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fyeahnix · 3 years

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Title: I Got You Pairing: Bangalore/Wraith (Voidstrike) Other Characters: None Rating: Teen and Up for language and mild nudity Words: 1440 Prompt: Taking Care (Sickfic) Other Tags: Sickfic, Bathing/Washing, Cute, Overprotective Wraith, Mentions of vomiting Summary: The first time Anita's been sick in years and she's knocked on her ass by the flu. Good thing for her a special someone is there to take care of her.

If you like it PLEASE REBLOG. You can read it here or on AO3, via the link found in the notes of this post. Please read on AO3 if you prefer correct formatting!

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Anita hasn’t been sick in eight years. Not since she turned thirty, and even then, it was only food poisoning. Friends and coworkers dragged her out to celebrate at Hollygroove’s renowned sushi restaurant. Woke up the next morning to the worst vomiting and diarrhea spell of her life. Swore off sushi for five years after. She doesn’t count it, not officially, but it’s the last time she recalls that isn’t from childhood.

Anita. Never. Gets. Sick.

Until now.

Bullshit.

She lies back in the bathtub, nearly submerged in lukewarm water. The lingering odor of the peppermint bath bomb burns her sinuses but allows her to breathe clearly — quite the feat for the past twenty-four hours. But, it’s peppermint. She despises that acrid, wintery stench, and wiping the persistent scowl off her face proves more difficult as time passes.

Wraith's idea.

Wraith sits curled up next to the tub, hair tied back in a loose and lazy half-ponytail. Anita’s dragon-adorned muscle shirt hangs off her upper half, her own heather-grey sweatpants covering her bottom half. Her phone rests propped up on the side of the tub, playing some loud, dramatically-styled animation that surprisingly hasn’t annoyed Anita after… three episodes? Wraith’s sucked in, sunken-in eyes trained on the bright colors and grotesque transformation sequence of this monster-of-the-week monstrosity of a show.

“Oh shit, that’s new…” she mumbles to herself.

Is it? Anita’s attention wavered an episode and a half ago. Hard to focus when her brain pounds against her skull and her entire body burns like a malfunctioning furnace. The shivers haven’t subsided either. They wrack her body in waves, rippling cloudy bathwater around her. Not to mention the muscle aches. Her obliques and back and thighs and shoulders throb something fierce, and not in the pleasurable post-workout burn type of way. She’s miserable, dejected, and exhaustedly weak, and all the positive effects from the once-piping-hot bath have long since worn off.

The credits roll on the animation and a prompt pops up for the next episode. Wraith pauses it and rests her chin on the side of the tub, staring at Anita as she smiles sympathetically.

"You okay?"

"No," Anita rasps.

"Ready to get out?" she asks with a gentle tilt of her head.

"I'm ready to pass out. For like five days. Everything hurts."

Wraith dips a fingertip in the tub. "Yeah, this water's freezing. Time to get you out." She moves her phone to the sink countertop and grabs the clean washcloth. She hesitates, tips her head a few degrees, “You want to or…?”

Anita’s ears and cheeks sear at the insinuation. She leans forward, slowly, reaching for the washcloth, but the world spins around her as she does. She screws her eyes shut. Takes a deep breath to recenter.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it." Wraith lathers the cloth with some fancy body wash Anita knows she doesn't own. "Can you sit up okay?”

Anita huffs. She grips the side of the tub for support. Pulls herself forwards to a sitting position and winces. It's difficult, her muscles screaming for her to stop, but if she stops moving long enough and trains her eyes to one spot, namely on Wraith, she'll survive. "Kinda."

"Don't worry. I got you." And with that, Wraith, soapy washcloth in hand, settles at the crook of Anita's neck.

Anita's nostrils flare as she relaxes and closes her eyes. She savors the touch at her neck, under her jaw, around her back and shoulders, and under her breasts. The water's cool against her hot, sensitive skin, every glide of Wraith's hand filling her with renewed vigor. The soap's aroma, lavender, overpowers the stink of peppermint. For a fleeting moment, the agony and pain of the last twenty-four hours subsides.

Still, guilt strikes her in the chest, and her eyes flutter open to fix her gaze on Wraith. Anita hates being dependent. Always been one to enjoy taking care of her loved ones. Always took care of herself, too. But this? This is… pathetic. Can’t move half an inch without dizzy spells. Stomach rides close to the edge of vomiting. She feels… useless.

"What's with the sad puppy eyes?" Wraith asks. “Arms up.”

"Should have gone to your match today." Hard to keep the bile down. She inhales slowly, then exhales. Repeats the process. It subsides, for now.

"What do you mean? And” — Wraith recoils and grimaces as her eyes flash white — “please don't throw up on me again?"

Anita ponders. Question’s obvious, but is the clarification worth it? Does it even matter?

Wraith lathers the washcloth again. "Bang, it's just us. Talk to me."

She attempts an eye roll but even that hurts. She settles for a sigh instead. "You don't have to stay here. Takin' care of me like this."

"You're right. I don't." Blunt and direct when it matters, but that's Wraith. "But I am. I'm here because I care about you. And I know you'd do this for me twenty times over if given the chance."

The scowl on Anita's face dissipates, the tight tug of a genuine smile emerging in its wake. Wraith's words melt her on the inside and for the span of five seconds, nothing on planet Solace is wrong or out of place. When Wraith scrubs her ribs and mid-back, the dejection and doubt return.

"Still feel bad, though. Can't imagine it was easy gettin' that across to Young."

"You feel bad for having the shit kicked out of you from the flu?" Wraith clicks her tongue. “It happens, Bang. And don’t worry about Jacob. He and I had an… understanding. If you wanna call it that."

The mischievous smirk on Wraith's face conjures too many possibilities and scenarios in Anita’s head. Curious as a cat, even as Wraith's gliding hand over her belly and hips beneath the water elicit a flinch from her.

"Babe" — Wraith hesitates, blue eyes dilating at the mention of her pet name — "what did you say?"

Wraith stops, lets the washcloth drift to the bottom of the tub beside Anita's thigh. She chuckles to herself, a smug "do you really wanna know" expression playing across full lips. If Anita didn't know Wraith well by now, she'd assume a civil discussion. But that's not how Wraith is. The claws unsheath when she wants something badly enough. Or if anyone dares drive a wedge between them.

"Well, I went to his office yesterday and we spoke. And by 'spoke,' I mean I may have yelled at him. And by 'yelled at him,' I mean I may or may not have threatened to gouge his eyes out and feed them to his Prowler pup. So, my match is postponed until tomorrow evening, which means… I get to take care of you for longer."

The flutters in Anita's belly force a burning blush out of her. Neither have shied away from seeing the other at their absolute worst — anxiety attacks and episodes, drunkenness and hangovers. God, Anita loves this woman with every fragment of her soul.

"If I weren't so sick, I'd kiss you."

Wraith chuckles. "If you weren't so sick, I'd kiss you back." She grazes wet fingers down Anita's jaw, coaxing her forwards to plant lips on Anita's forehead. "You're burning up, by the way. Let's get you out for real this time."

Anita hums as Wraith fishes for the washcloth. With careful, diligent hands, Wraith washes the rest of her body. The water's cold now, and with each drop that trickles down her back and chest, she longs to be out of the water and back in comfortable clothing.

Anita fights through vertigo when she's pulled out of the bath, shivers as she stands naked and freezing and dripping. Wraith towels her down from head to toe and helps her into underwear, sweatpants, and a t-shirt. With patience and slow, timed breathing, Anita ambles to the couch where she lies halfway on Wraith's lap, blanket draped over her.

Wraith grazes the back of her head, the nape of her neck. Tender and caring and sweet as always. She whispers about ordering food or at least making ginger tea — Anita objects — but gently chides that she should hydrate and get her stomach settled.

It's the truth and there's no denying it — the burning and freezing, dizziness, muscle aches and sour stomach — it's all there.

Anita acquiesces, a curt grunt and groan that conveys her annoyance and discomfort. Wraith coos, calms her with a gentle hand across her arm and shoulder. A simple caress proves to be all she needs to know that she's loved, that's she seen and heard.

That she's taken care of.

#Apex Legends #Bangalore #Wraith #Anita Williams #Renee Blasey #Voidstrike #Bangawraith #writing #nix fics #tw vomit #if anyone's wondering #yes this is the fic I commissioned noxlotl to create an illustration for #turned out wonderful!

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blastingxff · 7 years

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Fate that Binds 14

This part: Everything is going well before it doesn’t. (FYI: This fic actually isn’t crack like please proceed with caution. And yes I am aware this tells you nothing about the part in question.)

first part // previous part // next part Series: Pokemon Characters: Jessie, James, Meowth, Pikachu, Ash, Brock, May, Max, Jessebelle Ships: hints of rocketshipping if you read it that way, mostly just friendshipping though Summary: It had been a throwaway wish, something made out of the frustration of the moment- it wasn’t actually supposed to happen. But the magic of a well haunted by a pokemon’s spirit ended up altering reality. Now, Jessie, James, and Meowth aren’t in Team Rocket. They don’t even know each other. And it’s created far darker a world for the TRio than Ash could have ever imagined, and now he and his friends want nothing more than to change things back to how they were. Genre: Friendship, hurt/comfort, so much angst, all the angst, drama, butchered canon, Words: 1,398 / part 14 out of 16 Trigger Warnings (this part): injuries, violence Notes: This popped into my head and didn’t get out until I wrote it down. It’s 16 chapters, and entirely written already in about three days. So that will explain a helluvalot. Like the bus-sized plotholes. I just wanted to be mean to my favorite characters, geeze, is that so bad? XP Also can be read on Ao3.

Chapter 14 The Wedding

Every minute that passed was another minute that one more drop of hope left James’ heart. There had been a moment there when the limo’s tires went flat, his breath had caught and anxious eyes met the tinted windows, searching for those faces. The meowth and the woman who would come to his aid and sweep him away from this Hellish nightmare. They would have rescued him. Or maybe the twerps would have figured out how to save him and they would stand between him and this dreaded fate.

But when the flat tires were little more than a half-hour distraction, time already allotted for their own parading around town in a show of wealth and ‘joy’ on the day when two families would become one, James had let out a heavy sigh of mourning.

They were a few blocks from the cathedral when he saw his mother get a call. By the look on her face, something had happened. He vaguely heard the words ‘missing’ and ‘escaped’ – but his mind refused to allow him to fill in the rest with his own desires. When his mother hung up the phone, the chauffeur was told to hurry. The wedding was to be moved up.

Which is what led him to his position now: Standing at the front of the isle, his hands in front of him, his eyes on the doors at the back of the long, beautifully decorated, rose-petal laden carpet. With dramatic flair the doors opened and even he had to admit, for a moment, that Jessebelle looked like an angel.

One of those evil angels that feasted on children and turned people to stone, but an angel nonetheless.

The sight did little to excite him for his lifetime of imprisonment, and he could only listen dully as the priest went on and on about how this moment was one the nuptials would share for their lifetime. If genetics were any indicator, James’ shoulders dipped, it would be a long, long lifetime.

“STOP THE WEDDING!”

It was loud and muffled, coming from beyond the double doors that had been locked once the final guest had been admitted. Fists were banging, echoing off the high ceiling.

“THIS ISN’T OKAY!” the woman’s voice was sharp. He recognized it.

Jessebelle recognized it as well, her face turning red with anger before the voice began to fade, as though being dragged away. James didn’t realize he had held any hope still, but how his stomach dropped told him he had very much desired the interruptive chaos.

The priest, despite the commotion, continued without so much as a glance towards the door. He had been paid far too handsomely to even consider responding to any concerns about the wedding. So when he spoke the line “Speak now, or forever hold your peace” out of obligation, he moved on without taking so much as a breath.

That is, until the lights in the cathedral went out.

There was a chorus of mumbles and mutters from the guests, and even the choir behind the priest began to grow restless. In the darkness, no one noticed as a female choir member on the end of one of the bottom rows stood out before a spotlight found her like a moth to a flame. Her head was down, as though reading the choir book in front of her, almost waiting for the audience to settle.

Once a confused hush fell, a furious Jessebelle shaking, the choir member’s eyes shot up, catching James’. He felt his heart in his throat as he caught those piercing blue eyes. Red lips spoke in no uncertain terms, “Prepare for trouble, I object to this scene.”

James couldn’t hide the excitement on his face, frozen in his spot. His heroine gave a nod, and he realized she was prompting him. Oh right! What was his line again? “Make it double… it is quite obscene!”

“I’m here to protect your world from devastation,” and with that the choir robe rolled off her shoulders, the woman in a black shirt and torn shorts stood tall despite the still-open wounds on her body.

“She is the last I want to be united with in the nation.”

“I denounce this façade in the name of love.”

“I’m just thanking the heavens above.”

“Jessie, the handsome rogue here to save the day.”

“James, the princess more than ready to be taken away.”

“We may not be Team Rocket, but let’s get out of here at the speed of light.”

“Mother, father, Jessebelle, I refuse to surrender, instead I choose to fight!”

“Meowth, let’s get the heck out of here!” The light turned off, leaving the cathedral darkened. Paws thumped against the ground, echoing up the aisle.

“Okay, Meowth, you’re supposed to rhyme- we were doing so well,” Jessie spoke flatly to the darkness, she had already reached for James’ hand and he gripped onto her desperately. She turned on her heels and pulled him along, the trio escaping the altar area before Jessebelle and James’ parents could quite grasp what had just happened.

“We found a back way,” Jessie explained in a hushed voice as she rushed to the darkest part of the building, “We can get outside, into the woods. We’ll go through the graveyard. They won’t find us, just keep moving!”

They hustled through the older building, picking up speed. Jessie saw the simple, small wooden door leading to the outside that they had come through. So close to freedom-

Until she realized the two large men who had bound her the night before were standing in front of the doorway, halting the three escapees in their tracks.

But Jessie was absolutely fed up with rich people getting to screw her over. She was sick and tired of money being a get-out-of-jail free card. She would destroy the illusion that money was everything with a mix of snark, sass, and success. With a popped hip and a fierce glare she lifted both hands and raised both middle fingers, “You think I’m against desecrating a church? Bitch, I licked a tombstone.”

With that she grabbed the nearest blunt object. A book. Either a hymn or a Bible but right now it was going to be the wrecking ball that would break them out via the beautiful, elaborate, probably older than the city, stained-glass window. She was sure whatever God there was would, while not appreciating the action, would appreciate the sentiment. What’s more holy than risking your own ass to save a friend’s?

Putting all her body’s force behind it, she hit the hard binding against the window- only to have it bounce off, reverberating painfully through her arm. The glass shook but didn’t break. Disdain dressed her face as her eyes went from her book to the glass, “Okay, that didn’t go as planned… Meowth, any ideas?”

“On it!” Meowth jumped into the air, once again displaying his quick thinking and intelligence to his two destined friends. With glowing claws he fury swiped the stained glass. He landed, the window still intact but he didn’t seem concerned, “Try again!”

This time, the window shattered perfectly.

“Okay, princess, up and out,” she pushed James towards the window, hoisting him up so he could make his escape. Meowth was already on the other side, the jump easy work for the cat pokémon.

“Vileplume! Use vine whip to keep my dear from escaping!”

Jessie saw the vine whip coming, “Sorry James,” she shoved him unceremoniously out the window- blocking his body with her own so he had time to fully make it through the frame. James could only watch out of the corner of his eyes as he saw the vine whip wrap mercilessly around her. The hit on the ground did little to calm the pain from the previous night’s abuse, but his fear for Jessie made him move to his feet despite his body’s protests.

He was just in time to watch Jessebelle’s evil glint. The pokémon’s vine was around her body, one around her throat.

“Vileplume,” the name of her beloved pokémon sharp ice on her tongue. James knew what would be coming next, he swallowed. If she used stun spore… there was no way they could escape fast enough. His mind started working on plan B. But then this new world was shattered in two words, “Poison powder.”

#fatethatbinds #pokemon fanfic #pokemon fanfiction #long post #team rocket fanfiction #team rocket #{my writings}

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