks out. Slamming the door behind it.

“Wai-“

Sal flinches at the loud noise and brings himself into a hug, holding his own shoulders tightly and taking a big inhale.

A day passed. Sal couldn’t even focus on his work anymore. Staring at the computer screen made his head spin.

Suddenly a purple mitten pushed the door to his office open. Sal stands up in relief and briskly walks toward the door.

“Love!! You’re finally-…”

He opened the door fully. Seeing Yoyo who no longer had a face. Only two lights in the place of its eyes. The sight sent him backwards and he hit his back to his desk.

“Yoyo?!”

“….you didn’t forget about Yoyo did you….? Yoyo would be-[[ever feel down? Ever wish you had more friends? Well meet your new best friend, Y——òøœÿœ çłœwññ…]]

Yoyos voice filled with static. It walked toward Sal slowly, it was holding something.

“…yo…yoyo?? Hey you need to relax okay? I’m sorry and-

….whats…that in your hand.”

Sal points a shaky finger toward yo-yos mitten. It had a bloody mask entwined with its hand.

Yoyos body twitched.

“You want yoyo to be…[[Bigger and better!!! New cirque italia toys will leave you-]]

D ea d…”

It clutched the bloody mask.

“….Yoyo…you- you’re scaring me-“

Yoyo then placed the mask over its broken face.

…it…it was giggles’ face…

“…Why dear..? You want me to be—[[all new! Giggles the clown!!! Only in stores for a limited time so get her while she’s still—]]

A li ve…”

It inhumanly walked. Unsettling. The way her face was plastered onto his… it made Sal sicker and sicker as Yoyo only grew closer and closer.

“I’m…tired. Of being compared to her…

But, hey.”

It places a mitten on sals face.

“Now there’s no one to compare me to..”

Suddenly it trips over a bottle and whirrs around like a broken machine. Soon it falls backwards and goes into a sudden sleep.

Sal shakes in fear. Not wanting to wake his boyfriend up. Then he noticed strings on his desk, then looked back at Yoyos shattered face.

“…I can…fix this.”

He said.

This shit was brought to you by Mod Bug!

#the clowners #cirque italia #horror writing #bruh this took longer than I wanted it to

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planetdemon · 3 years

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I just wanted to be a swan

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: angst, fluff, but mostly angst

warnings: low self-esteem, body hate/dislike, eating disorders, swearing, food, insecurities, arguing DONT READ IF YOU DON'T FEEL COMFORTABLE WITH IT!

wc: 2.003

note: so this scenario has been going through my head for quite a while now, and I tried writing it by myself lol. Hope it's good ;) I've also sent a request to @channienet about the same topic, so make sure to check her interpretation out as well! enjoy!

summary: Due to Chan's heavy working schedule, spending time alone was a thing you couldn't quite befriend with, especially after you've noticed some changes you have gone through. There is a to change it, but it isn't quite... let's say healthy. How will Chan react, after he finds out? Will he even care? (dude I'm shit at writing summary lol)

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Taking a bath was normally something that should be considered relaxing or calming. You've always enjoyed letting the hot water surround your body whilst taking all the dirt and negativity off that you have collected during stressful days at work.

But lately, taking a bath wasn't as enjoyable anymore as it once was. Chris has been working a lot lately, due to the kingdom stage and their nearing comeback. He has been spending more and more time at the company, working on producing new tracks for him and the kids, often staying at the dorms because they were closer to the studio than the apartment you shared. So you were left alone, by yourself.

Even though you wished he would be by your side while you were falling asleep, you couldn't be mad at him. You knew what his work meant to that boy and you would never tell him to stop doing what he loves just so you could spend some time together.

But being alone also meant that you had to kill the boredom somehow and, thanks to Felix's Brownie and Cookie recipes, you had the perfect thing to do in the meantime. Baking and eating delicious desserts.

You were just stepping out of the bathtub, grabbing the towel you had prepared, and drying yourself with it. Once your body was half-dried, you turned around to hang the towel back at the hanger, so it could dry properly.

And at that moment, you knew, you've fucked up. You couldn't avoid looking at your wet, naked body in the hot, steamy mirror near the hangers.

You always hated looking at it, but thanks to the sweets you had been eating lately, looking at yourself only made you feel sicker than it ever did.

You couldn't tear your gaze off the excess of flesh around your tummy and thighs and the stretch marks, that decored your boobs only seemed to scream "Look at me!". You slowly turned around and saw the tiger stripes creeping up your bum and the undersides of your arms.

'Fucking disgusting', that little voice in your head sneered.

'How could I let this come this far?', you thought. At this point, you were somehow happy Chris wasn't here, knowing he would be disgusted with how you've changed.

You've always felt a bit insecure by his side, knowing you could catch up with neither his attractiveness nor his muscular godlike body. But seeing yourself like this destroyed every little self-esteem you had left in your cells.

It has been nearly two months since 'the incident' in the bathroom and you couldn't shake that feeling of disgusts off. Not even for one second.

You only wanted to try a one-week detox diet that was blowing up all over social media, hoping you could lose a little bit of weight, so you would be back to normal. But seeing the numbers on the scale dropping so unbelievably quickly only made you realize that you could look even better than you thought you could.

You kept on following the diet and restricting everything that wasn't included, not noticing that restricting also damaged your mind.

One time, Han and Felix asked you if you wanted to have lunch with them and the others, but fear crept up you back as soon as you thought about the food they would have ordered, knowing that you would only gain weight again if you didn't follow the rules.

So you stayed home, keeping yourself isolated from your friends and most importantly, Chan.

You were lying on my bed, scrolling through Tumblr when Chris' Caller ID showed up and your phone started to ring. You sighed lowly, not wanting to talk to him.

Over the past few months, you stopped showing up at the studio, being afraid the boys would notice the changes your body went through, thanks to the diet. You were happy about it, knowing that you were losing weight, but you haven't reached my goal. You were afraid, they would judge you the way you did when you looked at yourself.

"Chris?"

"y/n? Han just told me that you weren't coming over. Are you okay? Y-" Chris's muffled voice appeared and you felt instant regret deep in your guts, knowing how much fun you guys had when you spent time together back in the days.

"Yeah, I'm okay Channie, don't worry. I just feel a little sleepy. I'll come next time. Promise" You tried your best to sound optimistic or at least not too sad, hoping Chris would believe your lie. "Okay," he mumbled, "I love you, baby girl".

You knew you were in big troubled the second Chris opened the fridge, seeing no food in there.

He randomly decided to stay over the weekend, saying that he missed you. You weren't ready for this, knowing that you couldn't hide the signs of the 'passion' you had developed in time.

"Why is there no food?" You fumbled with the arms of Chris sweater you were wearing while looking at the ground. "I've forgotten to go grocery shopping" You answered.

"But there is nothing in there, y/n. Nothing" He walked over and took hold of your cold hands while looking you straight in the eyes.

"Why is there no food?" Chris asked again.

"I just told you I forgot to go grocery shopping, Chan. Relax" You snapped back, getting anxious about the fact that he could notice something.

You were nearing your goal, even though you knew that you could never be satisfied with how you looked. He couldn't just come over and ruin all the progress you've made after being not here for so long. He doesn't have the right to do this.

"Don't fuck around, y/n. You always have at least some butter in your house. Where is the butter? Where is Ramen? You must have some food here!"

Your body started to shake as you heard his voice rise, keeping your gaze low, not daring to look him in the eyes right now. He was right.

You always had something at home, so you could quickly cook something when you were hungry. But you didn't saw a point in keeping food at home if you wouldn't eat it anyway. It would just rot.

"Y/n look at me" he whispered, after realizing that you were trembling. Chris gently grabbed your chin to make you look up at him. You were expecting to see anger, but the only thing you saw in his brown orbs was sadness.

You started to tear up after you noticed it, knowing that he put one and one together. You missing out on lunch with the boys, you not showing up at the studio to bring him food and spend with him there, listening to his tracks, you not having any food at home. It was obvious, but you still hoped he wouldn't notice.

Chris slowly took you in his arms, noticing how your figure felt smaller and bonier than before. It made him sick, knowing what you did to yourself. 'Why would my girl do something like this?' he thought 'how could my little princess torture herself this much?' But he couldn't find a 'because'.

In his eyes, you were the best thing that happened to him. You were the prettiest girl on earth. Warm tears were running down his pale cheeks, dropping to the floor.

He couldn't stop blaming himself for what you did. Maybe if he would have been there, he could have stopped you. Maybe if-

"Channie?" You quietly asked, looking up at his tear-stained cheeks. "Channie why are you crying? We can go to the store and grab something if you want. You don't-"

"Why have you been doing this to yourself, y/n?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why haven't you been eating"

Well, shit.

"What are you talking about, Channie?"

"Don't fucking lie to me, it's too obvious for you to do so. Why haven't you been eating?"

"I... I, I'm pressured Chan" You answered, knowing that he wouldn't believe you if you would tell him otherwise. Telling him the truth was the only option at this point, even though you didn't want to.

"Pressured?"

"Yes"

"Princess, I don't understand what you mean by that"

You shook your head and let go of him, before walking over to the couch and sitting down with a low sigh. "Maybe you shouldn't understand," I said.

"Jesus, y/n" I heard him mutter under his breath. He walked over and sat on the floor, in front of you, looking at you with a scared expression.

"Please tell me what's in that pretty little head of yours. I can see that you have lost weight, but I don't understand why. I mean, you are the prettiest human I have ever seen in my whole life, why would you do something like that?"

"Why do you even care? It's not like you here anyway" you simply said, grabbing your phone, trying to ignore him.

After he noticed your intentions, he quickly took your phone out of your hands, placing it on the coffee table behind him.

"Hey! Give me my phone back, you dump a-"

"Fucking stop it, y/n. Stop ignoring me. I care for you because I love you! You are my everything and I know I haven't been home lately, but at least I tried making time for you and inviting you to the studio", he said, "but you never came! Don't act like it's only my fault we haven't seen each other."

You looked at him with wide eyes, shaking your head. He was right, it was also your fault. And you hated the fact that he was right. "I-"

"Please y/n, please stop turning away from me and closing up. I-I know it's not easy to open up, but I'm here for you. I'll always be."

"Well, I... I couldn't, no, I can't feel happy when I look like this, Channie. I mean, look at you, look at your perfect body and your perfect personality and your perfect everything! I don't fit in. I don't fit in, because I am the ugly duck surrounded by beautiful swans. I just... wanted to be a beautiful swan, Channie."

That's it. You've made it. You've told him what was going through your mind all the time.

He slowly pulled you off the couch, into his lap. He could feel your seat humps against his thighs, how bony and strong they were. Chris shook his head in disbelieve, another wave of sadness crushing over him.

"You are perfect, baby girl. You are perfect in every single way. You always were the most beautiful swan I have ever seen in my entire life. I love everything about you, y/n. I love how your thighs wiggle whenever you run towards me when we meet, I love how curves look in that dress I brought you a year ago, I love how your stretch marks are decorating your body like silverish paint. I don't want you to change for me, because you are perfect the way you are. Jesus, even Hyunjin said you are even prettier than himself, and that means a lot. Please don't hurt yourself like this, princess. You are destroying yourself"

He took hold of your hands and kissed your palm.

"I promise I'll stop working so much, so I can spend more time with my beautiful girlfriend, but please... stop hurting yourself" he whispered, searching for any signs of discomfort in your eyes. But you just set in his lap and listened to him.

"Hyunjin thinks I'm prettier than him?" you asked awkwardly.

Chris chuckled and nodded "Is this the only thing that got stuck in your pretty little head?" He asked.

You smiled a bit, leaning your forehead against his while closing your eyes. "I'll try to get better, Chris" you whispered.

It wouldn't be an easy journey going back to 'normal. Once the hole is there, digging is difficult. But it is possible, especially if someones helping you.

#bang chan imagines #bang chan angst #bang chan fluff #bang chan images #skz imagines #skz chan #skz angst #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #bangchan fanfic #fanfic #x you #x reader

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sicjimin · 3 years

Note

Can uou write a part 2 to the Taekook fic you just released?? With Seokjin coming over to help them

A.N : i didn't know that anyone gonna want part 2 of that TT but thank you for requesting ! i hope u like it .. and this does justice to your expectations. i'm sorry if this is too far stretched out and just .. making the story pointless TT ((and Namjoon baby im sorry i didnt mean to neglect you:* ))

TW : emeto, mpreg

Taehyung was on the verge of crying when someone chimed in from the door. He snapped his head when he heard Seokjin grunts and Namjoon rustling from the door as the older's hands look full with groceries.

"Jin-hyunggg", Taehyung almost cries, relief going through his body. Seokjin fastens his pace and plops himself to the couch as the younger diving his head to the older embrace. Namjoon smiles fondly at the sight, deciding to walk to the kitchen and placed their groceries that include medicine and ingredients for soup.

" Taehyung-ah, hey, calm down. Everything will be fine", Seokjin mumbles soothingly, running their hand through Taehyung's hair. The younger nodded slowly but still cling to him.

"What happened?", he asks once Taehyung seems to calm down for his little breakdown.

" I thought Jungkookie just had his usual morning sickness this morning. Like, it was a usual occurrence. His morning sickness is actually pretty bad", Taehyung starts, sniffling in between every word since the sight of Jungkook being sick flashing through his mind. "But then i gave him anti-emetic meds, the one that our doctor gave us if his morning sickness went pretty bad. He keeps complaining that he's dizzy but i thought that was only because he just throw up", Taehyung continues, tears coming back to his eyes again.

Namjoon comes out from the kitchen, settling himself beside the younger and rubbing his back too. Taehyung continues, " And then he just keeps throwing up. He can't keep anything down. He had tried to eat pancakes since he wants one .. maybe his craving i dont know, but he just keeps vomiting and now he had a fever .."

Seokjin frowns and rubs Taehyung's shoulder, " He'll be okay", he says calmly, trying to get the younger to believe it.

"I'm afraid something will happen to our baby too, since Jungkook can't keep anything down", Taehyung adds. Fiddling with hems of his sweater.

"He'll be just fine, we'll make sure of it, yeah?", Namjoon assures. Seokjin nods and let Taehyung nuzzle into his neck, wrapping an arm around his waist.

" Now let me check on Jungkookie, okay? You can catch some rest. You look tired", Seokjin says before getting up.

"But hyung-"

"No, You catch some sleep here with Joonie. I will take care of Jungkook. I don't want you to fall sick too"

Taehyung bites his lips and looks towards the floor, not knowing what to say or do right now. He was about to open his mouth when Namjoon beats him to it.

"Let him go Jin. It won't kill him", he says with a smile. Knowing fully that rest and sleep were the last thing on the younger mind.

Seokjin rolls his eyes, " Fine"

They walked up to the bedroom, opening the door as quietly as they can. They saw a mess inside the room but Seokjin couldn't find it in himself to even nag at it when Jungkook looks pale, lying there on his bed with his eyes closed, obviously not feeling well.

He was wearing oversized sweatpants and a shirt that's big enough to cover the whole top half of his body.

He sits slowly on the edge of the bed, brushing his palms through Jungkook's sweaty forehead, making the younger stirring a bit.

"Hyungie?", he slurs groggily, still struggling to open his eyes to see Seokjin.

" Jin hyung? You're here?"

"Hey babe, how are you feeling?"

"Horrible hyung ..", Jungkook whispers, reaching out with one hand, wanting comfort. Seokjin quickly took the hand and held it close, smiling warmly.

"Have you eat anything?"

"Not really.. i've eaten some food, but it doesn't help much.. nausea doesn't stop..", Jungkook answers, shivering as he spoke with a raspy voice.

Seokjin sighs, knowing that this must have been hell for poor Jungkook.

"I will make you soup, okay? I think your medicine has worn off"

Jungkook nuzzled himself deeper to the pillow, "It's useless hyung .. i will just throw it back up", he whines.

"It'll be fine, Jungkook. Just give it a try. Can you?"

"Okay," Jungkook replies softly, already feeling asleep again.

Turns out Seokjin was overestimated this condition. Jungkook was sicker than he thought as he watched the youngest retching the soup up not even an hour after he takes in.

"Tae, let's take him to hospital", Seokjin suggests after watching his dongsaeng for five minutes, watching how Jungkook's stomach working hard to expel anything.

" Dont .. hospital—", Jungkook chokes in between heaves before trying to speak again. "Please.. no hospital.. I'm fine."

"No, Jungkook. I agree with hyung, you didn't have anything down. Please for our baby? They must be hungry too", Taehyung pleads.

Jungkook looks at him from his glassy and blurry eyes, letting himself slumped against Seokjin after he finished throwing up. He feels horrible. And the thought of had to go to the hospital just makes everything scarier.

" I'm scared hyung ...", he murmurs. He felt so weak, and doesn't have any strength to fight anymore. Seokjin holds him tightly and caresses his hair softly to make him feel better.

"I know baby. But this way you can recover quickly", Seokjin responds, "We need to go to the hospital, right? And I'm sure they'll take good care of you".

Seokjin stands, pulling Taehyung who stood beside him, and carries the youngest to the car, puts him in the passenger seat.

When they parked in front of the hospital, Jungkook hurriedly rushes to get out. Running around the car to get on the bushes on the side, and hunched over, letting thick saliva dangling from his mouth before it morphs into a gush of vomit.

"Kook!", he could hear his boyfriend and Seokjin rushing behind him, but he's too focused to look back at them, not even bothering to wipe off the spit from his lips. His vision was blurred, so everything looked blurry as well, but that didn't stop his body to shake violently, as he vomited his guts out. The sight of soup that Seokjin managed to make him eat, splattering as a puddle below him, just make his stomach clenched harder.

" Uurrkk-", he retches, feeling his bump jerked against his arms that clutching around it. He lets out a choked breath before he could throw up again.

He can hear Jin gasp behind him. He can almost feel his boyfriend's hand running through his hair as he holds him. Jungkook feels so warm, so so warm but his whole body is shivering as his fever seems to get worse. He can feel his cheeks burning hot and wet.

It takes all his willpower to stand still, so he did. Even though he felt like collapsing and throwing up again because of the dizziness and nausea, he took deep breaths, keeping himself from doing something stupid like throwing up again or passing out on the ground.

"Kook, hey, are you okay?", Seokjin asked worriedly after a while. Jungkook couldn't answer. He only shook his head slightly.

" I feel like throwing up again", he huffed trying to control his breathing. He's so warm, yet cold, and his head feels fuzzy and foggy.

"Lets get you inside, okay? So the doctor can check on you, baby", Taehyung said softly rubbing his back. Jungkook nodded as he let Taehyung guide him to the hospital.

Jungkook felt weak but he tried to keep it together. He didn't know what's going on around him. Everything just feels like a buzzing sound in his brain. His hand mindlessly keeps rubbing his bump, he's not sure why. He doesn't know if he does it for comfort or just to calm his baby bump down.

" They will call you in 20 minutes", Seokjin said as he joined him in the waiting room. Jungkook nods tiredly, resting his head on his boyfriend's shoulder, taking some deep breaths, focusing on calming himself down and staying awake.

Taehyung kept on petting his back gently, looking worried. His eyes were glued at the door, waiting. Jungkook tries his best to smile at his boyfriend reassuringly and kiss his cheek.

"Hyungie .. i'm nauseous", Jungkook whispered. His eyes are heavy and his voice is hoarse. Taehyung looks at him, worriedly frowning.

" Do you want to puke?", Taehyung asks worriedly, rubbing circles on Jungkook's lower back. The younger shakes his head with a small nod, holding his bump tightly. "I don't think I have anything left to puke on.. but i'm nauseous", he said. Taehyung nodded understandingly as he looked at Jungkook for a moment. His heart breaks at seeing the younger like this. Seeing how pale and sweaty he is. It makes Taehyung sick.

After an agonizing 20 minutes, the doctor finally called their name. Taehyung immediately helps Jungkook to stand up and take few steps towards the doctor. Jungkook looks like he's about to fall at any second due to his low strength and low stamina. But Taehyung held him, and supports him as he walks to where the doctor is standing.

Some examinations later and they figured that it will be best for Jungkook to stay 2 days there, for observation and getting nutrition from IV as eating not seems like a good option.

Taehyung sighs deeply, looking at Jungkook that already dozing off in one of the hospital beds after Seokjin helped them to settle the administration.

Taehyung grabs one of his boyfriend's hands, running it with his thumb, " You're scaring me"

Jungkook glance at him, smiling weakly, "I'm sorry hyungie"

Taehyung leans his head on his hand that hold Jungkook's. He sighs heavily once more.

"Kookie, how are you feeling? You're scaring us, no wonder Taehyung was frantic when he called me", Seokjin said walking up next to Jungkook, placing the blanket of the patient on top of Jungkook's body gently as he strokes the younger's head. Taehyung hum in response. " I was worried"

Jungkook chuckles, "I feel better now, the IV makes me less nauseous. and i think my fever is starting going down"

Seokjin sighs relieved, "Good, that's good".

" I will check up on you again tomorrow okay? Namjoon must be hella bored at your apartment now", Seokjin laughs

"You're so mean for leaving him behind", Taehyung chuckles too. " He was asking to stay!", Seokjin exclaims.

"Get well soon, Kook-ah, and you too little one you're so strong", he adds, rubbing Jungkook's bump for a moment before ruffling Jungkook's and Taehyung's hair, " i'm leaving!"

Jungkook smiles as he waves Seokjin goodbye. Seokjin smiled back before turning around to leave.

"You will be fine Taehyung-ah?", Seokjin asks as Taehyung walked him to the front.

" I will hyung, thank you so much", Taehyung hugged Seokjin tightly. "Please visit again tomorrow if you're not busy"

"I will", Seokjin chuckled. Taehyung lets go of him and give him a tight hug before walking him out of the hospital. Taehyung waves him bye and watches him drive away. He stands there, alone for a while, thinking how thankful he is to have Seokjin by his side and caring to him and Jungkook. He actually dont know what might happen if Seokjin and Namjoon didn't come to help, maybe he already losing his mind. He shuddered at the thought.

#bts sickfic #bts emeto #tw emeto #tw vomit #sick!jungkook #caretaker!taehyung #caretaker!seokjin #and again another mpreg fic

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whitechrysanthemumsandlilies · 3 years

Text

Dean had been watching Cas toss and turn in the starched motel bed sheets for coming up an hour now.

It had become almost routine over the past week- spend the day researching, wander the town looking for a new cusuine for Cas to try, come back to the motel, and watch him try and evade his nightmares until the early hours.

Dean supposed it had something to do with his new-found humanity- the gravity of the choice Cas had made weighed heavily on him, Dean could tell, and the nights were the worst. As for Dean's sudden protective instinct over the former angel? That he couldn't so easily explain, but he'd wager it had something to do with the ever increasing tension between them as they worked this case, and the growing list of almost-encounters they'd had navigating their new shared rhythm of life on the road.

He would watch as Cas would shift from one side to the next, screwing up his eyes with a sigh against the slow lightening of the morning light, before his bright blue eyes would finally flutter closed, and Dean could rest.

Tonight though, was different. Cas had been restless since they had gotten back from scoping out the hospital, and what little sleep he had gotten between his routine shifts and turns was frequently interrupted- his eyes darting open as a hash gasp was ripped from his throat, the remnants of his waking nightmares dissapaiting.

The clock was turning almost 02:00am when it happened, and Cas had been staring glassy eyed at the ceiling for a worrying length of time, stock still. Dean, squinting to see his face through the dark of the room, was sure he saw a tear beginning to form in the man's eyes, and was just about to call his name, when a bolt of lightning struck through the sky, illuminating the room and nearly blinding him.

Through his closed eyes, Dean heard Cas bolt upright in bed- and Dean gave his best effort at looking unconscious so as not to give himself away.

Five minutes passed of just the rain beating against the thin window before he heard movement. Eyes still closed, he listened closely as Cas rose from the bed, tip-toed to the door, pulled on his shoes, and slipped out of the door.

Dean tried to talk himself down, he really did. He told himself that Cas was a soldier, a trainee-hunter, a former agent of the lord, and that he wasn't going to come into any harm stood outside of a shitty motel in the ass-crack of Illinois...It was no use. He rose from his own bed, quickly shoved on his shoes, shrugged on his leather jacket, and followed Cas out the door.

After blindly stumbling forward, collar turned up against the wind whipping through the exposed pillars of yelowed concrete, Dean saw him, and all at once- the breath left his lungs.

Cas was stood in the open clearing outside their ground floor room, arms outstretched and face turned up against the rain- his eyes alight, and a wild smile had formed on his face. If he was capable of it, Dean might have laughed- he looked biblical.

Making his way slowly towards Cas, his eyes never leaving his friend's face, Dean found himself stood parallel with him.

Neither spoke, until Cas, lit intermittently by the harsh white light of the lightning and wild eyes still pointed towards the heavens, began-

"Millienia ago, before humans walked the Earth, and God became-" he gestured limply towards the world with his outstretched hand "-this, the angels were allowed to freely roam the growing planet."

Cas's voice had took on a wistful, rumbling quality- just audible above the rolls of thunder shaking the atmosphere around them.

"We were encouraged to marvel at God's wonders- we were to feel, live, breathe the Earth as, one day, humans would. To understand them."

Dean could hardly breathe, each cell of his body alight as he stood, transfixed, watching the streams of rain water tumble down the veins of Cas' neck and down his chest- hypotised by the power the ex-angel radiated as he preached in recollection.

"I remember I was stood, on the edge of the first lake to ever be filled, and I watched as the skies opened- watched as the rain poured onto the barren Earth and thunder shook the heavens, marvelled at the significance of it. In that moment, for the first time, I felt Faith. I knew from then on, I would serve."

Dean, having found his voice, managed to splutter out-

"Cas?", growing desperate for Cas to turn his eyes to him. But Cas was not to be stopped, in full thrall of it now he continued-

"In time, the angels forgot- forgot what it was to feel, to love. As God's power and corruption grew, faith was replaced with servitude." A stranged sound, halfway between a laugh and a sob, came from Cas' throat "I forgot too."

At long last, Cas turned his eyes towards Dean, and he felt himself rooted in place- pulled to the cadence of Cas' voice like a moth to a flame. There was a look in Cas' bright eyes that he had seen more and more over the past week- Longing, Lust, Love-

"When I first touched your soul in hell, I felt it then. For the first time in the longest time, I felt the power of God, of storms, of Earth- I didnt recognise it then, but from that moment Dean, I would follow you. I would follow you into battle, I would fight for you-" again, the strange, strangled sound fell from Cas' lips "-I would fall for you."

The water cascading down his hair, flattening it to his forehead, had made a mirage of Cas' face, but even through that there was no mistaking the next emotion he met Dean with- Want.

They were close now, close enough now that Dean could feel Cas' rapid and ragged breath fanning across his face, hear the pounding of his heart over the belts of thunder still tearing through the sky-

"I think...that is what it would feel like- to kiss you."

No questioning now, Dean breathed "Cas...", his own want pulling his eyes towards Cas' chapped lips.

"I'm not Divine anymore Dean, but do you think I could be worthy of that? Of you?"

Beyond words, Dean made his reply by closing the gap between them- drawn like a magnet to Cas's lips, his neck, his chest.

Before he knew it, he was tugging Cas past the shelter of the sand-yellow corridor and into their room. Pushing him down on the crumpled double bed, Dean set about his task- he would attest to the miracle of the man before him in the only way he knew how, not with words, but with acts.

Starting at the base of Cas's hipbone, he kissed his adoration into the cold of Cas's mortal flesh, left trails of reveration marked into his skin as he dragged his fingers up and across his taught chest. He felt Cas' breath hitch as a drank the rainwater collecting in his clavicle like sweet wine, and heard his soft moan as he whispered, like a prayer, into his ear-

"May I?"

Cas nodded his reply. Dean slid off of him and knelt in worship before his now bare thighs in the dark of the silent room. Raising his eyes to meet Cas' hooded ones, Dean spoke-

"You're still divine to me, Castiel"

With that, he sank his mouth to Cas, and let the result of his supplication join the symphony of rain and thunder still pounding around them.

.........

When they rose the next day, still soaked to the bone, Cas' eyes were lighter than Dean had seen them in months- like the atmospheric release that comes after a summer squall.

Dean kissed him intermittently throughout the morning- as he passed him a coffee in his, their, bed, as he lathered shampoo into his hair in the shower, as he tugged an extra shirt and hat around Cas' frame to stave off the inevitable cold that would seize them both.

The drive back to the bunker was an easy one, despite the sleeping Castiel robbing him of the full movement of one arm, and the sneezes that had begun to occasionally blur his vision.

The week that followed wasn't so easy- after relaying their research to Sam (who decided, after taking one look at the palid skin of both of them as they trudged miserably through the bunker doors, that he would go and finish the job alone), Dean had placed a final kiss on Cas' head before collapsing into his bed- feeling sicker and sicker as the hours went on.

When he rose from his fevoured coma to check in on him, Cas was tucked neatly into his bed. Dean closed the door with a smile and went about transcribing the updates Sam was sending through about the next victims, counting the minutes until Cas woke up.

The time never came. He barely saw Cas after that, who had stayed holed up in his bedroom for the following three days.

Dean tried to give him space, to process what had happened between them, but with every hour that passed doubt and insecurity crept further and further in. It was on the fourth day that Dean decided he couldn't take any more silent treatment, bursting through the bedroom door to confront a shocked Cas- eyes red-rimmed and lined with bags.

"Hello Dean"

"Look man, I-" Dean steadied his breath and pinched the bridge of his nose "I tried to give you time to, ya know, figure out what you felt about what happened in the motel because I guess it came out of nowhere and maybe I shouldn't have just sprung myself on you but Cas, buddy, you're killin' me here- what's going on with us?"

He turned his eyes to try and meet Cas', but upon seeing them downturned, and his head bowed to face his lap, Dean's heart sank. He went on-

"I get that you regret it but we're friends Cas, next to Sammy you're the only family I've got and I can't just-"

"I dont regret it." Cas interjected quietly, and Dean's head snapped up.

Looking at the man on the bed, small and unsure, a ghost of the man stood, soaked to the bone, in the eye of a storm, Dean felt himself soften.

"What then?" he knelt before him and tilted Cas' chin up so their eyes would meet, searching "Why have you been avoiding me?"

Guilt flashed in Cas' eyes, moving Dean's hand to rest with his in his lap he spoke, barely above a whisper, "I'm not an angel anymore Dean"

"I know, but what does that have to do with-"

"What happened at the motel was- it was amazing. We were amazing. And then we got back here and- we both got sick and..." Cas' tone was getting more and more hurried and frustrated as he reached the part he had clearly been holding in "You were sick and I could help. I couldn't help because I was sick, and I couldn't even heal myself and I just felt so useless and-"

"Woah woah woah Cas, slow down okay you couldn't-"

"You called me Castiel, Dean- Divine. But I've got no grace, no power- I'm just human. So what use am I to you both now?" Cas bit his lip and looked down again, deflated.

"Hey, Cas look at me, listen okay- Hey!" Dean tugged Cas' face back to being level with his own "I didnt mean it like that" he said softly, understanding dawning on him.

"I called you divine and I meant it- you're beautiful Cas. Stood in that storm, like you belonged there, I was in awe of just the sight of you, but I don't just want you like that, I want you like this too. It was never about you being an angel, or useful, but even as 'just a human'-" Dean rose off the floor to join Cas on the bed "you're still powerful Cas, you're still needed"

Tipping Cas back on the pillow, Dean leant over him- starting at his hand and kissing as he went, he continued "You terrify me, and excite me too. You're still the one who saved my ass, and continues to save my ass even now. You're every bit the angel who walked into that barn and scared us all shitless- the only angel I would pray to, and the man I would kneel to"

Dean hovered above Cas now, placing the last of his kisses onto his temple "Castiel Winchester, you are not and have never been just a Divine tool we keep around. You're our family, and we need you."

It was Cas' turn to tug Dean's face to his own. Eyes wide, he breathed- "Castiel Winchester?"

Dean willed himself to be brave, to break the final seal around his heart and let Cas have it. Leaning back on his heels he replied "Yes. Castiel Winchester. You have been since the start and you still are, Cas- angel or man."

Smiling that same wild smile, Cas scooted back upright "I thought humans only gave each other their names if they were married?"

Dean pulled Cas into his chest, laughing into his disheveled hair "Slow down a bit there sunshine" he kissed his forehead "We have time."

#destiel #dean winchester #castiel #destiel fic #supernatural #I cannot fucking believe #after 6 years #I am back here with you clowns #Posting a fic #for a show that ended months ago #this is the first time I've written a fic since I was 12 please be nice to me #I'm just so distressed over how they ended that I actually cant rest #This is set whenever #I wasnt even a supernatural blog

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themetaphorgirl · 3 years

Note

alright but can i request a patron saint hotch loopy on day quill one shot?? bc i would love to read that even if it takes like 3 years to get around to it 🥺🥺🥺

did I get in the mood to write something cuddly and kind of silly with lots of Alex and Aaron: The Wonder Twins vibes???

yes I did. also I wrote over half of this on my phone during my break at work.

----------

“...so when you think about it colloquially, it’s perfectly acceptable to refer to the monster as Frankenstein, so-“

Alex moved Spencer’s glass of orange juice out of the way before he could knock it over with an overenthusiastic wave of his hand. “JJ, what are you doing?” she asked, exasperated.

JJ reached into her cereal bowl, picked up a couple of pieces, and tossed it into an empty mug. “There’s too much cereal in my lucky charms, I only wanted the marshmallows,” she said.

“You can’t eat just marshmallows, Jennifer.”

“I’m not. I got donuts too.”

“Hotch wasn’t here to stop her,” Emily snickered.

Alex sighed. “Where is Hotchner?” she said. “It’s not like him to be late.”

“He said he slept through his alarm and he’d meet us here,” Derek said, stabbing his fork into a hashbrown.

“That’s also not like Hotch,” Alex said. She caught Spencer before he could topple out of his chair onto the floor. “Darling, I’m so glad you’re this enthusiastic at seven in the morning, but please sit down.”

Spencer obeyed, sliding down from his knees to sit on his bottom. “I got the wrong juice, I don’t like this kind,” he said. “I got the kind with pulp.”

“Why didn’t you get the kind you like?” Alex asked.

“Hotch gets it for me because I’m too short to see the labels. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.”

Alex pulled her phone out of her skirt pocket. “He hasn’t texted me or the group chat,” she said. “It’s not like him to be late.”

“Should we be worried? I feel like we should be worried,” Penelope said.

“We don’t need to worry,” Alex said. “Spencer, what are you doing?”

“Getting the pulp out of my juice. I shouldn’t have to chew juice.”

“Please put the spoon down.”

“I’ll get you juice,” Penelope promised.

“Thank you,” Alex said. “And can you please get something for JJ that isn’t dehydrated marshmallows?”

“I like them.”

“Eat a fruit, Jennifer!”

Derek paused as Penelope left the table. “Uh...we might need to worry about Hotch,” he said.

Alex twisted around in her seat to look behind her. “Oh, fuck,” she sighed.

Hotch’s tie was knotted wrong, leaving one end of the tie dangling by his belt buckle, and his blazer was misbuttoned. His dark hair flopped over his eyes, still sleep-mussed, and his backpack was unzipped. “Hey, guys,” he said. “Sorry I’m late.” He tried to hang his backpack on the empty chair next to Alex but missed completely, sending it crashing to the floor. “Well, shit.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, dude?” Emily said.

Hotch blinked. “I overslept,” he said, rubbing his ear. “What time is it?”

“Almost time to go to homeroom,” Alex said. “Are you okay?”

He kept rubbing his ear. “Huh?” he said. He sat down heavily next to Alex. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Do I have time to eat?”

JJ slid her mug of cereal over to him. “You can have the rest of my lucky charms,” she offered.

Hotch scooped a handful of dry cereal into his mouth and frowned. “What happened to all the marshmallows?” he asked.

“I ate them.”

“You can have my juice,” Spencer offered.

Hotch reached around Alex, picked up the glass, and took a swig. “Ugh, there’s stuff in it,” he complained. “I don’t want to chew my juice.”

“That’s what I said!” Spencer said.

Alex frowned. “I don’t think you’re okay,” she said. She touched the back of her hand to his forehead. “Yikes, Aaron. You’re burning up.”

“Hm?” he said. He coughed, a thick sound rattling deep in his chest. “I’m okay. I drank like...half a bottle of DayQuil.”

“I can tell,” she said, poking at the damp orange stain on his uniform shirt. He squinted down at it and frowned. “Also, drinking half a bottle of DayQuil doesn’t mean you’re okay. I think that’s the opposite of okay.”

“I’ll be fine,” Hotch said. “I have a test in second period I can’t miss.”

Emily caught his arm across the table. “Stop, stop, stop,” she said. “Do you know you’re about to pour your juice into your cereal?”

Hotch paused long enough for Alex to carefully take the glass out of his hand while he blinked in confusion. “Maybe you should make up the test later,” she suggested.

“No, I can handle a test,” he said. He blinked, then clapped a hand over his face. “Oh, shit. I think I only put one contact in this morning.” He rubbed the heel of his palm into his eye. “Shit. Aw, yikes.”

“You need to go back to bed,” Alex said. “Or the nurse’s office.”

He swatted at her hand. “No, I don’t, Alexandra,” he said. “It’s just a chest cold. Stop treating me like Spencer.”

Spencer scowled. “I think I’m insulted by that,” he said.

Alex put Spencer’s fork back in his hand. “Eat your breakfast,” she said. “Listen, Hotch, I can’t stop you if you want to go to class. But nobody’s going to judge you if you stay in your room and rest.”

Hotch coughed into his elbow. “I’m gonna get a Red Bull,” he said, pushing himself out of his chair and nearly knocking it over in the process.

“Oh, he’s definitely sick,” Derek said. “You hear his Virginia accent coming out? He sounds like Colonel Sanders.”

“Don’t worry, Al, I’ll keep an eye on him,” Emily said.

“Thanks,” she said. “Spencer, you have to drink your juice. You and Hotch have no immune systems and if he gets sick, you’re going to get sick, and I can’t deal with both of you coughing up a lung.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Spencer said. “Although vitamin C-“

“Drink your juice.”

By the time breakfast was over Alex was confident that Hotch wasn’t going to last the whole day. His cough was deep and persistent, and he kept absentmindedly rubbing his ears. She couldn’t exactly blame him- she’d pulled similar stunts herself when a big test or project was coming up- but this was more than a mild cold. Most likely he’d make it to lunch before he relented.

To her surprise, it was even sooner.

She got to chapel early and pulled out her book to read, but she nearly dropped it when Emily’s voice cut through the soft chatter of the hall.

“Hey, Alex, come get your twin!”

Alex picked up her book and set it back beside her. “For the last time, Emily, stop telling everybody that Hotch and I are twins,” she said. She stopped. “Oh, no.”

Hotch was leaning heavily on Emily’s shoulder, his eyes glazed over. “Hey, I think I need to sit down,” he said.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Emily huffed, struggling under his weight. “You shouldn’t have gone to class in the first place.”

“I had a test,” he said.

Alex crossed her arms. “Yeah?” she said. “How’d that go for you, bubba?”

“I’m not sure, I don’t remember taking the test,” he confessed. “I remember sitting down at my desk and then...everything got kind of blurry.”

Alex sighed. “Please tell me you’re going back to your room to rest,” she said.

“I mean...it’s not that bad.” Hotch said. “I’ve been sicker before.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

Emily scanned the chapel doors. “Oh, wow, is that Haley Brooks over there?” she said. “You should go over and say hello. Haley! Hi, Haley!”

“No!” Hotch said. “Jesus, Emily, I don’t want to talk to her right now, I look like shit!”

“Then you should definitely go back to your room before she sees you,” Emily said. She gave him a gentle push towards the back exit doors. “Come on, hurry up.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Alex called, but he was out the door already, his still-unzipped backpack dangling off one shoulder.

Emily tilted her head. “I don’t think he heard you,” she said. “He looks like death warmed over through. I’m kind of worried. Which means your spidey-sense must have bypassed tingling and gone straight to exploding.”

“I should have gone with him,” Alex said. “Although I’m not sure I would be able to explain missing classes.”

“Just tell your teachers you have to take care of your brother,” Emily suggested.

Alex rolled her eyes. “Listen, I don’t know you and Dave keep telling everybody we’re related,” she said. “We’re in different grades. We have different last names.”

“C’mon, it’s fun, you’re the Wonder Twins,” Emily said. She squished Alex’s cheeks and laughed. “You look enough alike to pass for siblings.”

“Nobody thinks that,” Alex said flatly, batting her hand away. “We’d better go sit before chapel starts.”

She kept her phone close through chapel and her third period class. He didn’t text her, but that wasn’t reassuring either. No news wasn’t necessarily good news.

The bell rang at the end of third period, but she hesitated before she started the walk towards the dining hall. She tapped her fingertips against the back of her phone case, and after a moment she typed out a text. Her phone buzzed seconds later with an answer.

Jamie <3

11:26am

yeah I figured youd want to check on him. dont worry about the baby i’ll make sure he eats a vegetable. love you!!!!

Alex felt the back of her neck heat up as she smiled at the screen. The whole love thing was still shiny and new and made little sparks prickle at the nape of her neck.

She slung the strap of her satchel across her shoulder and made the trek across campus to Lincoln House. Hotch had given her a spare key fob- Derek was constantly losing and finding his, resulting in multiple replacements floating around- and she let herself into the quiet lobby. Hopefully there wouldn’t be too many people around.

“Ah, Miss Miller. What are you doing over here? Shouldn’t you be in the dining hall?”

Alex jumped. She was not expecting to see Mr. Gideon standing in the lobby and staring at her. “Checking on my brother, he’s, uh, he’s sick,” she blurted out.

“Oh, the big one or the little one?” he asked.

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You know,” he said. “Aaron or Spencer?”

“It’s, uh, it’s the big one this time,” she said.

Mr. Gideon nodded sagely. “Your twin,” he said. “Well, go on up. Hope he feels better soon.”

He walked out to his office and closed the door; she sighed heavily. Maybe Emily and Dave were on to something after all.

She made her way up the stairs to the seventh floor and knocked lightly on his closed door. “Hotch?” she called. “It’s Alex. I just wanted to check on you.” He didn’t answer. “Hotch?” She tried the handle. “Oh, of course you locked the door.” She pulled a bobby pin out of her hair and stuck it in the keyhole.

The lock popped easily after a bit of fiddling and she opened the door. “Oh, Jesus Christ, Hotchner,” she sighed.

His unzipped backpack had dumped half its contents in the middle of the floor when he’d dropped it, along with his uniform blazer and his right shoe. Hotch was sprawled out on his bed on top of the covers, his long gangly legs dragging on the floor and his left shoe still on. He was still wearing his uniform and his rarely-worn glasses perched at a crooked angle on his nose, threatening to fall off at any moment as he snored.

“You’re dead to the world, aren’t you, bubba?” she said aloud. She set her satchel and blazer down on Hotch’s desk and sat on the edge of his bed. His breathing was shallow and congested, and his face was flushed red. “Hotch. Hotchner. Wake up for a second.” She pinched him lightly and his eyes shot open. “Hey, good, you’re awake.”

“What the fuck?” he mumbled. He rubbed his eyes, knocking his glasses sideways. “How did you get in here?”

“Picked the lock with a bobby pin,” she said.

He scrunched up his nose. “Like Annie Drew?”

“It’s Nancy Drew, and maybe that’s where I learned it from, I read a lot of mystery novels when I was an impressionable middle schooler,” she said. She tucked her legs underneath her and touched the back of her hand to his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Like hot garbage,” he said. “This cold is kicking my ass.”

“I don’t think you have a cold, bubba, I think you have bronchitis,” she said. “Did you take anything when you got back here or did you just crash?”

“Well, I’ve had most of a bottle of DayQuil today,” he said. He struggled to sit up. “You know what happens when you drink most of a bottle of DayQuil?”

“No, what happens?”

“Nothing good, I’ll tell you that for free,” he said.

Alex winced in sympathy. “You threw up?”

He ran his hands through his hair and dragged his palms over his face. “It was neon orange, Al,” he said, slightly muffled.

“That’s no good,” she said. “Did you-”

He broke into a cough, thick and heavy and rattling in his lungs, and Alex rubbed his back. “Hey, you’re okay,” she said gently. “Take a deep breath. You’re okay,”

It took a moment for him to settle down and breathe normally again; his glasses tilted drunkenly on his nose and his eyes were watering. “That sucked,” he rasped.

“Yeah, I bet,” she said. “You’ve got the sore throat, right? Feels like you swallowed broken glass?”

“I was going to say barbed wire, but yeah,” he said.

Alex squeezed his knee. “Get out of your uniform and lie down,” she said. “I’ll go get you something to drink. How much water have you had today?”

“If Red Bull counts, then I’ve had two waters.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll go get you water and a gatorade,” she said. “You get changed.”

She started to leave the room. “Hey, Alex?” he asked. She paused in the doorway. “Can you get me a purple one?”

“Yes, I’ll get you a purple gatorade.”

“The light purple, not the dark purple,” he called after her.

“I remember, I remember,” she called back.

She went down to the vending machines and got him two bottled waters and a light purple gatorade. For all his mature-for-his-age, old soul vibe, Hotch was as hard to handle as Spencer when he wasn’t feeling well.

His door was cracked when she got back to his room, but she paused. He’d changed into flannel pajama pants and he was struggling into one of his wrestling tee shirts. Alex bit back a wince and ducked back into the hallway. She rarely saw the scars on his back, but he usually kept them well hidden and it never got easier to see it. He didn’t like to talk about it, and she didn’t blame him.

When she was sure the coast was clear she stepped back into the room. Hotch sat on his bed, his shoulders slumped and his head in his hands. “Headache?” she asked as she set the bottles down on his nightstand.

“It feels like there’s a rock concert playing directly in my brain,” he said.

She went into his bathroom and dug around in the medicine cabinet. He didn’t have much for himself; it was mostly medicine they kept on hand for Spencer. “Oh, I can give you the big boy ibuprofen instead of the chewable stuff,” she teased. She set the bottle of ibuprofen down with the drinks. “This first though. Hold still.”

She set the thermometer in his ear and he jumped. “Ow,” he complained. “You could have warned me.”

“If I warned you, you’d try to argue,” she said. It beeped and she held it out so he could see the readout. “A hundred point four. You’re not going to class today, or tomorrow either.”

He rolled his eyes. “At least I got my test done,” he said.

“How do you think you did?” she asked.

“I don’t think I failed.”

Alex took his hand so she could place the pills in his hand, then opened one of the bottles of water. “Take these. Drink all of this. And then go to sleep,” she said.

“I’m not tired, I had so much DayQuil,” he complained as he popped the pills in his mouth.

“Which you’ve already puked back up,” she pointed out. “You need to get some sleep.”

He chugged a third of the water and paused to cough. “I just need to rest,” he said. “Can you hand me my laptop.”

“No.”

Hotch scowled. “Alexandra. Give me my laptop,” he said. “I have an essay due on Friday.”

She grabbed his laptop and wrestled it into her school bag. “You can have it back when you’re not running a fever,” she said.

“Alex!” he whined. “I need to work on that.” She bit back a laugh. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Sorry, it’s hard to take you seriously with your nerd glasses on,” she said. He huffed, which turned into another cough. “Seriously, Aaron. You need to take it easy. And it’s school policy that you can’t attend classes until you’ve been fever-free for twenty-four hours.” He rubbed his ear. “Besides, you know Spencer’s going to try to spend quality time with you, and he’s not going to be able to handle it if he catches what you have. The more you rest and take care of yourself, the sooner you’ll get over it.”

Hotch sighed. “Fine,” he said. “You win.”

“I usually do.”

“You just had to play the Spencer card.”

“I was saving it just in case.”

Hotch set the empty water bottle back on the nightstand and shifted around until he was under the covers. “Are you going back to class?” he asked. “Lunch is almost over.”

He sounded nonchalant, but he was avoiding her eyes and tugging at a loose thread on his comforter. “I can stay a while longer,” she said. “Besides, if anybody asks where I was, Gideon can tell them I was with you. You know he thinks we’re twins too?”

“For such a brilliant man, he’s kind of clueless,” Hotch said. “I’m not going to sleep, but I’ll rest, okay?”

“Sure,” Alex said. “Do you want to watch something?” She pulled at the laces of her ankle boots. “Do you want to watch wrestling?”

“I don’t watch wrestling.”

Alex looked him up and down. “We all know you’re a secret wrestling fan,” she said. “And even if you say you’re not, I can read your tee shirt.”

“No one ever wants to watch wrestling with me,” he said.

“Yes, well, you’re sick, you should get to watch what you want,” she said. She set her boots aside and handed him the remote. “Now scoot over.”

He paused, the remote balanced in his hand as the TV blinked on. “Why?” he asked.

“Because I said so,” she said. “I mean it! Scoot over.”

He obeyed, still clearly confused, and she pulled and tugged at him until they both fit on his narrow twin bed, his head resting on her stomach. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Wow, you really are mostly limbs, aren’t you?”

“I’ve had a couple of growth spurts,” he said. “You’re sure you want to watch wrestling with me?”

“Go for it,” she said.

Truthfully she had no desire to watch wrestling, but she knew it would make him happy, and when he was this sick he deserved things that would make him happy. She ran her fingers through his thick hair, and before long she heard him snoring again, the sound thick and rattling in his lungs. When she was sure he was asleep she tugged his glasses off and set them aside on the nightstand. Most likely he would wake up cranky and groggy and he’d try to argue that he could go to class, but for now she could keep him calm and quiet, and hopefully the sleep would help.

“Maybe you’ll be a little bit less of an absolute disaster when you wake up,” she said, and she kept stroking his hair while he slept.

#au: patron saint of lost causes #caitlin writes things #patron saint: hotch #patron saint: alex #patron saint: the wonder twins #alex is a mom #hotch is an ABSOLUTE DISASTER #spencer is a perfect cherub #wow james loves alex #emily is a queen #EAT A FRUIT JENNIFER #yes hotch is a secret wrestling fan #criminal minds fanfiction #brenna has helped me workshop a lot of ideas for my hotch arc and some of those ideas are popping up here #Anonymous #thank you for asking!!

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ra-ttdrp · 3 years

Conversation

All the broken puzzle pieces

Dr. Ra:

I look over what Tulsix was able to send me overwhelmed, I was so tired but sleeping would just bring on the Infectious nightmare and I'm forced to drug myself further to numb the worms. The worms naturally keep my body functioning so it makes me far more sicker again then if they we're working in there to keep me alive. A few days of constant work on it, visiting the babies for more blood going towards Nala (and Dathan's) poisoning. Checking on Gwen's recovery, hearing Marcellus complain though his condition wasnt as bad as everyone's else. I still had to come to his beck and call. I twitch having been caught walking down the hall to go see test results in another lab. He demanded when Caelus could be treated next. Its been a few days... I still wasnt sure.. it was..ready. I decided not to update the first machine, instead make a new machine. We might need the old machine for .. for..

I try to remember what Infection was left.. somewhere..

I felt so numbed to them now I couldn't even remember.

(Marcellus): "WHEN is Caelus going to be wok-"

(Michael): "You complain more then my granddaughter.." He tisks at Marcellus coming back from visiting Gwen.

(Marcellus): "Michael! Enough games! Where is he!?"

(Michael): "You cant visit him and get infected again you know..."

(Marcellus): "What about Nala.."

(Michael): "There is no point, both are frozen and can not speak to you."

I inch away to the door feeling like I can leave now. Michael stops me to discus the research on the baby's blood. How it seemed to be positively effecting Dathen. I almost got a complement for 'making them'. But he wont give me the credit for improvement and just betrays on about the small amount of hybrid wraith in Dathan did not prove the blood could help Nala. After seeing Marcellus's DNA structure get completely changed he questioned my methods, reminding me Nala had to be RESTORED in a complete and whole manner and not in some botched way.

"Of course sire, yes sire I understand.."

I say trying to blink away any amount of focus of me being here right now.

(Michael): "AND those names.. what we're you thinking?! UGH just get out of my sight and get back to WORK!"

I wake up from my zone out picturing dirt at his scream and dart for the other room.

Sterling came back from the Trydien sector to bitch about the lost General women, Korra being gone for so long meant there is no political puppet to dangle in front of them so he wanted to get her from Tulco but learned from Uriah she was gone.

(Sterling): "Is Gwen the only who can make her hybrid trydien race?! We need those creatures nullified if she cant then give us the Declension Serum. They are just as powerful as Bain Ones."

(Borin): "We dont know if that caused the Infection or not..its dangerous..no one is allowed to use it.."

He shoots me a look and I stand there feeling more pained at them talking about my greatest 'success' / failure.

(Sterling): "We've used it for years, it did not cause that...whats the point of holding those planets if your just going to leave us with it. Isnt your son the 'king' of Ingnitcore then why is it MY problem to keep them from ripping it apart?!"

(Borin): "I dont have the time to set Nash up there if I did I would have taken care of them far better then you can and have. Get out."

(Sterling): "I'm warning you right now, my Prince if you dont act we'll loose it...."

He leaves rather begrudgingly. I guess I cant ask his help on the job, he wont be sticking around if he has to go back there.

(Peli): "I could take Nash..."

(Borin): "No stay away from that little freak..."

He hushed back at her, much to her surprise.

He then yells at me much like Michal about how I'm not doing enough or something and another.

"Its true, I haven't been able to look at Gwen's..results as much dealing with..Caelus's recovery. But I dont see much promise with her memories. You know that."

I add in, knowing he spent all this time on it. My 2nd option wouldnt be much. Well it would be if I told him the truth.. I know that's Perry's venom. So they we're there..so close..

SO. close.

(Borin): ((I think she did it to herself, its VERY selective memory loss..too selective to be natural. OR you did it..I dont believe she could make something I cant crack...))

"And I can?" I cant mindtalk this weak.

(Borin): "I taught her what she knows!" He counters back and hovers back near Gwen who woke up gaging in pain again, hugging herself if that could help the bandages keep her together in more.

I think..what Perry did wasnt meant for her. It was way to strong. He must have loaded it for Bane.. like a nuke.

(Peli): "Its nothing, nothing your stupid father is going to shut up and let you rest.. dont wake up.. go back to sleep baby."

(Gwen): "N..no I.m...o..kay.."

I stare at her trying to make myself feel ok with withholding what I knew about that. Her insides we're probably going to liquify....

*twitch*

I take a deep yet labored breath cause my lungs without the worms keeping healthy feel like a 80 year old man who smoked his way out of a paper bag. The guilt was to much, I grab Gwen's blood samples and take it to a further away lab to try to stop the liquification. I slack off my research on Caelus's cure a few more days to accomplish this. At least the machine was being worked on, it was on a ship so it could be easily thrown into the sun just in case I also wanted the two way transfer to become a one way transfer..somewhere to be destroyed forever but I wasnt sure yet how to accomplish that. Break it into something compacted like dart yet I had a sickening sort of feeling to that for some reason. Then of course there was general transporter error.

Some day *is too drugged out and overworked to know the day of the year details* ;)

I'm on the Infected hive trying not to puke blood in my hazard suit trying to stay in attention for a meeting.

I prattle on my progress of the machine, well the hybrids building it cause I cant really do the manual labor, at least I got out of that. I was however doing the panel's myself that would be installed last by them when the time came.

(Soren): "How much gunk can you put on that one drone?"

"Oh..you'd be surprised how much..."

I couldn't remember now, how many on Xero...

He looks at me disgusted and focuses on the King trying to be very impressive.

(Soren): "Who goes in first?"

(Michael): "I will only risk Caelus's life if I must... if anyone goes in the new machine it will be Julian.."

"Will you allow me to try to break the buffer so there is no sacrifice?"

(Michael): "Do you think that's wise when this is the most important run though..if he turns out human it will be far better then any alternative."

"Of course.."

I try not to panic, I dont want to even imagine what the drone would be like with..all that.

My health decline for the last few days was now too apparent. The King ordered the only Lyratsian he had trusted, Dr. Quasar's specimen clone from the Safar Zoo to look over more calculations for Julian strain machine. Since whatever he did to himself to have infection full control must have went over my head and been some Lysterian secret.

(Quasar): "I am SO honored for another chance your majesty."

(Michal): "Just get on with it.." He shoos her away and I would have liked to see such a famous scientist at work checking the machine but .. passes out smacking into wall on the way down.

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happys-crazy-queen22 · 4 years

Text

Title: The Sergeants Daughter

Gif credit@marcomardon

Requested on wattpad

Happy Reading Dollies

Hope you all enjoy

Taglist: @nocturnalherb16. @jesseswartzwelder

"Good morning everyone" Antonio cruised into the intelligence squad room with a smirky smile on his face. The smirk that could give anything away.

"Why are you so cheerful in the mornings"? Adam groaned, his hand to his head and a cup of coffee to his lips.

"Just really happy today that's all". His smirk became bigger as you walked up the stairs with a box of donuts in hand.

"Y/N, has donuts. Get them before Antonio devours them all". Adam chuckled. Antonio was thankful Adam thought he was smiling at the donuts.

"Would you like one, Mr.Dawson". You sighed out. You heard what Adam said since he was so loud and it made you snicker.

"Thank you". Antonio signed back, adding a heart at the end.

You rolled your eyes and headed to the breakroom.

"Y/N"? You could hear your fathers voice right behind you. At least he doesnt throw things at you like Justin did when y'all were kids to get your attention. Yes, you're deaf, not invisible.

"Yes"? You quickly turned around, a coffee and plain donut in hand for your father.

"Can you help Antonio out? He's in the interrogation room". You nodded and headed to Antonio.

You knocked on the door and headed in. Antonio was standing on the table, fixing the light.

"You're going to get hurt". You warned him.

"Nah". He signed, but as he did the light fixture came out of the ceiling and hit him in the head.

"Told you". You helped him sit on the table and you looked over his head. Giving it a kiss.

"I'm fine now. Have a great nurse to take care of me". He whispered in your ear. Sending chills down your spine. His hands crept up your thigh.

You smiled shaking your head, no. "Not here".

"Where"? He purred in your ear.

"At your place,only". You kissed his cheek and left. There was other things to do besides watch Antonio electrocute himself.

As the day went by, you started to feel alittle queasy. So you stopped by the vending machine and grabbed a ginger ale to settle your stomach.

"Boo". You felt someone's fingers poke you in the back.

"Antonio. Stop". You say before turning around and finding Justin. A horror look on his face.

"So that's who you been seeing"?

"Kill me now". You mumbled under your breath.

Justin ran up the stairs, grabbed Antonio by the shirt and dragged him into his father's office, locking the door.

"Justin, what the hell"? Antonio fixed his shirt.

"Yeah, what's going on"? Hank questioned.

"He's having sex with your daughter. My sister". Justin blurted out with anger.

"What the hell are you talking about"? Hank gripped his desk.

"I came in to the station and saw Y/N at the vending machine and came up behind her to scare her and she goes stop Antonio".

"Are you hooking up with my daughter"? Hank asked sternly, making Antonio gulped and you as you watched outside the door.

"Yes. We've been seeing each other for about six months now".

"Behind my back. You know how I feel about Y/N dating anyone I work with. I threaten every guy that bats a eye at her".

"I know. I'm sorry for lying to you but I really like her. She's great. I want to keep seeing her. I dont care if you demote me and put me back on foot patrol. I'm being with her".

"You really like her"?

"I do".

"Alright, we'll ask Y/N what she wants to do"? Hank, Justin and Antonio looked at the door. They were thinking you were still standing there but you had taken off when Antonio said yes to liking you. You went to the only other place you felt safe. With Gabby Dawson, she was your best friend and sister to the guy you were hooking up with.

"So he's all in"? She wondered as you explained to her that Hank found out.

"Yeah. I didn't know things would get this crazy all because I'm dating him". You sighed.

"Have you told him"?

"About"?

"You're pregnant".

"How did you know"? You signed.

"The glow, the way you've been nursing that ginger ale and you're not asking for a tampon. We're in sync on our periods. You haven't had yours in two months. So I took a wild guess".

"No, I just confirmed it about a week ago. I'm scared to tell them all. Dad and Justin are going to kill him. I know it".

"He'll be fine. He can take a punch". Gabby laughed. You were so worried that you felt even more sicker.

After a good long talk with Gabby you headed back to the station. Everyone was worried about you. Trudy basically cried when you came back in. They thought you were kidnapped.

"Where did you go"?

"To see Gabby, I had to talk to someone that wasn't going to bite my head off". You informed huh your father and brother who were staring you down.

"Are you and Antonio serious about each other"?

"Yeah, I like him alot. Can we just move on? This is ridiculous".

"Fine. But I'll kill him if he hurts you". Hank warned.

"Alright. Stay here, I need to get Antonio". You quickly walked out, grabbing Antonio by the hand. Closing the door all eyes were on you.

"I need to tell you all something. I'm pregnant".

"You're a dead man, Dawson". Justin lunged at Antonio and started strangling him. Hank tried to break it up, probably to get in some strangling of his own.

"Look at that kiddo, your uncle and grandpa are trying to kill your daddy. Just another day for us Voights". You laughed to yourself.

After some time they all stopped and came around to the idea of Antonio being a member of the family and the new addition. They all became bestfriends and you were now confused. How could they go from wanting to kill Antonio to simply being friends? The mystery is still unsolved. Hopefully the kid has your genes than theirs.

#happys crazy queen22 #antonio dawson chicago pd #antonio dawson fanfiction #chicago pd antonio dawson #antonio dawson #antonio dawson imagine #chicago pd drabble #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fic #chicago pd #hank voight #hank voight x daughter reader #antonio dawson x reader

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tabarnaks · 4 years

Text

Okay so Monty @themlet and I had some thoughts about Martin’s childhood and his relationship to food

CW for disordered eating, child neglect, poverty+food insecurity and martin-typical mommy issues

Taking care of his mother (and himself) included making meals for them both from a young age, with whatever he could find in their cupboards and their fridge.

They don't have much food, but their fridge isn't empty which makes everything seem worse

(there was an adjustment period between his father leaving and his mother getting sicker and sicker before Martin realized he had to start making food for them or else it just wouldn't be done and in those few months old food has piled up. Martin knows he should probably clean out the fridge, but he's scared of his mother's reaction to seeing her usually full fridge practically empty without explanation. He can imagine her screaming at him clearly for wasting so much food (it doesn't matter that it was already spoiled, he should've asked her to do it even though she'd never have actually done it) or maybe even just withdrawing and being distant and cold like she's started doing since his father left. Martin's not sure which option is worse)

He does get rid of the spoiled food eventually, but it feels awful, like he's wasting food (and therefore money) and he feels guilty about it even though he knows it wasn't edible

What Martin ends up cooking isn't good by any stretch, but it's edible and only slightly worse than the cafeteria food at his school (Martin's 10-11, his mother never really cooked even before getting sick. The only guidance he has is an old cookbook from the 50s, some old family recipes written on scraps of paper left on the fridge and what cooking he’s seen on TV)

Of course, sometimes when money's tight (which it usually is) the food his mother buys doesn't quite stretch the week between the both of them, and it's not something he can talk to her about.

(He’s tried, but she would usually just look at him and shrug and tell him that she’s doing everything she can and that was the end of the conversation)

To deal with that, he starts meticulously planning and portioning out all of his meals for the week in advance, and not breaking from his portions even if he's still hungry after eating, because it’s better to be slightly hungry most days than it is to be very hungry for 2-3 days every week.

(he does it to a lesser extent with his mother, but she's sick and it's her food, she paid for everything. So he's not going to tell her what parts of it she can or can't eat. Also, she's sick so if she does eat more than usual, it's a good thing. he can't be upset about it. And he gets a lunch at school anyway, she only has what he makes to eat, so it's not really fair of him to judge her if she happens to eat what he considered to be his dinner)

As soon as he gets his first job and finally has a little money of his own (a large part of his paycheck goes to directly supporting he and his mother still, but he keeps a small bit of it for himself) he starts buying cans of food and pasta for himself and keeps them in his room, a little stash of food that's entirely his own that his mother can't try and hold over his head the next time he inevitably fucks something up and angers her.

With time, he gets better at cooking just through practice and trying stuff out. He gets a few cookbooks from a thrift shop and tries some spices beyond salt and pepper out, and he finds that he does genuinely like cooking now that it's not necessarily "do this or dont eat at all"

When he gets his (much better paying) job at the institute and his mother moves to a care home, he continues doing the same things he did with her. He portions out all of his food very strictly, he agonises over any food he accidentally wastes pushing off throwing it out until it's definitely inedible, he keeps having a stash of food in his bedroom closet

(sure, he could keep his stash in the kitchen now, he's been paying for everything on his own for a while now and his mother isn't even there to make comments, but there's a certain comfort that comes knowing how nearby it is)

His stash gets much bigger after Prentiss, now that he has proof that it has actual real life potential of being useful, he ends up slowly accumulating boxes and boxes worth of canned food that he only touches during emergencies. Just in case something happens again. Just in case

He'll also automatically try and give food to the people he loves and trusts if he judges they need it more than him

(He's tried to give his lunches to Tim or Sasha a few times because they'd forgotten theirs and, well, he can skip lunch it’s just a bit annoying, he’s not really that hungry anyway. It’s usually settled by having the other take a bit of what he has and then picking something up from a nearby cafe

He's also tried to give Jon so much of his food (mostly refused because Jon is very picky about what he will or won't eat) because of how sickly and frail he looks. Martin knows he can't possibly be eating enough and desperately wants to fix that)

Martin's food habits aren't particularly obvious to anyone else until he and Jon move in together and Jon can see how he organises everything.

Martin will usually cook only one or two meals to last him through the week (cooking is fun, but it's tiring and Martin hates having to constantly do the dishes because all of his recipes these days seem to require at least 3 pans and twice as many various bowls) and if he'll eat it even if he's messed up the recipe somehow

(Jon has seen him eating mostly burnt muffins that he'd accidentally forgotten in the oven because he couldn't bear the thought of wasting so many ingredients unless the thing’s more ash than food)

Martin also cannot go to restaurants or get delivery without feeling guilty (certain special events are mostly exempt from this guilt, but not many) because he could make twice as much food at home for the same amount of money

Jon buys them takeout once because they're both exhausted and the only food they have would either need a fair amount of prep or be pasta with butter and garlic on it (which is good, but they're both grown men in their 30s and can do better at this point) and when he comes back with it, Martin is practically vibrating in his seat asking, "SO, just wondering how much did that cost? haha it's fine of course but how much did it cost?"

All of issues get worse when he's stressed, and it's definitely something that the others have tried talking to him about in some capacity, because when it's bad enough he'll unnecessarily deprive himself of food because he's eaten the entirely arbitrary amount he's allowed himself to that day, but aside from the bigger stuff like that it's really not something Martin is open to talking about.

He can sort of talk about it with Jon, but it's always a tense sort of conversation in which Martin feels vaguely attacked at best despite Jon's efforts to be understanding and non confrontational.

But Martin does get better about it when everything's fine. He stops planning everything still obsessively, he'll be able to throw out food that's burnt or just on that edge of being bad, they shrink his food stash and move it into the hallway closet instead of the bedroom one (partially because Jon does need to put his clothes somewhere)

Martin still can’t really go to restaurants or order takeout without feeling his guilt and anxiety surging (he has his limits) but overall, he’s able to get a lot better about most of his issues even if none of them really ever completely go away.

#the magnus archives #tma #martin blackwood #a moi #disordered eating 3321 #child neglect 3242 #mothers 4134 #child abuse (to be safe)#ask to tag

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stanbillyhargrove · 3 years

Text

Demons - The Rewrite

Chapter 16: Please Don't Make Me Beg You To Stay

Tw: eating disorders, purging, drugs

Steve’s POV

The party raged around me, bodies moving all around me and music pounding so loud I could feel it in my chest, replacing the beat of my heart. Nancy has been acting weird lately, distant and cold, and she’d decided not to come to this party, leaving me to drink with my friends. We were having a pretty good time, getting drunk and joking around for a while.

But it didn't feel right.

I wandered away to the makeshift bar near the kitchen. I was mixing myself a drink when a girl walked up behind me and ran a hand over my shoulder. I turned around to meet her drunken gaze.

“Hey there, pretty boy,” she slurred.

I tried to turn her down, tell her I had a girlfriend, but the girl just kept babbling.

I tuned out her constant talking when I saw Cat stumble into the other side of the kitchen, holding her head as she slumped against the counter. I didn’t think anything of it when a guy I’d never seen before followed her, just someone she met checking on her I thought. When she slumped to the floor I watched the new guy join a couple other guys, all of them sneering to each other. They were like a pack of wolves, snapping their teeth as they watched their prey fall. A couple people paused to talk to her but I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

I knew I should go to her but I didn't, just threw back my drink and turned to find another.

“She’ll be out any second,” a voice behind me sneered.

The pack loomed, staying far enough away from their leader to not startle the prey. Cat was starting to fade against the counter, struggling to keep her eyes open. When he hoisted her over his shoulder and started upstairs with her hanging limp, dread settled heavy in my gut. I quickly scanned for a head of blonde curls but didn’t see Billy anywhere near me.

Cause he hadn't been there.

I tried to walk away from the girl but was grabbed by the arm as she started to cry. I watched them all disappear upstairs and felt my mouth go dry. I desperately hoped for Billy to appear but knew he wouldn’t. It took a while for me to shake off the drunk girl to run up the stairs after them. When I worked up the courage to open the door my blood ran cold, like ice. The leader was on top of Cat, sliding her pants down her thighs. The pack loomed, salivating over their catch.

I announced my presence with a meager, “leave her alone.”

They turned on me, ready to devour me too.

“Hey man, private party,” the leader growled.

“She doesn’t want this, leave her alone,” I tried again.

One of the pack lept forward to shove me, “why don’t you fuck off? You don’t know what she wants.”

I bristled, squaring up to challenge them, “I know that she can’t walk or tell you what she wants when she’s passed out.”

The leader slid off Cat and met my challenge, offered a worse one, “we’ll let you join if you keep your fucking mouth shut.”

I gaped at him, “are you fucking serious? No! Get the hell out of here, you fucking assholes!”

He glared at me and reluctantly backed down.

“Whatever man,” he spat, “you can fucking have her.”

He shouldered past me, his crew all taking a turn to shove me as they followed him out of the room. The interaction left me feeling dirty, like they had left a mark on me that I would spend the next few days scrubbing at. I crossed the room to the bed and grabbed Cat’s shoulders to shake her. She didn’t respond, her entire body was limp in my hands.

Too much to drink, I thought.

I gently wiggled her pants back up her hipbones, over the scars and scabs that littered them. Scooped her up and carried her back downstairs, past the leering pack and out to my car to bring her back to my house to sleep it off.

I woke up with Cat curled into my side. When I looked over at her and saw her sunken, frail frame, I realized that I had been dreaming. Dreaming about what I wished had happened that night instead of what actually happened. A weight settled over me. A weight dragging me down into an endless ocean.

An ocean of should of's and could of's.

Of guilt.

Because it's my fault.

If I hadn’t been so caught up in myself I could have done something, I could have stopped her from being drugged in the first place. I should have tried harder to keep an eye on her. I failed Cat when she needed me most and I was failing her now as she got sicker and sicker.

I dont know what to do anymore, how to help, how to quit being a failure.

I woke again later in the morning to Cat rummaging loudly through a box just outside my bedroom door. I could just barely see her, sitting in the doorway pulling on strings of lights.

"Cat?"

She scrambled up, "oh! You’re awake! Did I wake you up? I was trying to be quiet."

"What are you doing?"

She smiled, holding up a string of lights, "I found some lights, I thought we could hang them up over the bed. It'll be cute."

I nodded, slightly confused, "yeah..okay, I can do that..where did you find those?"

"I made breakfast too! Get up so we can go shopping!"

"Shopping?"

"Yeah," she skipped and jumped to sit on the edge of the bed, "remember? For the dance?"

I nodded, sitting up, "right. Yeah, okay."

"I've never been in the city," Cat beamed, looking at all the stores lining the street.

I pulled to the side of the road, in front of a little boutique. Large windows boasted racks full of dresses and suits.

"Can we get coffee, Stevie?" Cat asked, pointing at the little Cafe across the street.

"Did you eat anything this morning?"

"Yeah, before you got up."

For a second, I could look at her smiling and let myself believe her.

She was running across the road before I could answer. Didn't look for cars, just dashed out.

"Cat!" I yelled.

"Come on, slow poke!" She yelled back, laughing from the sidewalk.

"Young Mr. Harrington," a woman beamed when we walked into the boutique, "how's your father? I haven't seen him in a while."

I smiled tightly, "he's fine, Tam. Busy."

"Good, good," she nodded, coming around the counter, "what can I help you with?"

Cat linked her arm in mine, "looking for a dress. And Steve here needs a new shirt."

"Will this be on your father's account?"

"No, I have money," Cat protested.

"Put it on his account. I need my jacket tailored too," I held up the jacket in my other arm.

Cat spun to me, "Stevie, I can-"

I shook my head, "really, it's okay. He doesn't care. Probably won't even notice. Lead the way, Tam."

Tammy nodded, leading us through the racks. Rows upon rows of billowing tulle and shining sequins. Soft silks and delicate lace.

Cat loaded her arms with as many dresses as she could carry and eagerly followed Tammy to a changing room.

Tammy pulled the curtain closed and came over to me, "another brunette, you certainly have a type."

I scrunched my eyebrows, confused, "huh?"

"I like this one, she's pretty. Much nicer than that last one I saw you with. What was her name again? Nina? Natasha?"

"Nancy," I answered, dryly.

"Nancy! Yeah, she didn't seem like a very nice girl. Not right for you."

I was about to protest when Cat called from the change room, "zip me, please?"

Tammy hurried behind the curtain and Cat walked out a moment later in a bright red dress. Tulle poofing up from her shoulders and layering down the skirt. It engulfed and swallowed Cat like flames.

"What do you think?" Tammy asked, smoothing her hands over the offending fabric.

"It's...something," I murmured, trying to control my expression.

Cat turned and burst out laughed looking at herself in the mirror, "oh no, this is terrible," she clapped a hand over her mouth, "I'm sorry! It's just not good on me!"

Tammy smiled gently, "don't worry, sweetheart. I'm not the designer. Let's try a different one."

An hour later we were on our way home, a new shirt, dress and shoes wrapped in boxes in the backseat.

-- a week later

"You sure you don't want to come pick up my jacket with me?" I asked.

Cat smiled and shook her head, "I'm okay, I'll spend some time with Rocky. Maybe go home for some stuff."

"Okay, I'll be back in a couple hours."

I came back to find a quiet house and a half eaten chocolate cake in the kitchen.

"Cat?" I called, tossing my suit jacket over a chair.

A fork with smeared remnants of icing gleamed next to the paper box.

A distant, painful retch perked my ears. I followed it through the house. Through the shadows of my parents unlit room. Following the thin strip of yellow light coming from under their bathroom door.

"Cat?"

Another retch and a sobbed, "fuck!"

I pushed the door open, "are you sick?"

She was kneeling in front of the toilet, one arm bent to brace herself and choking on the middle two fingers of her other hand.

I froze for a moment, "what the?"

"It won't come out," she cried, "it's stuck."

Her fingers were raw and irritated from being pushed down her throat.

"It won't come out, I can feel it."

She was shaking, fingers trembling against pink, slick lips. Tears sprung to my eyes, disappointed, angry and confused. My mouth opened and closed, lost for words. She pushed her fingers forward, gagging when nails scratched the back of her throat.

"Don't," I whispered.

She hesitated, "I can feel it, I need it out. I didn't mean to...I was so good."

Broken eyes met mine. Shameful before they scrunched closed and she dry heaved into the toilet. I shut my eyes tight, turning away from the door and leaving my parents room.

I hadn't moved from my spot near the pool. Just sat staring into the crystal blue water. The way it lapped lightly at my ankles. The way the stars reflected on the surface and danced when a stray tear fell.

The patio door slid open and shut behind me. Soft feet padding out onto the stone. I sniffed and wiped my nose with the back of my hand.

"Stevie," she rasped.

A new round of tears burned like acid.

"What the fuck was that?"

"I..I don't..."

I whirled around to face her, splashing water when I hurried to stand. Her eyes hardened when she flinched.

"What the fuck was that!" I yelled, "how could you do that to me! You were fine yesterday, what the hell happened?!"

"N-nothing."

"Nothing?" I scoffed.

"Yeah, nothing," she ground out, chin wavering even with her teeth clenched.

The lying stung almost worse than the truth.

"How can you stand there and lie to me?!"

She looked away, lips tightening.

"It's like you're trying to fuck this up."

Cat stood quiet, swallowing thickly.

"Is that it? You want to be sick? You want to push everyone away so you can pretend nobody cares and try to kill yourself again?"

Her eyebrows twitched, angry. Nostrils flared while she searched for the words to hurt me.

"I don't love you."

I was taken aback. Confused and hurt.

"I don't love you, Steve. And we're not in a fucking relationship," she spat venom, closing off, "I know you think you're my knight in shining armor but you can't save me."

"Fuck you," I growled.

"Your parents left, Nancy left. Nobody stays. Do you ever think maybe it's your fault?"

Yes.

All the time.

I hold people too close until they suffocate and leave.

I scoffed, sharp words falling from my lips before I could think, "tell me again where your parents are? You pushed Billy away. I'm the only one you have left. You need me."

"I don't need you. I never needed you!"

"Then leave!" I shouted, "my life would be a lot fucking easier!"

Hurt flashed behind her eyes before she turned and stomped away.

Tommy’s POV

Booze flowed, bottles passed and plastic cups emptied. Cigarettes and joints created a blue haze above us all. Flashing lights and thumping music disoriented the senses further.

Sweat dripped down foreheads, mixing into the sticky floor.

White powder covered a table in the middle of the room. Dusted noses.

Glimpses of familiar faces made it through the haze. Carol laughing, wild and free. Dancing out of sight. That girl I saw with Steve, Billy's girl. Cat? Chugging from a clear bottle. Leaning over the table.

"Tommy!" Carol yelled, snapping me back to reality.

I was in the backyard, lying face up in the grass. I smiled lazily up at her.

"You look beautiful," I mumbled.

Pink bloomed in her cheeks, "Tommy, you've been gone for hours. What happened?"

I laughed, "hours? Wow.."

"Tommy," she snapped, "get it together. We have a problem."

“Hall?” Billy grumbled over the phone.

“What?

He huffed loudly, “keep an eye on her until someone gets her?”

I sighed, “yeah, sure, okay.”

I hung up and looked back at Carol, "he can't get her."

"Fuck, try...try Steve maybe? I'm gunna try to talk to her."

I led Steve through the house to the bathroom upstairs, furthest from the noise.

"Carol pulled her away from a bunch of creeps, brought her up here to calm down a little."

Carol leaned against the bathroom door, knocking loudly.

"Carol? What's going on?"

"She flipped. Pushed me out and locked the door."

Steve sighed, "thanks, guys. I'll take care of her."

@charmed-asylum

#billy hargrove #stranger things #fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fic #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove series #steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #billy hargrove fanfic #fanfiction

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cowsparsley · 4 years

Note

Hello! Fellow creative spoonie here. I've come across your blog, and I'd just like to ask how on earth you manage to draw everyday??? Also what do you do when you have to break your streak? Just cos when I tried to write everyday and ran out of spoons a week in, it totally destroyed me. Can you please... Tell me your secrets?

Oh god I don’t really have any secrets! I got sick when I was fourteen so I’ve had years of things slowly improving...

As to how I manage to draw everyday, I gotta point out that I dont! In fact im taking a day off tomorrow! I’ve been drawing these comics since April and I’ve only really gotten my act together in lockdown. When I break my streak I try to do 5 or 6 panels a day and slowly catch up that way, or sometimes I hyperfocus and exhaust myself like today because honestly I’m an idiot. Alternatively sometimes I draw short two panel comics - luckily bad days are pretty boring.

I don’t really know what to recommend. I keep a very strict routine and otherwise have quite a shallow life. This is really the only thing I’ve got going on. (Which I wouldnt recommend! Go have a life!!!)

On top of that I’m sure our situations are very different. I don’t work (I’m a filthy scrounger) and we probably have different diagnoses.

For me, I made myself sicker for years trying to go back to college after I dropped out, pushing myself too hard and making myself sicker. My folks thought I just wasn’t trying hard enough. I was a traumatised kid that managed to get away from a bad situation. I’ve only started to be able to manage my symptoms now that my brain isn’t drenched in stress hormones.

Routine is important to me, starting with the basics of sleeping and eating on time (which im pretty new to) and just generally taking care of yourself.

Poor mental health and well being, even if youre not experiencing anything dramatic, can get in the way of managing symptoms. Unlearning ableism was a big thing for me and learning to be kind to my body. I recommend seeing a therapist if you have access to that.

Also gut health’s really important!!!!! I need to stop proselytising so I won’t go on but it genuinely helped me. And so did acupuncture!. (I heard people w/ my disease talk about acupuncture for ages and rolled my eyes but it turns out they were all on to something)

Also honestly I’ve become addicted to each like and reblog... I’m not sure I’d still have the motivation if it wasn’t for all these people who like what I have to say. Im rly surprised that anyone likes my comics and am very excited for this to all go to my head lmao.

Also why do you want to write every day anyway? Just write when you feel up to it! You can’t measure yourself by the standards of abled people! Maybe try every other day or every week or whatever youre able to manage! Making art should be fun! I think if you exhaust yourself you’ll just become demotivated.

Also im really sry for rambling...... Like this was probably not the answer you were looking for but i dont have any secret wisdom sadly

#not a comic #an-antisocial-writer #Also honestly my drawings dont actually take that long #comics are a good medium cos it doesnt really matter that my drawings are fast and loose #I just write like a sentence or two about how or feel or my day #so maybe short form stuff could help you too?#personal #listen to ur body

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lovelyparkers · 4 years

Text

sickly lovely cuddles

summary: peter visits you in the hospital! writing this for my fellow sick kids out there bc i'm in the hospital a lot and need this. to any of my chronically ill babes out there, i love u, keep fighting! and i love everyone!

warnings: hospitals, mentions of blood and needles, gtubes, ox tubes, overall fluff 1.2k+ words

peter was currently in the elevator headed to your floor in a NYC children's hospital. it was a bit far from his apartment in queens, but he would go miles to see you, especially when you were sicker than normal.

he carried a bouquet of fake flowers he got from a craft shop, because he knew real ones affected your allergies and ability to breathe. he wanted you to be happy and see that beautiful smile of yours, even if it was from fake flowers. and he even stopped in the cafeteria to get you and him cups of hot chocolate, a great replacement for your beloved coffee you oh so missed. (yes, us heart failure patients cannot even have decaf coffee! ever since my several heart disease diagnosis, i have left coffee behind and was given a hot chocolate replacement)

once he got off the elevator, he smiled, saying hi to the nurses at the nurse station and heading to your room. peter was obviously a frequented visitor and many nurses and a few doctors knew him by name.

upon reaching your door, he looked in the window to see you laying in bed watching tv. you had comfy pyjamas on and spider-man socks peter got you a few weeks ago. you had bags under your eyes and bruises on your arms from needle upon needle and IVs. you also had a grey beanie on, one that was peter's that he left here accidentally. it looked great on you.

he tapped the door with his foot to get your attention. you turned your head over slowly, expecting your nurse, but immediately peeled up when you saw peter. you smiled and waved for him to come in. he pushed the door open and set the flowers and hot cocoa on your tray table. (bruh i've run a tray table over my foot ONE TOO MANY TIMES)

"hi y/n/n," he said, calling you your favorite nickname.

"hi peter!" you said, reaching out to hug him.

he embraced you in a long and warm hug before smiling and motioned to your table, "i got you some goodies!"

"ooo what did ya get me?"

he picked up the fake flowers first, handing the neat bouquet to you.

"they are fake of course, because, ya know," he motioned to your nasal cannula, "your allergies make you breathe bad."

you laughed, adjusting the tube behind your ear, "yes, yes they do."

"andddd," he began before picking up the hot cocoa, "hot cocoa!"

"yay! gimme!"

he handed you a cup, brushing your fingers in the process.

"thank you peter," you said before taking a sip, "gosh this hospital hot chocolate hits different."

"of course, anything for you."

you smiled, both sipping your drinks.

"so, i'm gonna ask the dreaded question because that's who i am, how are you feeling today? physically? mentally? emotionally?"

you sighed, "well i had severe hypotension at 2 am and have been awake since, getting filled with meds while almost passing out isn't fun. oh and my iv is being annoying and keeps getting in the way as usual."

you pointed to the sticker and the long tube that was all over your room.

"geez i'm sorry," peter said sincerely.

"but hey," you lifted up your shirt a little bit to show your stomach, "g tube is removed!"

"yay!" peter literally screamed causing you to laugh. he knew how much you hated that darn g tube.

"but mentally and emotionally i'm doing...okay. better now that you're here."

"i'm glad," he smiled.

you took a big gulp of your steaming cocoa then started having a coughing attack because sometimes you forget to breathe when drinking.

peter stood up, rubbing your back, "you okay?"

you finished coughing and cleared your throat, giving him a thumbs up.

"yes now get in bed and cuddle with me," you demanded and adjusted the bed to yours and his liking.

"okay."

peter crawled into bed with you after kicking off his sneakers.

"watch out for my oxygen, don't wanna sit on it and make me stop breathing."

"oh my gosh," peter said shocked, he was always careful, "dont say stuff like that! you're concerning me."

you laughed, "i'm joking i'm joking! it wasn't even near your butt anyways."

you cuddled up into peter's side and watched tv together for awhile. he eventually put his arm around you which caused your heart rate to soar, sending a loud sound from your monitor and in game your nurse.

"oh gosh," you groaned.

"you okay y/n-" your nurse asked before seeing you and peter, "ooo sorry kids, hi peter."

"hi meg."

"your heart rate went up, just checking in."

"i'm fine meg, thanks," you said blushing and gesturing over to peter cuddled up with you.

"ah, i see. call me if you need me."

you waved.

peter spent the rest of the day with you, migrating from your room to the craft area, to the outside lookout. he pushed you around in a wheelchair when you felt too tired or weak. he fixed your sweater when it got caught around a tube or two. he laughed with you. and he hugged you. a lot. it seemed like stuff someone who loved you did, not just a best friend. you wondered if he liked you back. but how could he like a sick kid? you were gonna be in the hospital for awhile. he couldn't get used to that.

but oh, how he could and would. because he loved you. sick kid or not.

time was ticking towards ten pm. the time they usually kicked peter out even though visiting hours ended at eight pm. he rubbed your arm and fixed your beanie before getting out of bed.

you grabbed onto his arm, "stay?"

peter sighed and smiled sadly, "you know i cant. they kick me out at ten."

"lemme just ask meg, she won't mind if-"

"y/n, it's okay. i'll be back first thing in the morning."

"you will?"

"of course i will," he smiled, causing you to grin.

you yawned sleepily. you only stayed up this late when peter was here. usually you'd be out like a light by 7:30 or 8. but you managed when he was around.

you were still holding his hand at this point, his thumb rubbing across yours.

"love you," you whispered.

"i love you too," he whispered back.

he hesitated, then kissed you softly on the cheek.

"see you in the morning y/n/n."

"see you, pete."

he let go of your hand walking to the door before using some hand sanitizer and smiling at you.

"bye."

you smiled at him, blushing, while he left. he closed the door behind him. he peeked thru the little window on the door and blew you a kiss. you caught it and laughed. he laughed too. you waved again, and he walked away.

minutes later, you were out like a light, dreaming about that boy.

meanwhile, peter was on the phone with may, "yeah i'm on my way home...i'll be careful...ha yeah, yeah i do. i really love her."

hi guys hope u enjoyed! even my non sick ones. hope you're all healthy and happy. i love u all. know i'm here for u and don't hesitate to dm me if u need anything <3 love, your fave spoonie, juli

#peter parker imagine

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clonesdeservebetter · 5 years

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coughing, curling up, and “i dont have time to be sick”!

The sound of harsh coughing was something that had become almost commonplace aboard The Guardian over the past few days, entire platoons of troopers catching some dumb virus from their most recent campaign on some backwater no-name planet that, apparently, had strategic value.

Okay, so maybe Doubles was a bit sore about it. How could you blame him? Stutter was busy busting his ass trying (and failing) to keep the virus from spreading, and Curio was sicker than a dog and quarantined away because of it. Doubles huffed, backing away from the punching bag he had been beating on rather mercilessly for the past 20 or so minutes in an attempt to keep himself from directing that towards a certain sergeant whose name began with a “B” and ended in an “urner”.

‘Speak of the devil...’ Doubles thought bitterly as he watched Burner walk into the training room, not even bothering to look at Doubles as he took up a place at one of the other bags. That was just fine by Doubles. It would hopefully keep them both out of trouble.

At least, that’s what Doubles thought until he heard a disgusting and wet cough from Burner’s part of the room. He groaned internally, slowly turning around to see Burner hunched over on himself, using the punching bag as something to lean on at least somewhat. Doubles could’ve walked away right then and there, probably should’ve, but...

He sighed, slowly making his way over to his sick brother, making sure to get withing eye view before placing a hand on Burner’s shoulder. The sergeant tensed, more wet coughs escaping him before he turned to glare at Doubles.

“The fuck you want?” He growled, and Doubles got a good look at Burner’s much-to-pale face and somewhat hazy eyes. His glare held nowhere near its usual amount of heat.

“C’mon, you idiot,” Doubles said, forcing Burner (who offered way too little resistance) to sling himself across Doubles shoulders “Stutter would kill me if I saw you like this and didn’t take you to the medbay.”

“Fuck you...” Burner said, but there wasn’t much heat behind it, and it really just served to bring on an even nastier coughing fit than before.

“If you get me sick, I’m breaking your nose.” Doubles muttered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“There has to be some kind of mistake, Stutter--”

“No mistake, sir,” Stutter signed, looking both wary and weary as he did “You coughed up half a lung this morning along, and unless you want this things to spread and faster, you need to stay with the other sick.”

“Stutter, I don’t have time to be sick.”

The medic leveled a gaze at Whiteout that could’ve stopped a rancor in its tracks with ease, and Whiteout slowly let himself back down onto the bed he had been attempting to escape. Okay, so maybe his chest felt like it was filled with cotton and every time he coughed it burned and maybe, just maybe he had been swaying on his feet slightly earlier, but he couldn’t be sick. He shouldn’t have been.

“Captain, I have several other patients to look after, most of them having already been taken off the roster for duty until their health improves. I’ve been cleaning up bile and spit and other bodily fluids I don’t even want to discuss for almost three days straight. I am the only member of medical staff that caught it early and is not having to deal with the side effects at all. The battalion has been put out of rotation until the virus clears.”

Stutter looked Whiteout right in the eyes, despite the captain’s attempts at avoiding it, and finished signing with harsh, punctuated, emphasized movements that made Whiteout’s already buzzing head spin.

“If there’s anyone around here without time to get sick, it’s me. You have all the time until everyone else stops being sick. So, shut the hell up, stop trying what very little patience I have left, comm Harrna, and get your ass into quarantine. Now.”

Whiteout had wanted to argue, really, but the thought of a bed, maybe a cooling pack, or, hells, some of that stuff the medics had rubbed on his chest once when he got an infection during officer’s training to help clear his lungs, well... His body’s need overwrote his mind’s decisions, and he did as the medic had ordered.

#clone oc #my writing #473rd #this... spiraled waaaay outta control oh geez #AS U CAN SEE I AM. BETTER AT WRITING CARETAKER MOSTLY #thank you for the prompt!!!#goldgreenie

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southsidepey · 4 years

Text

New Shading Partners

Who: Peyton July & Hunter Clarington @northsideclarington. With mentions of @northsidesebastian

When: Monday, November 4th 2019

Where: The Secret Garden

Notes: Hunter stops in to get some flowers, but both Hunter and Peyton are in for a surprise. There’s also mild shade thrown at Seb.

Triggers: Violence, cancer (a bit), abuse

ooc: Peyton’s in bold and Hunter’s regular.

Words count: 3,190

Peyton was exhausted from the night before, she kept tossing & turning until she finally got up at five in the morning. Which would explain why she was at the shop bright and early before anyone else. She ran a hand over her bruise as she stared at herself in the mirror. It wasn't as bad, but at least it kind of blended in with her black eye that she had gotten from the club. She glanced over at the sunflowers that she had arrived, let out a breath as she moved around the shop and flipped the sign from close to open, along with unlocking the door.

Once she did, she moved about the shop, making sure it looked perfect and not a mess like it was The day before, when the sunflowers arrived. She pushed the sunflowers into the back of the arrangements that she had and then she went back moving things around.

Hunter rubbed the back of his neck as he drove through town, having just ended the graveyard shift earlier that morning. He had already been to his place to get some clean clothes for him and also Sebastian and was now on his way to the coffee shop for some needed morning drink.

But on his way over, he spotted the flower shop and suddenly had the idea of getting some for Quinn's place, a kind of way to brightening the home up a bit, a method for Sebastian to feel a bit better. He felt awful about himself, about having to do such small, meaningless things for Sebastian when he was going through so much, but there was nothing more he could do than that. He stopped in front of the flower shop and got out of the car, soon making it through the front door.

"Hello?" he called out as he walked in

Peyton was too focused on hiding the sunflowers that she didn't hear the bell and was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard Hunter's voice. "Over here!" She called out as she backed away from the flowers with her hands out, just in case they wanted to fall over for whatever reason.

She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand as she headed back to the front of the shop. "Hey, how can I help you this cold, Monday morning?" She asked with a soft smile and wondered if Hunter was in for Quinn. "Also sorry for not being right in front of the store and not be with you right away, we had a ton of flowers delivered yesterday, and it was a mess. Talk about flower petals for days." She kind of joked, even though it was a lame one.

"Oh! Before I forget." Peyton said as she dug for some order forms and placed them onto the counter. "I figured that the hospital could use some fresh flowers, well not the cancer center since they can't be around flowers when they dont have an immune system, which is understandable. I was going to tell you that the other night, but it slipped my mind." She bit down on her bottom lip, knowing that she wanted to ask about Sebastian, but it wasn't her place. "However, I do have some wonderful fake flowers for that kind of situation, if you think the president of the hospital would be up for that."

Hunter looked up from where the voice seemed to come and smiled. "Hey. Well, you can help me pick up some flowers unless I'm so terribly sleep deprived that I forgot I needed a book or to buy groceries and walked into a flower shop instead." He chuckled, then shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I know all about being understaffed, so you won't hear a complaint from me."

He walked to where the sunflowers were, his hands held behind his back, as he did, then he turned around to look at her and nodded. "That sounds like a good idea. I'm sure many patients would appreciate the thought. Are you talking about making some small arrangements to go by each bed or something like that?" He flinched internally when she said the words 'the other night' since he knew precisely what night she was talking about. "I'm sure the president won't have any issue with that. If anything, I'm sure he likes to keep his patients happy" he said, diverting the talk from 'that night.'

Peyton shrugged as she laughed a bit. "I do have food in the back if you're hungry." She nodded as she tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. "Good, because all of the college students happened to have midterms right now. Luckily enough, its been slow, so that's a plus."

She joined him as she hummed a bit. "I mean, we can do that. Or hold something where they can make their own flower arrangements. Do you think the kids would like that? Also, thank you for inviting me to that event last week, I'm pretty sure I had a lot of fun." She wanted to clear up what not she was talking about. "That's true." She cleared her throat a bit. "What kind of flowers are you wanting to get?"

Hunter hummed, his fingertips tapping his chin in thought. "I hadn't thought about that, and it's even a better idea. I don't mean to tell you about your own trade, but it would have to be those types of flowers with thorns or that kind that its inside pollen or stuff floats away... You know what I mean? Maybe some daisies, I don't know... What would you recommend?"

He shrugged slightly when she mentioned the event, which he only got through with because Hunter had committed to it, but on that night, his mind was back home with the two people he loved. "Thank you for coming too. I'm sure the kids had a blast, and thank you for taking care of the trick or treating committee inside the hospital for them. You should know they loved you, and they keep asking about you." He smiled at her, then looked back at the sunflowers. "These are nice."

"Well, if they're sick, I would recommend fake flowers. Since you don't want to take the chance of making them sicker." Peyton replied as she looked over at Hunter, swallowed hard, and looked back ahead at the flowers. "I mean, if you do get that kind of things, then you would be looking at a lawsuit on your hands, and we know how money-hungry people are in Riverdale." Including my father. She had thought.

Peyton nodded as she slipped her hands into the pockets of her apron and smiled softly. "You're welcome for that, and I think they did, I'm not entirely sure, but if you guys ever want me back, just say the word. You're welcome again and really? Then I guess I should swing by with candy one of these days." That day helped since she wanted something to distract her, and it did. She returned the smile and felt her smile fall a bit. The last person who wanted them was hidden somewhere like her best friend, and she didn't blame them one bit. "Yeah, they're also multicolored as well. I was hoping that they would've come in sooner, but we got them in yesterday." She pushed the memory away and cleared her throat. "I kind of moved them back here so that way they wouldn't be sold out right away."

Hunter nodded. "Most of them are, yes. And some are on remission too, so we don't want them getting sick again. So maybe fake flowers would be a better call. Also, they can play with them as long as they want, and not be concerned with the flowers dying after a couple of days. Maybe we should have a contest, see who makes the most pretty arrangement, and you could be the judge. Since you're officially called 'the flower lady' over there." He looked at her and smiled. "Would you consider volunteering at the children's wing? It wouldn't be a full-time job, nor a paid one, but you would be making the children happy. You seem to have a knack for that with them. Of course, only if you want to, just... think about it, okay?"

He looked at the flowers, then back at her and chuckled. "I wouldn't be taking a truckload of flowers, so you don't have to worry about me leaving you out of sunflowers. Could you make me a nice arrangement to go now? Please?" He hoped Sebastian would like the flowers when he saw them.

Peyton let out a small laugh and a smile as she shook her head. "The flower lady." She repeated as she looked at him, with both of her eyebrows raised and tilted her head off to the side. "Yeah, I'll think about it, and I'll let you know via text or the next time you come in for flowers."

"Not too worried about it, since it already happened once before, I heard that place smelled like here for an awhile," Peyton replied as she patted him on the shoulder and let out a sigh. "If I must." She teased him gently. "You know I would for you, Hunter." She gave him a smile as she tried to remember what colors before and grabbed some of them before she turned back around, making her bruise visible. She headed towards her table, making sure the arrangement was perfect since she had a feeling whom it was for. She walked back towards the sunflowers, grabbing a few more, and headed back to where her table was located. Once she was done, she let out a breath and took a picture of them, then put her phone back into her pocket. "Do you want me to make out a card for them?"

Hunter nodded, glad to see Peyton would consider his idea. He didn't know her all that well, other than the fact she was the owner of the best flower shop in town, but those few times they had actually interacted, he could see the sadness in her eyes, whatever the reason was. He felt that maybe, just maybe, that could do some good for her.

He followed to the front desk where she stood to fix the flowers into what he was sure would be a beautiful floral arrangement when she turned the other way and her hair also moved from her face, making the bruise on it visible to him. He frowned but didn't say anything at first, but wait until she was done. "No, it's fine. I'm delivering the flowers myself. Thanks."

He pulled his wallet out so he could pay for the flowers, then looked at her and shrugged slightly. "You want me to maybe take a look at that..." he asked, pointing discreetly to the bruise on her face.

Peyton nodded as she gave him a soft smile and placed the card back along with the pen into the drawer. "Of course." She replied as she rang him up and added a discount to the charge since she didn't feel right charging him the full price. She told him the amount, grabbed the pen, and placed it onto the counter, next to the flowers.

She froze when he pointed at her bruise from her dad's slap and swallowed some. "Uhm, sure. I beefed it on the road last night when I was heading home on my skateboard." She lied since she didn't know if Hunter would believe her. She glanced around, seeing it was the only two of them, she looked at him and motioned towards the back room. "Unless you wanted to look at it right here?"

Hunter paid for the flowers, then focused back on what he had spotted on her face. "I see," he said at first, and while he was thinking of a way in which he could convince her to let him check her up, he was glad to hear what she said next. "I'd feel much better if I did, yes."

Peyton nodded, understanding and cleared her throat once she put the money into the till. "One sec." She walked over towards the door, locked it, and flipped the sign to say 'Close.' "That way, no one could walk in and be like, 'what the hell.'" She tried to lighten the mood. She grabbed her stool from behind the counter, moved it, and placed it by him so she could sit somewhat close to him. Peyton interlaced her own fingers, put it in her lap, and waited for him to look at it. "While you're looking at my face, you should probably look at my fist, too." She raised her right hand for him to see.

Hunter chuckled. "Trust me. People in this town are used to make a big scene out of nothing. Still, good idea." He waited until she was sitting down, then also looked at her hands placed on her lap. "So... Did you beat your bike up when it threw you to the ground?" he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice since he knew that wasn't the kind of bruise made from a fall. He held her face between his hands carefully, his fingertips pressing around the edges of the swelling gently. "Tell me when it hurts, okay?"

Peyton nodded. "Yeah, since I don't want anyone to come after you and your girlfriend, which congrats by the way." She replied. She shook her head gently as she glanced down at her hand. "Sadly, no. The skateboard is my only transportation since my motorcycle is in the shop." She swallowed hard as she nodded slightly and winced a bit when she felt it hurt. "Right there." She looked around some and tried not to cry. "My, uh. Dad, backhanded me after I punched him in the face after he said some words that rubbed me the wrong way." Peyton said honestly, knowing that she could trust him. At least she hoped she could.

Hunter pulled his hands away when she gave signs of pain and nodded. "Sorry," he said softly, then continued to check the bruise, and also the bones around her eyes and her nose. He frowned when she explained what happened. "I'm sorry to hear that. Have you considered filing a restraining order on him or something?" He shook his head. "If he did it once, he can very well do it again." He put his hands down. "Good news is nothing feels broken on your face." He reached down and took a look at her side, slowly touching her wrist and each of her fingers. "How's that?"

Peyton shook her head at his apology. "Dont be." She whispered in returned. She let out a little laugh as she heard him. "I'm sorry for the little laugh, but I have, believed me. Back in high school, I went down to fill out one when he started to use me as his emotional punching bag. When I mean an emotional punching bag, I mean he would hit me whenever he was upset and would verbally abuse me when he was upset as well. They didn't believe me because one, it's James July, and he would never do that to his children." She paused, swallowed hard, and let out a breath when she looked away from Hunter."Also, my mom drinks, so that way, she won't have to admit it to herself that she let it happen, and that way, she won't acknowledge it. I met up with my mom, which turned out to be with them for brunch at their house last month, and she was already tipsy when I got there." She nodded as she was relieved and let him look at her hand. "It's painful in the wrist, somewhat in the fingers."

Hunter stayed in silence while he listened to Peyton, telling him about what her parents had done, or not done to her. In a way, he felt terrible for mentioning the restraining order part, since it seemed to have burst a can of worms open. "It's not broken, or I wouldn't be able to even touch it. Either way, I'd like for you to come to the hospital for some X rays on your hand and face, just to be sure. I'll be discreet about it." He put her hand back on her lap gently. "Parents can be real assholes, and I know about that."

"What about the flowers?" Peyton asked softly, looking at them and then looking back at Hunter. "For whoever they are for, I'm sure they would want them in a timely fashion." She swallowed hard. She looked back at him after he put her hand back on her lap gently and nodded slightly, not wanting to ask about his parents since she didn't want to pry. "I believe you." She bit down on her bottom lip as she glanced down a bit at her hand and looked back up at him. "I'm moving back to the Northside, and I figured I should let you know, that way if you see me in church. You wouldn't be wondering why."

Hunter groaned when he remembered he wasn't on call anymore that day, and also that he needed to be back home so that Quinn could leave. He thought about it for two seconds, then nodded. "What about if we agree to meet later today after you close the shop? I could meet you there then." He tilted his head and nodded. "Oh? That means we should see each other more often then." He looked at her and smiled, then patted her shoulder gently.

Peyton slowly nodded as she agreed. "Yeah, that works. Just don't be surprised to see my skateboard underneath my arm." She replied. Peyton scrunched up her nose with a smile when he patted her on the shoulder gently. "It definitely means that, for sure, and hopes that I won't burst into flames once I walk onto that holy ground." She let out a soft laugh, and sighed as she stood back up, carefully grabbed the stool and moved it to the back. "Thank you again." She gave him a soft smile as she went back to flipped the sign and unlocked the door. "Hopefully, that person enjoys those sunflowers."

Hunter chuckled. "I'm a resident pediatrician. Trust me, a skateboard isn't the worse thing I've seen." He walked back the other side of the counter and shook his head. "If I haven't burst into flames so far, I'm sure you should be fine." He smiled and nodded. "No problem. And I hope so too." He grabbed the flowers as carefully as he could and was about to say goodbye and leave, but instead, he looked at her. "Listen, Peyton... If you ever need anything or some help with some things, you can trust me. I can help you." He nodded at her, then walked to the door. "See you later,' he said, throwing a playful wink before he walked to his car and drove away.

Peyton laughed as she nodded, knowing that he had gotten her there. “That’s true.” She replied. “Good to know.” She watched him grab the flowers, then her eyes flickered to him when he grabbed the flowers. “Thank you for letting me know, honestly.” She chuckled as she shook her head as she went back moving things around once he left.

#para:nsp #para:hunter #para #violence tw #cancer tw #abuse tw

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