#sitting on my throat making the nausea even worse like I’m gonna gag | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

secretobsessionstuff · 3 years

Note

Been thinking about Mateo and Shawn lately !! They remind me of myself and my own partner, so I figured maybe i’d... request something based on one of my own experiences. Long story short, I had been with them all day but I was feeling really dizzy and nauseous. I was thinking about my partners gentle way of comforting me, by holding my forehead while i was getting sick or gently running their fingertips on my back. Perhaps you could do something like this with mateo and shawn? Maybe shawn is really out of it and mateo is worried he might bother shawn if he touches him too aggressively (?) i guess? I love their dynamic <33

Thank you all for being patient as I slowly get to requests. This was a super cute one 💕

It was nearing the evening when Shawn started to get tired. As the sun began to set, with golden hour in full swing, he too wanted to dip below the horizon to sleep. He and Mateo had been out all day doing errands and planned to get dinner at a new restaurant, but now Shawn just wanted to go home.

The fatigue and dizziness hit suddenly. It was the nausea that grew steadily stronger as the sun continued to leave for the day. He lazily moved through the store, holding onto the clothing racks to keep himself upright. People must have thought he was drunk with the way he swayed down the aisles.

He eventually found his boyfriend in one of the aisles trying on shoes. Shawn sighed as he found a place to sit next to a pile of shoes that Mateo was considering buying. It was only when he sat down that he realized how weird he felt. He realized that he could have passed out right there if he wanted to. Suddenly his lunch wasn’t sitting so well in his stomach. He looked up at Mateo with half-closed eyes.

“What do you think of these?” Mateo asked as he admired the leather shoes in the mirror.

“You look good in everything,” Shawn said through a yawn, not really looking at the shoes. Still, it wasn’t a lie. Mateo could walk out of here with slippers, and Shawn would be eager to see them kicked off haphazardly at the foot of his bed. Just not today. “Are you almost done? I want to go home soon.”

Mateo spun around, feeling fancy in the new shoes. He wasn’t going to buy them though because he needed more time to decide, and it didn’t look like Shawn had more time – he looked like he was going to fall asleep in the middle of the store. “You don’t want to get dinner at that new Thai place?”

Shawn scrunched up his nose. “My stomach isn’t feeling so good.” The blurriness around his vision wanted to creep closer in, and his head wanted to fall off his shoulder. “Actually, a lot of me isn’t feeling so good.”

After switching the shoes out for his actual pair, Mateo sat on the bench and looked into his boyfriend’s eyes which were bloodshot and glassy. He touched the back of his hand to Shawn’s forehead and pulled back in surprise. “It does feel like you a small fever.”

Shawn groaned and let his head fall on Mateo’s shoulder. “My eyes are burning and I’m dizzy. Will you drive?”

Mateo helped his boyfriend up. “Sure. Anything else bothering you?” It was tough not to fall back into the script that he used for patients, but Shawn didn’t seem to care.

“My stomach.”

“You already said that.”

“Well, it really hurts,” he whined, only half joking because his stomach really was in knots. “Add short term memory loss to the list.”

Getting in the car did not sound like a fun time, but Shawn did so anyway. The ride wasn’t as bad as he thought because he fell asleep before Mateo left the parking lot.

Mateo enjoyed the quiet drive back. Shawn’s car drove smoothly and silently, letting his boyfriend stay asleep the whole time. That might have been a testament to how Shawn was feeling rather than the car’s performance, however. Mateo snuck glances at Shawn’s paler than normal face. The tattoo on his neck stood out even more against the ashen skin.

“We’re here,” Mateo said as he parked the car. Shawn stayed asleep. “Babe, wake up.”

The snoring continued so Mateo got out of the car and came around to the passenger side. He unbuckled Shawn’s seat belt and felt the heat rolling off his body. “Oh boy, you’re really warm,” Mateo mumbled to himself, but it seemed to have startled Shawn from his sleep.

Shawn looked around and squinted. The first thing he registered was the fresh new wave of nausea coursing through his veins. With Mateo’s help, they walked to the door. Shawn’s legs really wanted to buckle under him. “Fuck, that nap did not help. I feel so much worse.”

“Yeah, your fever’s gotten worse too,” Mateo said as he opened the door for his boyfriend. “How’s your stomach?”

“Sick. I think I might puke.”

“You could wait for me in the bathroom while I put our groceries away.” Mateo set their bags down on the counter. “I want to take your temp—or you can crash on the couch. That works too,” he said as he watched Shawn fall onto the soft cushions.

With the thermometer and a bucket, Mateo joined Shawn on the couch. He wasn’t asleep, surprisingly. The grimace on his face told Mateo that he was too nauseous to sleep. His body took up most the couch so Mateo gently lifted Shawn’s head and placed it on his own lap.

Shawn moaned as he was jostled around. When he was settled back down on Mateo’s legs, he let out a heavy exhale. Even while lying down, the room felt like it was spinning around his head.

“Sorry, hon,” Mateo said softly. “Will you put this under your tongue?”

While Shawn held the thermometer in his mouth, Mateo ran his hands through his boyfriend’s hair. He hated hearing Shawn’s heavy breathing which served as a reminder that he was miserable. Mateo decided he would keep gliding his fingers through Shawn’s hair until his breathing slowed down or until the thermometer beeped. Whichever came first.

The thermometer beeped first. The device told him that Shawn’s temperature was sitting just below 102°F. It wasn’t terrible but not great. Still, Mateo never liked to treat anything under 103°F. This was the body’s way of curing itself. Of course, Shawn’s body had other plans to deal with whatever was making him sick, but that was a more unpleasant process.

Shawn groaned and squirmed around on Mateo’s lap. He wanted to stay where he was because Mateo’s fingers felt great, but the nausea was reaching its peak. His belly gurgled loudly, making him curl in on himself.

Mateo heard the gurgled and felt his boyfriend tense up beneath his hand. “Are you gonna be sick? Need the bucket?”

With a hand over his mouth, Shawn nodded quickly. He lifted himself up with his arm, careful not to elbow Mateo in the crotch. He reached for the bucket, but his beautiful boyfriend held it up to his mouth so that he didn’t have to. Shawn still grabbed one side, just to help him aim and to keep him from falling off the couch.

He gagged emptily at first, making his whole body shudder. The nausea filled his mouth with saliva and caused his jaw to quiver. Another gag caught in his throat.

“I’ve got you, just let it happen,” Mateo said while holding the bucket steady. He could feel the strain that it had on Shawn’s body just from the way he shook.

Shawn gagged one last time before a real wave of sick came rushing up his throat. He lurched forward from the force of the heave. With his eyes squeezed shut and tears gathering on his lashes, he heard the splatter of sick as it hit the bottom of the bucket.

A mix between a cough and a heavy exhale followed a wet burp. Shawn’s chest moved rapidly as he tried to catch his breath in between retches. “Ugh everything hurts, Teo.”

Mateo’s go-to choice of comfort in this instance would be to rub Shawn’s back or stomach but he hesitated when he heard the pain in the boy’s voice. Shawn’s body was already tense and flooded with misery; he didn’t know if his boyfriend wanted to be touch that much. In the past there had been times when Shawn was too overwhelmed for any extra stimuli. Sometimes he couldn’t stand having his shirt rub against his skin when he was sick.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Mateo said gently, with his free hand hovering awkwardly in the air. “Will it help if I rub your back?”

Shawn swallowed thickly, aware that a second bout was coming. “Maybe. Can you do it lightly…you know, like the tracing.”

Mateo knew exactly what he was talking about. Sometimes when neither of them could sleep, they took turns tracing shapes on each other’s back with their fingertips. It started out as a game to guess the pictures, but it quickly turned into random patterns that left goosebumps on their arms.

With the lightest touch, Mateo started at the top of Shawn’s spine and slowly worked his way down. Then he circled back up to the base of his neck, taking his time to make each touch gentle.

When he felt the muscles in Shawn’s back tense up, he quickly lifted his hand in fear that he hurt him. Shawn just belched up another gush into the bucket. Without a second to breathe, he was bringing up the next wave of stomach contents. Shawn gasped for air and went right back into it with a groan.

“Shh, shh, it’ll be over soon,” Mateo whispered as resumed his gentle tracing.

For a long time, Mateo kept up the gentle movement of his hands, even when the vomiting seemed to have tapered off into plain old hellish nausea. It’s the worst feeling of still being nauseous when the puking stops, but that’s the land where Shawn found himself after wiping the bile from his lips.

Physically exhausted, Shawn slumped back down on Mateo’s lap. His throat was raw and his abdomen screamed from the work. Every breath hurt. But the one thing that made it easier to deal with was the pitter patter of soft fingertips on his back. It reminded him of peaceful rain during an afternoon nap.

“That feels nice,” he sighed and closed his eyes.

Mateo smiled. He kept his voice low because he could see that Shawn’s breathing was slowing down. “Do you feel better?”

“A little.” Shawn yawned. “I could actually fall asleep.”

“Then fall asleep. I won’t stop.”

Mateo was pleased that he didn’t hear a response. He was pleased to hear Shawn’s breathing even out. As promised, he danced his fingertips across his boyfriend’s back, at least until he too fell asleep.

#emeto #emetophilia #emeto fic #sickfic #stomach flu #stomach bug #fever fic #fever #my ocs #Shawn #Mateo #fluff #fluffy #comfort #vomiting #puking

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sicjimin · 3 years

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A.N ; Seokjin baby im sorry i torture you here TT and sorry if this was too long ......... and making nonsense . I hope you like a little bit. fluff. in the end :] ( yes this is the 16k that i post yesterday. didnt mean to post it bc idont think this is good enough but .. well. here it go ~ )

TW : emeto , mpreg

Seokjin frowns when he feels his stomach churn at the smell of jjigae he currently made. His hands feel clammy and sweaty and he wants to throw up so badly. He’s not even sure why, but it makes him feel sick. He takes a deep breath, grazing his hand over his stomach as the other hand keeps stirring the food.

"Hyung, what are you making?", Yoongi stifles a yawn as he shuffles to the kitchen, opening the fridge and snatched one of cold water there. Sighing in content when the cold water sliding on his throat.

" Jjigae", Seokjin mumbles quietly with a pout, continuing to stir the soup inside the pot.

"Oohh that nice ..", Yoongi peeked up, " Do you need help?"

"I think I can handle it", Seokjin mutters, taking in another deep breath as the smell intensifies. It smells delicious. But for some reason it feels like his stomach protest again him. His nausea intensifies. And the heat from the stove makes him feels hot all over.

He parted his lips slightly, trying to ease his nausea by breathing through it. His grip on the spoon tightens. Taking slow inhales while the other hand holds onto the counter. Taking deep breaths, he tries to calm down. And then another wave of nausea suddenly hit him. This time harsh, like someone flipping his stomach

A gag escapes from his mouth. He gasps quietly as he quick to clamped his mouth. Trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He swallows and exhales harshly before taking another deep breath.

" Hyung? Are you okay?", Yoongi furrows his brows together worriedly, stepping into Seokjin's line of sight.

“I’m fine Yoongichi... Just suddenly feeling nauseous..” Seokjin says softly, still trying hard not to cough as he continues to stir the jjigae. Nausea hasn't subsided yet but at least it doesn't make him want to hurl that instant.

Yoongi stares at him for a few seconds. As if he doesn't believe a word that Seokjin has said because he knows how easily Seokjin could just lie about something like this. So Yoongi decides to give him a break today.

“Okay hyungie. If you say so”, he replies as he turns his gaze back to the phone.

"Good morning hyung!!", Jimin chimed in from the stairs. It didn't surprise the older, only make them wonder a bit at how someone could be so bright at 7 AM?

Yoongi rumbles a reply, and so is Seokjin, when Jimin placed himself on the stool next to Yoongi.

" Is it jjigae hyung?", he asks curiously, eyes squinted as he looked at the dish Seokjin was cooking.

Seokjin hums, not trusting himself to open his mouth. He can already feel the bile rising up again.

Jimin giggles lightly. “It smells delicious hyung!!"

Smells.

Seokjin's stomach revolts. Again. He gulps, trying to keep his stomach contents. But its hard.

He scrunches his face. His lips quiver as he throws the spoon away and turning himself to the sink. Gagging harshly there, that not long after morph into a full heave, vomit splatters loudly covered the stainless steel.

"Uuurrkk-", he retches again, floodgates of dinner rushing from his mouth. The sound of liquid hitting the sink echoed throughout the kitchen.

"Nnngh"

"Shit.. hyung!", Yoongi hurried to his side, putting his hand on the elder's shoulder. Jimin rushes over too, turning off the stove to save the dish.

Seokjin moans in pain, sucked a deep breath before vomiting once more in the sink. His stomach rolls uncomfortably. His back arched forward, throwing more chunks of vomit.

After several minutes, Seokjin's nausea finally subsides enough to stop gagging and spewing his stomach content. He could see that he lost all of his dinners.

He took another deep breath. A shaky hand wiped at his sweaty forehead. He tried to get his heart to calm down so it would go back to normal as he turns the faucet on, letting it drain what it was his dinner, and rinse some of it around his tongue to get rid of the aftertaste.

"You okay hyung?", Yoongi asked in concern.

Seokjin nodded weakly, leaning against the counter and sighing heavily. " 'm sorry .." , he mumbles. "I think i need to lay down. I feel faint"

Yoongi nodded, grabbing Seokjin's wrist and helping the elder out of the kitchen, walking towards the couch in their living room, dropping himself heavily onto it. Jimin scurrying beside him, hands him water that he gladly accepts and downed it.

"I will continue the food before the rest get up", Yoongi squeezed his shoulder before he stands up. Seokjin mumbles a small thank you.

" What are you feeling hyung? Why do you suddenly get sick?", Jimin asks.

"Just feeling a little queasy.", Seokjin murmurs tiredly as he slowly lays down on the sofa. "I don't know .. it was the smells making my stomach churn"

Jimin nods, rubbing soothing circles on his back as Seokjin leans his head back onto the softness.

The two sat for a while before the others woke up and Yoongi helped set the table and cook breakfast. Seokjin decided to stay behind, not trusting his stomach to accept any food now.

The rest of the day was going well, he stayed at the dorm after some ultimatum from Namjoon and Yoongi, but strangely, he did not get the urge to vomit the whole day. Managed to get down soup and some crackers.

Even though he felt sick the entire time. Though he didn't feel bad at all during most of his days, just feeling slightly uncomfortable and queasy.

That night when they had gone home, Seokjin back to square one. They had set this appointment to had dinner in this restaurant they always wanted to try, before the whole breakfast fiasco happened.

"Come on guys, let's just go. I'm fine! I did not vomit again the whole day. I feel better!", Seokjin tried to convince them as they lounging on the couch, hesitant to go. Namjoon and Yoongi shared a look before sighing.

"Okay, if you say so.", Namjoon says as they both stand up, heading to the door where they both grabbed the keys, wallet and coat. They walked out and headed to the restaurant.

Maybe Seokjin did underestimate himself, because as soon as Yoongi clicked on the stove and grilling the meat, and Namjoon cut the vegetables, Seokjin felt sick again. Like earlier that day. Only worse, much worse. He bites his inner cheeks.

No, he can't throw up now.

Not when the others were excited to eat.

He sucked a deep breath, as his hand quietly slides under his shirt and settled there, hoping that he could hold back everything, at least until he was back at the comfort of his room.

" Hyung, you sure you're okay? You look pale again", Jimin says worriedly, placing meat at the older bowl.

"Yup", Seokjin replies with a strained smile as mutters a small thank you. He forces a chuckle, giving a reassuring pat on Jimin's arms. "I'm fine .. now eat", he says, taking his own chopsticks, even though his mouth-watering rapidly.

Trying to ignore the churning in his gut.

Trying hard to keep the queasiness inside of him.

He ate the first bite, and then quickly eats the second and third. And when the fourth bite had been eaten, the sickness in his stomach breaks.

He quickly clamped his mouth as his body clenched with nausea.

He's gonna vomit now he's gonna vomit now he's gonna vomit now he's—

" Hyung?", he heard Jimin 's concerned voice, and he can see Yoongi and Namjoon staring worriedly at him.

"Are you gonna be sick?"

Seokjin didn't want to nods, afraid that the slightest movement might make his stomach lost its defense. Yet he can't open his mouth, he's afraid that might not be words that gonna come out.

He feels his chest tighten as another round of queasiness hits him full force. His hands grip tight onto the fabric covering the front of his abdomen. Sweat started forming on his temple, the heat from the pan heating his skin. He swallows thickly, eyes wide.

"Yes ..", he breathes out. Not even sure if Jimin or anyone hear it. But apparently, he did, as Jimin tell Hoseok to grab the trashcan beside him, and quickly placed it near Seokjin's side.

Seokjin quickly hunched over it, squeezing his eyes shut as another round of pain strikes him, the wave of nausea overwhelming him. His hand gripping tightly to the wooden table.

" 'm sorry", he croaked out before he gurgles up what he just ate. Rice and half disgested meat plopping loudly to the plastic. "Uurrkkk-", his body convulses once more, emptying his stomach and throw up everything he managed to eat today. He could feel tears springing from his eyes and rolling down his flushed cheeks.

"It's okay hyung, let it out", he hears someone murmurs softly as he pukes more. And again. And again. Until he was almost empty. Then suddenly stopped. Feeling dizzy and weak as his eyes flutter closed.

"Hyung .. here, drink"

He could barely hear Jimin's soft offers, barely even registers that he is still sitting there slumped forward. Eyes closed, panting as nausea still lingering in his gut. He opened his eyes slowly and shakily accept the glass. The cold water pouring against his burning throat. It feels nice.

"Do you want to go home hyung?", Namjoon asks, gently.

Seokjin nodded silently. "Yeah... but finish your food first, 'm sorry", he rasped out.

The two younger nod, grabbing their chopsticks to clean up.

The car ride home was silent, with only the low hum of the engine as their vehicle sped past by traffic lights.

" Do you feel like you might throw up again? Want me to placed a bucket next to your bed?", Yoongi asks after he got out of the bathroom, looking at his roommate that curled on his bed. He looks exhausted.

Seokjin shakes his head, "No, thank you. I feel better already"

Yoongi pursed his lips, and turned off the lights. He crawled into bed and cuddled up, "Wake me up if you need something, okay?"

And after low hums from the older, they went to sleep.

- - -

True to his words, Seokjin really did not throwing up the whole night. But the older repeating his cycles yesterday as Yoongi once again, finding him hunched over the toilet in an attempt to make breakfast.

"Uuurrkk-", Seokjin retches, his head ducked deep into the toilet bowl, stomach clenching painfully as he continued gagging.

His breathing was heavy as he gripped at the rim of the seat.

" Hyung ...", Yoongi mumbles beside him, his hand rubbing comforting circles over his back as Seokjin groans in pain and exhaustion with every jolts of his stomach.

Finally, it ended, Seokjin falling backward, head slumped on the toilet seat, his chest heaved from the dry heaves he had forced himself to.

"Hyung...", Yoongi mumbles again, " Do you have any vendetta against breakfast? or food?", he teases lightly.

Seokjin gave a small laugh.

He turns around and stares at Yoongi with tired eyes and tear-stained cheeks. "I think so, i don't know what's wrong with me. The smell of food always turns me off", he grunts as he wipes at his lips with the back of his hand.

Yoongi smiled slightly, "Do you want to go to the doctor hyung?"

Seokjin shook his head, "No, maybe i just ate something bad or catch some bug. I will be fine"

Yoongi cocked his eyebrow, "But you dont have fever if you catch a bug ..."

"I don't know .. maybe i built differently?", Seokjin shrugs as he rinses his mouth, " Can you continue the food, Yoongi-ah? i'm sorry but i think i will throw up again if i try to cook"

Yoongi nods, giving Seokjin a gentle squeeze on his arms before retreating to the kitchen.

- - -

Seokjin trying to brush it off, the queasiness that comes on and off at him for almost a week now. He doesn't want to worry anyone about it, even though Yoongi now taking his roll to cook breakfast.

Until on the 8th day he got latched by this mysterious bug, it got worse.

As always, it was in the morning, Seokjin hunched over the toilet, this time he managed to eat 3 bites of his breakfast, before a gag making everyone in the room turning his head to him as he run off to the bathroom.

Yoongi really couldn't brush the worry in his mind looking at how the older body was shaking as it held him as he pukes. Seokjin looks so weak, like it takes all force from his body to empty his stomach right now.

"Yoongi-ah..", Seokjin croaked out in between heaves, "I can't... I'm going to throw up again".

Seokjin was sweating a lot, and he was panting heavily. The stench and taste of vomit mixing with the smell of food that wafted around in the room.

" Let it out hyung .. after that let's go to the doctor?", Yoongi asked, carefully watching Seokjin, who just nodded faintly before burp out another watery vomit.

"I think I'm done", Seokjin wheezes out after emptying the rest of his stomach, leaning down on the toilet, and breathing harshly. His cheeks flushed, contrasting with how pale his lips are. "Yoongichi, he swallows thickly, 'm dizzy ..", he admits quietly, feeling himself begin to slip away, as the lightheadedness was creeping up his brain.

"Shit", Yoongi curses was the last thing he heard before he let Yoongi catches his limp body.

+++

The smell of disinfectant was the first thing that waking his senses. Seokjin hates how his body now seems like become more sensitive to everything as his stomach immediately churns at the mere thought of the odor. He tried to swallow, to try and relieve some pain in his throat. But all he could do was cough. And then another wave of sickness rolled through his body.

He whimpered as his hands grasped tightly at the sheets that covered him. He gives up, as he rolled his body to the side, and lets whatever his stomach had in him come spilling from his lips.

He was grateful when he heard his vomit hitting something solid, at least, he didn't make a mess on the floor.

He felt a pair of hands gently rub his back, rubbing calming patterns.

It took a while for Seokjin to regain consciousness. Everything was blurry as he blinked open his eyes. He looked up to see Yoongi holding the bucket he just vomited.

" Yoongichi?", he says as he let himself relax to the bed. A different bed.

"Where am i?", he croaks as Yoongi leans down, wiping his chin with a wet cloth.

" Your hospital room", he responds simply.

Seokjin frowns, confused. Why does he have the hospital? Is he sick?

"You were vomiting a lot this morning until you suddenly fainted on me. Fuck, i was so scared hyung", Yoongi's voice shook slightly as he sit on the edge of Seokjin's bed.

Ah ... he remembers.

" Don't do that on me again", Yoong pouts. Seokjin eyes widen as he heard the younger suddenly sniffle. Yoongi never cried.

"Hey", Seokjin called softly, reaching out to grab Yoongi's arm, gently tugging until he sat on the bed, facing him. "Hey, no crying", he muttered.

"Why are you so stupid?", Yoongi sighed softly, wiping his eyes angrily. Seokjin coos at the sight while he chuckles, " You were worried but insulting me at the same breath", he points out, smiling slightly.

Yoongi huffs.

"What did the doctor say then? Am i sick? Something that life-threatening? Do i had to get surgery?", Seokjin questions.

Yoongi rolls his eyes as he shakes his head, " Stop being dramatic", he mumbles. Yoongi scoots closer, before grinning and steal a kiss from the older, making Seokjin gasp and blush creeping until his ears.

"You're pregnant", Yoongi mumbled against the older's lips, smirking playfully.

Seokjin freezes and stared dumbfoundedly at the younger. He was still recovering from all the sudden shock, and he didn't know what to think.

A child. A baby.... his.

"I .. what?", Seokjin finally manages to utter. It was quiet as both men listened to each other's heartbeats.

"We have a baby", Yoongi mumbles, his eyes glistening under the dimmed hospital lights.

He was silent, just staring at the younger, his thoughts running wild inside his head.

"Hyung?".

" I love you", Seokjin suddenly blurts out.

Yoongi laughs, "I love you too", he says softly and placing his palms on Seokjin's stomach, " and thank you", he adds.

Seokjin smiles warmly and kisses Yoongi chastely on the lips, his fingers carding through the younger hairs.

"Now, we have one homework", Yoongi murmurs as he pulls away.

Seokjin cocked his eyebrow.

" You had to tell the others", Yoongi says, " We can't just keep it a secret from everyone"

Seokjin snorts softly, "Yeah well. Let's just call them here?"

"Hyung .. they dont even know we're dating for months"

"Oh"

"Yeah, oh"

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

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sickybubbies · 3 years

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The Yellow To My Blue [JHS + MYG]: Prologue

A/N: Did i disappear for a year? Yes i did. Am i going to make up for it in this series? Yes. Yes I am. Enjoy my loves!

Synopsis: College students Yoongi and Hoseok are what you would indefinitely describe as ‘polar opposites’. Jung Hoseok was that one bubbly student that everyone knew of. He’s always smiling and radiating warmth and happiness wherever he went, leaving a trail of glow from his halo he had on. And then there’s Yoongi. Min Yoongi was always scummbed in the corner of the classroom, wallowing in his grumpiness and overall bland exterior. He was dark and never up to no good. What happens when these two need eachother the most: in sickness, and in health.

TW: Emeto. Mentions and depictions of ‘vomit’

Pairing: Yoonseok (Sope)

Word count: 938 words

Yoongi hums to himself, staring at the road absentmindedly as he drives. He turns the steering wheel swiftly using the palm of his hand as he peeks at the rearview mirror and then at his fiance, Hoseok.

“You alright Seok?” He asks, his voice at his usual low and softness so he doesn’t startle the younger but judging from the squeak he hears from beside him; it startles him anyway to which he makes a mental note to apologise for later.

“Huh? Ah yeah. I’m alright” Hoseok answers quietly before shifting in his seat a little and pursing his lips, his cheeks turn hot from the embarrassment of being pulled out of his thoughts. He hadn’t realised that he’d fallen silent for that long.

In Hoseok’s defense he was too busy trying to focus on anything, anything but the queasiness that was trying to discombobulate his organs and it was doing it’s job fairly well considering how his stomach gives another ominous turn. He sucks in a breath, fingers digging into the seatbelt that was strapped around his belly to give it a discrete tug so it loosened and didn’t add to his misery.

‘Just look at the trees Yoongi doesn’t need to know… focus on the trees...they’re so pretty...so relaxing...so green, but vomit can be green it can be green and yellow and thick and-’ Hoseok screws his eyes shut and sucks in a breath, begging himself to think about something else other than ‘that’. It was only making him feel worse, the rancid taste that sat on his taste buds growing stronger and he swallows as his stomach continues to churn.

Yoongi hums in acknowledgement, no real consideration in his voice because he just knows and sees through the white lie clearly. He wasn’t oblivious to his discomfort, Hoseok had been paling the more he drove on which led him to the conclusion.

“Are you feeling sick?”

At that moment Hoseok lets out a big exasperated sigh. It makes Yoongi chuckle, he knew what that meant. He turns to Hoseok and he was definitely giving him the look, the ‘why-can-i-never-get-anything-past-you’ look.

“Screw you and your fucking sixth sense” Hoseok grumbles, his guard now down as he unclicks his belt and slouches in his seat. He holds his stomach, grimacing as it twists and turns wincing at how hard it felt to the touch. He sighs, jolting with a small burp and his eyes widen in surprise at how sour and bitter it was. The tell tale signs of needing to vomit were beginning to catch up to him now that he wasn’t dwelled on hiding it, his stomach was churning and there was nausea clawing at him in the pit of his stomach which forces him to sit up.

“I think i’m gonna be sick,” Hoseok announces in a small voice, his hand moving to sit at his lips and cover his mouth. The grip around his jaw tightens as saliva begins to pool in his mouth and he audibly swallows.“Yoonie” He whimpers, it sounded sickly and urgent.

“I’m on it Hobi. I’m pulling over now.” Yoongi says, slightly alarmed due to the frantic and messy situation that they were going to be tied in if he didn’t act quickly. He reaches over to grab Hoseok’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and holds it tight as he begins to assure him. “It’s okay, you’re okay, deep breaths Seok” He reminds while his eyes scavenge for somewhere to stop.

Hoseok nods and begins to inhale and exhale shakily, to let his fretting partner know that he appreciated his concern and wasn’t suffocating himself by forgetting to breathe trying to hold himself back. However as soon as the car halts Yoongi hasn’t even pulled the brakes and Hoseok’s scrambling for the locks of the door, he bolts out of the car in a stumble as he crouches over and begins to spit the saliva that began to overflow.

Yoongi winces at the sounds of Hoseok’s coughs, they were thick and got wetter by each passing second and eventually resulting in a gag. He hisses, quickly undoing his own belt before following suit after Hoseok and letting his door slam.

Yoongi catches up to him, placing a hand on Hoseok’s arched back as the younger heaves and brings up a mouthful of vomit which splatters into the grass. “It’s okay, you’re okay” He breathes out, hand smothering his back in tender circles choosing to stay silent through the ordeal and patiently waits for Hoseok to finish.

“Why’s it orange?” Yoongi asks, it comes out too blunt for Hoseok’s liking and he chokes on his sip of water. He coughs and sputters as he screws the lid back on the bottle and wipes his lips using his free hand. “It’s because I had orange juice before we left..” He answers sheepishly.

Hoseok clears his throat, tilting his head at his fiance in confusion. “You know Yoongs, of all the years we’ve been together. I’ll never understand why the colours of my vomit fascinate you so much. Aren’t you disgusted?” He mumbles to himself, scoffing as Yoongi shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I love you so much Seok?” Yoongi retorts with a flirtatious and smug smirk on his face, chuckling as Hoseok looks back at him disgusted at his cheesiness that he was never used to.

“Gross. Ah stop you make me want to puke again” Hoseok shudders, opening the bottle up again and pressing the rim to his lips as he smiles at Yoongi’s broad laughter and he thinks.

A/N: hewwo! i hope you guys enjoyed this, remember this is just a starter there’s a lot more to come heh i’m really sorry for disappearing from the face of earth on this platform and barely updating things have been tough espescially after becoming a law student i barely have time for things nowadays because of how busy i am but I have been using the time to work on my writing skills and improve them I promise to update as much as i can from now please be patient with me i love you all!!

How on earth did they get together?

#bts emeto #bts sickfic #bts college au #yoonseok #sick!hoseok #caring!yoongi #bts hosoek #bts yoongi #bts yoonseok #sope au

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terrortalesv · 3 years

Text

Starting a family

@tr85n asked for prompt #99 from that list, with Pam/Benson.

Human AU where Stella is the bio child of both of them.

Pam chews on a pen absently as she wanders into the breakroom to join her coworkers, who had already started their lunch break about ten minutes prior. Instantly, the smell of tuna and mayo hits her nose and makes her gag.

She steps out again and runs to the bathroom to splash some water on her face. Leaning against the washbasin for a few seconds, she waits to see if the feeling will pass or get worse, sighing with relief when it goes away. Weird. What is going on lately? she thinks.

Pam looks at herself in the mirror again and leaves the bathroom.

When she returns, her colleagues welcome her back with strange stares. Fortunately, they are all no longer eating, so the food, including the dreaded tuna, is gone, though she swears some vague smells still linger. She tries to ignore it, and sits down.

“Uhh, yes?” Pam looks around at the group while she takes her salad from the fridge beside her.

“Pam? Is everything okay? You seem a little… off today,” Stefan takes the seat right next to her. His tone is sincere, maybe even a little worried, the giggle as he snatches a piece of tomato from her bowl decidedly less so. Pam tosses a glare his way.

She shoves a forkful of leaves into her mouth before speaking, “I don’t know, it’s really weird.” And then she rattles off the various things she’s been dealing with as of late. She describes the mood swings, the fatigue, the constant hunger, the nausea.

By the end of her spiel, Stefan and her other closest coworker, Tobias, are giving each other a strange look, as if they’re in on a secret, a piece of the puzzle that they want to reveal but aren’t exactly allowed to.

“Ohhh. I know what’s going on here,” Tobias says smugly. The other man chuckles.

Pam looks at him and puts more salad in her mouth, not bothering to ask him to elaborate. She knows he will regardless.

“Obviously somebody’s pregnant,” Tobias leans over the table, close to her face, and says in a loud whisper.

“Ooooooohhh! Uh-oh!” Stefan teases.

Pam’s eyes widen and she almost chokes on some cracked pepper. After a few brief seconds, she comes to her senses.

“Uh, no, I don’t think so. It’s probably just that bug that’s been going around,” she tells them, and continues eating.

“Actually, yeah, maybe it is,” one of their older colleagues chimes in as he gets up to leave the breakroom.

“Psh, yeah. Whatever you say,” Tobias teases. He rolls his eyes and then he and his friend exit the room to go back to work, leaving Pam alone.

She sighs into her salad bowl and stabs at the remaining leaves with her fork. “Pregnant? Yeah, really funny, guys. No way,” she laughs to herself, but those strange symptoms linger in the back of her mind and she begins to have doubts.

No, but we haven’t even been trying. Besides, I’m way past that age anyway, right? Obviously it’s just a coincidence and they were messing with me. Yeah. You’re not pregnant, Pam, stop thinking about that.

She doesn’t stop thinking about it. She spends most of the next few hours thinking about it, convincing herself she’s not pregnant, that that was just a stupid joke those guys were telling, and then doubting herself.

She continues like this for a while, until she steps into one room to check on the equipment and sees something that catches her eye. She remembers their boss telling them about this thing, a super new, super high-tech machine that allows the user to see inside anything. She remembers her telling them about how this device was not only better than a standard x-ray machine, but safer.

Pam thinks for a moment. I mean, I already know I’m not pregnant. But what’s the harm in just having a little look-see, right?

She checks to see if there’s anyone watching her and closes the blinds just in case someone might walk by. Breathing a sigh, Pam presses some buttons on the device, listens as it whirs to life, and steps behind it.

She has to wait a few minutes before an image appears on the whiteboard to her right. All the usual things are there, nothing seems amiss. That is, until she shifts her eyes to her lower belly area, where a tiny, strange shape sits.

Her heart sinks and the nausea returns with a vengeance. She looks away from the screen, breathing heavily. Whatever it is, upon first glance it looks unlike anything that would ordinarily be inside a healthy human body. Pam swallows, although the dryness in her mouth doesn’t so easily allow it.

What is that? Some kind of weird mass in my stomach. Oh, no. It can’t be. Is this how I’m going to die? I should’ve caught this so much sooner, it’s probably way too late to deal with it now. But maybe I should book in with a doctor anyway, see if they can—

She shakes her head. Slowly she comes to her senses, though her heart rate and breathing take longer to return to normal.

“It’s okay, Pam. You’re not dying. At least not yet. Let’s just take a better look at this thing and then make our assumptions,” she tells herself.

She cautiously cranes her neck to look at the board again and takes more notice of the shape. One part of it is much larger, and the other has four small… things sticking out from it. She swears she sees a tiny human in that shape, as strange as it sounds, with the big head and teeny-tiny limbs. Wait.

Hand over face, Pam slowly steps away from the machine and turns it off. The picture is still projected on the wall. She stares wordlessly, eyes wide, hands slipping down to her belly. She’s unsure if she should be concerned or happy.

A million thoughts race through her mind at once, not daring to leave her alone for even a second, as much as she tries to ignore them. She wanders the halls of the vast laboratory, pretending to work whenever someone else is nearby, but spends the remainder of the work day too distracted to actually do anything.

How am I going to tell Benson? How is he going to react? Does he even want to be a dad? He seems perfectly content with just the pets. And what about me? Am I even cut out to be a mom? The animals are kind of a handful already, how are we possibly going to deal with a kid?

When Pam arrives home, she walks past the throng of cats that greet her at the door, enters their bedroom and flops down on the bed, exhausted.

She tells herself she’s only going to lie down for an hour, but wakes up several hours later to the sound of her husband setting the table for dinner. Groggily, she gets up and stumbles out to the kitchen.

Benson’s head snaps up at the sound of her footsteps and he smiles at her. She loves that smile, so much so that it causes all her worries to fade away. But not for very long.

“Hey! Sleep well?” He puts an arm around her and kisses her on the cheek.

“Yeah,” Pam offers him a tired smile and sits down at her usual chair. Benson quickly follows, tucking her chair in for her and then sitting down himself. He scoops up some pesto linguine and plops it onto both of their plates, then grabs a piece of garlic bread and takes a bite out of it. Pam tries her best to eat as much as she can, but her mind is still elsewhere. Benson notices.

“Pam, honey? You okay? You don’t look like yourself tonight,” Benson reaches a hand across the table to grab hers and gently caresses the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Um, oh, I…” she sighs, turning her hand over to give his a squeeze, “can I tell you something?” Her heart races and she sips from a glass of water in an attempt to ease her dry mouth. Now’s as good a time as any, I suppose. Who knows, maybe putting it out there and telling him will help calm my nerves.

“Yeah, of course,” her husband looks her in the eye with a smile, voice as calm and comforting as he can possibly make it. He takes another bite of bread.

“I…” she has to clear her throat, “I’m pregnant.”

Pam watches Benson’s face. He takes a moment to process her words, then his expression goes blank and he coughs up some crumbs. A strange combination of concern and surprise paints his pale, bearded face. Slowly, a large grin appears and the tips of his ears turn pink. Pam swears she’s never seen him look so in love.

“Oh, my god… Are you for real? We’re gonna be parents? I’m gonna be a dad?” Benson whispers, almost a squeal.

“Benson? You okay?”

He wipes that tear from his eye before answering, “Yeah! Yeah, I’m great.” He gets up from his chair, seemingly completely forgetting about the food on his plate, and kneels in front of her. He gently wraps his arms around her and presses his fleshy, weathered cheek against her belly.

“We’re having a bay-bee,” he says, in a high-pitched, sing-song voice that Pam has never heard before, even after all these years.

Later that night, as they’re lying in bed facing each other, Benson gives Pam a kiss on the nose and whispers, “I’m so excited.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

‘I know, you keep saying that,” she giggles.

“Well, I can’t help it. We’re having a baby. Together. Don’t you think that’s… the best?” He moves some hair out of her eye with a finger.

Pam can only respond with a tired “mm-hmm” as she closes her eyes. Benson carefully presses a cold, calloused hand to her belly and she shivers.

“Sorry,” he tilts his head toward where his hand is sitting, “we’re so excited to meet you, baby.”

“You know it can’t hear yet, dad.”

“Dad…” just from the tone of his voice, Pam can tell Benson likes the sound of that.

#regular show #pam #benson #mywriting

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haikyuu-sickfics · 3 years

Text

Vomit warning!

I feel bad about how poorly written my first Suna centric fic was so heres attempt #2

First it was Atsumu who came down with the horrible bug. Though, thanks to his whiny nature, the abnormality in his condition was noticed quickly by his family. The early detection of the ailment allowed for him to not leave the house and spread his illness throughout the school- or worse his team.

This plan had one weak spot though.

That weak spot had a name, and a position on the volleyball team the Miya's tried so hard to keep healthy.

Though they struck luck, in a way. Thanks to Osamu's reserved nature, it seemed that no one on the team was at risk of contagion.

No one but the only person closer to Osamu than Atsumu.

Rintarou.

The two were practically joined at the hip, if one of them was having a bad day- they both were. If one of them sprained their ankle, magically the other did as well. And, obviously, if one of them got sick, the other would definately catch it.

But they didn't get sick, one of the pros of being an observer and not a engager- like Atsumu.

"If ya got me sick I swear to everything I'm gonna pummel yer head in," Osamu threatened as his dull headache throbbed on the walk to school.

"Okay lemme just," Atsumu pursed his lips and sucked in as though a straw was in his mouth.

"The fuck was that?"

"Oh I'm just sucking all the sickness out of you because appearantly I can control where that shit goes," Atsumu sassed.

His attitude dropped quickly after recieving a knock on the head by his twin.

"The hell was that for?"

"You had immunity while you were sick, I've been holding that in for so damn long."

Atsumu pouted, absentmindedly rubbing the sore spot on his head and distancing himself a bit from his walking partner.

Todays walk to school felt significantly longer and more treacherous today, the suns rays beating down harder than they ever had, enveloping Osamu into a sweaty unwanted hug and injecting grogginess into his every movement.

Atsumu didn't point out Osamu's slow movements, fear of another rutheless attack providing more than enough restraint.

The sight of the schools familiar architechture proved a very welcomed sight to the both of them. Atsumu waved goodbye before hurrying to join his group of friends, desperate to get away from his twin.

Osamu mumbled some line about his brothers rudeness before beginning the search for Rintarou.

They usually met up outside of their shared class, but Osamu wished to talk with him earlier. As much as he disliked falling behind in work, there was no way he would be able to make it through a full day of school. Having the same train of thought as Osamu, Rintarou was pacing to the left of the enterance, slender eyes scanning for the formers familiar presence.

Once the two caught eye contact they quickly walked up to eachother.

"Where did you say your brother has been?" Rintarou question immediately.

"Stomach bug," Osamu replied sullenly, knowing where this conversation was headed.

"Ok and did he sleep on the couch or something?"

"Nope, he stayed in our room because the couch was 'too hot,'" he surrounded the last bit with air quotes.

"So do you think-"

"That I caught it? Yes," Osamu knew enough about his body to know that the bubbling sensation in his stomach was a sign of some sort of ailment.

"So it's contagious," Rintarou confirmed.

"Mhm."

Rintarou groaned, burying his face in his hands. The moment he woke up with nausea pummeling down on him, his subconsious knew what had happened. But it took Osamu strengthening his theory to make him sure

"So... are you going to school today? Maybe you should stay home, I could walk you and make sure you get there safe," Rintarou hid his own eagerness to skip school by masking it with Osamu's.

"Yea okay."

Smiling inwardly at this small victory, Rintarou began the familiar trek to the Miya house. The walk was blessfully short, the cool morning air and light traffic cruising by singing a soft lullaby. By the time the house came into view, the two were practically sleep walking.

"M' moms not home, she missed a lotta work last week," Osamu informed between yawns.

Rintarou nodded, a small part of him hoped that the eldest Miya would be present, her presence was always comforting and her extense experience in the ways of parenthood allowed for her to always know exactly what to do next.

Honestly, Rintarou really needed her right now, he hated to admit it but she was the closest thing he had to a mother figure, and doesn't everyone want to be nurtured when they're sick?

"When's she coming back," he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Osamu shrugged, slipping his key into the lock on the door and turning it.

"Dunno, she usually gets off at like 5 but she might stay longer to catch up."

Biting his inner cheek to suffocate his dissapointment, Rintarou followed Osamu into his house.

"I'll go make soup," Rintarou offered as Osamu dissapeared down the hall.

"Ugh no! I've had soup for the past week, just make some sandwhiches or something."

That didn't sound like the best sick-day meal, but hey, it wasn't his house.

Rintarou knew his way around the Miya's kitchen as if it were his own, allowing him to effortlessly find the ingredients for a simple fruit sandwich.

With the two snacks on a plate, Rintarou walked down the hall to the twin's room where Osamu was huddled under the blankets on his bed, back to the door.

"I have food."

"Mneh."

"Yea ok."

Rintarou gently placed the food on a dresser before sitting next to Osamu on his bed.

"How you feeling?"

"Like shit," Osamu groaned, peeking his head out of the safety of his covers, "you?"

"Tired."

Osamu scooched over, pressing himself against the wall and patting the now empty space next to him, "then sleep."

Rintarou nodded thankfully before tucking himself under the blankets and curling into a ball on his side. The bed was hot, or was that just him? He didn't know anymore. All he knew was that these blankets kept every degree of body heat trapped under its fibers, sticking it to the sweat beading on the both of their body's.

"Do you have shorts and a tank I could borrow?" Rintarou asked, tugging at the collar of his uniform.

"Mhm," Osamu lightly pushed Rintarou out of the bed before pulling himself up.

He rocked in place for a moment, eyes shut and jaw clenched and relaxing periodically.

"You good?"

Osamu held a finger up, waiting for the spell to pass. It didn't pass. He sat down quickly on the edge of the bed, elbows braced on his knees holding his head in his hands.

"No no no, not now," Rintarou scanned to room for a bag or bucket or anything that would keep Osamu from making a mess.

The only thing he could find was Atsumu's old sport duffle.

Better than nothing.

Rintarou grabbed it, not even checking to see if it was empty before thrusting it onto Osamu's lap.

A smile flashed behind Osamu's eyes as he imagine how pissed his twin would be when he saw this.

His devious joy didn't last for long though as his barely digested breakfast came barreling up his throat. Lips parting slightly, a light wave of disgustingly sour stomach contents splashed into Atsumu's property.

"He's gonna be," Osamu passed to stifle a burp, "pissed y'know."

Rintarou hummed, purposely staring in the opposite direction.

Before Osamu could ask of his friends wellbeing, vomit took the place of words and a thicker wave of cereal landed on top of the previous with a sickening splat.

Rintarou walked out of the room at this, his head spinning with intense nausea. He took deep breaths, trying desperately to calm his stomach long enough for him to make it to the toilet without incident. The smell of fruit lingering on his hands assaulted Rintarou's nose as he covered his mouth. A quick gag tore its way out, pressing ruthlessly against his stomach as the boys legs threatened to collapse beneath him.

He tried so hard to make it. The bathroom was right there, he could see the door knob, practically touch it. So close to turning it and entering into the clean comfort of the cool tiled floor and porceline bowl. He didn't make it.

Of course he didn't.

Rintarou's inner struggle forced it's way out to paint the restroom door a dark abstract splash.

"The fuck was that?" Osamu called after hearing the splash.

Rintarou groaned, wanting nothing more than to sink into the floor below him and allow dirt to hug every crevice of his body. Maybe if he sat still enough that would happen. Or maybe enough dust would accumilate to hide his existance from the rest of the world, just another speck of dirt on the floor.

That was unreasonable thinking. There was no avoiding the cold hard fact about what had just happened. Rintarou just repayed the years of hospitality from the Miya's by decorating their interior with whatever the hell he ate the last handful of hours.

A sob forced it's way out before he had a chance to stop it.

It was at this moment he realized he had outstayed his welcome. Sinking to the floor and giving up on the idea of going to the bathroom, Rintarou curled into a ball- his mind a blur of fever and frantic thoughts. The floor felt uncomfortably comfortable, maybe it was the knowledge that this may be the last time he would ever know the bliss of touching the floor of this house. The last time he'll be allowed to make sandwhiches in the kitchen a short walk away. The last time he'll be allowed to cuddle up with Osamu and stay up late watching videos without headphones, much to the chagrin of Atsumu.

More tears forced their way out, completely distracting Rintarou from the fact that he was sick at all. The only thing he felt right now was remorse and pure sadness. His chest heaved as breath refused to come normally.

A goldball edged with burning metal was lodged deep in his throat, attracting his stomach contents with a strong magnetic pull but refusing it to go all the way up. He coughed desperatly, trying to rid of the horrendous feeling plaguing his upper body or at the very least dislodge the ball. It worked, not in the way he had hoped for, but relief was provided nontheless as the cough brought up another wave of sick to splash down between his chest and knees.

The door pushed open at this moment.

"Hello? Is anybody home? The doors unlocked."

Rintarou's breath caught as the familiar feminine voice reached his cotton stuffed ears. His body froze with icy terror, trying his best to stay completely still and camoflauge into the wall.

"Ma?" Osamu's voice yelled out, ""M here with Rin, I think we're sick."

Rintarou shook his head as Osamu outed him and delicate footsteps made their way closer.

"No no no no no," he whispered to himself, eyes squeezed shut as if to force himself awake.

"Oh dear," Osamu's mother commented as Rintarou's pityful sight came into view.

"'M sorry, I'll clean it, I tried to make it, I'll leave when it's clean, I can run down to the store for supplies," he began his semi rehereased spiel.

"Sweetheart, no," she made her way closer to him, eyebrows furrowed in concern as tears ebbed the edges of her eyes, "It's alright, it's not your fault you feel like this."

She rubbed his hair away from his forehead before using her soft thumb to wipe his tears away.

"Let's get you cleaned up, hm?" She gently scooped her arms under his shoulder before opening the bathroom door and lowering him onto the toilet seat. "I'll grab some clothes and water, feel free to use the paper towels to wipe yourself down.

Rintarou didn't respond, too ashamed to look her in the eyes even to thank her. He knew he was only making the situation worse, the absolute least the mother deserved was a heartfelt thanks.

So he just sat there, frown etched deeply on his face and eyes glued to the floor as the Miya went to check on her biological son.

Osamu was much neater looking, his mess had all been contained within Atsumu's sporting bag. Still, his face was a mess. A deep flush decorated his sickly pale skin which was glistening with thin beads of sweat and tears of exertion.

"Oh, did ya catch what 'Tsumu had?" She asked, sitting next to him and rubbing between his shoulder blades.

He nodded with a pout, leaning onto his mother's forehead who was working on zipping up the bag and setting it on the floor.

"Do you feel a little better now?"

He nodded.

"Great, would you please help me with a couple things? I hate to make you do stuff, but I just need to get Rintarou a new set of clothes and I would hate to rummage around your closet.

Osamu nodded once more, standing up to search for suitable clothes as his mother took the soiled bag outside. Once it was properly disposed of (next to the door to be dealt with later) she grabbed a couple rags, some cleaning solution and a bucket.

When she arrived to the bathroom, Osamu was already there with the clothes, trying to hand them to a refusing Rintarou.

"C'mon it;'s okay, please wear them."

Rintarou refused, fresh tears streaming down his face as his lips frowned deeply.

"I don't," he sniffed, struggling to speak between rapid breaths, "I don't deserve them."

"Don't be silly!" The eldest assured, quickly standing in front of Rintarou- forcing him to look into her caring, concerned eyes, "Please put them on, as long as you're under this roof- you're a Miya and you get the Miya-family-treatment whether you like it or not!"

Rintarou clenched his jaw, appreciation and love flooding through him in a way which only these people had ever been able to make him feel. He had longed for this all of his childhood, the caring presence of an adult who wanted nothing but the best for you. Who didn't care about how much of a mess you made, how rude you had been. Someone who looked past all his faults and cared- truly cared- for the person beneath it all.

"Thank you," Rintarou finally whispered, a sad happiness taking over his expression as he collected the change of clothes, "Thank you so much."

The mother hugged him close, not caring about whatever may stain her shirt at this point.

"Anytime."

#tw: vomit #sick suna rintarou #haikyuu sickfic

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splendidly-secret-sick-fics · 3 years

Text

I’m Fine: An AtsuHina fic (Part 2)

Here it is!! Part 2 of my AtsuHina fic.

I’m sorry it took so long. I had a really hard time figuring out exactly what I wanted to happen and how I wanted to characterize them. I think Hinata ended up being pretty ooc, but I’m like okay with it? I kinda hc that when he gets older, he calms down a lot and becomes like a very comforting person to be around. Like he’s still kinda goofy, but it’s more ~refined~ if you will.

If you missed my most recent post, I’m going to start trying to shorten these fics a bit! I really enjoy writing these, but they’re also very very tiring lol.

Anyway!! Without further ado...

I’m Fine: An AtsuHina fic (part 2)

Part 1

Pairing: Sick Atsumu, caretaker Hinata

Word Count: 2,644 (!!!)

Trigger Warnings: vomiting, swearing (?)

----------------------------------------------------------

“—umu. Babe, please wake up.”

A voice cut through Atsumu’s brain and groaned. His mouth tasted terrible and it was about 900 degrees wherever he was right now. All in all, he’s never felt worse.

“Tsumu, please. Come on.” A hand tapped his face and he swatted it away with a groan.

“Okay, that was something. Open your eyes now for me, baby.” His cheek was pinched. He scrunched his nose and squeezed his eyes open. The light burned his eyes, but when he looked up, he was met with the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The most fantastic gift he could have received during this incredibly trying time in his life.

“Shoyo?” he whimpered, his bottom lip quivering. Shoyo smiled at him and it was so beautiful and amazing and Atsumu felt so relieved because he wasn’t alone anymore.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.” Shoyo rubbed his hand up and down Atsumu’s arm. Atsumu bit his lip and tried to sit up. Shoyo was right there, gently pulling Atsumu up and into his arms. Atsumu grabbed on with what little strength he had.

“Yer home?” he cried. Shoyo smelled like airport and it didn’t help his nausea at all. It didn’t matter though because he was home. And he was holding Atsumu and maybe things would be okay now.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here. I’m sorry I’m late,” Shoyo reassured. Atsumu’s bottom lip quivered and his eyes water. A sob escaped before he could stop it. Shoyo’s arms around him tightened and that was all it took for the floodgates to open. Tears rolled down Atsumu’s flushed cheeks and he cried pathetically into Shoyo’s chest.

“Pl’se don’ leave me. ‘M s’ry,” He gripped Shoyo’s shirt tightly.

“I’m not. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Time passed slowly and Atsumu wasn’t sure how long he cried and clawed at Shoyo, begging him not to leave. Eventually though, he calmed down enough to realize that his stomach was still rolling.

“So you’re not feeling very good, huh, Tsumu?” Shoyo asked and planted a kiss on the top of Atsumu’s head. He shook his head.

“When did you get home?” he asked. Not that he even knew what time it was anyway.

Shoyo hummed, “not that long ago. I rushed home from the airport. Samu and Rin blew up my phone as soon as I landed.” Atsumu scrunched his face.

“Why would they do that?”

“Are you serious?” Shoyo snorted. “You texted them incoherently at two in the morning. They said something about how you were dying and never wanted to eat or see the light of day ever again. You scared them,” he paused, “scared me, too.” He added, quieter. Atsumu felt him rest his cheek on the top of his head.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. When did he text them all of that? There was absolutely no memory of those texts being sent anywhere in his brain.

“S’okay,” Shoyo said. They fell into a comfortable silence.

“Can you tell me how long you’ve been in the bathroom?” Shoyo asked eventually.

Atsumu shook his head again, because no, honestly he couldn’t.

“Las’ thing I ‘member clearly is Samu and Suna bein’ here.” Shoyo exhaled slowly.

“That long, huh? Have you thrown up a lot?”

At that, Atsumu nodded his head vigorously, because yes, if there’s anything he knows about the past 24 hours, it’s that he’s spent a lot of them crying and puking.

“Have you eaten anything? Anything to drink? Any meds?”

A hesitant shake of the head.

“Okay. Well let’s start with that, yeah? Then we’ll try and get your fever down.” Shoyo patted Astumu’s back and made to get up.

No no no. Atsumu didn’t want anything in his body. Just the thought of it brought back the nausea to a level that made him squirm.

“Please no,” he whimpered. Shoyo was standing, stretching his arms above his head.

“I’m sorry, babe. Gotta get that fever down and get some liquids in you. You’re probably really dehydrated. You don’t want to go to the hospital right?” Shoyo peered down at him, an eyebrow raised.

Well, no. He didn’t want that.

“Don’ wanna throw up.” Atsumu pouted.

“I know,” Shoyo rubbed his head, “but don’t worry, I’ll be here.”

And thank god Shoyo was there.

Not even an hour later, Atsumu was hunched over a bowl on the couch, heaving and bawling.

Shoyo made him drink a sports drink and take some fever reducers. He was in the clear for a little while, so they decided to chance some soup. When it looked like he was okay, Shoyo decided to take a shower and wash the nasty airport stank off of himself.

By the time he got out, Atsumu was sobbing in a puddle of his own vomit. From there, the situation only spiraled into disaster.

Atsumu, now clean of his own puke, but quickly sweating through his new clothes, whimpered pitifully as he heaved.

“Tsumu, you have to calm down. You’re making it worse,” Shoyo soothed, rubbing up and down Atsumu’s back.

“I don’ wanna,” he coughed, “puke ‘a’ymore.” He punctuated his statement with a wet belch, as if the universe wanted to mock him.

The room was spinning and he wanted everything to stop. He felt so out of control of his own body. He was sticky and gross and it was so freaking hot.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, please calm down, Atsumu,” Shoyo tried. Atsumu heard the shake in his voice and he wanted to tell him it was okay and that he was fine and that he was sorry and get his shit together so he didn’t cause his jet-lagged boyfriend any more grief, but he simply could not do that.

Instead, he gagged and choked on a small stream of bile. Everything hurt. His toes, his head, his limbs, his throat, especially.

He breathed heavily over the bowl and hoped to god he was done. At least for now.

Shoyo patted his face with a damp and blissfully cold wash cloth. Atsumu glanced at Shoyo’s scrunched face and sighed.

“‘M s’ry ya had t’ come home t’ this, Sho.” Atsumu felt utterly pathetic. He wanted to welcome Shoyo home with a nice dinner and a relaxing night in, and instead here he was taking care of Atsumu.

Of course, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful. There was no way in hell he would have lasted another night on his own.

“It’s alright, baby. I really don’t mind. I just wish you weren’t feeling so bad,” Shoyo frowned. Atsumu weakly reached up to hold his hand.

“Thank ya,” he slurred around the disgusting-ness he felt in his mouth. Shoyo’s mouth quirked up minutely.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, stroking Atsumu’s sweaty hair back with his free hand.

Atsumu nodded, “I w’nna change again. ‘M sticky.” Shoyo hummed in affirmation and stood up.

“I’ll be right back then. I’m gonna take the bowl and rinse it out. You’ll be okay for a few minutes?” He looked skeptical. Atsumu nodded. Leaving a quick peck on Atsumu’s sweaty forehead, Shoyo bounced out of the room. His stomach had been eerily calm for a few minutes now, so he took the chance to relax some and slumped back on the couch. He brought an arm up to rest over his eyes.

Why was this even happening? It was pure misery. If he could sleep it off, he would, but he was too afraid of getting sick while sleeping.

Sensing his anxiety, his stomach cramped. He groaned, placing a hand on his angry belly. His eyes stung. How many times has he cried in the past 24 hours? It didn’t really matter, he supposed, and let the tears roll down his face.

Quite abruptly, a regrettably familiar pressure in his chest returned and Atsumu sat up.

He was going to puke. And Shoyo wasn’t back. He couldn’t move. Should he call for him? No. No he didn’t want to open his mouth. It was fine. He was fine.

His throat constricted and he swallowed hard, bringing his knees under him on the couch. The blanket on his lap twisted around his legs, which only made him more uncomfortable. Using one hand to support his weight, he leaned over the couch. At least he could try and minimize the damage by puking on the hardwood instead of the upholstery if Shoyo didn’t make it back in time.

His head hung limply over the side of the couch. Spit collected in his mouth and he tried to swallow it down, but that only made him gag, so he dropped his jaw and let it dribble out of his mouth. His sense of shame disappeared hours ago.

His chest jolted with a hiccup that scratched his throat and he whimpered. Was Shoyo back yet? He would be fine until he came back, right?

A painful stomach cramp answered that for him. It told him no you won’t be. And with that, he gave up.

A few airy burps passed through his open lips and his stomach gurgled. Please no more please I don’t want it. But he had no more energy to fight it.

He coughed a few times and his throat gurgled. With another cough, he wretched and a painful mixture of (mostly) bile and soup spilled from his mouth and onto the floor.

Atsumu let out a broken sob before he pitched forward and vomited up more of the disgusting mixture.

“Atsumu!” Shoyo reentered the room at that moment and Atsumu lifted his head.

“Shoyo,” he choked before he dry heaved towards the ground again. Shoyo sat beside him and brushed back his hair. The bowl appeared in front of him again.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. I tried to hurry.” Atsumu shook his head. He forced down another heave. He was empty. Physically and mentally.

“ I don’t..I don’t feel good at all,” he cried, his voice trembling right along with the rest of his body.

“I know,” Shoyo sighed, “I know. I’m sorry.” He wrapped an arm around Atsumu’s shoulders and rested a cheek on his sweaty back.

“Are you done, ya think? For now?”

Atsumu nodded and Shoyo guided him back to lean back on the couch. He readjusted the blanket, much to Atsumu’s appreciation and handed him a water bottle.

“Here. Rinse out your mouth.” Atsumu took it hesitantly and swished the water in his mouth before spitting it in the newly cleaned bowl.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet and raspy. Shoyo shook his head.

“Don’t worry, okay? Stop apologizing. You can’t help it.” Shoyo pet his head and smiled at him sadly. “I’m going to clean this up and then I’ll help you change, okay?”

Atsumu nodded and closed his eyes. He felt himself drifting off and as much as he would love to sleep, he was still too scared. He really hated waking up all of last night to himself already puking and really didn’t want to relive it. Every time he felt himself pulled into sleep, his anxiety woke him back up.

“Atsumu, here. Let me help you change,” Shoyo whispered sometime later. Atsumu opened his eyes to find the floor clean and Shoyo sitting in front of him again. In his lap was one of Atsumu’s favorite t-shirts, and a pair of athletic shorts. He nodded.

Together they got Atsumu into less sticky clothes and lying back down on the couch. The bowl was within arm’s reach, mocking him silently.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Shoyo asked. Atsumu nodded.

“Do you care what?” He shook his head. Shoyo exhaled and pulled his lips together tightly.

Shoyo put in some movie that Atsumu was sure he wouldn’t pay a lick of attention to, even if he wanted to. His stomach was still giving him fits and his head hurt and he was hot and then cold and dizzy and absolutely not fine at all.

“Ready to try some water?” Shoyo asked. He lifted up Atsumu’s feet and sat underneath them. Atsumu’s lip curled and he glared at the water bottle in Shoyo’s hand. He shook his head.

“Okay. Later then.” Shoyo put the bottle on the table. The movie played in the background, but otherwise it was silent. Atsumu tried to ignore how terrible he felt and focus on the movie, but it was increasingly difficult.

“You’re so quiet,” Shoyo sighed at one point, “s’weird,” he forced a chuckle. Atsumu’s eyes lazily slid to look at his boyfriend’s cute little profile.

“Mmm,” he responded. Shoyo’s jaw was tense and his shoulders were raised towards his ears. His lips were pursed and he was fiddling with a stray string on the blanket, twirling it between his fingers mindlessly. Atsumu wished he would relax.

Of course, he knew that wasn’t easy for Shoyo. Especially given Atsumu’s current condition. It made Atsumu feel even worse. His frustration with himself increased when his eyes started stinging again.

“Tsumu? Why are you crying?” Shoyo asked, his eyes wide and eyebrows pulled together. Atsumu furrowed his brows and pouted.

“I don’t feel good,” he whined petulantly. Shoyo’s face relaxed and he laughed.

“Well, obviously. But don’t cry. You’ll feel better soon.” He rubbed Atsumu’s shin.

“Well yeah, but ya had to come home to this and I’m sure yer tired and jet-lagged,” he muttered. Shoyo’s mouth pulled up in one corner and his eyes grew soft.

“Listen, any time with you is my favorite time, okay? Sure I’m tired, but it is what it is. Can’t do anything about you being sick other than help you get better right?”

“Well yeah, but—“

“Sit up,” Shoyo commanded. Atsumu gave him a bewildered look, but did as he was told, wiping away his sticky tears.

Shoyo stood up and Atsumu grunted in protest, but his boyfriend walked to stand by his head and shimmied his way behind Atsumu. He leaned against the armrest and opened his arms and gestured for Atsumu to lay back down.

“I don’t wanna get ya sick.” Atsumu turned his head away. Shoyo laughed. A full laugh and it made Atsumu’s heart stutter.

“Tsumu, it’s too late for that. If I’m going to get sick, I’m going to get sick. And you’ll take care of me, right?” He quirked an eyebrow at Atsumu.

“Obviously, but—“

“Then please lay down. Let’s take a nap.”

Atsumu hesitated.

“C’mon babe. I know you’ve been avoiding sleep, even though you're clearly exhausted. Your body will recover faster if you sleep.” Shoyo’s arms were still open and he wiggled his fingers, taunting Atsumu to cuddle into his favorite pillow.

“I don’t wanna throw up in my sleep again,” he trailed off before adding under his breath, “or on you for that matter.”

“Pft,” Shoyo scoffed, “as if I care about a little bit of puke. I’ve puked on myself so many times.” He said it as though it were an accomplishment and Atsumu raised his eyebrows and frowned. Shoyo cackled.

“Tsumu, please. I don’t mind okay? Look. The bowl is right within arms reach. And I’m here alright? You’re not alone anymore. If you throw up in your sleep, I’ll take care of you.”

Atsumu narrowed his eyes at the wing spiker before grumbling protests under his breath as he moved to lay down.

Shoyo’s arms wrapped around Atsumu, one resting on his lower back and the other coming up to play with the ends of his hair. He felt slightly better almost immediately. Yes, his stomach still seemed to hate him and his fever hadn’t broken and he generally felt like death warmed over, but Shoyo was there.

He sighed contentedly and Shoyo’s chest beneath his ear rumbled with laughter.

“Go to sleep, okay? I’ll be here. You’ll be okay.”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine,” he murmured before falling asleep.

#my fics #haikyuu sickfic #atsuhina #sick atsumu #caretaker hinata #vomiting #tw vomiting

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sickiebabytae · 3 years

Text

How Much Would You Bet?

Can we get taehyung and jungkook have a challenge and both getting a painful stomach ache with yoongi and jimin taking care

Sickies: Taekook

Caretakers: Yoonmin

Word count: 2062

Description: Taehyung and Jungkook are infamous for doing reckless things in the group. Sometimes they get too reckless, though. It's a good thing they have amazing hyungs to take care of them.

TW: emeto (+ slight mention of anxiety)

"Are you sure we should do this?" Taehyung asks, brow raised. He tries to take on his hyung role, though the act is quite hard to believe considering he's smirking at Jungkook in amusement, eyes sparkling in excitement.

Jungkook mirrors Taehyung's expression teasingly and chuckles in pure mischief. "Of course I'm sure. Besides, we already made the bet. If you back out now, you're admitting defeat and owe me 50."

Taehyung rolls his eyes, chuckling in disbelief. "Fine." He groans as Jungkook takes out the giant tubs of ice cream and a plethora of toppings they are to put on top. "Jungkookie!" He whines. "My tummy hurts just looking at all this!"

"You should've thought about that before you agreed," Jungkook retorts, smirking.

"All you asked me was, 'how much would you bet to see who can eat more of an entire ice cream tub?'" Taehyung counters.

Jungkook rolls his eyes playfully and lightly punches his best friend's shoulder. "Tae, you should know me by now! Any time I ask you stuff like that, if you answer, the bet is coming true."

Taehyung huffs, unable to keep his boxy smile from tugging at the corners of his lips.

An hour later, Taehyung and Jungkook are both curled up on the couch, clutching their stomachs and holding their individual tubs of ice cream close to their chests. "Kook," Taehyung groans. "This was a bad idea."

"Yes, Tae, I know! You've been complaining for ages!" Jungkook whines.

"Don't act like you don't agree," Taehyung argues, pouting as his stomach churns. He sucks in a breath, screwing his eyes shut; he never deals with stomach aches well, especially since they get so bad. And he knows Jungkook feels the exact same, even if the maknae is trying to put up a tough act.

Taehyung swallows and lets out a thick, heavy breath. "Kookie, we should stop… I'm gonna throw up."

"Then go get your wallet, I'm not stopping." Jungkook mumbles, forcing himself to take another bite and gagging a little as the ice cream lands in his stomach heavily.

Taehyung sighs and just decides to push through, his competitiveness raging.

Another half hour passes and both tubs of ice cream are finished, thrown to the side to allow the two youngest to ball up on the couch and groan at their misery. Both of their stomachs are churning and bubbling and roiling, putting them through hell for their ridiculous decisions.

They stay like that for a while; until Jimin and Yoongi return from their individual studios, in fact.

The first to enter is Jimin, eyes widening momentarily when he sees both maknaes so pale, then sighing in realization when he notices the empty, giant tubs of ice cream. "Yoongi hyung!" He calls. "I'm gonna need some help here." He goes over and crouches in front of his fellow maknae liners, frowning in worry and brow cocked in a bit of amusement. "Did you really think this would be a good idea?" He asks, raising one of the tubs as demonstration just as Yoongi comes in and rolls his eyes at the sight.

Taehyung whimpers. "T-Tried to tell him not to…" He mumbles.

Jungkook weakly slaps his shoulder. "Then you should've stopped." He retorts, burping hollowly into his fist.

Jimin shakes his head and gets up, turning to Yoongi. "Let's get them some buckets and heating pads. Looks like we're in for a long night."

Jimin isn't wrong.

It doesn't take much time before Taehyung is up and stumbling to the bathroom with a hand clasped over his mouth. Jimin frowns. "Hyung, you stay with Jungkook." He says to Yoongi before hurrying after Taehyung. He catches up just in time for the younger to crouch in front of the toilet with a loud retch, a torrent of vomit ripping from his throat and splattering against the bowl. He whimpers. Jimin coos. "Oh Teddy bear… aigoo, you really dug yourself into a hole with this one, huh?"

Taehyung nods miserably, more puke spilling from his pale lips. He groans. "I-Ice cream doesn't taste as good coming up, Jiminie…"

Jimin hums out a sigh. "I don't think anything does, Tae."

Back in the living room, Jungkook lets out a horrible moan of discontent, sweat beading on his brow and arms squeezing a heating pad to his bloated, gurgling stomach. The sound of Taehyung throwing up is not helping at all, only making his nausea tickle at the back of his throat in sympathy. "Hyungie…" He whimpers out, reaching a clammy hand for Yoongi and pouting.

Yoongi sighs. He knows Jungkook (and Taehyung, for that matter) deserve a proper telling off for being so irresponsible, but Yoongi's soft spot for the maknaes cries for him to hold off the lecture until the poor babies are feeling better.

He crouches by their maknae's side and holds his hand, brushing a thumb over Jungkook's pale knuckles and pressing it into the boy’s heart tattoo. "Yeah, Goog?"

"Don't feel good…" Jungkook manages a shaky breath.

"No, I don't imagine you would after eating that much ice cream." Yoongi murmurs. "Do you think you're gonna be sick?"

Jungkook hums and nods in agreement. "B-But… not right now. Don't wanna…"

Yoongi sighs. "I don't think you can control that, unfortunately." His frown darkens as a whimper leaves the maknae's lips, arms squeezing at his bloated stomach. Yoongi sighs again. "Should I get a bucket?"

Jungkook begins to shake his head, but a gag soon rips from his throat and a hand comes up to clamp over his pale lips.

Yoongi's heart skips a beat. Working fast, he grabs the trash can from across the room and holds it under Jungkook's chin, about to whisper encouragement when the boy begins to retch on his own. Yoongi sucks in his bottom lip. "There we go, Gguk…"

Jungkook whimpers again, the smell of the vomit wafting up to his nose and only making him throw up harder, torrent after torrent splashing against the bottom of the trashcan.

"Okay, okay…" Yoongi slips his hand under Jungkook's sweaty shirt and rubs up and down the boy's back. "You're doing so good, Jungkook, just breathe."

Jimin guides Taehyung back into the living room, frowning at the sight of Jungkook throwing up. He sighs. "Tae, did you two really have to eat all that ice cream?" He chastises, instantly softening when the younger hangs his head like the guilty puppy he is. "Oh Tae… C'mere." Jimin hugs Taehyung into his chest. "It’s okay, but next time you need to remind Jungkook that neither of you can handle this stuff, okay?"

"Okay…" Taehyung murmurs.

"Jungkook, calm down, bub." Yoongi mumbles, gaining Jimin's attention. The dancer's eyes widen. In seemingly two seconds, Jungkook has begun to panic a little, tears streaking down his pale cheeks. Jimin leaves Taehyung's side for a moment to crouch in front of the maknae. "Jungkookie, hey…" Jimin murmurs, switching to dialect as he motions for Yoongi to take the bucket away. Jimin holds Jungkook's clammy hands in his own. "Look at me, Gguk. Yeah… you're okay, breathe-"

"It hurts." Jungkook sobs.

"I know it does, Gguk-ah, I know. Just calm down, you're working yourself up and making it worse." Jimin coos, reaching up and brushing away Jungkook's sweaty bangs. "That's it." He whispers encouragingly once he notices Jungkook beginning to calm down. "There you go. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Jungkook just glares weakly, obviously meaning no harm, before laying down and holding his stomach once more.

Jimin sighs. "Yoon-hyung, we should take them to bed. Can you stay with Tae?"

Yoongi nods, going over to the vocalist and holding his hand. "Come on, let's go to bed." He whispers, also changing to him and Taehyung's native dialect. He knows how much it calms both him and Jungkook down; the dialects.

Jimin helps Jungkook stand, ignoring the maknae's protests of, "I can walk, it's just my tummy!" Leading Jungkook to bed and tucking him in, Jimin grabs the trashcan and places it by the bed just in case Jungkook needs to bring anything else up.

“Hyung,” Jungkook moans. “My tummy…”

Jimin clicks his tongue, getting into bed with Jungkook and tugging the maknae close, a hand coming to slip under Jungkook’s shirt and rest on the poor boy’s bloated, growling stomach. Jimin ignores the way Jungkook squirms and blushes, trying to swat Jimin’s hand away. “Yah.” The older whispers gently. “Let me help, hm? It’s okay, you don’t have to be embarrassed.” He offers a warm smile at the maknae and kisses his forehead.

Jungkook slowly nods, letting his tired eyes flutter closed. He sighs. “I’m sorry we caused so much trouble…”

“Shh, we can cross that bridge whenever we come to it, hm? I’m sure Yoongi-hyung will have some things to say. And Jin-hyung and-” Jimin cuts himself off when Jungkook grabs his arm, stilling his ministrations. “What? Are you-?”

“Please don’t tell the others.” Jungkook begs with a whimper. “This is so embarrassing… and they’ll be so disappointed. Please, hyungie just- keep this between me and you and Taetae hyung and Yoongi-hyung. Please…?”

Jimin coos, unable to stop himself from giggling. “Okay, okay, Jungkookie, I won’t. I’ll make sure Yoongi-hyung doesn’t either. Sound okay?”

Jungkook nods. Tension leaving the boy’s shoulders, he lets go of Jimin and lets his eyelids flutter shut once more. Within moments he begins to drift off and Jimin takes it upon himself to tuck the maknae in further, smiling fondly. “Sleep well, Gguk.” He whispers.

Taehyung has a bit of a harder time falling asleep. He squirms and tosses and turns in bed, garbling out quiet, low groans of discomfort and features twisting with a grimace. He snakes his arms around his distended abdomen.

Yoongi looks over from where he sits up next to Taehyung, leaning against the pillows. His brows pinch with worry. Wordlessly Yoongi begins to play with the younger’s hair. He sighs. “You okay, Taehyung-ah?”

“M’fine.” Taehyung grumbles. “Just can’t get comfortable. My tummy…”

Yoongi hums in understanding. Setting his laptop aside, the rapper lays down and pulls Taehyung into his arms. His fingers trail up and down the boy’s back. Yoongi feels Taehyung begin to relax a little and a smile tugs on his lips. “Better?”

Taehyung nods against Yoongi’s chest, though it still takes a while for him to fully calm down. He continues to toss and turn and turn and toss, even while contained in his hyung’s hold. Only when Yoongi begins to play some quiet classical music do Taehyung’s movements finally begin to go slack. He purrs out a hum of content, eyes fluttering shut.

Yoongi sighs in relief. “Get some sleep, Tae. Hopefully you two will wake up fine in the morning.”

Taehyung hums in response before drifting off a few moments later. Yoongi plays with the vocalist’s hair for a while before texting Jimin to check up on Jungkook.

min suga

hows jk holding up? 7:08pm

diminie

hes okay! :(( just a little run down but sleeping like a baby heehee 7:08pm

min suga

thats good to hear 7:09pm

diminie

hows tae?? is he alright??? 7:09pm

min suga

taes fine, dont worry jimin 7:09pm

took him a while to fall asleep, though 7:09pm

he just wouldnt relax 7:09pm

diminie

oh poor thing :(( 7:09pm

should i come?? 7:09pm

min suga

no, you know how jungkook gets when hes not feeling well 7:09pm

dont leave him alone 7:10pm

ive got it handled, dont worry, jimin 7:10pm

diminie

alright... :((( 7:10pm

keep me posted? 7:10pm

min suga

of course i will 7:10pm

who do you take me for park jimin? ;) 7:10pm

diminie

lolol okayyy 7:10pm

bye hyung ^^ 7:10pm

min suga

gn jimin 7:11pm

Yoongi sets his phone down with a soft chuckle, glancing over at Taehyung and ruffling the younger’s hair before letting himself drift off as well.

Taehyung and Jungkook fortunately wake up the next morning feeling much better, the only remnants of the crazy events of the day before being a dull ache behind their stomach that is easily ignored. The whole situation is brushed under the rug by the four of them, until Jungkook speaks up a week later.

“Hyung, how much would you bet to see who could eat the most ramen cups?

#wow who am i??#posting two fics close to each other?#and over 2k words???!#heh #thank you to the anon who requested this!!!#im sorry it took so so long :(((#hope u enjoy!!#emeto #sick!jungkook #sick!taehyung #caretaker!jimin #bts #sick!bts #jeonjungkook #kimtaehyung #parkjimin #minyoongi

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haunted-by-catholic-guilt · 3 years

Text

Bleed Her Out Before I Wake

Hey! This is pretty heavy on drug use and a very temporary character death in form of flatling.

TW FOR SEMI GRAPHIC VOMITING, DRUG USE, LACED DRUGS, IMPLIED SELF HARM, DISORDERED EATING DUE TO STRESS, VOMITING BLOOD

Ft- Jet and Rita QPR, Vespa being soft, and Peter with EDS, its not important to the fic but it is important to me.

title from Heroin by Badflower

“Mista Steel?”

She stood at a cracked doorway in the Carte Blanche, the light was on in the bathroom but other than that it was complete darkness around her.

In the eerily lit bathroom, was her ex-boss and long-time friend, retching into the toilet for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“Go ‘way Rita- Don- Don’t wanna see this”

She sighed, it had been a bad day for all of them, involving Sola at a party he was undercover at a party with Peter, the subsequent drug-taking that occurred there so they wouldn't seem suspicious.

As soon as Rita got word on what happened, which unfortunately happened after the heist, all hell broke loose.

Buddy immediately pulled them out of the heist, despite Juno’s protests, saying he felt fine despite the fear in his voice and his shaking body.

Peter absolutely did not agree with his girlfriend, his facade almost cracking as he dragged them out of their, Jet waited in the Ruby 7 outside, his hands were holding the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

By the time they got to the car alone, Juno mumbled something about feeling dizzy, and his breathing was off, hitching at each inhale.

As soon as they got to the ship, Juno pushed away from the others, into his room.

No matter who told him to, he refused to come out of his room.

Rita knew Mista Steel needed his privacy, she remembers the first withdrawal he went through with her, she doesn’t know if it was sola, alcohol, or something else though, he was too out of it to tell her.

In their time together, the lady had spent days in her apartment, vomiting and crying and shaking, at one point even being sent into a seizure because of the withdrawal.

This felt different.

It had been years since he’d taken anything, and he didn’t look like he used to after taking something, what was once something that brought him… joy almost, now made him look scared and tired.

“Mista Steel I’ve seen you worse, but I gotta come in, you’ve been alone for hours and I’m gettin worried.”

He groaned before mumbling a quiet ‘come in’.

The sight she saw was not a pretty one.

He was slumped against the wall, his skin was shining with sweat, and he had taken his top off at some point, revealing many scars, some newer, and his makeup was running off.

“Told you it wasn’t pretty.”

Rita shrugged before sitting next to him on the floor, they would need to talk, about what happened, but Mista Still just looked so… tired.

“Drink some water, boss”

She handed him the cup, or tried to, his hands were shaking too much to grab it, so, she helped steady his hands, holding the glass gently to his lips.

“Sorry about this, know I fucked up.”

He wasn’t wrong but also wasn’t right, she simply sighed and set the glass down.

“Alright, come here”

He looked tired, she was too, but he almost immediately slumped against her, seeking out comfort from the past.

It didn’t take him long to start crying.

She ran her hand through his sweat-soaked curls.

“I didn’t wanna- I didn’t- Rita I-“

He was shaking so hard in her arms, someone else was standing outside the bathroom, Ransom, she suspects.

“I know Mista Steel, I know”

His breathing was rough, he swallowed and a wet click came from his throat, he whimpered, curling into Rita.

“Are you gonna be sick again?”

He shook his head, but Rita gently maneuvered him anyway, leaning over the toilet.

He gagged, harsh and painful, nothing coming up except bile, he had been puking all day, nothing to eat or drink.

“Hurts- it- it hurts so much Rita”

She felt her heart shatter into a million little pieces, holding him up and rubbing his back, he was too weak to hold himself up.

“It’s gonna be okay, boss”

She wasn’t sure anymore.

And she really wasn’t when Juno started to cry out in more pain and the dry heaving stopped.

Because now, she was pretty sure he was puking up blood.

She tried to hide the panic in her voice as she called out.

“Uhhh Mista Ransom I know you’re outside the door and I really need you to grab Miss Vespa ‘cause Mista Steel is puking up blood and I don’t think that’s supposed to happen.

You could hear his heart drop.

Within minutes, Peter was back with the medic, even scarier, she wasn’t complaining and Rita was also distantly aware of Jet standing behind her.

Vespa burst through the door, and knelt down in the open area around Mista Steel.

“Damnit Steel”

She motioned for Jet to grab him, but Juno started to squirm and try to escape the people surrounding him.

“Nno fine- ‘m fine”

Vespa growled, but Jet managed to move her out of the way and kneel in front of Juno himself.

“Juno, I know you do not wish to let us help you, but you are very ill, for reasons that are not your fault, and it would help us all if you would please come with us.”

Jets voice and words calmed him down, and he let himself be picked up by Jet.

Jet walked swiftly to the medbay, careful not to jostle him while they walked, Rita considered distantly the protectiveness Jet had of the boss, wondering where it came from, but she appreciates it nonetheless.

“J-Jet lemme down- gon’ be sick”

Vespa cursed and dove for a trash can they were walking past, and Jet carefully set Mista Steel down, the lady’s body crumbling, unable to hold himself up.

Jet realized this, and propped him up, looking slightly uncomfortable at the factor of comforting the lady, but it didn’t take long for Juno to slump over the trash can and start puking.

“Shit”

Vespa cursed, her low voice full of concern, somewhere next to her Mista Ransom made a concerned noise.

“What’s going on?”

Buddy was behind Vespa, towering protectively over all of them.

“Not sure, pretty sure he managed to tear his stomach lining.”

The worry settled over the crew like a heavy blanket, Rita felt tears in her eyes.

“How did it happen so fast, Vespa? Does it not usually take a few days?”

Peter kept his normal composure, worry seeping through.

“Usually, but he’s been sick with nothing in his stomach, and he’s also probably shot most of his organs with his behavior at a young age, wouldn’t be surprised if this isn’t the first time.”

“Fuck”

Juno was still heaving over the can, clearly in pain, too weak to even hold onto the can.

Peter settled on the floor next to his love, the self-control of respecting the privacy the lady clearly wanted was gone and if everyone was honest, Juno didn’t seem to mind.

The thief opened his arms, and Jet helped maneuver Juno into them, where the ex-detective immediately latched onto Peter.

“Hurts- please it-“

Peter shushed him and ran his hands through sweaty hair, rocking him gently.

At some point, though, Vespa noticed something that caused even her to feel worry.

“We gotta get him to the medbay now”

Peter looked down in fear to where Vespa’s eyes were laying, and was horrified to see a large, ugly, black bruise coloring his lady’s stomach, red splotches inside of it.

His lady was bleeding internally.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter could hardly believe the mess they had gotten into.

He really didn’t want to.

At the party, he… he didn’t know, he wasn’t with Juno, he had to use the bathroom, and when he got back His lady may have offhandedly mentioned it but he didn’t even realize until Rita began to scream over the coms.

The look Rita gave him back on the ship made him want to cry.

Juno pulled away from him, wouldn’t let anyone near him as he locked himself in the bathroom.

Peter was scared.

Rita yelled for him to get Vespa and everything moved so fast for the next ten minutes.

And now, Juno was in surgery, hooked into machines galore as Vespa worked over him, filtering a tube down his throat.

Mallory-Weiss Syndrome was one set of words Peter was able to pick out of Vespas growling, a tear in the stomach lining, usually caused by excess vomiting and coughing.

Juno had been ill since the night before, and probably didn’t eat the day of the heist, meaning it was just acid.

Peter felt sick himself.

His lady was hurt because of his lack of focus on a heist.

But what was making him so sick?

It could have been laced, of course, it would’ve caused some nausea likely, but not this, especially with the low dosage, but it could have been his body reacting to the drug entering his system for the first time in so many years or-

“Peter, darling, are you alright?”

Buddy had her hand on his shoulder, and he inhaled shakily.

“I’m.. I’m fine, Captian, worried about Juno is all.”

She pulled him into a hug, and he started to cry despite himself.

“Peter, it’s not your fault, Juno knew what he was doing, Rita and Jet suspect that he didn’t even feel the need to take it because of the temptation, only the safety of the heist.”

Peter pulled away from Buddy, he didn’t deserve the comfort.

“I just- what’s making him so sick?”

Buddy sat in a chair that was pulled up by the medbay door, looking extravagant as ever.

“We’re not sure, Jet mentioned that the fear of becoming addicted again may have sent him into a panic, but my Vespa will run some tests to make sure it wasn’t laced.”

He nodded, looking out the window.

“Ransom, darling, you know it’s not your fault, right?”

He looked down, pursing his lips together.

“It- Captain I left him, it was.”

She sighed, and Peter felt shame prickle in his back.

“Mista Ransom is wasn’t, Mista Steel knew what he was doin”

He didn’t even know when Rita got there, but soon she was hugging him, hardly reaching his chest.

He let himself feel the comfort for a second, before they all went back to waiting quietly outside the medbay, a worried film over the crew of the Carte Blanche.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours must’ve passed before the door to the medbay opened, and the disgruntled medic stood in the door.

“Vespa? Is Juno alright?”

Vespa looked tired, she had blood on her shirt and Peter didn’t think it should be there.

“He’s gonna be okay”

Relief wiped over the crew but the bitter taste of fear stuck in the air.

“It… was bad. The drug was laced. Another chemical. He flatlined. Five minutes”

Peter felt his heart stop.

His Juno died.

“Ransom, you in there?”

Vespa was looking at him, everyone was.

“Juno he- he died?”

Rita was crying, sitting next to Jet, and Vespa had made her way over to Buddy.

“No, well, yes, kind of but he’s not dead anymore.”

He was still worried shitless, but his love was… going to be okay.

“He had a tear in his stomach, the puking caused it, but I’m gonna guess either the drug managed to weaken his stomach lining or his past drug abuse and it’s side effects weakened it, which caused it to bleed internally more. His heart gave out while I was cauterizing the tear. It was messy, but he will make a full recovery.”

Peter was sobbing and felt rather embarrassed by this.

“Ransom, he’s okay, you can even go see him.”

Vespa was being… oddly tender towards him, which made him more uneasy, but he collected himself.

“I- I think I will, Rita, would you like to join me?”

She nodded vigorously and let go of Jet, who she was holding too tightly.

They walked quietly into the room together and the sight scared them both greatly, Juno laying on the small bed, hooked up to more machines than Peter could count, tubes up his nose and one down his throat, pale and sweaty.

“Juno”

Peter was so scared for his love, he was asleep, tired out from the day.

“He uh- he’s gonna be out for a while, I’ll bring the extra cot in here ina bit so you can stay in here and actually get some sleep, I had to intubate him, he’s hooked up to a lot of antibiotics and uh, feeding tube, he’s not gonna be able to eat but he needs nutrients.”

He pulled a chair next to Juno’s sickbed, holding his hand and running hands through his hair.

“Juno I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry my love”

He was crying and he wanted nothing more than for Juno to wipe his tears and tell him it was gonna be okay.

Hours passed with him and Rita sitting by his side, hardly speaking, Jet brought tea, Vespa brought them food, tried to make Peter eat best she could, it didn’t work.

“Ransom, you gotta eat”

He didn’t.

Rita left at some point, Buddy sat with him for awhile too, trying to convince him to sleep and eat, but he wouldn’t, only sitting with Juno, not letting him go.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Juno pried open his eye, feeling like glue was holding it together, and was greeted by bright lights and a steady beeping sound.

The memories of the past however long it had been came back to him.

The sola, the sickness that followed it, concerned voices surrounding him, Vespa looking down at him, worried as hell.

He tried to turn his head, but the tube down his throat stopped that.

That wasn’t good.

He tried not to freak out, but that failed.

“Calm down or I’m gonna have to sedate you again Steel”

Vespa was above him again, and her face was stern.

Other voices were around him, Rita and Jet were talking at the end of the bed, and Buddy was on the other side of him trying to keep him calm

He couldn’t hear Nureyev.

“Shit- Steel if you don’t stop moving you’re gonna fuck up your throat and I don’t wanna deal with the complaining.”

He tried to stop moving but everything hurt and he needed to run he needed to make sure Nureyev was safe he needed to-

The world went dark.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buddy was happy she finally got Peter to sleep in his bed for a few hours.

Juno looked… terrified, hurting, and scared beyond any way she could describe.

Everyone looked tired.

Her Vespa was clearly worried even, which scared her more saying her outward hate of the detective.

Vespa motioned for everyone to leave, keeping her head down.

Buddy walked over to her once Rita and Jet had left the small medbay, holding her face in one hand and wrapping the other around her, gently tilting up the medics head so she could see her loves eyes.

“Shit, Bud I-“

There were tears in her medics eyes, and Buddy knew that she wasn’t telling them the whole story or situation.

“He’s strong, Vespa, he will be okay”

He needs to be.

Vespa rested her head for a moment on the other woman’s chest, keeping her close, and for just a moment they stayed like that.

“He’s- he’s really bad off, Bud”

She knew, of course, that her lover didn’t hate Juno, or Peter, for that matter, but the whole situation had taken Vespa’s guard down completely it seemed.

Many nights they talked about it, getting Vespa to try and trust them, and Buddy also spent time pointing out the ways he showed his affection towards people, to point out how the lady would make sure to get Rita’s snacks whenever he was planetside, and how he would help Jet whenever he needed it.

Vespa thought about the times he would sit with her, when her eyes darted back and forth and everything was too much and the screaming wouldn’t stop, how he would engage her in conversation as much as he could, or play music, trying to remind her that she wasn’t alone and that she was real.

After a moment, Vespa pulled back, and walking back over to Juno.

“I uh- gotta take this out. He should be able to breathe now”

Buddy nodded and rested a hand on Juno’s knee, careful not to get in the way and to not look, she wasn’t squeamish by any means, but seeing Juno like this…

“You should sleep, Bud, I’m gonna stay with Steel for a bit.”

She looked at her lover, who was now washing her hands in the sink, she looked tired and scared.

“I think you need it more than I do, my love, why don’t you rest on the cot for a while, and that way I’ll still be here with you?”

Vespa nodded, walking over to Buddy and pushing her face into the captain’s neck, almost purring like a content cat, before laying on the cot, her love close enough to protect.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jet did not want to think about this.

He had dealt with his own struggles of addiction, he even wished to partake in those habits now, Buddy had saved him.

Now, he had more people to help him, and he cared about them each.

Juno Steel, one lady who Jet was very protective of due to the vulnerability he’s seen Juno show, was in danger.

And Rita, his friend whom he held closer than most, was very upset about this.

The short lady had spent the larger part of the past forty-eight hours pacing around the room they had begun to share, mostly for convince and comfort, crying, eventually wearing herself from said crying and sleeping, or trying to keep herself calm enough to calm Jet down after he was hit by a nightmare in the few hours of sleep he got.

This was bringing up less than pleasant memories for him as well.

Seeing Juno in that bed, so small and sick, after one pill, shook Jet to his core.

Seeing Juno so sick from what others gave him made him angry.

The nightmare was about M’Tendere, as many were since their death.

Rita laid on top of him like a blanket, something she had discovered worked to ground him after a few weeks together on the ship.

He wrapped his arms around her, they were both in distress, and the least they could do was be there for each other.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Juno did not wake up for four days.

Peter refused to leave his side for all but 8 hours.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Juno woke to a weight on his side.

He tried to move his head to look, but unlike last time, there was no tube down his throat, only a plastic oxygen mask on his face.

Trying to move wasn’t working either, one hand was thoroughly trapped under whatever, more so whoever, was using his hip as a pillow, and the other was connected to wires with needles in it.

Ah.

He was in the medbay.

“Steel, you finally up? Not gonna flip out and hurt yourself again?”

Vespa was talking quietly, probably not to wake whoever was sleeping on his side.

He nodded, the mask moving uncomfortably on his face and it was then he realized he had a tube in his nose as well.

Vespa moved quickly, gentle more so than he thought, pulling the mask off his face, checking that he could still breathe, and slowly removing the tube that was in his nose, a very, very, uncomfortable sensation.

Breathing was still hard, so Vespa put some more tubes up his nose, despite his complaints.

“Steel, you’ll be fine, less uncomfortable the other, it’s just gonna sit in your nostrils, calm down, I gotta keep you breathing or your boyfriends gonna be mad, and so will the captain.”

He let her do it.

When she finally was done poking and prodding him, he looked at whoever was laying on him.

Nureyev.

He looked like shit, his black hair was greasy and he was wearing one of Juno’s shirts, and a pair of leggings Rita had bought him.

It made Juno’s heartbreak.

“He’s sat vigil in here for days, so figured we’d let him sleep.”

He looked back at Vespa, hell she looked exhausted too, her eyes were deep and sad, wearing a sweater Juno had knit for her, and jeans that she’d always had.

“Call if you need anything, I’ll let you rest but uh, sure everyone will wanna come see you soon.”

She stalked towards the door, and he felt an odd pang of affection for her.

“Thanks, Vespa”

She smiled and he swore for a second that she looked almost relieved.

“No problem Steel, just… don’t do this again.”

Some time passed, and he was able to wiggle his arm out from under Peter, running his hand through the thief’s hair.

“Mmph-“

Peter was making noises in his sleep, and it took a lot of what Juno had not to laugh, god, he loved this man.

“-uno?”

Peter was looking up, with bleary eyes, and part of Juno felt guilty, his eyes were puffy and red, clearly crying before he fell asleep.

“Hey, sleepyhead”

It took Peter a moment to process, he was clearly overtired, but when he finally processed who was talking to him, his eyes filled with a bright color, with a hint of worry left in them.

“Juno, oh, my love, you’re awake.”

Peter looked like he was about to cry, and he shot up from where he was sitting, likely uncomfortably, and he kissed Juno’s face in any place he could reach, and before long, Juno felt tears that weren’t his own on his face.

“Baby, babe, stop”

Peter looked vaguely like a wounded animal at being told to stop loving his lady, the lady whom he thought would die in his arms.

“Nureyev, baby, I’m okay, I’m okay baby, I’m here”

Juno held his face so gently, wiping the tears that were staining his perfect skin.

“I’m sorry I scared you baby”

Peter pulled away from him, sitting on the bed next to him, slipping on the mask of Ransom.

“My dear I am sorry you were so poorly and I couldn’t do anything I just-“

Juno sat up carefully, and leaned forward, grabbing Nureyevs face.

“Baby, it’s ok to be scared and sad, it’s alright”

Peter fell against Juno’s chest, careful not to jostle him too much and not to hurt him.

Juno wrapped his arms around Peter’s back, holding him close.

“I was- I was so scared, you- you were-“

Juno shushed him, the sound of Peter crying hurt his heart, and he was sure Vespa would explain when she got back.

A knock on the door, probably the others, Peter sat up, quickly donning his mask again, just before the door swung open to reveal the rest of the crew, Rita running towards Juno’s bed.

“Oh Mista steel I was so worried and I-“

Juno opened his arms, and Rita carefully climbed onto the bed, where Ransom had evacuated for just this purpose.

“I’m sorry I worried you, Rita.”

She escaped his hug, carefully wiping her tears and nose on her sweater.

“Oh Mista Steel it’s alright I just.. it felt too much like ol times for a bit, but Mista Jet helped a bit but I was still real worried cause Miss Doctor Vespa said-“

Just then, Buddy and Vespa came into view, gently cutting Rita off.

“Why don’t we let my Vespa explain that, dear?”

Rita nodded and slid off the bed, pushing Peter back onto it, while Buddy sat on the opposite side.

“The sola was laced.”

Juno cringed, trying to look away from them, ashamed and embarrassed, but Buddy (and the tubes in his nose) kept him looking at the crew, at his family.

“We- we can talk about that later, though, uh, the point is is that you had a tear in your stomach and you- you flatlined at one point”

Peter looked away from him, and Juno reached and grabbed his hand, it was scary, yeah, but he was asleep, and Peter had to see it.

“I had to intubate and you woke up at one point and I had to sedate you, it was bad, really bad.. heh”

Buddy held her hand, and he looked up to see Jet had a hand on Rita’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t- I didn’t mean to”

Vespa sighed and sat next to Buddy on the bed, closer than he had been to her while conscious.

“I know, but you’re gonna need to be more careful for a while, you’re stomach is healing, you’ll make a full recovery.”

He smiled and thanked her again, and after a short time, it was decided that he could probably go back to his quarters, mostly so that Peter would actually sleep but no one said that, with the proper equipment and supervision.

After everyone else had left, it was just Juno and his love again, and it was even more obvious how tired he was now.

“Nureyev, baby, when’s the last time you slept in an actual bed? I was out for four days, please tell me you actually slept during that time?”

Peter avoided his gaze, fiddling with his fingers, almost moving them as a fidget, something they’d tried to get him to stop doing.

“Babe?”

Juno was worried about Peter, he looked pale and thin, more so than usual, and the way he held himself was one that usually was reserved for when the thief was in pain, hunched over, his perfect posture gone.

“Juno I-“

The lady could tell his love felt guilty, though he couldn’t understand why.

“Baby, I know you were worried but… I’m okay now, and you know that not sleeping, and sitting in that chair for so long makes your pain worse, why didn’t you let someone else sit with me?”

The thief looked exhausted, leaning his head in his hands.

“I couldn’t simply leave you, Juno, I needed to be there-” Juno sighed, truthfully the lady himself was exhausted, the nose tubes had been removed, as were most of the IVs, save the antibiotics Vespa didn’t trust him to take on his own.

“C’mere”

Juno opened his arms, and after a moment of hesitation, his thief shuffled into the open arms, still stiff in his form.

“I’m sorry”

The thief was uncharacteristically quiet, his voice shaky, and you can tell he had wrecked it from crying.

“Baby you didn’t… you didn’t do anything wrong, just, please take care of yourself too, I know I was sick but I don’t like seeing you hurt”

Peter rested his head on the lady’s chest, his chest was still bare, years of scars exposed from many things to Peter, they only made Juno more beautiful, but his heart still ached at his perfect love’s suffering.

He reached his arm across Juno, running slim fingers against the scars, both self-inflicted and those from many syringes that had entered it.

The ones from his years partying were the ones Peter hated the most right now.

Juno sighed, gently moving his love’s hand from the arm, and cradling his face and meeting red-rimmed eyes, glistening with guilt and relief.

He pulled him closer, feeling warm breath on his skin was grounding, he was exhausted and the shame was setting in.

“Let’s just get some sleep, baby, we can talk more tomorrow”

After a few moments of silence and Juno had assumed the thief was asleep, a few more moments and he was almost asleep.

“Juno I- I thought I was going to lose you when I just got you back, you died and I was scared”

Peter was crying, holding him tightly as he could without hurting him.

“I love you, Juno.”

No matter how many nights they spent together or how many times he said it, making love in their room, or simply staring into the eyes of the other it would never stop making the lady’s heart flutter.

“I love you too, Nureyev.”

It didn’t take long for the thief’s breathing to even out, followed shortly by Juno’s own.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buddy checked on them the next morning, knowing they wouldn’t make it to breakfast, and thought of her own love suffering when she found out how ill Buddy was, how hurt Peter was.

She put it away for another time.

#tpp #the penumbra podcast #juno steel #sick juno steel #tpp sickfic #peter nureyev #buddy aurinko #vespa ilkay #jet siquliak #rita penumbra #vomiting tw #drugs tw #addiction tw #implied self harm #whump #sickfic

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yxlenas · 4 years

Note

zutara prompt: Zuko takes a shot of lightning a 2nd time to save katara's life

Please try and spot the exact moment where Zuko really has his priorities RE basically dying straight.

Assassin AU! Post canon.

“Don’t you dare do this to me,” Katara snarls, “Don’t you fucking dare do this to me, Zuko.”

It’s only her fury and her bending keeping him alive right now, her hand contracting rhythmically over his chest as he gasps for breath in time with the push of his blood through his heart. Her fury is what’s keeping her from sobbing as well, the frozen corpse of their target crumpled on the dirty floor of the barn.

Zuko gasps out of time with her bending and Katara feels her heart stutter in time with his. The second his heart can beat and his lungs can work without her help he starts to scream in pain, writhing on the filthy floor as Katara holds him as still as possible.

They hadn’t expected their target to bend lightning, and it had taken them by surprise. The bolt had struck Zuko in the shoulder and torn through him with a horrible crackling sound. He hadn’t even had time to cry out before he’d dropped and gone limp. Katara felt it in her own chest.

She’d frozen the blood in their target’s body without a second thought, not even considering how she could bloodbend right now under a waning crescent moon, and fallen at Zuko’s side. The burn on his shoulder is oozing blood and clear fluids, and the edges are charred. Lichtenberg figures are already forming on the red skin around the burn. Katara is too preoccupied with how weak and erratic his heart is to treat the burn right now. In her arms, Zuko seizes. It’s more aggressive than his usual seizures, the small ones that remind her of the damage from the first time he took lightning. Bloody foam oozes from his bitten lips and Katara gets him on his side and forces his airways open with her fingers, clearing the back of his throat with a swipe of her index finger. Toph bursts through the earthen floor of the barn they’re in and the second she feels Zuko’s heartbeat she screams.

“Katara, it’s a heart attack, he’s having-”

“Shut up,” she snarls, as she feels the uneven pulse of Zuko’s heart get worse beneath her hands. Katara takes his blood and pulls, and Toph sobs as Zuko screams again. He vomits with the pain as Katara forces his heart to beat evenly.

“Send the signal,” she orders Toph, “and do it fast.”

By the time Sokka and Suki pull their unassuming cart around from the road to the barn, Katara has Zuko’s heart beating as well as it can and she’s trying to soothe the tissue damage tearing through his shoulder and chest. His head rests in Toph’s lap as she strokes through his hair, still sobbing. The burn is bad, third degree in places. Katara can feel the hysteria building. He’ll have another scar, likely more neurological damage. She wonders if this is what will completely take him out and away from her.

Sokka lifts him silently into the back of the cart and Katara wraps him in a blanket in an attempt to stave off worsening shock. Zuko drifts in and out of consciousness, shaking with residual electricity. Katara shakes him awake.

“Hey,” she murmurs, “You need to drink.”

Zuko can barely swallow, and his left arm won’t move. Katara knows it’ll fade as he recovers but it’s terrifying seeing him half paralyzed and so weak.

His ribs and shoulder joint are fractured, and the upper bone in his arm is covered in hairline cracks. His collarbone needs to be reset. They can’t do this until they reach the ship. Katara holds him tight and brushes his hair back from his sweaty face.

It takes them 14 excruciating hours to make it back to the ship. Her father looks at Zuko with horror in his face as he lifts his son in law from the back of the cart. Toph crashes into Bato with a sob of exhaustion and terror. Katara follows her father down into the ship and then sends him to get water and herbs. Zuko has been seizing periodically and Katara reaches for the heavy stuff they give him when they cannot be controlled, forcing some down his throat. Zuko moans and gags but the tincture stays down.

It takes two days for him to gain any sort of lucidity, two days of agonizingly difficult work on his damaged body. There are things that will never be the same. His heart is healing nicely, but his lungs are weak and filled with fluid, and his burn is infected and weeping fluid. It’s all Katara can do to keep him hydrated. His left extremities still won’t move. When his eyes open, he moans at the light and slams them closed again.

His first words to her are “Make it stop.”

“Make what stop, love?” she asks quietly, massaging his temples with cool water. It glows blue around her palms and seems to help with whatever he needs her to stop, because his golden irises are visible again shortly. Katara helps him to sitting. His head flops back and his breathing gets weak, heart stuttering in his chest. It may be healing, but it’s still weak.

“Hurts,” he groans, words slurring off his tongue. His left foot twitches. She checks the splinting around his shoulder and collarbone.

“What happened,” he rasps after a few sips of water and a few spoonfuls of broth he insists on feeding to himself. The slight exertion of that and a trip to the toilets has made him a sweating, limp heap of firebender, propped against pillows and curled in her lap. His legs are tangled in the sheets and her loose pants, head on her collarbone.

“Is he dead,” he mumbles, when Katara hesitates, “Did we get paid?”

“Yes and yes,” Katara murmurs, caressing his cheek and holding a cup to his mouth, “but he could bend lightning.”

“Oh,” Zuko grimaces. His face twists with nausea and Katara bends the bile and water he brings up into a basin. Zuko spits and pants, sagging against her. She tries to ease some of his discomfort with cool water over his sick stomach and throbbing head.

“He-” Katara stops and presses their lips together with a gasp, tasting her own tears. Zuko’s trembling fingers tangle in the end of her ponytail.

“You thought he was aiming for me. Took it right in the shoulder to keep it from hitting me.”

“That why it feels like I got trampled by a komodo rhino?” Zuko mumbles into her chest.

“Yeah,” Katara snorts, “Probably.”

“I’m okay,” he whispers, “Really, Katara.”

“Yeah you’re gonna be out of commission for months, dumbass,” she tells him, getting him to swallow some more water down. Zuko grimaces and lets out a wet cough.

“Naw,” he slurs.

“Yes,” she grumbles, “You’ve got pneumonia, and your heart got damaged again. It’s healing well but very slowly. You are done for a while.”

Zuko wraps his right arm around her, his left shaking and moving just a few inches. Katara kisses his sweat soaked long hair.

“I want a shower,” he groans into her chest.

“We’ll be on Kyoshi soon,” she murmurs to him, looping his silky strands around her fingers.

“Wanna do it together?” he snickers, “I’m sure I owe you for saving my life again.”

“Maybe when you can stand,” Katara teases, “and stop throwing yourself into danger, you idiot.”

“I do it out of love,” Zuko yawns, his eyes falling shut.

“I am a master waterbender fully capable of taking care of myself,” she reminds him with no real bite in her voice.

“You could kick my ass,” he slurs, tongue thick in his mouth with pain and sleep, “but it scares me to see you hurt.”

“I know,” she whispers, “get some rest, Zuko.”

“Stay,” he whispers.

“Always and forever.”

#Zutara #Cecilia writes #prompt #Zuko #Katara #Sokka #Suki #Toph Beifong #sukka #whump #Hakoda #Bato

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angstyaches · 4 years

Note

How about a sick Shayne hanging out with Charlie. His stomach starts to hurt and eventually he gets nauseous. He makes a run for the bathroom, but when he gets there he realizes it's occupied and loses his hold on his nausea, and Charlie comforts him.

Thanks anon! I’m sorry for the Emotions, I couldn’t stop myself. Please enjoy!

CW: nausea, emeto, panic, mistreatment mention, some swearing, separation anxiety. This is PRE-OUIJA BOARD/occurring before they meet Elliott and Felix.

Shayne’s body responded to the pain before his mind even registered that anything was wrong. By the time he became aware of any discomfort, he had already lowered his head to the arm of the armchair, wrapped one arm around his waist, and drawn his knees to his chest. He blinked in surprise when he realised how he was sitting in comparison to Charlie, who had his long, skinny legs stretched out across the floor, one hand resting over the edge of the sofa, the other idly reaching for the bowl of popcorn next to him.

Shayne made himself sit up and put his feet on the floor too, trying to subtly fold his arms and keep some pressure on his stomach. Charlie looked over when he heard all the movement, but his gaze didn’t linger long when Shayne didn’t look back at him.

As soon as Charlie went back to watching the movie, Shayne let his discomfort show on his face, swallowing hard and tightening his arms over his belly. He’d been planning on dealing with the next demon on his way home, but the thought of going ahead with that while he already felt like this nearly made his eyes water.

“Hey, um…” Charlie’s voice was extremely soft as he looked over again. “Is everything okay? You can talk to me, if you’re worried about something.”

“I’m okay,” Shayne mumbled. If he told Charlie he wasn’t feeling well, Charlie would find some way to help, and Shayne would feel like shit later for making him go out of his way. Or, for all he knew, Charlie was already fed up with Shayne and his whining.

When he noticed the slight frown on Charlie’s face, Shayne wanted to kick himself for being distracted and selfish.

“Are you worried about something?” he asked.

Charlie’s hand halted on its way to his mouth, and a few pieces of popcorn fell onto his chest. He glanced down at them but let them sit there as his gaze wandered towards the closed door of the front room.

“I mean, I – I guess I’m worried about what’ll happen when we sell the house,” Charlie said in a low voice.

Shayne nodded along out of habit, trying to ignore the way his stomach was starting to gurgle.

“I really want to finish my exams here, and graduate with you and Rin.” Charlie smiled sadly, glancing towards the door again like he was afraid his parents would walk in at any second and hear him talking like this. “I know I’ve gotta go where the wind takes me, and right now, the parents are the wind, but it just feels – I don’t know.”

Shayne shook his head; he didn’t know either. He had done an excellent job of not thinking about this too much himself, ever since Charlie had let slip the possibility of him moving away again soon. Shayne couldn’t picture anybody else living in the Mulberry house after coming to associate it with Charlie. He couldn’t see how he’d find the strength to keep protecting the house, damaging his mind and body in the process, if it wasn’t Charlie and Ingrid and Trevor that he was protecting.

He couldn’t stop the shudder that ran up and down his spine as Charlie went back to watching the movie, tidying up the popcorn he’d let fall on himself. His cheeks tingled, his mouth flooding with a sour taste. He pressed his hand to his stomach as he started to get up from the armchair, hoping the motion wouldn’t accelerate things.

“Want me to pause it?”

“No, it’s fine.” He glanced at Charlie in slight confusion, reminding himself that Charlie didn’t know how little attention he’d been paying to the movie anyway.

Shayne’s heart sank when he got to the hallway and saw a rim of off-yellow light coming from the bathroom door. That meant someone was in there already, and his legs were shaking so much he didn’t think he’d make it upstairs.

He closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his mouth, one clutching the other, trying not to make a sound as he willed his body to stop whatever it was trying to achieve.

A mouthful of bile silently sneaked up his throat, and his first instinct was to swallow it back down. That just made the churning in his stomach worse, and his diaphragm heaved. The retch overwhelmed him this time, and the result was a splatter across the polished floorboards as his hands flew instinctively away from his mouth.

Shit. Shayne recoiled against the wall, too afraid to look at how much of a mess there was. It was too dark to see properly anyway. The shock and the shame were enough to tighten his throat, stopping him from gagging again. Which would have been great, if it hadn’t been too little too late.

The door to the front room clicked first, which meant Charlie was coming, and then – even worse – the toilet flushed behind the closed bathroom door, an ominous crashing sound that made Shayne’s heart drop.

“Shayne?” Charlie asked anxiously from his right.

“Charlie, I’m sorry,” Shayne choked out, a timer ringing in his head as he waited for one of Charlie’s parents to come out of the bathroom. “I-I couldn’t – it came on really suddenly –”

The lock on the bathroom door clicked, and the door opened. The light from inside the room spilled out, outlining Trevor’s slim, tall build. The man was holding a folded newspaper in his hand, and seemed caught off-guard when he saw both Charlie and Shayne staring at him.

Shayne looked away first, his ears starting to ring. It was like his nerves were shutting down and all that was left was a shard of fear in his throat and the dread swirling in his stomach.

He barely heard whatever Charlie and his dad were saying for the next minute or so, because the voices in his head were so much louder, so much more –

Ungrateful little shit ruins everything why can’t you be more like your mother do you realise what we gave up for you how about you start showing some respect –

“Hey, hey, hey, whoa – what’s going on, Charlie, is he alright?”

“It’s okay, Dad, I’ve got him.”

Yes, Charlie did have him. Shayne opened his eyes to see Charlie’s hands pulling at him, guiding him back to the front room and over to the sofa. He had no idea why he needed to be guided until a burning in his lungs made him realise how quick and shallow his breaths were.

He began to become aware again as he sat in the spot where Charlie had previously been sitting, feeling his heat still trapped in the cushions. Charlie knelt in front of him, putting his hands on Shayne’s knees.

“Charlie, I’m – oh, god, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I – fuck, I need to – I need to go tell – tell your dad. I’m sorry –”

Charlie pressed harder on his knees to stop him from standing up. Shayne’s breath caught in his throat, halting altogether when he saw the fierce emotions in those blue eyes, made sharper by the flickering light from the TV screen.

“Listen to me, okay?” Charlie said, turning one hand over on Shayne’s knee. Shayne’s hand reached for it without thinking, and he felt a warm shiver as their palms met. “You didn’t do anything wrong, and no one’s angry at you.”

“Y-your parents –”

“Will not be angry with you.” Charlie half-smiled. “I promise. I’m gonna go help Dad clean up, but I’ll be right back, okay?”

Shayne gave a quick nod, since it felt like the right answer. Another shiver went through him when Charlie’s half-smile became a full-smile, seeming to warm the spaces between his ribs. He felt Charlie’s hand slide away from his and he curled up against the arm of the sofa, already anticipating the sensation of him coming back.

Even so, he couldn’t swallow back the words that were stuck in his throat, the answer he’d actually wanted to give. Don’t go.

#emeto #emeto sickfic #sickfic #stomach ache #swallow the world #request #shayne #shayne and charlie #sickfic angst #tw emeto #tw trauma #tw panic #emetophilia

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srsly-messed-up-fruitloop · 4 years

Text

Supper’s Ready

Word Count: 2,033

Summary: A couple of weeks have passed since Danny’s accident with the portal. Fortunately, so far, he hasn’t experienced any symptoms at all, not even ghostly ones. Until one day, he begins throwing up ectoplasm.

Or, my take on Portal!Danny

Warning: Includes depictions of nausea and vomiting so...read at your own discretion

Read on AO3 or under the cut

Danny awoke with a groan. He clutched his stomach and squeezed his eyes together as a wave of nausea hit him. If he could, he would’ve laid there forever, curled up in a ball fighting the sick feeling in his stomach. But it kept getting worse, and worse, until his instincts drove him to blindly stumble to his bathroom. Kneeling before his toilet, he held his mouth open, wishing for whatever he ate earlier to just come out already. It felt like an eternity before his dinner left him. Panting, he laid his cheek against the toilet seat as he felt the nausea starting to subside.

He doesn’t remember the last time he threw up. Probably when he was a kid. It couldn’t have been mom’s cooking, right? He recalled the glass of milk he had before bed. It did taste a bit funky.

He stood up, sparing a glance at his dinner once again. He was just about to flush it away until something caught his eye. A single translucent drop of something that glowed brightly green. Jazz probably did have a point about not keeping the ecto-weenies in the fridge.

A couple of weeks have passed since Danny’s accident with the portal. Unfortunately, the portal remained unfunctional since the brief moment when he had activated it. At first, Jazz and his friends were extremely concerned for him. After all, he was practically electrocuted. But seeing that there were no lasting effects, over time they’ve let go of the incident. Things resumed back to normal, save for Jazz becoming a lot more protective of her little brother.

Danny flushed and rinsed the foul taste from his mouth. He made a mental note to throw out the milk in the morning as he climbed back into his sheets.

A few days later, Danny was sitting at his desk in his bedroom, struggling to understand why he kept getting this one math question wrong. He swears he’s following the same steps in the textbook example. He was just about to give up and move onto the next question when his mouth suddenly felt dry. No, not again.

Ever since that night he puked, Danny’s stomach really wasn’t having it. More and more often the sick feeling would return, except nothing came out of it. He rested his head on his homework, waiting for the nausea to pass. At this point he just wanted whatever bad food, stomach bug, or whatever to leave him already. Maybe he should ask his parents to take him to the doctor.

At that thought, his gut uncomfortably lurched and he barely grabbed his wastebasket in time. It’s a shame those tater tots from the cafeteria had to go to waste. Just when he thought he was finished, he felt a painful jolt in his abdomen and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt something, with an almost slimy-like texture pour out. The sensation of it running up his throat made him feel even sicker than he was.

He took a moment to breathe before opening his eyes again. He almost dropped the bin at what he saw. It was the same glowing green substance he saw that other night. Except this time, it took up three quarters of his wastebasket! He couldn’t even see his lunch from earlier.

Slightly panicked now, he quickly scrambled up from his desk chair to get rid of it. If Jazz saw him now, she’d never let him hear the end of it.

After flushing it away, he turned to the sink to clean himself up. But, the sight of himself in the mirror made him freeze.

He saw that green fluid, staining his white shirt as it steadily dripped from his chin. He almost gagged when he still felt it present in his mouth. But what truly frightened him was his now green irises, glowing brightly in the same intensity as the fluid.

What was wrong with him?

Ectoplasm. That’s what was inside him.

Over dinner, his dad was excitedly explaining how he had extracted the substance from a ghost. His mom joined in, explaining its scientific properties. And while Jazz expressed her disgust at bringing something like that to the dinner table, the whole conversation was lost to Danny’s ears. All he saw was the small vial his dad was showing off, containing the same substance he had been heaving out daily in the last week.

Danny was in the middle of an English test when he felt it. It wasn’t all that painful anymore, and he’s gotten used to holding it down just long enough until he could get to a washroom. Still, it always was very uncomfortable. And inconvenient, especially at times like now. He raised up his hand and cringed as Lancer stared at him suspiciously.

“Yes, Mr. Fenton?”

“Can I—uh...go to the bathroom?”

Lancer sighed as he glanced at the clock. “Fine. Please hurry back though, you only have 20 minutes left for the test.”

“Thanks Mr. Lancer,” Danny mumbled as he got up from his seat. He fought the feeling of Wes glaring a hole in the back of his head, along with the weird stares from some of his other classmates. Sam and Tucker worriedly watched as their friend left the classroom.

Alone, in the bathroom, Danny used his hands to brace himself against both sides of the stall, as he crouched in front of the toilet, wrinkling his nose at the smell. He hated doing this at school.

He counted to three and then let go, expelling the seemingly endless supply of ectoplasm within him. Every time he did this, there was always that little nagging voice at the back of his head, telling him that he really should tell someone about this. His parents should know what to do, right? But, every time he attempts to do so, he just...he can’t go through with it. Hearing them rant about their pure hatred for ghosts and the inventions they’ve created just to torture them makes his stomach lurch for a whole other reason. He knows they love him...but...what if they try to hurt him?

As for Jazz and his friends, he honestly can’t bring himself to burden them more after the portal accident. After all this time, he still occasionally sees the guilt in Sam’s eyes. Besides, who’s to say this won’t go away on its own...right?

He wiped his chin with the back of his hand after he felt nothing else coming up. However, he was greatly mistaken.

The next moment, sheer agony shot through his abdomen, causing him to lose balance and hit his back against the stall’s door. It never hurt this bad before!

His body went rigid when he felt a frightening chill freeze his insides. A burning green—almost yellow light was all that he could see as he was overwhelmed by the brutal sensation of his insides being ripped apart. His mouth was forced open by an invisible force as something else crept up his painfully inflamed throat. It wasn’t ectoplasm this time.

Panting heavily, all Danny could do was lay there against the door as the blinding light and pain gradually faded away. The first thing he saw after regaining his vision was a spectral tail disappearing into the ceiling.

“Good morning, this is Tiffany Snow reporting Amity Park’s latest breaking news. Recently, we have received several reports of ghost sightings. Witnesses have expressed that these ghosts have been trespassing their homes, destroying property, and terrorizing civillians. The Amity Police Depar…”

“Those no good specters!”

“Jack, honey, do you know what this means?”

“Of course Maddie, the town needs us!”

“But the sudden increase in ghost activity, it must mean something…”

“What are you sayin’ Mads?”

“Where would these ghosts be coming from? Natural portals don’t stay open long enough for any significant entities to escape the Ghost Zone. Unless...maybe something is causing them to stay open longer?”

“You might be onto something, gosh Mads you’re so clever! Well, better get right to sealing up those portals for good. Oh, I got the perfect idea for an invention!” Jack exclaimed as ran downstairs into the lab.

“Danny?”

Danny just realized he’d been holding his breath throughout his parents’ conversation. At the sound of his mom’s voice directed at him, he dropped his spoon. “Y-yea mom?” he stuttered as he anxiously gazed at her.

She was holding a silver-gray thermos with metallic green details. “Today, I’m packing your lunch in the Fenton thermos. We’d be horrible parents let you kids go to school defenseless. Just remember to point and push, okay?”

“Um, okay. Thanks mom,” Danny mumbled.

She kissed his head before he could protest and said, “I’m going to help your father out. Have a great day at school sweetie.”

After his mom disappeared downstairs into the lab, Danny morosely glanced at his half-eaten cereal. He’s probably not gonna keep it down anyways. Fenton thermos in hand, he grabbed his backpack and left to catch the school bus.

Danny could almost say he’s gotten used to being nauseous all the time. Now when he threw up, more often than not an actual ghost would come up. But now, the guilt from causing all the recent ghost activity grew with each passing day. Yet, no matter how much he’d tried stopping himself, all he did was make the pain even more unbearable. Something was seriously wrong with him.

One day, he recovered quickly enough to see an octopus-like ghost escape into the school’s hallways. As he exited the washroom, he saw the ghost hurling textbooks at students and scaring anyone that got near.

This was all his fault. He winced as he saw poor Mikey get his glasses knocked off his face by his own math textbook. He had to do something. Wait. Danny reached into his bag, finding the now empty Fenton thermos.

“Just point and push, right?” he muttered to himself as he took aim at the ectopus. A light blue beam shot out the thermos, enveloping the ghost and pulling it inside. Danny blinked as he noticed the small display on the flask read 25% CAPACITY.

“Huh, that was easy.”

Using the Fenton thermos to capture the ghosts really helped ease some of his guilt. However, all too soon the thermos had hit its capacity and Danny had no idea what to do with it.

He’d secretly borrowed another one from his parents and already that one was full too. He needed to figure out something quick.

“Hey dad?”

“What’s up Danno?”

“Uh...how do you get rid of ghosts?”

“Son, I’m so glad to see you taking an interest in the family business! Me and your mom are still finding out a way to get rid of those spooks for good. For now, we’ve got the Fenton Ghost Weasel and the Fenton thermos to catch them.”

“But, what if you run out of space to keep them?”

Danny’s dad scratched his head in thought. “Never really thought much about that. I guess when the time comes, we just gotta send those suckers back where they came from. Maybe by then, we’ll find those portals that are causing us all this trouble.”

Back where they came from?

By now, Danny knows that the accident with his parents’ portal had to have something to do with his...condition. And considering that all the ghosts are coming from inside him...maybe the portal did end up working after all. Except, not in the way he’d expected. He tried not to think too much about it. How an opening to an entirely different dimension was...inside him.

But, he had a more immediate problem to worry about. And as much as the solution grossed him out, he had no choice.

Currently sat on his bed, Danny stared at the two full flasks in front of him. His dad’s words rang in his ears as he unscrewed the cap off one. His stomach turned uncomfortably as he spared a glance at its contents.

Bringing up the thermos to his lips, he squeezed his eyes shut to brace himself for what he was going to do next.

Here goes nothing.

#danny phantom #PLEASE listen to Supper's Ready by Genesis #even though it has nothing to do with this #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #portal!danny #one shot #nausea tw #vomiting tw #i hope i'm not missing any important tw tags #grooveactuallywrites

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sicjimin · 3 years

Note

E4 and E7 with sick Jungkook please?

4. I can’t stop burping…

7. Is that your stomach? It’s so loud.

Seokjin was trying his best to ignore the younger that keep shifting on his seat, failing miserably to keep his gaze on the phone as his other hand moves way too much, either grazing over his stomach or pressing tightly on his already lip-balmed lips as burp escaped once or twice.

Seokjin kinda knows that Jungkook is also trying his best to act /fine/ and dismissed whatever he might felt as he didn't wants to come as a hassle in between their way to do some pre-recording. But Seokjin's caretaker heart simply can't bear it anymore the fifth time Jungkook stifled a burp, hoping that no one would notice the grimaces he let slip.

Seokjin did.

"Kook, is that your stomach? It's so loud. Are you okay?', Seokjin approach the topic, nonchalantly, as he closed his phone and turn his body so he gets a full view of Jungkook's flustered state.

"Uh .. you heard that hyung?", Jungkook stammered, his fingers curls even tightly on his outfit.

Seokjin shrugs, "You've been fidgeting since you finish your makeup, of course, i would know", he scoots closer, " Now tell me, are you okay? are you sick?"

Jungkook huff, shutting his eyes as he let his wall break, slowly stop fighting the horrible state he felt since earlier because it was no use in front of this hyung. He ducked his head down, suddenly feeling exhausted and ... 2 times more horrible as he's now aware with the churning in his stomach, the tightness in his chest, and cold sweats that start emits from his skin, "Dunno .. i felt off. My stomach felt off. I can't stop burping .. it's annoying and makes me nauseous," Jungkook sighed, his breath hitched a little and his hands were shaking, voicing it out loud, making everything in his body feel worse.

He feels nauseous and like throwing up. The younger closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing and nausea.

"Jungkookie? Are you okay?" Seokjin's deep voice asked beside him, Jungkook shakes his head, "No." It came out weak, like if he said it louder he'd throw up. Seokjin frowned a little, looking around the room where the two are. Its too crowded there, with the staff running and walking back and forth.

"Do you want to go to the bathroom?", Seokjin asks as he grabs the younger hands that are cold against his warm hand, guiding Jungkook to lean on his shoulder that the latter gladly accept. " We have to shoot in few minutes", Jungkook mumbled in between his attempt to ease his nausea.

"You still gonna shoot? I mean, you're sick, Kook-ah. Moving a lot won't do anything good", Seokjin grow concerned. He knows that Jungkook is stubborn but it always gives him whiplash, " I can tell Namjoon to talk with Manager-nim", he adds

Jungkook groans as he moves his body to sit straight, winced a little when he could feel his stomach grumble angrily again with the movement. "I will be fine hyung .. it won't be long"

Seokjin rolled his eyes, pick his phone and stand up, "I will ask for medicine for your stomach. I won't let you shoot before you take that" , and leave before the latter managed to argue.

—

"I guess the answer to your stomach problem is just throwing everything up, Kook-ah. How are you even get sick like this", Seokjin murmured as he massaged the younger nape that busy sending more and more of his half-disgested lunch? breakfast? dinner? up to the toilet.

Jungkook managed to finish the recording before he gave up and running to the bathroom the moment the PD-nim gave them an okay, and when Seokjin realized that Jungkook already disappears from there, he found the younger already hunched over the toilet, propping himself on the wall with shaky hands as he vomits.

Jungkook pants when his stomach gave him a break. He sniffles as he flushes the almost full toilet, but keep his posture hunched over it, spitting the thick saliva occasionally. He feels hot.

"You're not done?", Seokjin asks behind him. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut when another warm liquid creeps on his throat before it spills from his lips. When the next dry heave hits him, Seokjin pats his back and rubs soothing circles at the back of his neck while whispering comforting words.

After what seems like hours but is probably only a few minutes, Jungkook slowly stops throwing up, the last gagging sounds dying down, but still the young man continues to cough. Seokjin keeps rubbing his back, waiting until Jungkook can breathe without gasping for air before he stands up. The young male straightens his body and pulls the toilet paper to clean himself.

"Are you feeling better?", Seokjin asks.

"Yeah, I'm good.", Jungkook nods as he walks out, rinses his mouth out with water before spitting into the sink. " I guess the medicine didn't work hyung", Jungkook jokes.

Seokjin frowns," Yeah, It would work if you were not stubborn to keep jostling your already upset stomach!", he scolds, meeting Jungkook gaze from the mirror as the latter giggles, "You sure you're fine though?"

"I'm fine!"

"You sure? I always can ask Namjoon to do something if you want to go back or—", Seokjin rambles got cut off when Jungkook push him outside and walk back to their waiting room.

"This is why you're growing old faster hyung", Jungkook murmured before he yelps as the latter hit him, " Aw! Stop worrying so much I'm fine now. I feel a lot better", he pouts.

Seokjin wraps his hand around the younger male shoulder, "You're just got sick like that Kook, its natural for me to worry"

"I know .. but i'm honest when i said i already feel a lot better", Jungkook says, " and i don't want to add another job for others if this gets postponed .. we only have a few again and after that i can rest", he adds, gaining a hum and one ruffle on his hair from the older, "Okay, but get a granola bar or something to eat first. You're empty"

#bts sickfic #bts emeto #tw emeto #tw vomit #sick!jungkook #caretaker!seokjin

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apoguecalledjj · 4 years

Text

Fixation (Chapter 7)

Series summary: Eleanor is new to the outer banks, and the pogues are quick to take her in. But so are the kooks, and as she grows closer with Rafe, trouble emerges. Trying to balance her relationship with the pogues and the kooks, as well as dealing with her own personal problems, Eleanor falls into a hole she may not be able to dig herself out of.

Chapter Word Count: 3383

Chapter Warnings: Physical abuse, drug use, vomiting, overdose, hospitals

Previous Parts: Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7

Taglist: @prejudic3 @maragritatimebaybee @drewxxrudy @outerbankslove @bricksatanakinswindow @alexa-playafricabytoto @gigi-june

The only words uttered from Rafe’s mouth on the drive home were “What the fuck.” The fact that he had even allowed her into his truck shocked Ellie, for once, instead of taking a chance to beat up a pogue, he simply grabbed Ellie’s arm and yanked him to his truck.

JJ’s eyes had met hers as she was forcefully dragged away, his eyes filled with worry as he glanced at the tight grip Rafe had on her, but she shook her head and discreetly gave him a thumbs up, letting him know she was okay. Even if she wasn’t sure she was.

Rafe’s hands now clutched the wheel tightly, his knuckles white and shaking. Every so often he would glance over, anger prominent on his face, before shaking his head and turning back towards the road.

“Rafe,” Ellie started, quietly, scared of angering him even more. He didn’t respond, instead just simply grunting at her voice. “Rafe, I love you, I swear. I do.”

“Do you? It sounds like there’s a but.” Rafe didn’t turn his attention from the road. The calmness in his voice terrified Ellie.

“There’s no but. I’m sorry, babe. He started to lean in and before I could even stop him-” She trailed off, cursing herself internally. Rafe hated JJ enough as it was, and now she had thrown him completely under the bus even though they were equally at fault for the kiss.

“Ellie I don’t care.” Ellie looked at him, biting her lip in confusion. “I know what the fucking pogues are like. Especially JJ.”

He pulled into the driveway of his house, pushing the truck into park and jumping out before Ellie could even move. He was waiting for her, he plucked open the passenger side door and motioned for her to get out.

Both her feet had barely touched the ground before Rafe shoved her roughly into the side of the truck. “You shouldn’t have been fucking around him though,” He snarled into her ear, his fingers digging deep into her shoulder blades, her back pressed against the truck.

“I’m sorry, Rafe,” Ellie choked out, her shoulders burning with pain. Rafe pushed her against the truck harshly once more before pulling away.

“It’s okay, baby. I know you won’t do it again. I love you.”

Ellie nodded quickly, wiping away a couple of stray tears that had leaked from her eyes. “I love you too.”

“I’m going to take a shower. Wait for me in my room?” Rafe didn’t wait for a response, immediately moving to go into the house. Ellie wasn’t far behind him.

All she could think about was getting high. She needed something to distract her from everything. The fact that she and JJ had kissed. The fact that she enjoyed it. The realization that she was scared of her boyfriend, who she knew she had no true feelings for, and that she couldn’t stop thinking about JJ.

Ellie knew exactly where Rafe kept his coke, but she was shocked to see way more than she was used to in the drawer. Immediately, she ripped open the bag, preparing a line and wasting no time snorting it.

A few lines later, Rafe emerged from the bathroom, a towel draped low on his waist and his hair still dripping wet. “Oh fuck Ellie what are you doing? That’s the shit I was supposed to sell for barry.” He ran a finger through his hair, clearly stressed, his gaze locked on Ellie, and the abundance of powder in front of her.

“I’ll deal with it tomorrow, Rafe. I’ll pay you back. Just c’ mere. I got a line here for you.”

Rafe would never turn down coke, and soon, the two of them were laughing and giggling together, the night finally going right. Everything from before was forgotten, and all Ellie could focus on was that moment. The kiss, the fight, all forgotten as she did line after line after line. --- JJ was stressed and none of the pogues could calm him down. “I should call her.” He stood up suddenly from his spot on the couch, looking towards where his phone was charging in the kitchen of the chateau. It was late now, nearing 1 AM, and nearing 7 hours since Rafe had dragged Ellie away, causing her to miss her shift.

“You can’t call her man. She’s with Rafe. It’ll make things worse.” Pope spoke from where he was sat next to JJ. The four of them, Pope, John B, Kiara, and Sarah, had immediately left The Wreck and came back to the chateau after finding JJ stood in shock alone with his head in his hands outside.

“She’s doing fucking drugs, Pope! And now she’s gone home with Rafe. You didn’t see the way he grabbed her. He’s gonna hurt her, I know it. And I didn’t do shit! I should have done something. He’s gonna hurt her because of me. It’s all my fucking fault!” JJ rambled on, yelling and clenching his fists.

John B rushed across the room and grabbed him, trying to calm him down. “JJ. You gotta stop. If you would have touched Rafe it wouldn’t have helped and you know that. She’s okay. Rafe’s not gonna hurt her.”

JJ sat back down, defeated. He was exhausted, his head spinning. All he could think about was confessing to Ellie, kissing Ellie, Rafe grabbing Ellie. Ellie doing coke. So many things Ellie didn’t deserve. He searched, searched his brain so hard for reasons Ellie would turn to Rafe, and give in to doing drugs. He found nothing.

“I texted her, JJ. She messaged back. She said she’s good. And there’s a smiley face. You can relax now,” Kiara said. She turned her phone screen towards JJ, allowing him to read the texts.

“We still caught her snorting coke,” JJ reminded her. He was stressed, terrified for Ellie, he wanted nothing more than to rush over to figure 8 and help her.

“We’ll help her in the morning, JJ. We’re not gonna let this go any farther, but there’s nothing more we can do tonight. Not while she’s with the brother.” Sarah told JJ. “Right now we should just try to get some sleep. She works tomorrow, right Kie?” Kiara nodded, and Sarah continued, standing up from where she was sat. “Exactly, so let’s get some sleep now, and we’ll talk to her in the morning. We can meet her at the wreck, first thing.”

Reluctantly, JJ agreed and made his way to the spare bedroom. After what felt like hours of tossing and turning, he finally fell asleep, but not before setting an alarm for 8:30, a half-hour before the start of Ellie’s shift. --- One minute, Ellie was feeling great. All her stress was gone, her mind free of any negativity. Euphoria rushed over her, her body lazily leaned up against Rafe’s as she gazed at the ceiling.

The next minute, she was anxious. She had no idea what changed, or what she was anxious over. Suddenly, it felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her throat was tight, her heart thumping so hard she could feel it. Ellie was so aware of everything, her body touching Rafe’s, his hair tickling her face. The way her shirt stuck to her body.

Her hands slightly trembled, and she tried her best to stop them before Rafe noticed, but she felt as if she couldn’t focus on anything. Rafe felt her shaking, which was quickly getting worst, and pulled away to look at her. “Ellie? What’s wrong?”

Ellie opened her mouth but she couldn’t speak, instead beginning to gag as a wave of nausea rushed over her so quick she hardly noticed. Sweat pooled on her forehead, down her back, and god, why was her shirt sticking to her so fucking bad? She tried to pull it away but her body was trembling, she couldn’t get a grip on the fabric.

“Gonna throw up,” She mumbled as she continued to gag, her vision blurring as excessive heat came over her. She was so hot. So fucking hot. What was going on? Her heart, beating, beating so quick, it was gonna come out of her chest. Her heart was gonna beat out of her chest.

Ellie’s breathing quickened, she tried to focus on her heart, trying to slow it down so it wouldn’t beat right out of her chest, but everything was swirling, why was everything swirling?

Rafe picked her up quickly, rushing to the bathroom. he placed her gently on the floor but realized shortly after that she couldn’t hold herself up. He held her up to the toilet, and it didn’t take her long to empty the contents of her stomach- the alcohol she had drunk earlier that night. She had forgotten about that.

Rafe cursed, this was the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight. Ellie had never gotten hungover this bad before, so why now? They hardly had any, and It wasn’t even the next morning. He swore again as he felt her go limp in his arms, she had fallen asleep, he assumed.

He picked her up once again, carrying her to the bed. The heat radiating from her body scared Rafe. He placed her in his bed, before going back to the bathroom to get a cold cloth for her forehead.

What the fuck was wrong with her? He had never experienced something like this before. He was used to dealing with hangovers, he got them al the time, and Topper was a lightweight. He had dealt with comedowns from coke, dealt with Ellie’s comedowns specifically, and it had never been like this.

How much had she done tonight anyway? Rafe realized he didn’t know. He glanced at the multiple bags sitting on his desk from where he was sitting next to Ellie’s still trembling body, and finally noticed how many of them were empty. Was she overdosing? He couldn’t call an ambulance. That would get him, and Ellie probably, in trouble, and she wouldn’t want that. She would probably wake up in a few hours, perfectly fine. Yeah, Rafe thought, she’ll wake up perfectly fine.

Her phone lit up from where she had thrown it on the bed earlier. A text from Kiara, asking how she was. Rafe frowned, enraged at the reminder that his girlfriend was friends with the pogues, but the last thing he needed was them showing up here, so he sent a text back.

Ellie’s body jerked roughly. And then again. Rafe turned to look at her and his heart immediately dropped, her body jerking and twitching much more than before. Was this a seizure? There was drool, slightly dripping from her mouth, and Rafe officially panicked. This was bad. This was really fucking bad.

He turned Ellie on her side, he managed to remember that. Then he rushed across the room, quickly chucking the plastic bags with remnants of white powder into the back of his quite cluttered drawer.

Finally, after one last look at Ellie’s twitching body, he called an ambulance, gave them directions and instructions, and left. --- 8:45 the next morning, the pogues were at The Wreck. The five of them were sat at a corner table, silent. JJ twiddled with his fingers nervously, looking up every couple of minutes to check the door.

Kiara’s eyes didn’t move, they were fixated on the front door, waiting for Ellie to walk in perfectly okay. None of them would admit it, in fear of making JJ’s anxiety worse, but they were all worried about Ellie’s wellbeing.

Pope glanced at his watch. “It’s 9,” He muttered, leaning to peer out to the parking lot for any sign of Ellie’s truck.

“She’s never late,” JJ spoke quietly, his jaw clenched as he gazed around the room.

“JJ, I’m sure she’s fine, just give her 10 minutes.” But Kiara’s voice wavered, she was unsure as well, constantly checking her phone for the time. “She’s never late,” JJ repeated.

5 minutes passed, then 15. 20. Still, no sign of Ellie and the morning rush was about to begin. Mr. Carrera came out of the kitchen, a deep frown etched into his face as he made his way to the teens in the corner.

“Kiara? Eleanor’s meant to be here. Do you know where she is?” His voice was stern, it was obvious that he was disappointed.

“We don’t know dad, we’re worried about her. We were waiting for her to show up.” At Kiara’s words, his face softened, and he gestured towards the kitchen.

“Come back. We’ll make some phone calls. I’m sure she’s okay.” He placed his hand gently on his daughter's shoulder as she bit her lip nervously.

Kiara followed her dad to the back, leaving her four friends. Pope’s stare was fixated on nothing, he was staring ahead blankly, not knowing what to think. John B ran his hand through his hair, over and over again, it was getting greasy but that was the last thing he cared about. Tears welled in Sarah’s eyes, the thought of her brother hurting her new friend tearing her apart. JJ’s lip quivered, he was trying his best not to cry but wasn’t doing a good job. No one mentioned it, the fact that JJ was openly crying just showed how serious the situation really was.

No one spoke, no one had anything to say. They all cared about Ellie, she had weaseled her way into their hearts and they all considered her a good friend.

Kiara burst out of the kitchen, the door banging loudly against the wall as she ran causing multiple customers to look up. Her movements were frantic as she darted across the room, her eyes wide with shock. JJ jumped up, knowing something was wrong.

“Come on guys we have to go.” Kiara didn’t stop, instead just motioned for her friends to follow her to the van. “Ellie’s in the hospital.” --- The five of them rushed into the hospital, earning many glares from nurses and doctors as they did. Pope was the first to spot Travis Adair sitting on the other side of the waiting room, and they made their way over to him quickly.

Travis stood up, his face furious as he faced the three pogue boys. “You,” He snarled. “Was this your fault?”

It was obvious that it was only directed at the three pogues, the two kook girls not included in his discriminatory accusations. Sarah but in, using her kook status to her advantage. “Travis, none of us know what happened. We love Ellie and we’ve been worried all morning. This isn’t any of our faults, she was with my brother last night.”

Travis’s expression turned to confusion. “Rafe?” Sarah simply nodded, and Travis sat down, sighing deeply. “I suppose I should tell you what happened, then.” He paused. “I’m sorry for blaming you.”

JJ nodded curtly, normally he would be offended but at this moment, he just needed to know what happened to Ellie.

“She overdosed on cocaine. The doctors said the levels in her body were extreme, and there were also traces of alcohol. An ambulance was called to the Cameron residence, but there was no one to be found there, besides her.” He nodded towards Sarah. “I assumed she was with you guys, but now I know I was wrong.”

JJ rubbed his jaw, he needed to know if Ellie was okay. He didn’t doubt that the levels of cocaine in her body were high, Rafe often had lots and he was an idiot when it came to drugs. It angered him even more that she had been left alone, Rafe didn’t even have the decency to stay with her and make sure she was okay. His hands balled into fists by his side, if he wasn’t so desperate to see Ellie he would have already left to beat the shit out of Rafe.

Travis continued. “They found her seizing, unconscious. She had vomited multiple times. I was told the seizure could have been avoided if the ambulance would have been called earlier. But, Rafe, I guess, didn’t call when he should have.”

“How is she now?” John B asked.

“Stable, but still unconscious. They have no idea when she’ll wake up, so we’re just waiting it out. She’s allowed one visitor at a time, Annette is in with her now, but one of you can go in next.”

They all looked at JJ. Of course, he should be the one to see her first, they all agreed on that. He simply nodded, accepting that he would be the first one to see her.

“We know about her mom,” Kiara spoke softly, looking up from the tiled floor to meet Travis’s eyes.

He nodded. “That’s another factor in this. I was unsure if she would have told you guys or not, she was pretty set on keeping it secret. I guess that shows she really does trust you guys.”

‘Will she have to go to rehab?” Pope inquired.

“We haven’t decided yet.”

At that moment, Annette appeared from down the hallway, smiling softly at the teenagers surrounding her husband. “I’m assuming one of you want to be the next to see her?” Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

“JJ,” Kiara exclaimed, pushing him forward. “JJ’s going first.”

Everything was a blur to him as he walked down the hallway. “117, 117, 117,” He mumbled to himself, not wanting to forget it. He bumped into someone, he wasn’t sure who, and mumbled an apology but didn’t stop. All he was fixated on was the numbers on the doors.

117. He found it and pushed the door open slowly. At first glance, the room seemed empty, there was no sign of any movement. But it didn’t take long for the steady beeps to reach JJ’s ears, and he walked over towards the bed, a tear falling from his eye once again as he finally took in Ellie’s appearance.

She was pale, paler than he had ever seen her. Her lips were chapped, aching for the lip balm she usually applied religiously. An IV was in her hand, which was rested on the bed behind her. The makeup she had been wearing the night before was smudged under her eyes, no one must have had a chance to take it off. He made a mental note to tell Kiara to bring makeup wipes and lip balm later.

JJ sat in the chair next to her and gently took her hand into his. It was limp, which worried him, but the heart monitor next to the bed assured him she was alive.

“El,” He whispered, even though she couldn’t hear him. “El I’m sorry I didn’t help you in time. I shouldn’t have let you leave with Rafe.” His voice shook as he started to cry. “I know I said this yesterday but I have to say it again. You’re doing things to me El, I’m fucking crazy about you. And-” He choked back a sob. “It’s scaring me. I’ve never felt like this before, and it’s really scaring me. And now, seeing you here like this, it’s, it’s tearing me apart.

“You gotta wake up soon, El. I need to see your beautiful eyes again. I want to see you smile and hear your voice.” JJ let out a light chuckle through his cries. “Oh, El, if you could see me now you’d tease me, I know it. All sappy and sad, crying. I never used to cry, not in front of anyone, anyways. I think the pogues have seen me cry more today then they have since they've known me.”

JJ squeezed her hand gently. “Last night I told you I was falling in love with you, but I take that back. The falling is already done. I’m in love with you, El, and I’m terrified. I don’t know what to do, or how to do this. I never knew what I wanted in life, but now I do. It’s you, Eleanor. All I want is you.”

JJ waited quietly, knowing it was far fetched yet praying anyway for some type of response, but instead was just left with the beep, beep, beep of the machine by the bed.

#outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks one shot #obx #obx fic #obx imagine #obx one shot #obx netflix #jj #jj maybank #jj maybank fic #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank imagine #outer banks jj maybank #jj x oc #jj maybank x oc #rafe #rafe cameron

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wizardessheart-sideb · 3 years

Photo

[Image ID: A chapter image done in the style of Wizardess Heart. A large, off-white imagine with a guy on it. He’s wearing a dark gray uniform. There’s a lavender bar over him that reads “Tsukasa Kuze.” The rest of the text reads “Main Story” and “Chapter 10-1: Hunting” /End ID]

Chapter summary: With little options, I have no choice but to go with Azusa and try and avert disaster.

I’m not doing well, so I won’t be attending classes today. I’ll see you after class. Love, Tsukasa.

The Magic Note came in as I got dressed. My stomach felt so sick reading it. He… He’s not ever going to get better, is he? Not unless we get that medicine. Or Azusa or I make a contract… What would I give a demon to make Tsukasa better? Heck, what would it even ask for? A lock of my hair? Some blood? My first-born child?

I walked into the kitchen. Aika and Isabelle were at the table, bowls of cereal in front of them. There was nothing on the stove and Dorian was nowhere in sight.

“We’re on our own for breakfast this morning,” Isabelle informed me.

“Where’s Dorian?” I asked.

“He’s looking for Azusa,” Aika said.

“Still?!”

“I guess?” Aika shrugged. “I don’t know. Dorian left around four this afternoon and he called me a few hours later and told me he couldn’t find Azusa so he was going to look for him.” My stomach knotted itself up.

“He might be at the Spring of Unicorns, but I don’t know why he’d be there now,” I told her. “He seemed so hellbent on having me help him and he told me we weren’t going to go there until four am.”

“I know Dorian looked around the dorms, but I don’t know if he’s checked the main building or not,” she said.

“He better not get too much attention,” Isabelle piped up.

“Dorian’s great a stealth. There’s no way he’s gonna be caught,” Aika reassured her. “I’m more worried about him not being able to find Azusa.”

“If anything, you’ll know where he is this morning,” I said, trying to look on the bright side of things.

“Yeah, but it’d be better for us to catch Azusa before he does anything,” Isabelle pointed out.

“I’ll call Dorian and give him the tip.” Aika quickly got up and left. Isabelle sighed, folding her arms across her chest.

“Are you really going to go through with this? Helping him… You know…” Her thumb made the throat-slitting motion.

“I mean, I don’t know. I don’t want to kill anything. But I don’t know if we can convince Azusa otherwise.”

“If worse comes to worse, Dorian can restrain him and you can make a contract with a demon or magical creature or whatever you want to save Tsukasa,” Isabelle said.

“We really depend on Dorian for everything, don’t we?” I sighed.

“Well, yeah. He’s taken care of Aika since she was yo- They were young. We joke about it, but he really does take care of us. He insists on it.” She took a sip of her coffee.

“Have you ever summoned a demon or a magical creature before?” I knew Aika and Dorian were into that sort of thing. Maybe Isabelle had experience with it. But she just gagged on her coffee.

“What? No. Summoning isn’t my specialty and the price of a contract is… Something that would open up a lot of mental wounds for me. How come?” she asked.

“I’m just worried if I have to do it. I don’t know what I’d sacrifice in order to save Tsukasa. I’d give anything to save him, but when it comes to picking that...”

“I get it,” she said with a nod. “It’s a big decision, you know? If you want my opinion, I’d do some research first and decide what kind of creature to summon first. If you do chose a demon, there’s a lot of subtypes. Incubi generally make contracts for firstborns or a bit of your soul, although I’ve heard some are really flexible with payment.”

“I don’t know if I’d want to summon a demon like that…” I don’t want to make a contract like that and besides, I don’t think Tsukasa would appreciate it if I made a contract like that even if I was willing.

“Personally, I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Azusa’s stubborn, but he loves his brother and I’m sure Dorian will get through to him.” Isabelle smiled warmly at me.

“Yeah, but I don’t like depending on others,” I admitted. “Dorian shouldn’t have to do anything. I should be able to do everything on my own.”

“Oh, same,” Isabelle nodded. “But you have to realize this is something big. I feel like if you have someone willing to do the work for you or help you out, you should take it. No one should have to do things alone, you know?”

“But I’ve been depending on people ever since I got here. I haven’t done anything for myself,” I reminded her. Isabelle’s brow furrowed.

“What are you talking about? Of course you’ve done things on your own. Do you honestly think that other people have been doing your work for you? Even if people are helping you, your accomplishments and your growth are your own.” She sighed, taking another sip of coffee.

-----

I’d gotten used to walking to class on my own. But as I got to the elevator, I paused for a moment. I wondered how Tsukasa was doing. Usually he sent me a Magic Note in the morning, but it just occurred to my that I hadn’t heard from him. My body immediately started to move on its own. I needed to go check on Tsukasa.

The door to his room was opened slightly and I immediately pushed it open, only to for it to meet resistance.

“Don’t open it more. You’re going to knock me over.” Tsukasa’s voice came from the other side.

“Tsukasa?! Are you okay?” I wiggled through the small opening and found Tsukasa sitting on the ground, clutching a trash can to his chest. I immediately knelt down beside him, pushing his hair out of his face. He heaved and stuck his head into the can, vomiting. I hurried over to his desk, grabbing the box of tissues and pulling some out for him. He took them and cleaned himself up.

“Sorry, I’m staying home today,” he said.

“Don’t worry about me. Do you need me to take you to the infirmary?” I asked him.

“No, it’s fine. I just need a moment.”

“Are you really sure? I don’t mind helping you down there.”

“Really, it’s fine,” he insisted. “Azusa told me he’ll be getting another batch of my medication and I’ll be fine in a few days time.” He gave me a soft smile, hand reaching out and cupping my cheek. Despite the comforting gesture, nausea came over me. “Don’t worry about me. It’s gonna be okay.”

“I know. Everything’s going to be okay.” I spoke the words, trying to believe in them. I wasn’t going to let Tsukasa die. I had to do something to save him. I was going to do something to save him. Tsukasa leaned against me, snuggling into my side. “What if I stay here with you today?” I posed the question carefully, glancing over at him.

“I’d like that, but are you sure? Is it going to stress you to skip classes today?”

“I’ve been doing a lot better in classes. I’m sure its fine.” I put my arm around him, trying to snuggle closer to him. He put the trash bin to the side and grabbed my hand.

“I’m really grateful for you. I hope you know that,” he told me. My heart melted.

“And I’m grateful for you. I’m so grateful we met.”

----

I glanced at the clock on the wall. If I was going to meet Azusa, I’d have to leave right now. Tsukasa and I had been laying on his bed for the past hour or so. Glancing down at Tsukasa, I saw he was still fast asleep. If it wasn’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest, I would’ve worried… Carefully, I climbed over his legs and got out of bed. As quietly as I could, I sneaked out of the room. Tsukasa would probably be upset when he realized I left, but this needed to be done.

Classes were still going on, so the hallways in the dorm were silent and empty. At least that was nice. I didn’t have to worry about getting caught playing hooky. In fact, everything seemed empty and quiet as I made my way into the forest and to mine and Azusa’s meeting spot. It was as if the whole forest was empty. There were no owls crying out, no insects making wretched sounds. Nothing.

As I approached the meeting spot, I could see a dark figure in the moonlight, a flashlight in its hand.

“Azusa?” I called out.

“What?” he responded, irritated. I sighed a breath of relief.

“Sorry, I couldn’t tell if it was you or not,” I told him.

“Whatever. Let’s go.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the spring. I wrenched my arm out of his grasp.

“You don’t have to hold onto me. I’m fine,” I told him. He said nothing. “Look, I’ve been thinking about this, and I have an idea. If the unicorn won’t give us a piece of its horn, I’m willing to make a deal with a demon -”

“A demon?” he interrupted. “You’re seriously saying you’d rather try and strike a deal with a demon than just killing an animal?”

“But we wouldn’t have to kill anything!” I protested.

“Why are you still hung up on that? I’ve already told you… Ugh, I’m not having this argument again. I hate repeating myself.”

“But it just makes more sense! Do you want to keep coming back here and killing unicorns every couple years or make a deal with something and have it done forever?”

“… You wouldn’t understand it,” he muttered. “I’m not going to rely on someone or something else. The only reason I brought you into this is because Tsukasa says you’re good with healing magic and I would assume you want him alive.”

“You don’t want to rely on people?”

“I just told you I hate… Are you trying to piss me off on purpose?!”

“No, no! That’s not it at all! I… I get it. I really do.”

“You’re so weird,” he said dismissively before heading into the spring. Was this how I looked to other people? Stubborn and leading myself down a difficult path for no reason? Not listening to reason? Even if Azusa refused to listen to me or anyone else, I knew how he felt.

I wasn’t sure if the feeling comforted or worried me. Uneasy, I stepped into the spring. A unicorn was already by the water, but I couldn’t tell if it was the same one Azusa and I talked to.

“Hello?” I called out.

“Ugh, you two again,” the unicorn sighed. I guess that answers that question. Jerk. “If you’re here to bargain with me, I stand by what I said earlier.”

“Are you really okay with letting someone die when you could have saved his life?” I challenged it.

“Do you really think I’m going to believe two strangers I just met? You’re probably lying,” he said dismissively.

“But do you want to take that risk? Do you want blood on your hands? Er, hooves?” I corrected myself. Azusa groaned.

“Be quiet. I’ll take care of this,” he told me, grabbing my shoulder. “Get ready to back me up if needed.”

“Azusa?!”

“Stand back or you’ll get caught in the magic circle,” he ordered.

“The what?!” He grabbed my arm and threw me away from the spring. I stumbled over my feet and fell to the ground. “Ow! Azusa, what the heck?!”

“封! (Fuu!)” he shouted, writing a symbol in the air. My stomach dropped as faint markings in the ground started to glow. It was happening. This was really happening.

“Azusa, stop!” I screamed at him, scrambling to my feet. There was a blinding light and I shut my eyes as I grabbed Azusa around the waist, hiding my face in his back.

“Get off me!” he yelled.

“No! Please don’t kill it! Just take part of the horn, please!” I pleaded.

“Stop being a baby,” he ordered me callously. “I’m taking care of everything. Just stand back and if I need healing, do it.”

His fingers dug into my arms and he wrenched my arms opened, pushing me away from him. The magic circle on the ground faintly glowed, and from some of these lines stood what looked like large slabs of glowing crystal. The unicorn was desperately rearing back, crashing onto the slabs, trying to break it. Azusa leaned down, taking his backpack off and leaving it at my feet.

“Get ready to help me with the butchering. I can’t do that alone,” he told me. Bile rose in my throat at the mental image. Azusa approached the crystalline cage and I was scrambling to my feet, reaching for my wand. But as I raised to attack Azusa, I froze. What if Azusa was right? What if this was the only way?

… No, this isn’t the way…

Tsukasa’s medicine only kept him healthy for a few years. If we went down this road, Azusa would have to kill unicorn after unicorn after unicorn. And what if we couldn’t get access to one? What happened when we killed the last one? What happened when we had no medicine to give Tsukasa? This wasn’t sustainable. This wasn’t a long-term solution.

“O sacred water, become a piercing arrow! 'Sagitta Aqua!'" I cried. A large arrow of water went flying through the air and hit Azusa squarely in the back. He cried out in pain, stumbling forward. He froze, then slowly turned to my. My stomach churned as his rage-filled face glared at me. I tried to stand my ground. “I told you, we’re not killing it.” My voice shook. Azusa took one step towards me, then another. I stumbled back.

“I knew I couldn’t trust you,” he said, voice dangerously low. He lifted his hand, starting to write something in the air. I readied my wand, ready to bring up a shield. “炎! (En!)” A bolt of fire came roaring towards me.

“Suctum Aqua!” I quickly brought up a shield and stood my ground, digging my feet into the ground. The flame pushed against my shield, but I kept it up. Even if they were getting extinguished from my shield, seeing flames right in front of your eyes was terrifying.

Suddenly, the flames disappeared and I heard Azusa scream. My shield dropped and I saw Dorian, arm raised, entering the clearing, Aika and Tsukasa following behind him.

“Tsukasa?!” Through my shock, I somehow managed to run over to him, taking him in my arms. “What are you doing here?! You need to be at home, resting!”

“Aika told me what’s going on. I couldn’t let them come for you on their own,” Tsukasa said, pushing some hair behind my ear.

“Tsukasa…” As glad as I was to see him, I couldn’t help but worry about his health and how he was feeling right now. Dorian put his arm down and Azusa choked for air, chest heaving violently.

“Our baby Unus transfer told us everything and we told Tsukasa everything. Let’s talk this out, Azusa,” Aika said gently, approaching him.

“There’s… There’s no other way…” he insisted.

“This isn’t sustainable. What happens when we can’t find a unicorn? We need another solution. Please, if you won’t listen to me, listen to them!” I begged him.

“None of you understand what I’ve been through!” he shouted. “If killing a unicorn is the only way to save Tsukasa, then so be it!”

“Hey, we’re all here for you,” Aika said gently, grabbing his arm. “We can all put our heads together and figure something out.”

“Shut up!” he screamed. She trembled and immediately took a few steps back, body shaking. “I’ve tried everything and this is the only thing that will work!”

“Oh, really? You’ve really gone through every possible solution? I find that hard to believe,” Dorian called him out, crossing his arms over his chest. Azusa glared at him.

“Oh, you’re really going to be like that?” he asked dangerously. He raised his hand and I moved in front of Tsukasa, ready to throw up another shield. But in an instant, Tsukasa moved in front of me, storming over to Azusa.

“That’s enough!” Tsukasa yelled.” They’re just trying to help you! We’re trying to help you! You’ve always been like this, insisting you can do everything by yourself. You’re so stubborn! Can’t you just accept our help How will it hurt you if you get help from us?”

“How many times do I have to repeat myself?!” Azusa roared. “There’s no other way. It’s you or the unicorn! And I’m not losing you! You’re all I have left! You have no idea what I’ve been through! I don’t care if I have to kill every unicorn on this damn planet. I will save you. I won’t let you die again!”

Everything froze.

Die… Again…?

Azusa’s face crumbled. He took a few steps toward Tsukasa, who stepped away.

“What are you talking about?!” Tsukasa demanded, voice shaking. Azusa remained silent. “I… Azusa, what are you talking about?!”

“I promised our parents I would do everything to keep you safe. I couldn’t let you die. I couldn’t let you stay dead,” Azusa said quietly.

“You’re crazy! You’ve completely lost it!” Tsukasa shouted. His shoulders started shaking. I hurried over to him and embraced him. His knees buckled and his full weight dropped into my arms. Carefully, I sat down with him. Azusa sprinted over to us, kneeling in front of Tsukasa and I.

“The past doesn’t matter,” Azusa said. “You’re alive now and I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep you alive. Even if you hate me, you’re still my brother and I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

“Why... Why didn’t you tell me?!” Tsukasa demanded.

“I thought it would be best if you didn’t know,” Azusa replied. Part of me couldn’t fault him on that, seeing what was happening now.

“But it’s my life! I deserve to know what’s going on!” Tsukasa retorted.

“You want to know the truth?”

“Yes!”

Azusa sighed, sitting down by us. Defeated. Exhausted.

“It happened when you caught cholera,” he began. “I tried everything to save you, but when you…” He swallowed hard. “I couldn’t accept it. You were just fourteen. I’d promised our parents I’d keep you safe and I failed. So I searched for a way to bring you back. A merchant had a unicorn carcass on his hands and I was willing to shell out for it. The horn and some magic I learned from a visiting Gedonelunian woman did it.

“You came back to life. All I had to worry about was giving you your medication. As long as you were taking that, you’d stay alive. But then we moved and I thought things would be easier here for us. I’ve been trying to get bits of unicorn horns to give you the right dosage, but… I haven’t been able to. And without the medication, your body’s shutting down. That’s why we need to kill this unicorn. You’re dying and I refuse to lose you again.”

“Azusa…” Tsukasa whispered. We fell quiet. Tsukasa quietly sobbed and I just… I didn’t even know what to think. But Azusa’s desperation made even more sense now that I knew the truth. Even though I was relieved to hear Tsukasa wasn’t sick, it wasn’t like it mattered. Somehow, his body shutting down was worse. Illnesses had cures. Dying like this had very few.

“… Dorian,” Aika spoke up quietly. “I want to break our contract.”

#long post #wizardess heart #wizardess heart fan route #tsukasa kuze #tsukasa kuze: kind spirit

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