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cassidyafton · 4 months ago

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REIMAGINATION: CHAPTER 5

Summary: A dark reinterpretation of the events of the Mr. Hopp's Playhouse series.

Chapter summary: Esther has a nightmare that sticks with her. Something is wrong with her housemates.

Chapter content warnings: Vomit/emeto content, an allusion to child abuse, potential body horror, and implied child death. The child abuse is only mentioned in one sentence, but can be avoided by skipping from "Esther bit her tongue" to "Did you look in the garden?" As for the more gross content (emeto, possible body horror, toads), the extreme stuff happens from "Something was writhing inside her stomach" to "Luckily, she didn't scream when she woke up", but there's a bit more minor stuff right out the gate as soon as she wakes up until she turns on the bathroom sink.

"Esther, what are you doing?" Linda Martin frowned as she watched Esther climb back into her bed. "It's not even noon. Bedtime isn't for hours!"

"I'm taking a nap," Esther replied. "Sister Gladys said I could. I went and saw her this morning."

"Oh, are you not feeling good either?" Linda's expression turned from disapproving to sympathetic. "I hope it's not the stomach flu again."

Esther shuddered. "Ugh. I hope not too. But some of the others who aren't feeling well right now seem like they have colds, so hopefully it's not."

"I hope I'm not being nosy, but do you think the sickness is why you're having nightmares, Esther? I get awful nightmares when I have fevers."

"It could be." Esther shrugged. Frankly, she did feel it was a bit nosy- or maybe she was just being sensitive about the dreams, but she felt as though she had the right to be- but Linda Martin was the kindest of the Martin triplets, and Esther would speak to her any time.

"Well, anyway, before you go to bed, have you seen Anna anywhere? I'd hate to think she wandered off again."

Esther bit her tongue. The truth was, Anna probably had wandered off again. The standard Linda set as the most well-behaved of the Martins was one that Anna had long since given up on meeting, and instead tended to see her way into places and situations without much care for whether or not she was supposed to be there. One time, she'd gotten as far as Main Street- quite a ways away from Blacklands Manor- before the local officers recognized she wasn't supposed to be out of the manor alone. She'd gotten a real beating for that, and the matrons of the manor had sworn that she'd be moved into their wing of the manor and never allowed out if she ever did it again. Chances were, she'd done it again. Esther wasn't sure whether to feel bad for her or not.

"Did you look in the garden?" Esther offered. "Maybe she wanted to go outside."

"Yeah, I did, but maybe I didn't look well enough?" Linda's frown deepened. "Thank you anyway, Esther."

Esther nodded as she laid down, watching Linda leave the room with a look of deep concern on her face. For someone always so calm, she never seemed to stop worrying about her sisters. And Esther really couldn't blame her. She was sure if she had a family of her own, she would always be looking out for them, trying to take care of them, the same way Linda did.

She hoped Anna would turn up. If she'd "wandered off again", Esther hoped she would crawl in under the gate- the only way Esther could imagine Anna having gotten out in the first place- before anyone but Linda and herself noticed she was gone, and long before the matrons would think to search outside the walls of the manor for her. If she was somewhere inside- maybe lost, maybe hiding- Esther hoped she would maybe sense that her sister was worrying, and that other people would be, too, and find her way back to them. If it was only a misunderstanding, and Anna had thought that Linda and Maria knew where she was, she hoped it'd be resolved with a quick but lucky bump into each other in the halls, a smiling reunion, maybe a you scared me to death from Linda, and nothing more.

She really hoped.

Esther grabbed Mr. Hopp and held him tight to her chest as she closed her eyes, doing her best not to think about it.

The bedroom was empty when she opened her eyes again, maybe hours later. It was dark out, but none of the other kids were in their beds. That wasn't a reassuring sight.

"Where is everyone?" Esther murmured. It was a habit she had long since failed to kick, talking to herself when she was alone, and though it annoyed the matrons, it was one that she had long since given up on kicking as well. It gave her comfort to hear a voice when she was alone, even her own. "Did I miss lunch and dinner?"

Her stomach growled at the thought of the maybe-missed meals, but not out of hunger- it was a foreign kind of feeling, like a movement inside her.

She frowned, slowly making her way out of bed. Her stomach ached more and more with every step she took as she approached the door out to the hallway.

Locked. Esther was stuck inside. She tried to swallow back her fear, and something fought its way up instead. Not bile; something solid. It pressed against the back of her throat like it was walking on it.

She gagged.

Something was inside her stomach.

No, no. God, no, no. Esther grabbed at her sides, wrapping her arms around her abdomen like that was going to help. She couldn't find the strength to speak again. Something was inside her, something that wasn't supposed to be, kicking and pushing to climb up and out. She needed it out. Oh, God, she needed it out!

Ignoring the ache in her stomach and the nausea rising in her throat, Esther ran. She threw herself forward and ran, sickness growing with every step, until she reached the door to the bathroom just adjacent to the children's room. No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be happening!

She threw open the lid to the toilet as she stumbled to her knees in front of it, gagging and retching, trying her best to force this thing out of her body. Her throat seemed to tighten and close with every breath, and before she knew it, panicked, pained tears were welling in her eyes. No, no, no, no. It was all she could think. No, no, no, no, no.

With another gag, something finally came up. Among puddles of spit and slime in the toilet, she could feel that same solid thing pushing up against her throat, but no matter how she tried to force it, she couldn't get it out. With every attempt at breath came another heaving of her shoulders, another attempt at coughing up the thing inside her body, but it was unsuccessful every time, and every time she only got less air.

By the time her vision was beginning to fade, she was desperate. She forced her thumb and forefinger into her throat and grabbed aimlessly, helplessly.

Her fingers met something cold and slimy, and she grabbed in one last-ditch attempt and pulled as hard as she could.

For a moment in the reflection of the water, Esther saw something as she pulled and fought the slimy thing to get out of her mouth, ignoring the salty taste, ignoring her gag reflex.

Her face fell.

It was a toad. A massive, slimy, warty toad, with a face that she almost wanted to compare to that of a grimacing old man with thin lips, a sharp, straight nose, and wrinkly, beady eyes. It seemed to leer at her through the water as she helplessly pinched its foot, and in her shock, it took its moment.

"No-!"

As Esther helplessly heaved and gagged, trying her best to get the toad out of her mouth and throat, its foot wormed out of her grasp, and the toad escaped back down her throat and into her stomach.

Luckily, she didn't scream when she woke up. Not this time, no, but she was damn near it (pardon her language) and the nausea taking hold was undeniable. Oh, god. She wanted to tell herself there was no way a giant, ugly toad was actually residing inside her stomach, but she couldn't be sure- she just really, really couldn't be sure anymore.

She grabbed Mr. Hopp, again- it seemed, today, that he was her only comfort- and hurried toward the bathroom. She knew, sometimes, that she could trigger her gag reflex if she stuck something in her throat. If there was anything in her, she needed to get it out. She needed it out, now. She reached as far back in her throat as she could with her finger, once, twice, three, four, five, six times, and after a solid three minutes of only gagging and spitting up bubbly saliva, Esther finally gave up. Clutching Mr. Hopp as tightly as she could, she did her best not to cry as she caught her breath on the tiled floor of the bathroom. Gasps for breath followed long, shaky exhales, but Esther wasn't crying. Her eyes were only watering from the sensation in the back of her throat. She wasn't that scared. She was strong; she was a big girl. She could do this alone. It was only a nightmare.

She turned on the bathroom sink and rinsed off her hands with slow, shaky movements.

It was noon. The small window high up the bathroom wall was streaming in light. Esther was not alone, and the place was not dark.

She took a deep breath, as stable as she could make it.

It was time for lunch.

#reimagination #mr hopps playhouse

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lycanfuck · 11 months ago

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first time cw for rape/cocsa, incest and emeto

if anyone except for the two boys had been home that evening, all they’d be able to hear was yelling and hard thumps against the floor. all siblings have fights, especially luka and zach: some were big, others small. the only issue this time was that their parents weren’t home to stop them from killing each other.

zach doesn’t have a clue about what is happening. they got into a heated argument over nothing, as per usual, and now luka has him pressed hard into the floor, two inches from his face. this time was different, though. he wasn’t sure why, what about the pointless fight made him so sure that *this* was the time, but it was. he’s had enough.

zach’s face is heated from the argument. why were they arguing, anyway? zach hated every second of it. he hated how luka incited his anger so much. it was incredibly hard to break zach’s cool and get under his skin but somehow luka hit every single one of his nerves. luka triggered something in him - this foreign fire. goosebumps run along his skin in a hot flash.

he wasn’t thinking when he snatched luka, hands fisted tight in the front of his shirt. zach manges to throw luka on the ground, making him grunt in shock. luka quickly grabs at zach’s hair, tugging him to smash his head against the floor. whenever he pulled at zach’s hair, he thought back to when he had cut it. zach still had plenty of hair, enough for a fistful and then some, so luka was unsure what the big deal was. it just seemed like he cut a lot off because zach had tons of fucking hair.

a kick to the guts stopped luka’s train of thought. he was momentarily stunned, giving zach the opportunity to snake an arm around his sides and front and haul him off of the ground, thrusting luka onto his own bed nearby. he had made a leap to get away but zach was already grabbing his ankles, yanking him forward enough for luka to try and push at zach’s shoulders, but zach headbutting him sends luka straight down against the bed again. whining softly at the ache of his skull, zach restrains his arms, pinning his wrists against the bed and giving himself plenty of room to knee luka hard in the stomach. this, repeated over and over, paired with the tight grip he has on luka’s wrists, is enough to make luka surrender in no time. he goes slack under him.

after what felt like an eternity, his brother finally stopped beating him. he watched luka lay still, panting in pain; luka was either unable to move due to the aching in his limbs or he was too nervous to.

“okay- i’m sorry,” luka said, hating the small whimper that left him, his voice strained due to the pain in his chest and lungs - tears stinging at his eyes. “zach, i’m sorry-! i’ll do anything, just please fuckin’- stop.”

“anything?” zach asks him, slightly bending down to tug his hair and make luka look at him. luka says nothing, but his eyes grow wider as his brain has an idea - the worst possible idea of what ‘anything’ might mean. the sight of zach slipping his fingers underneath his own pants and letting them fall down his hips did nothing to comfort him, either.

“are you-” his sentence begins with an involuntary mumble until he raises it. “that’s not funny, asshole-”

but zach’s expression doesn’t falter, not in the slightest. his eyes don’t glance away and his mouth doesn’t move - he looks fully serious. zach also wasn’t wearing anything underneath his pants. his half-erect cock was revealed and luka was staring right at it. body trembling from the sudden rush of adrenaline and fear, luka led there. he felt like his eyes were gonna pop out of his head, how harshly he was staring at his brother who was now on top of him, legs knelt either side of him: wide-eyed in disbelief. as he feels a sweat begin to break out, he tried to think.

but he can’t think. it’s impossible. he doesn’t want to. he can’t even fully understand what’s happening right now. it’s too much. it’s too much and he’s too hot. his entire body felt like an oven and not only that but he’s lost all strength in his arms and legs.

“that’s not funny,” luka repeats.

“i’m not joking,” he insists, fingers tightening in luka’s hair. this dumb fucking kid had taken- *everything* from him. luka had tarnished his image at school and among his friends, he’d taken his home and his family dynamic and now his fucking bedroom, he’d cut zach’s hair off - the one thing he treasured most.

and now zach was going to take luka’s virginity. and luka deserved it. he deserved every second of agony he was going to be in after what he had put zach through these past few years. he deserved *more*, in fact. this was zach being generous. it was generous he had even taken this long, as he’d been planning it out for a while. there was nothing else in the world that would get this fuck to obey.

hand on the back of luka’s head, zach guided his mouth to the tip of his cock and luka’s jaw tenses as he clenches his teeth, shaking his head out of zach’s grip. if he could’ve moved away, he would’ve, but instead luka can only stare up at him pleadingly.

“no?” zach asks. for some reason, luka can’t speak, but he shakes his head.

“fine. guess i’ll just fuck you raw,” he threatens, moving a hand out to begin tugging luka’s shorts down, immediately sending panic rushing through him.

“no, no, zach,” he pleads. “please, please i’ll- i’ll do it just please don’t-” luka’s words get caught in his throat. he can’t say it.

“beg me to let you suck me off,” zach replies simply.

luka’s eyes checked out for a moment as if he was genuinely considering not doing it. what choice did he have? it was either say something degrading and humiliating or get fucked up the ass by his own stupid brother. but maybe this wasn’t real. maybe zach was just trying to get him to say some embarrassing shit and scare luka so he could get the last laugh. it was working. luka swallowed.

“please let me suck you off. please. just don’t fuck me.”

“i get you’re illiterate but i also know you know what begging is,” he mocked. “so do it.”

“please,” luka started, trying his best to mask his voice and sound genuine. “please let me suck your dick, zach, i really, really wanna- so bad- more than *anything* please *please* can i-”

the rest of luka’s sentence his lost as zach grips his jaw, forcing his lips to part. the opening welcomes him to shove his whole cock deep into luka’s mouth, so deep that it reaches the back of his throat. luka gags in shock. he tries to fight back - he wants to move his hands - but he can’t. almost feels like his hands are numbed from the beatings from earlier.

the warmth of luka’s mouth feels too good. zach almost moans, but he continues to thrust into his mouth back and forth, hurriedly, making luka groan every time the tip of his cock goes past his gag reflex. meanwhile, his grip on luka’s head is kept tight, preventing him from even thinking of escaping. he grips on luka’s hair tight - so tight that it almost feels like he’s trying to pull his hair out. his eyes are blurred from the tears, stuck staring into nothing. his brain is unable to think of anything other than his own pain, fear, and helplessness.

zach keeps thrusting until he feels something acidic on his cock. then, he abruptly lets go of luka’s mouth, letting him free to vomit. luka can’t tell if it’s his gag reflex, his mental shock, the unwanted salty taste of his brother’s cock or a mix of all of them, but his body won’t stop forcing out everything it can. his puke pools onto the sheets. he feels like his body wants to vomit out his organs; he didn’t care. he wanted it all gone. god knows how much he has vomited.

“gross,” he comments, cringing at the pool as he shuffles a few inches away and forces luka to reposition along with him. “you threw up before i could cum. that’s not fair.”

after his insides are all empty, after he feels like he has thrown up everything, luka curls on the bed, whimpering. his hazy eyes were staring into nothing and the thick tears burning at him were blurring his vision. “i’m sorry- zach, please- please stop…” repeating the same words over and over, desperately jumbling them up, he begs. he doesn’t know what he’s sorry for but at this point he’ll say anything so he’d let him go. he’s sobbing and hyperventilating but the pain in his chest makes him feel like he can’t cry properly.

“i’ve barely even started.”

luka quickly begins to panic again. “no- no no no-“ his pleas are abruptly halted by zach once again slamming the back of his head into the pillow.

“i told you to be quiet, faggot,” he said. “or should i beat you up more?”

luka swallows thickly as he shakes his head, the tears in his eyes burning and forcing him to blink.

“good,” zach says. “see, what i tell you? behave, and you’ll be fine,” luka just sniffles, not even trying to understand what zach is saying anymore. “always so dramatic.”

it’s clear in the way that zach looks down at him that he’s reveling in luka’s fear. his tears seem to only excite him more, as now he’s grabbing the hem of luka’s shorts and forcing them down.

as he’s exposed, luka instinctively closes his legs up. zach uses a hand to spread them apart again, his hand warm on luka’s already smoltering skin, making luka squirm.

“zach, i don’t- i was just fucking around, you know that- i’m sorry, man, i don’t want this, please.” luka begs quietly as he watches zach toss his shorts away. as zach turns to him, his breathing picks back up anxiously.

“i don’t give a shit. i’m sick of it, luka, i’m so sick of you. maybe this’ll finally get you to shut up,” he grunts those last two words as he begins to yank luka’s boxers down his thighs. “legs up.”

only at this point had luka lost all of his faith that this was just a really horrible joke. “zach-“

zach wastes no time in roughly grabbing luka’s calves and yanking them up onto his shoulders; luka slides down until he is flat against the sheets. he pulls luka’s boxers off and tosses them aside. at this point luka turns his head away and shuts his eyes, not wanting to see anymore. he’s unsure which but either the heat or the dread is rushing into his brain and making him dizzy.

he was trying not to lose his mind. this is horrible. he hated this. fuck. what is he gonna do?

after spitting on his own hand, zach forces two fingers into him as luka lets out a surprised cry at the obstruction. he squirms, trying to free himself, but his body barely moves as his head rolls to the side, cheek barely comforted against the soft sheets. the saliva hardly makes a difference. it’s like he didn’t put any lube on at all as he forces his fingers into luka’s ass. he cries out in pain, his voice hoarse. he tries to squirm under his zach but he can’t.

it doesn’t take long for zach replace his fingers with his cock. it takes a bit more spit, and luka whines out many pleas as zach crams his cock against his tight hole, knowing it’s gonna hurt like fuck, already feeling the burning strain of zach’s tip stretching him out, but zach doesn’t care. when zach pushes into him, he actually screams. zach’s hand claps over his mouth immediately even though there’s nobody home to hear. luka grunts into his palm as zach fills him up to completion and then some. he makes a pathetic attempt to push zach off; his hands feel useless. he feels useless.

it only gets worse when he starts to move, sawing up his insides. he barely has any strength to even say anything anymore; he can only let out weak gasps and sobs and screams. luka’s vision blurs from his still gushing tears - he’s being assaulted in his own bed. he feels like his insides are on fire. it hurts - burns. the friction of his brother’s barely-lubed cock against his own bare rectum feels too painful. his blurry vision can’t register zach’s facial expression, not that would want to, but judging from the way zach talks down to him, he was enjoying every second of luka’s suffering right now. the force of him thrusting him inside-out pushes his body, bed creaking threateningly.

it hurts - burns.

as the assault continued, luka could feel his consciousness slowly giving up on him - his brain turning off. he could barely feel anything anymore aside from the burning pain that had spread all across his lower half. he felt it in his ass, his thighs and his stomach. luka had never even touched himself before - it was embarrassing to think about, and he had considered trying it, mostly because all his friends had already talked about doing it, but he never really had any interest in it, so he didn’t. even so, he had always planned that his first time would be with someone he could share the experience with, and have it be full of care and love. with a girl he really, really loved.

not his fucking brother.

at this point, luka had visibly clocked out; he had no idea how long it’d been happening, but at some point, he can feel his brother’s cum filling up his body, so much of it that he can even feel some of it leaking through his asshole and dripping out of him, and that’s when he finally pulls out. luka gives a tired sigh of relief.

head cloudy, he can barely comprehend anything around him beyond his own pain - beyond his own shock. in his own bed. the only place in this house that he felt safe, warm, comforted - where he could feel like himself. but now zach had ruined this bed for him, as he also had ruined him. zach’s absence went unnoticed until luka heard the shower running, briefly bringing him back up into some reality before his surroundings became hazy again and consumed him. *** luka wasn’t counting the minutes, but it took him a long time to find the energy to get up and, face burning with shame, strip the covers off his blankets. he avoided even glancing in zach’s direction the entire time, and he prayed that zach wasn’t looking over either to see luka’s subtle winces that he couldn’t completely hold back. standing up hurt - walking hurt. he really, really wanted to get up and do this while zach was showering but luka couldn’t find the strength nor the energy. he barely had those things now.

as he walked down the hallway, puke-stained covers bunched up in his arms, all he could do was think, though nothing was cohesive. his eyes burned up again as tears fell down his freckled cheeks, staining the covers further.

what the fuck? how was he ever going to recover from this? luka felt like his whole world was ending - everything was over. was this the only time? did zach regret this? would he apologize tomorrow?

arriving in their garage home of their laundry machines and hampers, luka stuffed the covers in the machine. it surprised everyone he knew - he definitely didn’t seem like the type - but luka did know how to do laundry. it was one of his chores, and he was grateful to have a distraction as he eye-measured the detergent he poured in and started the spin cycle up. despite knowning it was better if he did, he didn’t want to treat the stains first. luka didn’t wanna look at the mess at all.

now having nothing to do with his hands or his brain, luka slid down against the laundry machine, knees pressing into the freezing, hard, cement floor. he slumped against the cold metal of the machine and sobbed. it was all he could do.

he wanted his mom.

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catgirlsformayor · 1 year ago

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pls read!

this is an explicit account run by an adult in their mid 20s. anyone who interacts with me or my posts who has given any indication that they're a minor will be blocked.

i go by bramble and am cool with any and all pronouns.

here's some general disclaimers and info!

asks are cool to send at any time but know that any overly hateful or invasive stuff will just result in a block

content on this blog will be a mixed bag of both "tame/vanilla" and "dark" themes but potentially triggering content will always be tagged "#(insert trigger here) warning"

any ship is fine to ask about! including any rarepairs/crackships. my faves will become clear from my posts but feel free to talk about whatever you want unless otherwise specified

posts unrelated to ship stuff will be tagged "#🌹🌳 rose bush 🌳🌹"

now here's some of the arguably "darker" content you can expect to see while you're here as well as stuff you definitely won't

COOL (will likely post about on my own anyways and 100% encourage in asks):

Hybrid/Mob/Monsterfucking

Dub/Noncon & cnc

Somno

Age/Powergap

Stalking & Kidnapping

Necro & Cannibalism

Dehumanzation & Infantilization

Virtually anything else not listed below

WILL BE IGNORED/DELETED (stuff that's just not for me! i won't block you for sending asks for the chance you just missed/forgot this or didn't think what you sent "counted", but if it escalates to spam/harassment that's the end of that):

Micro & Macro

Vore

Emeto/Omo/Scat

Highly graphic/descriptive torture, violence, and necro (ie: woundfucking, amputation, disembowelment. i just get icked out at a certain point, its fine in moderation lmao)

#🌹🌳 rose bush 🌳🌹

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raitrolling · 2 years ago

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anyway uhhhhh. scattered thoughts about Spanner In The Works time

the whole idea for this plot started out because when celise last met epsilo he was very close to just straight-up killing them, and while that crisis was avoided i liked the idea of celise dying and getting resurrected due to vernrot's eldritch influence so i decided to roll with that for my own plot

lucy being the culprit just made sense to me given how it is established that he does kill tourists whenever the various entities at vernrot require a troll sacrifice, and then i was thinking Hey What If That Had Consequences

... and also i had that scene where vallis figures out that lucy is drunk because he's listening to his bodily functions using his eldritch senses stuck in my head and wanted to write that. i love vallis' lowkey freak shit

that was. about the extent of of pre-planning i did before writing those five drabbles LMAO most of the stuff came to me while i was writing, or i was thinking about the next drabble while writing the one i was currently working on

lucy wasn't originally going to call upon the horrorterrors to save celise, but something about that moment of being so delirious from blood loss and regret/grief that you call out to anyone who would hear for some sort of solace was really evocative to me that i just had to include it. and it helped tie vallis into the plot for Part 4 even if he was mostly used as exposition

as an aside, i thought it was really funny how vallis talks about being disappointed that celise wants nothing to do with him, only for it to be revealed in the next drabble that they were so out of it they dont even remember him being there

celise is a frog zombie for multiple reasons 1. they are a frog troll and making them more froglike sounded fun; 2. vernrot's horrorterrors tend to warp people by giving them more aquatic qualities so amphibious bullshit made sense to me; 3. i like frogs; and 4. celise fucking hates weird zombies so this was such an ironic and mean fate to give them. id actually been debating for years if celise should have an inexplicable frog tongue mutation because i thought itd be funny if they could just. eat flies out of the air with it, but i always worried it mightve been Too Weird And Gross that i didnt go ahead with it... Until now. if anyone gets weird about it im beating you to death

i genuinely forgot that celise was a vegetarian too, so i had to pivot hard towards them having to deal with the horror of eating meat in After Pain so that ended up a lot more visceral than i initially intended. though i did have to rewrite one part because i got so into writing a contrast between celise's disgust between eating meat and how their new instincts desperately crave it and it tastes irresistible to them now that started sounding a bit vaguely erotic and i went FUCK OH NO GO BACK LMFAOOO. dungeon meshi changed me as a person

but yeah unfortunately for them their diet has completely flipped and they can only eat meat now! they can stomach animal meats fine but it doesn't sate them nearly as much as troll meat does, and for those who skipped the emeto scene the main thing worth noting is that ordinary food tastes rotten to them now. big rip

also the timeline is just vague enough that its ambiguous who left the offering at the end. was it the horrorterrors looking after their newest creation? or was it lucy trying to repent for what he had done to them? vote now on your phones

and i think i made it clear enough, but the thing that the horrorterrors took away from them was their ability to feel intense amounts of anger, which now when they get angry they start feeling really hungry instead. funny how they constantly denied their ability to feel negative emotions and anger to the point where they dissociated themself from the emotion entirely, and once they finally acknowledged it, it was taken away from them and the absence is so much worse. on the bright side, theyll be a little less insufferable to deal with now, so lucy did one thing right by killing them :)

#ooc #celise shoket #lusien avalon

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kim-poce · 3 years ago

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A Mean to be Good 9 - Missing

Tell me if the tag worked, please?

Hero = Indigo

Villain - Garra

Previous | Next

Masterlist

CW: low self-esteem, emeto, panic attack, fear of punishment.

=-=

Garra had left the house again, Indigo’s instincts screamed that he was up to no good; which, coming from a villain, is to be expected.

They found a way through the guilty coming from doing nothing to stop the criminal, telling themselves that they were never a proper hero anyway. So why try?

The immediate problem was Clara. It’s not his fault, I brought this upon myself. They thought again as the girl jumped over the couch they were sitting on.

“Alone again?” She asked with a mischievous smile on her face, drawing her claws already. “Don’t you have an annoying hero job to do?”

“I’m on a break,” they explained. When did their ‘get beaten up one day only’ plan become ‘surprise vacation in Garra’s place’? “You know this.”

“I know that your little team is looking for you, they have a search group and everything. Hmmm is it… how did they say?... ‘Indigo, a respected hero and loved friend, disappeared two weeks ago, we are offering a reward to anyone who has clues…’ clues on something, well, they want you back, you act all sad and lonely so I thought you were kicked out or something.” she said casually.

Indigo jumped from their seat, forcing themself quiet right away when Clara almost attacked them —she doesn’t attack if he gets quiet and doesn’t resist— “W-what? You-” deep breath “You are lying, right?” Yeah, she is lying, she lies a lot I shouldn’t believe.

“Holdup,” Clara said, reaching for her phone and handing it out after a bit.

Indigo felt their heart racing, looking at the images on the screen. Why are they looking for me? Well, they don’t.. don’t hate me, but I didn’t… I didn’t think they would truly- They swallowed hard, sweat covering their face. They will be so disappointed when they find out I’m here, find out I was just too… scared? Ashamed? to call… they don’t hate me yet but they will. I’m bad, I’m such an idiot, a traitor, a-

Clara got closer, making Indigo step back and lose their balance, falling on the carpet.

“N-not now please,” they begged, looking up at the girl standing in front of them.

They should have kept quiet, they should’ve been still and she will leave them alone, but their body had other plans; tears streamed down from their eyes, their stomach turned, the guilty, fear, anxiety, and gods-know-what-else were mixing themselves inside them.

They ran.

Indigo had barely reached the toilet when they let out all the contents of their stomach. Just then noticing their mistake; they ran.

Clara was just behind them now, and the words seemed to be broken; begging her to wait would be useless.

They flinched when her hands touched their back —not the claws yet, they were hoping she could just get done with it and leave— they steeled themself when she crouched down by their side.

“I really didn’t see this coming,” she said.

Indigo was unable to hold back another flinch, they were unable to properly breathe.

Clara frowned, “You think I’ll hurt you?”

“l-later,” Indigo managed, “p-please, I won’t tell Garra, I-”

“I won’t hurt you right now,” she said, almost offended. As if she didn’t play with their nerves the whole time in the past two weeks, “I’m not a monster. I wouldn’t hurt you while you are… panicking? I guess that’s what you are… doing?”

Indigo's head was a kaleidoscope of images of the ‘Missing person’ pamphlet, their teammates' declarations, their faces, the faces they will have once they find out the truth, and somewhere in there Clara, her “plays” and claws, and the way she wakes him up all the time and how she never allows their nerves a second of rest.

“L-leave me alone,” they said.

“You seem to need some help so-”

“From you?” They snapped, head buzzing, blood running way too fast, “You are making it worse! Oh! I see, you want to see this, right?” they gestured to the toilet and back to themselves, “You want to see just far you can take me? How hard you can humiliate me? Is that what you want? You must be pretty happy then!”

“I didn’t do this!” Clara argued, “I just show you the news, I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh, didn’t you? Truly? Weren’t you trying to mess me up? To make me like this? You have pushed me to the edge this whole time, and now you want to act as if you care?”

“I didn’t mean to do… whatever this is!” Carla snapped back, “I was just having… fun…” her voice become low as if she had just realized the meaning of her words.

“I know! I’m sure you were having the time of your life when I was fucking panicking three days ago.”

Clara frowned, “I thought you were pretending I-”

“Leave me alone!” He shouted, the shower and the tap turning on, water raising around Clara. She stepped back, eyes wide.

It was the first time Indigo saw fear in her eyes, but they didn’t have time to think about it because Garra arrived, opening the door to the sight of the hero threatening his sister.

“G-garra,” their voice was low, the water fell down drenching everything, “I-I swear I wasn’t-” they glanced at the scared teenager in front of them and at the water around her, “I wasn’t- I wouldn’t hurt-” They swallowed hard, lowering their head. “I’m sorry.”

=-=

Taglist: @rose-pinkie, @wolfeyedwitch, @neverthelass, @insaneinthepaingame, @simplygrimly, @whumpy-writings, @latenightcupsofcoffee, @grizzlie70, @extemporary-username

#whump #hero whumpee #low self-esteem #emeto #panic attack #fear of punishment #A Mean to be Good #my writing #Indigo #Garra #Carla

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karlnapity · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome Home, Theseus.

Chapter 4: I’m Worse Than Everyone I Never Wanted to Be. [Schlatt]

(tws: tws: emeto (only mentions), graphic descriptions of alcohol withdrawl & a panic attack, one reference to wanting to hit someone, slight suicidal ideation.)

Schlatt is not a good person.

He’s greedy, and mean, and would betray almost anyone at the slightest chance. He’s vicious, and aggressive, and generally a complete asshole to anyone and everyone he meets.

He’s picked up habits to cope with this over the years, none of them good. First it’s partying, then working out. Cigarettes hurt his throat and he hates the smell, but it works for a while. When it’s no longer enough, drinking is the constant friend.

He hates it. When he starts, it’s fun. He enjoys the lightheaded feeling and the way he doesn’t feel responsible for the horrible things he says.

It doesn’t last long. Whoever said drinking is a good way to pass the time is a fucking liar, and he can’t wait to meet them in hell.

Drinking isn’t fun. But when he doesn’t, everything hurts, he can barely open his eyes, he feels like he’s going to die. He shakes so hard he can’t sign his name on papers his cabinet extends to him, let alone read them. His heart hammers in his chest and he can’t breathe and the room spins and his muscles seize in a way that makes him feel like he’s going to die right then and there.

So he drinks. He drinks even when he can’t stand, he drinks when he can’t lift his head from his desk, he drinks even when he vomits and coughs and chokes on spit.

He drinks when Quackity yells, he drinks when Fundy looks at him in disappointment, and he drinks when Tubbo tries to reach out to him again and again.

Why can’t the kid recognize a lost cause?

Schlatt has never wanted to hit someone more.

The kid stole his fucking stash. He spent good money on those, or at least he’s pretty sure he did. He’s not too sure of anything, right now, but he knows he’s fucking angry.

He’s shaking and he feels like he’s going to pass out and he can’t quite see straight and he has to make Tubbo understand, he needs that shit. It’s not fair. He wants to cry.

Quackity’s there and he turns to him, and everything is a blur after that.

(“I’ll do my best to help, but you’ve got to work with me, ok?”)

Schlatt knows traitors, has been one often enough to recognize the tells, and he knows at least most of the country hates him.

And even if he’s sick and drunk and half senile, he knows who’s going to betray him. Tubbo looks at him with suspicion and Fundy watches him with shifty eyes, and he knows they’re not on his side.

And it’s only really a matter of time until Quackity follows suit, and he knows it, and it’s hard not to push him away immediately.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t with any of them. It’s laziness, probably, or so he tells himself. If everyone’s going to betray him eventually, what’s the point in even trying to save himself?

He’s constantly surprised by Fundy. The kid is evasive but strangely honest about his spy work, and Schlatt realizes he wants Schlatt to stop him. He wants Schlatt to provide a reason for him not to go back to his father.

And for once, Schlatt wants to try it. He’s never backed down from a challenge, anyways.

Schlatt does not execute Tubbo. The thought barely passes his mind, too preoccupied with the man ranting and raving in front of him. He pulls Tubbo behind him, shields him before he can even think about what he’s doing.

Fundy’s ears are pressed flat against his head as he stares at his father as he rants and raves.

The other kid, Tommy, is behind Wilbur, pulling on his arm, trying to get him to stand down. The piglin hybrid has his crossbow aimed square at Schlatt’s chest. Schlatt wants him to shoot.

Better him than these fucking kids.

He pats Fundy’s shoulder as he cries. He’s not sure what he’s doing, but he’ll be damned if the kid is left without any role models.

So he stays with him until sobs stop echoing around the room, and he hopes it’s good enough.

He’s no fucking role model, he thinks, as Quackity runs his hands through his greasy hair and he can’t lift his head.

His body aches, but he has a duty to fulfill. He reaches under his desk and his hand closes around nothing but air. He was certain he left a bottle there. Fuck.

His hands shake, fists opening and closing as his mind closes into a panic. His breathing quickens.

No.

His body hurts, his head hurts. He can’t breathe.

Someone’s hand rests on his back and he jerks away, falling out of his chair. As he stands his knees threaten to buckle, another jolt of pain shooting through his body. Someone cries out. Maybe he did.

His skin feels like it’s on fire. He can feel himself trembling like a leaf, every movement only causing more pain.

More hands on his shoulders, on his hands. He tries to pull away but he can barely move. There’s something wet on his cheeks. Someone’s fingers are carding through his hair, the only thing that doesn’t hurt. A fingernail runs up his horn, and he focuses on the calming motion.

His muscles spasm, and he cries out again. The grip tightens on his shoulders, and he can hear gentle shushing.

He’s sobbing, now, but he can’t bring himself to care. All that matters is the pain and the hand in his hair.

He’s not sure how long he stays like that, but as his breathing evens out, no longer hitching with each spasm, his eyes slowly open. He blinks in the brightness of the room, his office, but slowly his eyes focus. His head pounds.

His hand is hooked with someone’s, which he immediately recognizes as Quackity. He huffs, pulls away slightly from the fingers running gently up and down his horns and hair.

Quackity grins at him, and he gives him a tired barely-smile. There’s a flare of embarrassment, leftover pride from when he still had some to spare, but it’s barely there. It’s just comfort.

What has he ever done to deserve people being this nice to him?

“Thank you. For helping me.”

Tubbo’s not a pushover, anymore. He’s not sure where it happened, somewhere between festivals and spy work and having to help run a country at sixteen, but it did, and it’s impressive.

Tubbo looks him in the eye and tells him he wants his friend, and Schlatt can’t deny him, doesn’t want to, and is more than a little impressed.

Wilbur could’ve been him.

He could’ve been Wilbur.

He watches as the kids tumble back into the country, as Quackity ushers them in. He catches Tubbo’s eye and his heart swells.

He’s not fucking Wilbur.

Tubbo has left the remnants of a chocolate bar on his desk and a note signed with two names. There’s a candle from Fundy on his bedside table, and there’s a ring from Quackity around his finger.

There’s a bakery around the corner that serves the best bread he’s ever fucking tasted and there’s a castle that welcomes guests at every hour and there’s a stupid fucking cobble shack that houses the noisiest, most upbeat teenager he’s ever met. There’s a house that is never empty that belongs to the most contrarian fox that finally has his spot in the government and there’s a house he can go home to instead of crashing at his desk. There’s a country that’s flourishing and people that are too and there’s a president that’s started trying.

The kids are ok, and maybe he is too.

#personal #dream smp #dsmp #mcyt #jschlatt #schlatt #lmanburg #lmanberg #manberg #manburg #l'manburg #l'manberg #dadschlatt #tubbo #tubbo_#quackity #wilbur soot #fundy

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cuddlepilefics · 4 years ago

Note

Hii I really like your fics so I have another request.. A fic where Hyunjin is sick with a stomach bug (emeto) but he's alone at the dorms then he gets really sick and calls Changbin for help

Thank you

A hyung to help

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Hyunjin

Caregiver: Changbin

Noone’s POV.:

Hyunjin had been tasked with creating the entire choreography for one of their main tracks on the upcoming album. He felt honored because that was usually a task for his hyung Minho, so to prove his capability, the dancer vowed to himself to put in at least twice the effort. Knowing his determined side, it came as a surprise to no one when the dancer holed himself up in the practice room, barely replying to anyone’s texts and coming home late at night. Although Hyunjin got scolded by Chan multiple times, the leader couldn’t do much about it because his own behavior wasn’t any better. This was probably the only aspect in which he was a terrible role model. The entire group watched on with a frown, quietly observing how their friend run himself into the group.

The previous night, Hyunjin and Chan had coincidentally come back home at the exact same time, running into each other. “Jinnie, I thought I told you not to overdo it?” – “You did but you’re here at the exact same time that I am. Anyways, I just wanted to finish this up quickly. I’m done now and I’ll send you the video in the morning so you can judge”, the dancer yawned, dropping his practice bag in the hallway. They said goodnight and went to bed, not even showering but Hyunjin at least forced himself into a fresh shirt before falling into bed. He was out like a light even before his head hit the pillow, sleeping like dead. Waking him the next morning was a whole new level of difficult and it took everything out of his roommates to get as much as a hum and shrug out of him. Minho, who hadn’t had his morning coffee yet, felt his mood drop by the minute and at some point, just gave up, leaving Seungmin to drag the other’s lazy ass out of bed. The vocalist was a bit more patient with his hyung and gently pealed the blanket back before shaking the dancer’s shoulders again. “Come on, Jinnie-hyung. Everyone else is already up, we’ll be late. Plus, Minho is already pissed”, the second youngest of the group pleaded. His voice was at a normal volume, causing the other to whimper: “Stop, please. It – it hurts so bad.” – “Hyung, what hurts?”, Seungmin whispered worriedly, “Should I go get Chan?” – “Please, Minnie, please”, the older begged, close to tears. Promising, he’d be back as soon as possible, the vocalist hurried to find their leader with a very bad feeling in his gut.

“Hey, Seungmin said you weren’t feeling too great. What’s wrong mate?”, the leader asked sitting on the edge of his dongsaeng’s bed. Seungmin and Changbin were watching anxiously from the doorway, as the oldest tucked Hyunjin’s hair out of his face to get a better look. “I-I can’t move, everything hurts so much. My head is pounding”, the dancer confessed, biting his lip guiltily. Chan rested the backs of his fingers against the younger’s fore head before pulling away and speaking up, making sure to keep his voice low: “You don’t have a fever, so my best guess would be that you outdid yourself yesterday. That’s why your muscles are so sore and achy. The headache might just be exhaustion or you might be dehydrated from sweating and not drinking enough.” Hyunjin whimpered quietly, burying his face in the pillow and fighting back the tears threatening to spill. “I’ll talk to our manager to let you rest today, okay? Make sure to drink lots and maybe stretch or use a foam roll a bit later, if you can manage. I just need you to send me the video of the choreography so that we can go over that and try to maybe already learn the beginning, then you can teach us the rest when you’re better”, Chan continued, rubbing the younger’s shoulder comfortingly. The dancer nodded weakly, picking up his phone as Chan got up to make the phone call to the manager. As soon as he hit send, he turned the screen off again to avoid it hurting his head more.

Seungmin who had been watching the entire scene was now in a hurry to get himself ready for the day’s schedule. Changbin, who had been at the door too, was already prepared to head out and quickly fetched a bottle of water and a sports drink from the fridge, taking them back to Hyunjin’s room. “Hey, hyung said you need to drink. Do you think you can sit up?”, the rapper whispered, not sure whether Hyunjin was still awake or not. The younger was still awake, in too much pain to fall asleep that easily. With great struggle he tried to push himself into a sitting position, grateful for the older’s hand supporting his back. They sat there, side by side, as Changbin gently massaged his dongsaeng’s sore neck with his knuckles. The rapper spent the remaining minutes he had left till they needed to leave trying to sooth the dancer’s aches as much as he could before helping him lie back down and apologizing: “Sorry, none of us were allowed to stay behind with you.” Hyunjin hummed in acknowledgement. He had already expected this but still couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed. “I’ll make sure to keep my phone on me and check my messages often, ok? Just try to sleep some more, you won’t even realize we’re gone”, Changbin chuckled, tapping the other’s pouting lips till they formed a small smile, “Get better, Jinnie.” – “Please be back soon, Binnie-hyung. I hate being lonely”, the younger yawned, cuddling back into the warmth of his bed. The rapper promised before leaving to follow his schedule.

It had been a mere two hours of Hyunjin drifting in and out of sleep when the dancer was awoken by a cramp in his abdomen. He drew his knees up to his chest, despite the protest of his sore muscles, reminding himself to breathe through the pain. His best guess was that he was suffering from hunger pains after skipping breakfast this morning, so he sat on the edge of his bed, waiting to gather the strength to walk to the kitchen to make himself some food. Sitting there, he shoved his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants, as a wave of heat washed over him. The dancer broke out into sweat, realizing it wasn’t hunger pains that were twisting his intestines in an irongrip. A wet burp made its way past his plump lips, bringing the ridiculously artificial taste of the sports drink with it. The fear of throwing up in his room and having to clean up later gave the poor boy the strength to scramble to his feet and stumble to the bathroom. He didn’t quite make it to the toilet, gagging a thin stream of blue liquid into the sink before his legs gave out. Choking on a sob, Hyunjin used his elbows to crawl over to the toilet. With one hand he fisted his hair at the back of his head to prevent it from getting puked on, while he gripped the toilet seat with the other hand, holding onto it like his life depended on it. His muscles burned as he tensed with another gag, the small amount of liquid he had consumed that day spilling past his lips and burning his throat. By now, his shirt was sticking to his sweaty back but he couldn’t care less, as retch after retch tore at his throat, barely bringing anything up but small, bitter amounts of bile. He really should have eaten something with his members this morning, at least he’d have something to bring up now. After a few minutes, the heaves slowly died down, leaving the dancer dizzy and breathless. Too weak to move, the sick boy fell asleep with his head on the toilet seat.

It wasn’t long though, when Hyunjin woke up, shivering in his sweaty shirt, the pain in his neck amplified by sleeping in a weird position. He couldn’t hold the tears back anymore, sobbing quietly as his head pounded from dehydration. His hyung had lied. He had slept twice now and was still alone, not feeling remotely better but so much worse. Shifting positions slightly, the dancer felt his phone in his pocket and pulled it out. He cringed as the screen burned his eyes but put up with it in order to call for help with his finger shaking over the dial button. It only took Changbin two rings to pick up. “Hey, feeling better after some more sleep?”, the rapper greeted cheerfully, only to be taken aback at the hoarse broken sobs on the other side of the line: “Can you please come home? I feel really bad…” His face dropped, as he jogged over to Chan telling him he’d need to go back to the dorm. “Why? What’s going on?”, the leader frowned, watching his dongsaeng hurriedly pack his things. “I don’t really know but something’s wrong with Hyunjin”, Changbin rushed, then much softer, directed at the phone he held between his ear and shoulder, “I’m leaving right now, can you tell me what’s wrong?” But he got no reply, repeating the question twice more till he heard the other’s phone clatter to the ground followed by a muffled heave. The rapper cursed, heart racing in his chest as he picked up his pace, jogging the few blocks back to the dorm building. Since the other didn’t pick his phone back up off the ground, Changbin ended the call, dialing Chan instead. Breathlessly and with as little words as possible, he explained why he had run off, while his feet pounded the sidewalk.

Hyunjin had pulled himself up into the same position as earlier, phone abandoned on the floor beside him. He was completely depending on the one trembling arm to hold him up, while the other had to keep his hair out of his face. After what felt like an eternity, he felt the hand in his hair replaced with someone else’s, carefully combing back a few strands that had strayed. “It’s ok, I’m here”, Changbin soothed, struggling to catch his breath. The dancer hadn’t even heard the front door open over his retches, desperately trying to bring something up despite not having anything in him anymore. After a few minutes of Changbin whispering sweet nothings into his dongsaeng’s ear, while supporting his side to stay upright and holding his hair, the younger finally caught a break, sinking into his hyung’s chest, spent. The older held him close, massaging his neck gently as the dancer cried into his shirt. “Hey, shh. It’s ok, I got you. Seems you were sick all along, hm? You’ve definitely developed a fever by now. Good you didn’t come with us”, Changbin rambled, trying to comfort the other, “Come on, I’ll take you back to bed.” Hyunjin nodded with his eyes closed and allowed the older to pull him to his feet. Almost as soon as he was upright, his head started to spin, knees buckling. “Whoa, don’t pass out on me!” The rapper’s voice sounded distant in his ears and he felt himself being lifted into a pair of strong arms.

The next thing he felt was being placed down on his bed. Dizzily, the dancer blinked open his eyes to meet his hyung’s concerned ones. “You with me?”, the older hummed, “You’re really pale. The younger only shuddered helplessly, bringing up his arms to hug himself against the cold. “Let’s get you out of that sweaty shirt and into something warmer. Don’t worry, I’ll help you”, Changbin promised, gently pulling the damp fabric off and replacing it with a large hoodie of his own. He guided Hyunjin’s achy arms through the sleeves, understanding they felt way too heavy for the other to lift them himself. “Binnie”, the dancer muttered, “Why does everything have to hurt?” – “That’s probably the fever, Sweetie. It makes you achy all over”, Changbin cooed, easing his dongsaeng back down and covering him with his blanket. “Do you think you can stomach some water?” As expected, Hyunjin shook his head, wanting nothing more than to sleep off what was making him hurt. Sensing this the rapper whispered: “Rest. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. Do you want me to rub your back or stomach?” – “C-Could you rub my back? Just please don’t touch my stomach”, came the sleepy reply. Of course, the older complied.

It had been almost three hours and Changbin had put his time to use, preparing some plain rice porridge. He knew how depleted his dongsaeng was of both fluids and nutrients. Before he had fallen ill, he had pushed his slim body to the limits, neither eating nor sleeping enough in relation to the endless hours of dancing he put it through. With the bowl in one hand and Gyu in the other, the rapper made his way back to Hyunjin’s room, expecting the other to still be asleep. Instead, the dancer looked at him with watery eyes, believing his hyung had left, despite his promise. “Hey, you’re awake”, the older smiled, placing the bowl onto the nightstand next to the bottle of water that was still there from the morning, “Do you think you can handle some plain porridge? Your body needs the energy to recover, plus, if there was something in your stomach, I could give you some painkillers.” Again, another sad headshake: “I really can’t eat that right now. It’ll just come right back up.” Changbin sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, holding Gyu in his lap. “Look, I brought you some company, Jinnie. Yeah, I know it’s ridiculous but he always makes me feel better so I thought he could do the same for you if you cuddle him for a while”, the dark rapper explained, blushing and looking at his hands before handing the plushie to his dongsaeng, who accepted it with a small smile. “Thank you, hyung, I bet he will”, the dancer mumbled.

They stayed like this in comfortable silence till Hyunjin’s stomach gave a painful grumble. “Do you need to be sick again?”, Changbin frowned sympathetically. The younger shook his head, despite his skin losing color quickly. He really didn’t want to throw up again. The older had his doubts, so he assured: “It’s ok, if you need to get it out, get it out. There’s a trashcan next to your bed.” – “Will you hold my hair?”, his dongsaeng forced out between grit teeth, slowly losing his fight. “Of course. Hyung got you, don’t worry”, the rapper hushed, helping Hyunjin roll onto his side, who gagged weakly over the bin. As promised, the older kept his hair back, playing with it in a soothing manner. Expectedly, there was not much for the dancer to bring up, besides some stomach acid and bile. “Sweetie, I really think you’re done. There’s nothing left in you. Let’s lie back down”, Changbin cooed, drying his dongsaeng’s tears “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to clean this out. Can you hold onto Gyu for me?” The younger gave a teary nod, immediately opening his arms, as soon as Changbin returned. The rapper placed the trashcan next to the bed before settling under the covers next to Hyunjin, taking the sick boy into his arms. “You did so good, I’m so proud of you”, the older praised, slowly reaching for the water bottle, “Can you try to have a few sips for hyung?” This time the dancer relented, drinking a few tentative sips before cuddling back into Changbin. The rapper gently played with his hair, hoping for Hyunjin to fall asleep quickly before his stomach could decide to reject the small amount of water. The dancer soon drifted off in Changbin’s arms while holding onto Gyu. The rapper hummed ‘hyung got you’, cradling the younger’s burning body till the rest of the group returned home.

#sick #sickfic #skz #stray kids #emeto #whump #comfort #fluff #hwang hyunjin #seo changbin

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hold-me-sickfics · 4 years ago

Text

Alright y’all, I’m proud to introduce you to some of my new OCs! There are more coming, but these are the first😊💖💜 I want to thank @thatoneemokpop-02 and @bt20-whump for proofreading and inspiration. You two are awesome 💜💖💙 so... here goes 😊

TW: food, strip club mention, alcohol, emeto, tiny heartbreak, lots of fluffy cuteness (I think that’s all but if you see any I missed please let me know and I will fix them!)

“Parker, what is the point of coming to the library if you are not going to study?” Cody only looked up from his laptop for a moment before refocusing on his screen.

“I’m trying to help my poor, clueless friend find a date to the smart people formal.” Parker was spinning his fidget spinner at speeds unheard of by mankind.

Cody rolled his eyes, stealing just one more glance to his left.

Parker noticed.

“Dude, why will you not just go talk to her?” Parker could definitely have been heard from across the room.

“Talk to who? I wasn’t looking at anyone.” Cody blushed, his cheeks involuntarily rising in a smile to meet the rims of his glasses.

“Sure. So you were totally not just checking Brooklyn out. Of course not, so you won’t mind if I just go on over there and-”

“Wait! Wait.”

Parker smirked.

“Maybe I was. It’s not important.”

“Are you kidding? Look when you meet the chick that makes you… well… I won’t say it for your sake but if Maverick was here I would. Anyways, that means you gotta shoot your shot. It’s like basketball.”

“Parker I hate sports. We’ve been over this.”

“All because one frisbee hit your glasses yeah yeah…” Parker looked over at Brooklyn. She looked like Cody’s type. He had to get Cody to at least attempt it.

“What if you ask for her snap?”

“I’m not doing that.” Cody shut his laptop. “And another thing. It looks sleazy to just walk up to a girl and ask for her snap okay? You really should try a new method.”

Parker had his idea.

“Oh… you know what? You’re right. What should I do instead?”

“I don’t know, maybe… talk to her? Like at least get on some sort of “friend” level before you ask. It just looks better.”

“Uh huh…” Parker was getting ready to help Cody in a slightly less than orthodox way. “So to talk to her, you’d need a reason right?”

Cody looked over at her, hoping she wouldn’t catch him.

“Yeah… some sort of reason I guess.”

“Okay, don’t kill me.”

Parker got up, and started to walk over to Brooklyn’s table. She was there alone, seemingly very involved in her studies.

“Pardon me ma’am. My name’s Parker, and I was wondering if you like pineapple on pizza?”

Brooklyn blushed.

“I don’t exactly think it’s my thing… although pepperoni is pretty good.” She smiled.

“Awesome. So now that I’ve been established as the crazy person you have in common, Cody?” Parker called back to his previous seat. Cody had his face hidden in a book. He peeked out, throwing the book aside and doing his best to act “chill” as Parker had called it.

“Hi Brooklyn, I apologize for this… i don’t really know what to call him actually. I’m Cody. The-” he partially glared at Parker “more sane one.”

“It’s nice to meet you Cody, and Parker.” She bit her lip, and Cody felt his entire body go stiff. Parker could tell he had to save the day once again.

“So, you’re a hot girl. Have a date to the smart people dinner thing yet?”

“You mean the Academic Formal?”

“Yeah, love the bigger words. They really suit ya.”

“Let me just- one second.” Cody practically pulled Parker over to the side.

“You’re an idiot.”

“But I’m good at it, thank you.” Parker winked, and then went back to Brooklyn.

“Here’s the thing, my main man Cody here doesn’t have a date yet, and I thought you two would make a really cute couple so here’s his snap.”

Cody felt dizzy. Had Parker really just done that? This was the last time he was ever disclosing feelings to him. Actually, come to think of it, this is not the first time he’s said that.

Parker laid on his classic *Dean Winchester* smile, and then came back over to Cody.

“I’m literally planning your demise as we speak.”

------ time skip to 5:00 pm, in Parker’s dorm room------

“Ah I did good today. I found love for the little guy. I’m proud of myself and that means-”

“Do not touch the ice cream Parker I swear I will hurt you.”

Parker jumped.

“Maverick you aren’t supposed to be home yet!”

“And you aren’t supposed to touch my ice cream. So, even.” Maverick took the container away from Parker.

“Now, you wanna explain to me why Cody is trying to recruit me to kill you?”

“Not really.”

“Should I have him explain it?”

“Probably not… how about you just eat your ice cream hm? That would end well for all of us.”

Maverick rolled his eyes. He knew Parker must have really done something bad this time.

*buzz* *buzz*

Parker’s phone went off.

5:23 pm Cody: “ Why did you have to butt in?”

5:24 pm Parker: “ Because you couldn’t do it yourself.”

5:26 pm Cody: “Yeah and if you hadn’t done it, I could still be admiring her from afar and just getting silently and unrightfully irritated when she found another date.”

5:34 pm Parker: “Andddddd where’s the fun in that?”

5:37 pm Cody: “THE FACT THAT IT IS SAFE YOU NIMROD!”

5:43 pm Parker: “It’s still funny that you won’t cuss.”

5:45 pm Cody: “She just snapped me! What do I do? Parker I am scared.” “Parker?” “Parker!”

6:00 pm Parker: “Sorry, Maverick let me have ice cream and I forgot to text back.”

6:02 pm Cody: “ *facepalm* you are no help.”

6:15 pm Parker: “Well, what did it say?”

6:17 pm Cody: “I’m scared to look.”

6:18 pm Parker: “Dude, I’ll tell you what it says. Ready?” “ Hi”

6:20 pm Cody: “SHE WROTE BACK “HI” WHAT DO I SAY???????”

6:21 pm Parker: “You’re sure they invited you to the smart people thing right? Like it wasn’t a mix up?”

6:22 pm Cody: “Parker yes they invited me. I’m so dang smart that I have no idea how to… “my people skills are rusty.””

6:24 pm Parker: “Dude if you don’t stop with the references I am going to send you to a psych ward.”

6:25 pm Cody: “Noted. Okay, I am going to respond.”

6:30 pm Parker: “Good now text me when you have an actual conversation rolling aight?”

Parker put his phone in his pocket and went back to his ice cream cone. At 7:00, he got another text.

7:00 pm Cody: “She… um… she told me she’s going with someone else.”

Now Parker felt bad. The poor kid got rejected, and unlike himself, who bounces back and just moves on, he knew Cody had a tendency to get attached. Ah well, no use crying over spilled milk.

7:01 pm Parker: “Who?”

7:03 pm Cody: “It doesn’t matter. I’m glad she found someone she wants to go with. Well, I’m gonna go on to sleep so I can study some more tomorrow. Night Park.”

7:04 pm Parker: “Sorry dude. Night Cody.”

Now he felt really really bad. He thought for a bit, and then, an idea hit him.

7:23 pm Parker: “I am on my way. Do not do anything stupid like buying more books. You cannot keep any more in your room. There is officially no more space.”

Parker was going to do the one thing he knew cured heartbreak. They were both 21…

When Parker got there, he found Cody halfway through a bag of popcorn watching a romcom.

“Dude… I get that you’re sad but this is just straight tragic.”

Cody sniffled, holding the blanket up to his nose.

“Shush this is all I have now.”

“Nope, not gonna happen. Come on.” Parker picked Cody up and placed him on his feet.

“Why can you not let me cry in peace?”

“Because it’s not how I roll. Now, we’re getting you dressed, and then we’re going to a strip club.”

“But.. but I don’t-”

“Trust me, you’ll get the hang of it.”

Parker had considered inviting Maverick, but he was kinda the rule-stickler type. His grandparents had raised him to be pretty straight-laced.

---- time skip to driving to the club-----

“I really think this is a bad idea.” Cody looked down at his navy button-up and his black pants and dress shoes.

“You’ll be fine. Look, I’ve done this hundreds of times.”

“Hundreds??”

“Eh, okay maybe tens, but same thing.”

They pulled into the parking lot, and the one thing that went through Cody’s mind is that this was not going to end well.

----- time skip to 3:28 am-----

“Wowwww she was-s right in ma face! Did you see?”

“Yes I saw.” Cody pulled his friend up from the floor of the club.

“Ohh no! Iss time to go ba-back now?”

“It is. Maverick is probably worried about you.”

“Pshhhhhhhh nahhhhh… m’ fin”

“You’re fine?”

“Yeash I’m fineeeeee”

“And here I was thinking I was a lightweight. Alright, out we go.”

“BYE BRITTNEEEEEEEEEE!” Parker’s head lolled to the side as he let Cody handle most of his body weight.

They stumbled to the car, somehow making it in a decent amount of time. Cody opened the passenger side door, and helped Parker slide in.

“Thank you *burp* you’re my bestesetest of frans. I luv you mann.”

Even Cody had to laugh.

“I love you too. Now, in the car. We’re putting your seatbelt on.”

“NO! NO I WON’T BE TAKEN AGAIN! I CAN’T GO BACK *hiccup*”

“Tell it to the judge bub.”

Parker heard the seatbelt click into place and immediately started bawling.

“I *hiccup* am s-so sorry-yee. I did not mean to *hiccup* tell the *hiccup* panda to go *hiccup* f-”

“Okay that’s enough bud. Sleep. We’re headed home.”

“I c-can’t f-feel my eyeballs *hiccup*”

“You aren’t supposed to feel them. They’re just there.”

“BUT HOW DO I KNOW THEY ARE NOT STOLEN????”

Cody took a deep breath and looked down at the clock in the dashboard. They’d be home in ten minutes, maybe less if Parker didn’t stop blubbering. He’d already called Maverick, who had assured Cody he would take care of their drunk friend, but Cody had decided maybe it would be nice to take care of Parker instead of being on his own tonight. Despite everything that happened that night, he still wanted some company.

“Oh jolly good young fellow wherefore art the d- oh! Look at the grass! It’s so green!”

“It’s brown bub. It’s winter.” Cody smiled, pulling into the parking place that he’d been assigned.

Cody smiled, pulling into the parking place that he’d been assigned.

“Welp… I’m bout to turn it *hiccup* green…”

Cody looked over to see Parker’s cheeks puffed out and his chest rolling forward in a heave.

“Hang on! Hang on-” He jumped out of the car and opened the door on Parker’s side. It was just in time. Pure alcohol mixed with some sort of greenish jello shot coated the ground. It splattered onto Cody’s pants, but he didn’t care.

“There ya go. You’re doing great.” He awkwardly rubbed Parker’s back as the boy gagged again, turning to face the grass below once more.

“M’ overdid *gag* it…” Parker started to cry from the exertion.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about that now. Cody’s gotcha.”

Another bout of liquid spattered on the ground, some of it dripping down Parker’s chin. Cody had some napkins put away in the glove compartment, so he reached in and grabbed a couple.

“I *hiccup* unhghh…”

“You done Park?”

“Yeah…”

As if his body were trying to prove that it would not be controlled, he heaved up another round of clear, bubbly liquid.

“M’ done now.”

“Okay, up we go.” Cody wiped Parker’s mouth before slowly helping him up. His friend looked so pitiful, his hair so tousled and sweaty, his skin so pale… he hated to see him feeling so bad, but he had done it to himself.

“Alright, now… we’re going upstairs to my dorm room. If you need to puke, here’s a bag. Tell me to stop walking if we need to.”

Cody knew that was too much information, but it was worth a shot.

By some miracle, they made it to Cody’s room. Cody scanned his entry card, and then helped Parker onto the bed.

He sat next to him, rubbing his arm. Parker was curled up in a tiny half-asleep ball.

*buzz-buzz*

4:35 am Maverick: “Hey, you guys okay? How much did he drink?”

4:37 am Cody: “More than he should have… hey listen um… I was wondering… do you happen to know who’s going to the dinner with Brooklyn? She told me she was going with someone but didn’t say who.”

4:46 am Maverick: “You’re gonna flip out if I tell you.”

As much as that text intrigued him, Parker had partially woken up and had just puked all over himself and the bed.

Cody put his phone on the bedside table and then held Parker up so he wouldn’t choke if he puked again. Which, he did.

“Hnnngh… I feel like s***.”

“I know. You look like crap too.”

“Hhuuurrrrrrrkkk!” A thick, sludgy liquid came up.. It was sort of white and yellow… oh wait. Yeah, Cody would never look at french fries the same after tonight.

“That’s it. Get it up. I’ll fix the bed later.” Cody knew he couldn’t move him yet, so it was just best to get everything out.

After a few more empty, dry retches, Parker was finally done for the moment. Cody made the decision to take him to the bathroom and let him sit next to the toilet while he got some of his extra clothes to put on him.

He heard loud retching, almost obnoxious, from the bathroom. He just took a breath and went on looking for the clothes, knowing that more than likely Parker wouldn’t be done for a while, and probably didn’t register that he was there anyways.

“C-Cody?” A weak whimper filled the silence. Cody was shocked, but immediately grabbed a pair of boxers (which admittedly he felt weird about), pajama pants and a t-shirt, and then went to the bathroom.

He found Cody in a puddle of puke, tears streaming down his face.

“Don feel *hiccup* good…”

Cody felt his heart break.

“It’s okay. I know you don’t feel good. I promise it’ll be over soon.” He had to lie. The poor thing in this confused, overly dazed state couldn’t take the truth that he’d more than likely be puking for the next two days after how much he drank.

Cody got down next to Parker, putting a hand on Parker’s back. His shirt was damp with sweat and vomit. Cody rubbed up and down on his side, watching as Parker curled himself around the toilet.

“You’re gonna be okay Park.”

“S-sorry…” For a moment, Parker almost sounded sober…

“It’s alright, I can clean it up. You’re good.”

“No… the *hiccup* chick…”

Cody had been trying to forget about that.

“It’s not a big deal, really.”

“If I didn’t feel *hiccup* like I was gonna *hiccup* throw my guts up *hiccup* I’d have tried harder…” Parker turned his head back toward the water and puked up a thick stream of alcohol and whatever other fried foods he’d gotten into.

Cody felt bad. He knew Parker had tried, but he felt worse that Parker was sitting here puking and still thinking about that. He was sick. He didn’t need to be worried about that.

“Let’s um… talk about it when you’re sober hm?” Cody smiled sheepishly.

Parker nodded, his mouth opening slightly before gagging again.

“I’m gonna go get the bed ready. Can you stay here for a bit?”

“Mhmmm…” Parker spit a stringy line of saliva into the toilet.

Cody went out, and took the bedspread and pillowcases off. He tried to get as much of the puke off as he could, but hopefully the washing machine could do most of the work. He didn’t have another comforter, so he had to find his best throw blanket and go with that.

He finished making the bed, and then went back to the bathroom.

“Park?”

The boy was asleep on the toilet seat. Cody could feel his heartstrings being pulled one by one. He wet a washcloth and then sat down next to Parker, leaning him back slowly onto his shoulder. Cody then softly wiped his face, noting how sick he looked. Usually Parker was all crazy plans and bold ideas and loud things. It was far different to see him this way. So quiet, weak, and… helpless really.

He continued to clean Parker up, and then got him into fresh clothes. Then he helped him to the bed, and laid him down. This time, he’d put a bucket next to him. Not that it would really make much difference since Parker was probably too drunk to notice it. He pulled the blanket up to Parker’s shoulders, and then went back to the bathroom, cleaning up the rest of the mess.

When he finished, he went back to the couch and fell asleep. He knew he’d need the rest for Parker’s hangover the next morning. Thank goodness today was a Friday so they wouldn’t have school tomorrow.

(Part 2 coming soon!)

#emeto #tw food #OC #Parker #Cody #Maverick #Alcohol #strip club mention

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moonxvxsun · 4 years ago

Note

aaaa i love the morning sickness one! id love to read the continuation :)

here is the second part! there can be a third part if there is enough interest in it. but remember this is all in the past all of this already happened. here is how Ryver and Myla first met!

TW: sexual assault, transphobia, not respecting pronouns, emeto

everything in italics is sign language

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

Ryver was broken, completely broken. Not only because all of this was the product of the night he'll never talk about. The night he can't forget about. The night that replays in his head over and over and over again. But because while he was transgender, he wasn't able to get the surgery and it wasn't even something that he was sure that he wanted. Despite that, he still hated all of his female parts, all the parts of him that gave people ammunition to invalidate who he was as a person.

Sitting in the exam room, he was having a full-on panic attack. His mental state was broken, completely broken. Once he ran out of energy he basically collapsed on the exam bed, crying himself to sleep. There was no way the hospital would let him leave, he was broken.

He was moved up to the psych ward and refused to talk to anyone, to eat, or sleep. He did nothing but just stare at the blank wall. He had to be given IVs to give nutrients to him and the baby.

"He's new, he's eighteen and he agreed to try this new type of therapy. Go in and good luck, if he doesn't respond that's normal, but give it time. He is also hard of hearing, but you're proficient in ASL, so it shouldn't be a problem."

Ryver was sitting in his room on his bed staring at the wall, he had agreed to try a new form for therapy thinking that nothing would work anyway so he didn't care.

"Ryver, hello. My name Myla Fitz, I'm a senior in high school and I'm volunteering for the new teen help program." A small girl in a white dress said as they walked into the room. Her voice sounded like the voice of an angel, Ryver couldn't help but turn to see the owner of the voice. Looking at her, he was sure that she was an angel.

"I understand that you've been here for over a month now and that you're three months pregnant." She said softly and looked up at him smiling, he had the cutest little baby bump and despite how sad and depressed he looked, he was gorgeous. "I know that you haven't talked to anyone since you found out you were pregnant and that you've dropped out of college. Can you tell me what you're feeling?"

Ryver just shook his head, but that was more than he's done in months. "Ryver, I understand that things are hard for you right now. And I know that you might not want to talk about you yet, so I'll tell you about me so you know who you'd be opening up to." Myla smiled as she sat down in a chair across from him and crossed her legs. "I had just been accepted to college, I wanted to go far away but I decided that our hometown college here was the best place for me to be. I'm actually pretty nervous about college, my twin Avi is also going to be attending the same college but we're trying to branch out our friend groups. But I'm glad to have my twin there with me, I always feel like I need to protect Avi...people have always bullied them and while I'm more dainty I would seriously hurt anyone who comes near them. Avi goes by they/him pronouns and is more masculine even though we are identical twin sisters. But I just call Avi my twin, I hope no one is mean to them...High school has been hard for Avi. They're actually the reason I joined this program, they were locked in their room refusing to talk to anyone until they found this program. They really helped Avi, I owe this group my life for saving them, I want to help people too."

"I became pregnant because a boy I liked asked me to go to a party at his frat and we started getting more... intense... but his friends were all hiding taking pictures and videos proving that I wasn't a boy..." Ryver finally spoke and signed his voice weak and tears were filling his eyes. "I go to the college where you're going, and I hope your twin never has to experience what I've gone through."

Myla didn't know what to do, they just wanted to run to Ryver and hold them and protect them. It was the same anger that they felt whenever someone was mean to Avi. "Ryver, I'm so sorry that happened to you, and I'm so proud of you for being able to tell me that." Myla signed back before she stood up and walked over to the bed and sat beside him and held out her hand. "I'm glad you could trust me Ryver, and if you're more comfortable, I'm fluent in ASL."

Ryver smiled, for the first time in months, he smiled as he looked over at Myla and grabbed her hand, and squeezed it before letting go and signing. I don't know what to do, I don't want to terminate Myla... but I'm only eighteen...

There's always adoption, but I know that there is a lot of thought that goes into this. But remember Ryver, you're not alone. You have the hospital staff and I'll be here to check in on you while you're still a part of the program.

Ryver just nodded, but the thought and anxiety of everything were overtaking him, along with the smell of his lunch that was being brought into the room. I feel sick... He spoke softly and a wet belch escaped his lips and his face dropped, he was so embarrassed. He couldn't focus, he was so embarrassed, and the anxiety of it all, he just burped again, this time a small stream of bile coming up and pouring all down his front. He barely had time to recover before his stomach lurched and a thinker stream of chunky green and brown vomit spilled all down his front. Myla didn't move, despite the vomit getting on the edge of her dress, she just stayed calm and rubbed his back.

Ryver had never been so embarrassed in his whole life. He had been throwing up every day in front of countless nurses and doctors but today was different, there was an actual angel before him and he got sick on her beautiful dress. But instead of being disgusted she just sat calmly and helped him pass his nausea.

Ryver, you're okay. Calm down okay, and take a breath, okay? Myla spoke and signed. She was internally thanking her twin for being obsessed with learning ASL.

Ryver just nodded but he was still feeling terrible. Though his nausea had passed, his whole body felt weak and that's not to mention how embarrassed he was about getting sick on Myla's dress.

I'm sorry about your dress...That was gross, I feel so bad...

No please don't apologize Ryver. I'll let you get cleaned up and I have to go change. But before that, I'll be back next week and we can chat again. I hope you can start to feel a little better and return to your normal life.

Ryver couldn't respond. It had been such a long time since he had felt so loved and cared for, even if was just a volunteer who he figured probably didn't even care about them. But he couldn't help how much this visit meant to him, and how cared for he felt.

What was he going to do? Was he going to actually go through with this?

#emeto fic #emeto #emetophilia #sickfic #myla and ryver #ryver #morning sickness #i'm glad that there was interest in this it makes me so happy

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breakingsomething · 5 years ago

Text

the fall part fourteen - check in

basic summary: chase and lucas vibe. henrik gives someone an apology. marvin is emo.

trigger warnings: internalized homophobia, references to past domestic abuse (not much but i'm putting a warning just in case), alcohol, emeto

tagslist: @synonymsforzombie @spicydanhowell @skyewardlight @dreaming-of-stories-and-stars @cest-mellow @graveyardlettuce @lower-your-expectationss

chase was feeling a lot of emotions, but mostly he was just angry.

"i just don't understand how i'm supposed to keep being a peacemaker for marvin and henrik," he was saying. he and lucas were sitting in a coffee shop at the very back of the room, lucas stirring his drink and listening to chase vent quietly. they'd finally been able to find a time where both of them were free to meet up, and it was going smoothly so far, so to speak. "they're always fighting and i want to agree with both of them because they're both making points but i can't help but feel i'm being yanked in every direction here."

"yeah, that's sucky," lucas murmured. he pushed up his glasses, which had fogged up in the heat of his coffee. then he shot chase a small, nervous smile. "sorry i'm bad at knowing what to say. it might seem like i'm not listening, but i swear i am. i just don't have any good advice."

chase sighed, his rage at his brothers slowly dissolving. "nah, it's ok. i'm not expecting you to solve all my problems." he scratched his head and laughed softly, feeling his face heat up. "i honestly don't know why i'm telling you all this. i barely even know you - we met, what, a couple months ago? three months, maybe? under the dumbest circumstances imaginable. very, very sorry for that, by the way."

"it's cool!" lucas laughed, waving his hands. "it's honestly cool, don't worry. i do find it funny how this all started as a favour for naomi, and now we're here."

chase winced. "yeah. my family tends to - be like that. dragging people into our messes somehow. it used to be anti causing all the problems, and now it's - well. you know."

lucas snorted and turned his head away, glancing at the line of people waiting for their coffee. lucas was the type of man who looked as though he fit in perfectly in a place like this; fluffy blonde hair, black rectangular glasses, even a fucking indigo hoodie over a dark red button up. he looked like a stock image of a hipster. he looked like he spent all his time in coffee shops with a laptop and earl grey tea in front of him, a hipster siren calling all those who wanted to live some sort of cliche romance movie. chase bet that if he opened up the man's plain grey bag, he'd find books and art supplies inside. it was immensely attractive.

chase blinked. no it wasn't. that wasn't something he should be thinking, what the fuck? why had he just thought - he hadn't really just -

lucas spoke again, interrupting his thoughts. "i don't know a lot about your family, aside from what you, naomi and marvin have told me. but i know that they definitely need to maybe… talk it out. go to family therapy, i don't know -" he clapped a hand over his mouth and laughed out of shock. "oh crap, it is absolutely not my place to say that, is it!"

chase threw back his head and laughed, glad for a distraction. "no, no, you're so right," he giggled. "i love how - i love how you've literally known us for three months and already know that like, all of us need some kind of therapy. are we that obvious?"

lucas shook his head, wiping his eyes. "ah, man, i need to keep my mouth shut. i am very sorry for calling out your whole family like that."

"it's fine, it's fine," chase said. he fanned his face, suddenly realizing how hot it was in here. to be fair, he was wearing three layers; a plain white longsleeve, a dark blue ac/dc shirt, and a black jacket on top of that. along with ripped jeans and a beanie. he looked the polar opposite of lucas. it was quite funny, actually. "we deserve to be called out."

lucas smiled and sipped his coffee, glancing to the front of the shop out the window. "man, it's so warm," he said through his cup. "to think it's september and it was storming so badly only three days ago."

chase nodded slowly, glancing down at his barely touched cup. he didn't want to think about the storm, honestly. that had just been a nightmare. "hmm. weird storm, yeah. everything's a bit weird lately."

for instance, he'd just called lucas "attractive" in his head. that was strange enough. why was that the thing he was focusing on? why was he freaking out about this?

lucas was a friend. just a friend he wanted to talk to and do normal things with. could straight guys call their friends attractive? chase decided to believe he could.

"they shouldn't treat you like that, though," lucas said. his dark eyes were warm under his glasses. "once again, maybe not my place to say. but i feel like they shouldn't use you as, like, a substitute therapist."

chase winced. "i mean, that's kind of what i'm doing to you, isn't it?"

lucas set down his drink and shook his head, shifting slightly closer to chase. "it's different. you're not expecting me to solve all your problems for you. you just need someone to listen." he smiled. "i get the feeling it's been a while since you had that."

chase flushed, blinking. "uh, yeah. i guess… i guess, yeah." he decided not to mention his old therapist and just looked at his legs, folding his hands together. lucas had glanced away by the time he looked up, but he was still a little bit closer to him than he'd been, and his hand was resting on the table next to chase's cup.

"thanks for listening," chase murmured gratefully. "i suppose it has been a while since i had a friend like… like you."

lucas widened his eyes. "oh! oh, thank you! i mean, i…" he giggled, rubbing the back of his neck. "i'm assuming that's a compliment. you're… you're sweet."

a grin spread across chase's face. "i - thank you too."

chase wasn't sure when their faces had gotten so close, only inches apart. lucas blinked, looking up at him through his pale lashes. his lips were parted slightly in surprise, like he'd just come to the same realization that the other man just had. chase's breath hitched, and his stomach suddenly dropped fiercely.

and it hit him that they were in a public space with everyone's eyes able to turn to them at any moment and what was he doing, getting so close to a guy like this, he wasn't supposed to, anyone could see him and he couldn't fucking stand it -

"i'm sorry!" chase yelped. he shoved himself away, heart racing so fast he thought he'd pass out. he didn't dare to turn and look at the rest of the room. "shit, i'm - i should - i have to go!"

"wait!" lucas cried, startled. chase ignored him, adrenaline hitting him all at once, leaping from his place on the booth and darting around the table. "chase, i'm - i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, i'm so sorry!"

chase couldn't look at him or he was going to be sick. "it's ok, i just have to - i'm sorry," he managed. "i'm sorry, i'll call you later, i'm -"

he ran from the building as quickly as his legs would allow him. lucas didn't follow.

chase wasn't sure when he'd started crying. he was certain everyone was staring at him as he speedwalked down the road, both hands clamped over his mouth. fuck, it felt like being a kid again, like he was twelve and his mother was telling him that it wasn't right for boys to like other boys, and chase would nod and agree because it was all he knew, and then he grew up and married a woman and was so relieved it was her he fell in love with and not him, not a boy, not anyone else -

god, he was just so fucking angry.

henrik hated the sound of doorbells.

it was such an anticipatory sound; the sound of knowing you were about to have to interact with someone. it automatically made him tense up, back straight, poker face on, hands in his pockets because he didn't know what else to do with them. eyes clenched shut for just a moment as he heard someone walking to the door on the other side. maybe this hadn't been the best idea.

the door clicked open.

"henrik?"

ok, she didn't immediately sound like she wanted to kill him. that was a good start. he cracked his eyes open, and flashed a small, sheepish grin. "hallo, ellie."

ellie just blinked. white teeth peeked out from behind her lips, strands of loose dark hair falling into gingerbread eyes. her voice was clipped and professional. "it's good to see you."

a breath fell from henrik's mouth. "i'm sorry," he immediately blurted out. he couldn't stay still, shifting back and forth, bouncing on the balls of his heels. "i shouldn't have dropped you the second i thought i couldn't handle it anymore. you deserved better and i was the dickhead."

a brief moment of thick silence passed over them.

"let's walk," ellie said eventually. "around the city, or something. i've been meaning to go out anyway."

a smile cracked on henrik's face. "yes! yes, let's do that," he said enthusiastically. ellie held up a hand, eyebrows drawing together over narrowed eyes.

"first," she said cautiously. "i have to ask. we're not doing the - the romance thing anymore, i take it?"

henrik was briefly stunned. "uh, i - no, i wouldn't think so, no," he stammered awkwardly. he swallowed, a hand rising to the back of his neck. "yeah, i feel like that maybe wasn't working out for us."

to his surprise, she laughed. "thank goodness for that," she breathed, sounding relieved. "i didn't think that was working either, yeah. but…" her eyes met his again. "i'm glad you came back."

a sudden warm feeling took over him. "me too," he murmured. "me too."

henrik had never had many friends.

that was just fact. from his creation on, he simply had "colleagues" and "acquaintances," people he tolerated when he had to. after his wife left, chase had been his only friend - and then they'd discovered they were brothers by blood too, anyway, so there had been a lack of choice in that department. he'd been content like that. content without any kind of social life. it had just been easier that way.

but ellie was so warm. like a soft flame. it was cliche as all hell to say, but it was the closest way to describe her that henrik could manage. from the day he'd met her on her first day in the surgery, he had taken a liking to her. everything about her stood out to henrik, like she was the only colour in a crowd. like a rainbow. henrik hadn't felt anything close to that in years.

they were both at the hospital on and off. henrik was allowed more leeway with his absences, maybe because no one ever died on his operating table, maybe because he was one of if not the best surgeon on the ward. ellie was not given leeway. neither of them were a hundred percent certain why, but they had a feeling it was definitely gender related. they knew ellie was just as good as henrik was, despite henrik's secret healing abilities. she didn't deserve any less.

they had somehow started dating. henrik hadn't dated anyone since emolie, and in the beginning, it had been terrifying. for both of them, actually; ellie's ex was an awful person, and it had been hard for her to trust him. it was only after henrik gained the courage to tell her about his ex wife and what she had been like that they managed to properly communicate. that had just helped them bond more. it felt good.

and then it had all gone downhill. ellie left work entirely for her mental health, leaving henrik with just his bastard colleagues again. he began to be filled with that same old overwhelming fear again, the same distrust and paranoia his ex wife had given him. and he'd started ignoring ellie. that was how it had went. he had been an asshole.

he told ellie all this as they walked through the darkening streets, keeping his gaze down towards his blue trainers. despite usually being good with eye contact, he didn't dare to look at her. maybe he was afraid to. he didn't know. in any case, he should have done this months ago.

once he'd finished, everything went very quiet. henrik, in the sensible parts of his mind, knew ellie would never hurt him. he knew she wasn't anything like emolie, despite the similar names. but even knowing all that, he still flinched when she finally spoke. "henrik, you should have told me."

"i know," he mumbled, kicking a rock into a gutter. "i know. i've been an idiot."

ellie placed a gentle hand on his arm. "hey. i understand. i - i often had some of the same… the same thoughts. even though robert was - everything with him was years ago."

"it's the same for me," henrik said softly. a dog barked in the distance, and two shopkeepers talked loudly as they rolled down the shutters for the night. "emolie left a long time ago too. yet i still - i thought it was just me that had this paranoia."

ellie shook her head. "no, no. i get it. i've been going to therapy, and my therapist says that's perfectly natural for people who've experienced abuse."

henrik flinched.

ellie noticed. "are you ok?"

henrik licked his lips, which were suddenly very dry. "mm. i don't know. yes."

ellie giggled. "you don't sound sure."

henrik was about to respond, but someone across the street caught his eye. black jacket, red beanie, blonde hair. henrik furrowed his eyebrows. "chase?"

the man looked up, and yes, it was definitely him. he caught henrik's gaze and stopped, eyes widening visibly. he was crying. then he turned and raced down the street even faster than he was going before, face burning and arms crossed over his chest.

"is that your brother?" ellie asked. she'd only met him once, but chase was a hard man to forget. "is he - is he ok?"

"no idea," henrik muttered, then waved at her apologetically. "i'll - i'll be right back, i swear. chase!" he began to run after his brother. "chase, what - chase!"

"fuck off, henrik," chase spat. he stopped, but didn't turn round as his brother caught up to him. "please, i don't want to talk."

"well, can you at least tell me you're ok?" henrik asked. his mind was going a hundred miles an hour, trying to figure out what could have upset him. he tapped his shoes against the floor. "weren't you out with lucas?"

chase scrubbed at his eyes. "i was, yeah." he glanced up, wincing at henrik's expression. "he didn't do anything, hen. i'm just a fucking idiot. please just go. seriously, i don't fucking want to be around people right now, ok? i don't - just go."

henrik hesitated. "are you sure -"

"yes!" chase suddenly cried. he clutched at his head, sobbing. "fucking shit, henrik, i'm fine, just - ugh!"

he ran off down the road again, the only sound being the slapping of his shoes against the concrete. henrik didn't follow him.

ellie was right where he'd left her. "what happened?" she murmured softly. she looked genuinely worried, too. henrik's heart clenched.

"i don't know," he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. he was so tired. but he also didn't want to pressure chase at all. "i'm - look, ellie, i'm so sorry. whatever happened to me in my past didn't excuse how i treated you, and i swear i'll message or - or visit you again. i'm…" he shook his head. "i'm sorry it took me this long."

ellie took his hand, the contact making him gasp softly. "i'm sorry too. i never thought about what you wanted or how - or how you were feeling. a sick part of me was convinced that i somehow had it worse. and i know how fucked up that is, i know -" she paused, her laugh slightly hysterical. "i'm gonna shut up for now. go after your brother. i'll see you soon, henrik."

he had a lot more he wanted to say, but he knew it could wait. chase needed him more. so with an awkward nod and a trip over his own feet, he began to jog down the street to where chase was going.

marvin was a fucking idiot.

he couldn't believe he'd trusted anti as much as he had. henrik had outright laughed at him when he told his brothers what had happened; how he'd spoken to anti late at night, how he'd asked him if they could talk in the morning, how he'd fallen asleep in front of him instead of keeping watch. and yeah, maybe he was a fool. maybe he should go out and buy himself a new phone to replace the one anti had stole, along with a new table to replace the one anti destroyed, since that was his fucking fault too. like everything was lately. maybe he should do that.

instead, he'd spent the day in bed, half asleep and fucking miserable. he was well aware that now wasn't the time to be wallowing in self pity, but he'd honestly stopped caring. anti could do what he wanted. jackie could do what he wanted. marvin apparently had no bloody say in anything anymore.

he got up once to get a glass of water for his slowly worsening headache. of course, it was then that chase came in, slamming the door shut behind him.

"can you not do that?" marvin snapped, whipping round to face him, but he softened when he saw chase's tear stained face. "oh hey, what's wrong?"

"don't start," chase hissed. his eyes were red from crying, and they were blazing with anger. "i'm fine, don't start with the p-pity."

marvin crossed the room to stand by his side. "did someone hurt you?" he asked, concerned. chase pushed him away, shaking his head.

"no, they didn't, ok? i'm just a fucking idiot and it's my own fault," he said angrily. "it's not always to do with you guys, for fuck's sake."

marvin felt his face heat up. "hey, don't get mad at me. that's helping nobody here. what happened, man?"

chase wiped his face roughly, more tears escaping. "shut up!" he demanded, wrapping his arms around himself. "you don't have to know everything just cause you're big brother now, you don't get to -"

"jeez, chase, what the hell got into you?" marvin shouted over him, taking a step closer. chase scowled and stepped back. "did i do something? if i did, just tell me -"

"i said it was my fault!" chase screamed. and there was something in his voice that made marvin stop and move back, blinking rapidly. "ok? my fault! let me take responsibility for my own actions f-for once, fucking hell, you don't have to be jackie! you can go back to not noticing shit if you want, we'll be fine on our own!"

marvin's chest tightened painfully. "chase - what are you talking about?"

"did you even notice - did you even notice the time when henrik had that panic attack where he hurt his hand because he was trying to get out of a lift?" chase asked, laughing without warmth. "you didn't! you spent that whole weekend out of the house with some guy, didn't you? did jackie ever bother telling you? do you remember the aftermath at all?"

marvin tried to catch a breath. "no," he whispered, mouth dry. "no, but - you can't expect me to -"

"were you - were you th-there for my last relapse?" chase spat, and marvin's heart dropped. "no! you weren't! i doubt you - ha, i doubt you even know it happened! are you surprised? stupid, fuckup chase, ruining all good things for himself yet again!" he laughed, running his fingers through his curls underneath his beanie, which slipped back and fell into his hood. with his hair pulled back, marvin could more clearly see the bald spot where chase's old scar lingered. "you didn't care then, so why should you care now? stop trying to be jackie! you will never be jackie!"

marvin's breaths were getting quicker, blood pumping in his ears. "chase," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "chase, i've never been -"

"you have!" he cried. "you have, you're trying to replace him and it's not working, you're just making everything worse!"

marvin's fingers were burning, his whole body tingling with grief and magic. "stop yelling, please -"

"just stop trying to fix everything! i want things to go back to how they were before! stop changing, just because jackie changed -"

"chase, shut up, shut up -"

"i want jackie and jamie back, god, i hate this, i hate you, i hate myself -"

"stop it, chase, pl-please, i can't -"

"this isn't fair, just leave me alone -"

"shut - up!"

marvin wasn't sure what happened. it was a rush of anger, self hatred, of leave me alone i want you to stop because you're saying everything that i know is true and it hurts so bad make it stop. then chase and marvin were both on the floor. marvin's head was spinning from the crack to the floor it had taken, his hands burning with unrestrained magic. chase sat up, groaning, rubbing his head. the door behind them clicked, and marvin knew immediately who it would be.

"what the fuck?" came henrik's cry. marvin scrambled to his feet, chase following. "marvin, shit, what did you do?"

"wasn't his fault," chase said quickly, wiping the tears off his face and grabbing the counter for support. "i was being a dick, i shouldn't have -"

henrik whirled on marvin. "you - you used magic on him?"

"it just exploded, it w-wasn't intentional!" chase fretted, waving his hands to get the doctor's attention. "please, hen, i was saying shit 'cause i was upset, i -"

henrik gently pushed past him and faced marvin, anger darkening his face. "after what's happening with jackie, you turn on us too? are you going to hurt us next? what the hell is wrong with you?"

"henrik!" chase grabbed his arm, trying to pull him away from marvin. "please, stop, i swear he wasn't doing it maliciously -"

"maybe jackie didn't start hurting maliciously!" henrik shouted. "i have to keep us safe! marvin already wants us letting murderers into our house -"

"you agreed -"

"and look where it got us!" henrik shoved chase behind him like he was shielding him, glaring up at marvin and pushing him onto the ruined table, riddled with stab wounds. "look at us! i thought - i thought we could handle this ourselves, but we can't, this is pathetic! look at us!" his voice broke, and he suddenly backed down, clamping both hands over his mouth. "oh mein gott, look at us."

he slumped down on the floor, leaning his back against the oven. chase crouched down in front of him, glancing helplessly up at marvin like he hadn't been screaming at him minutes prior. like he hadn't revealed exactly what he thought of marvin, like he didn't think he was just a copy of jackie. but then again, "copy of jackie" was the best they had. maybe marvin was a better copy of jackie than he was a brother.

slowly, numbly, he stepped over his brothers towards the door. his ears were ringing, though whether it was his tinnitus, anti, or the angry echoes of his own magic, marvin didn't know. his head was spinning like he'd been hit, which, well - he had hit his head off the floor. that was his fault. just like everything else.

he left and didn't turn back.

ok, getting as drunk as he was when he was so upset had, in fact, been a terrible idea.

he laughed to himself in spite of it all. yes, he was laughing out loud by himself in the middle of a club, sitting on the sidelines and knocking back his fifth lemon vodka of the night. he was at his favourite nightclub, cheers - the nightclub that had a reputation for an incredible amount of stabbings. it was also the most fun to hang out in, even by himself. though it appeared he wouldn't be alone for long; a dark haired man with a green bandana and a half unbuttoned dress shirt was sidling up to him, glass in hand.

"haven't seen you here before," was how he introduced himself, a smirk on his face. marvin barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. he wasn't so drunk that he couldn't see how new this guy was to this kind of thing.

"y'must be new round here, then," marvin smiled, voice only slightly slurred. he raised an eyebrow at the man's flushed face and shifted aside in his booth to let him sit beside. "i happen to come here quite often."

marvin was never sure what he wanted anymore. did he want to go home with a random guy to help him think of anything else but his out of control magic, his brother's horrified, furious faces, his burning hands and spinning head? he didn't think he did. then again, maybe it'd be nice. maybe he didn't care. fuck, this was awful, but here he was anyway.

the other man sat down, too close to marvin, his fingers brushing against his thighs in a way marvin normally wouldn't allow so soon into a hookup. he didn't say anything. he just tilted his head, leaning closer to the man's face. "what's your name then, stranger?"

"matthew," he murmured. his eyes were brown, his face pale. marvin searched him for any interesting features, anything that he might remember him by afterwards. there was nothing. "and you?"

marvin didn't even hesitate. "adrien," he lied, and turned his head to sip his drink. the world was spinning. he wanted it to stop. "'m adrien. who you with? anyone here?"

matthew shook his head, biting his bottom lip in the most unsubtle way possible. "nope. just me, myself, and i." he grinned, showing gap teeth. marvin stared. he suddenly realized that he absolutely couldn't do this, not tonight.

someone was standing behind them, blocking the light.

"hey," came a deep voice. "leave him alone, asshole."

marvin and matthew both turned. a tall, muscled man with chin length black hair and a thick beard was behind their booth, glaring at matthew. "fuck off away from him," the man said. "can't you see how drunk he is? bloody dickwad. get the fuck away."

matthew opened and closed his mouth, eyes bulging. like a fish. marvin giggled a little at the image, and the tall man helped marvin to stand as matthew scurried off to a different corner of the club, only looking back to sneer at them angrily.

"hey," marvin protested as the stranger led him away. "i wanted to sleep with him."

"no you didn't," the stranger said. he kept a firm hold on marvin's arm as they walked, steering him towards the door and out into the cold autumn air. the sudden lack of lights and loud music made his head clear slightly, and he yawned, thinking. the man kept talking. "you have a girlfriend, anyway."

"naomi's not my girlfriend," marvin said loudly, stumbling on the front steps. "she's my best friend. i set her door on fire once. i also made her really sad, sent her into a breakdown, d'y'know? who are you? i don't know you."

the man visibly rolled his eyes. "you know, for such a smart man, you're not very bright when you're drunk," he muttered. marvin noticed that the more he spoke, the more irish the man's accent became. "do you always use such bad coping mechanisms? christ, and i thought i was bad - actually, wait, i'm one to talk. especially about - shit. you know what i'm saying."

marvin actually had no clue what he was saying, but he listened to the man ramble anyway. he couldn't seem to stop talking. "i thought i could leave you alone for five bloody minutes, but no, you flip out and decide the best way to cope is to fuck some guy in a sketchy ass nightclub - what is wrong with you, man? go to therapy. do you go to therapy, kitty? you definitely should. swear to god, you lot are like a bunch of kids. i could kill you right now and you wouldn't stop me, would you? pfft, you're not even gonna remember this tomorrow morning. fuck's sake."

it was a while before marvin realized he had no clue where they were. "where're we going?" he slurred. his hands were empty. how long had they been empty? "i lost my drink."

"you didn't lose it, i took it. this body can actually handle alcohol, you know that? how weird. and i'm taking you the fuck home, asshole. you're lucky you're not as much of a dick as your brothers."

his brothers? marvin's head shot up, and he gasped loudly. "i can't go home!" he cried. "henrik'll kill me! man, i can't - don't have your name, sorry - can't go home, i can't, i can't."

the man groaned loudly. "oh, fuck's sake," he grumbled. "gods, i'll call us a taxi to take us to the nearest hotel. christ on a goddamn bike, i hate you..."

marvin leaned his head on the man's chest while they waited for said taxi to come. the man cleared his throat. "ok, i know you're a clingy bastard, but can you get off of me? i don't like being touched without permission."

"you're warm, though," marvin mumbled. "'m tired and you're warm. my brothers all hate me now, they do. i have - my big brother, jackie, he's gone all evil 'n shit now. i wasn't good enough for him. my other big brother stabbed my table. stole my phone. henrik laughed at me for it."

the man hissed through his teeth. "yikes, your big brothers sound like right douchebags," he said, sounding like he was holding back a laugh. "especially that second one. who stabs a table? what an asshole."

marvin nodded sleepily in agreement. "yeah. i trusted him but he let me down 'n my little brother laughed at me for it. i wanted to ask him about m'other big brother. his name's jackie, i love him so much, but he was so horrible." the other man visibly flinched. marvin obliviously kept going. "i wanted to know what he did. you know he - he cut off my brother's t-tongue? he cut it right off. i can't believe he'd ever -" marvin's stomach lurched. "i'm gonna be sick."

not a second later, he did exactly as threatened. the man yelped and jumped away, making disgusted noises. "oh, kitten, gross," he groaned. "fuck's sake. look, the taxi's here, thank the stars. mind your step, don't stand in the vom - ok, here we go."

marvin laid his head on the man's shoulders the whole drive. some part of him screamed at him to not be an idiot, don't get in a taxi with a stranger, especially as drunk as he was now - but another part of him felt like this man was familiar. it felt right. he wasn't sure why. "what's your name again?" he managed at one point, right as the car began to pull over.

"doesn't matter," said the stranger. he unbuckled his seat belt. "we're here. get out, asshole, come on."

"have a nice night," the driver told them. the man didn't say anything in response, just helped marvin up and onto the pavement on shaky legs. he squinted at the building in front of them.

"i don't have the money for a hotel like this," he said. he swayed on his feet, his stomach roiling. "i need to go somewhere else."

"i'll fucking pay," the man said. he was rifling through a wallet, making faces at the contents. "apparently i'm bloody loaded, fantastic. come on, magician, act like you're not drunk for two minutes."

"i'm not drunk," marvin announced loudly.

the man clapped his back. "that's the spirit," he said cheerfully. as they went inside, the bright lights of the hotel made marvin's eyelids feel even heavier. he closed his eyes and clung to the man's arm tightly, yawning.

it felt like only a second later that he was being shaken awake again. "i didn't know it was possible to fall asleep standing, but here we are," the stranger joked. "i got you a room. here's your key. room 146. now go."

marvin blinked. "huh?"

the man heaved a sigh. "oh, boy." then he cleared his throat, speaking in a much louder voice, like he was talking to a child. "i got you a hotel room so you don't have to go home and face the consequences of your own actions. go inside before i change my mind and gut you."

another yawn ripped out of marvin's throat. "mm. ok." he was too tired to question it. he took the key from the other man's hands and inspected it. "ok. so what… what's your name again? i think you told me, but i have a bad memory. i think. i don't 'member."

the man facepalmed, dragging his hands down his face. "my fucking gods. the fact that i haven't murdered you yet astounds me. my name is... berlin, if you really must know. although you'll definitely forget that in the morning. now get to your room, i'm not standing here forever."

marvin just nodded. the night had been so weird already, this might as well be happening. he wasn't even paying attention to his surroundings, just letting himself be guided and eventually, somehow, collapsing on a bed and falling asleep.

anti wasn't sure why he'd done it.

maybe it was just the euphoria of realizing that out of all his powers, he'd been left with possession. he'd been following kitten around for days, just to keep an eye on him. partially because he felt very slightly bad about stabbing his table and stealing his belongings, partially because… the magician had been kind to him in a way that literally no one else had for so long. anti wasn't entirely certain of why he did anything anymore. it was kind of annoying, actually.

he'd taken the body of some man smoking in an alleyway and spent about ten minutes talking out loud to himself as he paced and finished the cigarette - might as well, didn't want to waste it. anti swore he'd almost forgotten how to talk after so long the way he was. drinking and eating without pain was so weird, so strange. it had been amazing. he'd been so caught up in exhilaration of being able to speak that he almost completely forgot about kitten, who had apparently decided that hooking up with a stranger would solve his problems. anti decided to spare him the embarrassment and scooped him out of there, even renting him a hotel room using the money he'd been planning to nick for himself. see, i can do nice things! he thought to himself. take that, doctor!

it was only afterwards that he really questioned why. this wasn't just something he did for no reason; when anti did nice things, it was always for his own personal gain. he hadn't gotten anything out of this but a fucking headache. what had been the point?

a year ago, anti would have been delighted at the thought of kitten suffering, of him hurting, crying, drunk and alone in a sketchy nightclub. now… anti didn't derive as much pleasure from the thought as he normally would. not that he was getting attached to kitten. he'd already formed something like that with one person, and anti liked to keep all his eggs in one basket, thank you very much.

he was just waiting, he told himself. waiting for the right time to strike. waiting for the perfect opportunity. waiting for…

he knew he was lying to himself. but he closed his eyes and resolved to let himself just a little longer.

#jacksepticeye #boop writes #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #henrik von schneeplestein #antisepticeye #lucas ross #the fall

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vcepsis · 6 years ago

Note

“How long have you been throwing up for?” -- Sheith, w/ whumpee Keith and comforter Shiro. ^w^' As much as I love your stories with whumpee Shiro, I kinda wanna see you make Keith suffer for a change! :D If that's alright with you, of course!

Thanks so much for the request! Sorry it took so long, but I hope you like the result :) about 2k! (And I legitimately cannot find the ask meme this was referring to oof)

(in case the ask itself didn’t give it away) WARNING: EMETO AHEAD

Keith clutched the edges of the toilet bowl, the image swimming in and out of focus. Ugh, he hated throwing up. He hiccuped wetly, groaning at the taste of the combined burn of stomach acid and alcohol, but nothing more came up.

He’d been in the bathroom on the Atlas for at least thirty minutes while the party outside was still in full swing, and no one had come by to check in on him. Part of him was glad for it; it wouldn’t do to have anyone see him, the indomitable Black Paladin of Voltron, in such a pitiful state. On the other hand, it made him wonder how important to the party he was if he was so easily missed.

Everyone was celebrating their latest victory in bringing in another faction to the Voltron Coalition. Keith wasn’t sure where, exactly, the alcohol had come from—he doubted it was approved to bring on such a long mission—but no one was complaining.

Keith hadn’t meant to get so disgustingly drunk. At the very least, he hadn’t meant to get so drunk he would puke his guts up. But he could only stand watching Shiro get hit on by that bridge officer for so long.

It was hard to ignore, though. As Captain of the Atlas, Shiro was never hard to spot, surrounded by a new group of people everytime Keith looked over at him. And yet, that damn asshole was right by his side the entire time: handing Shiro drinks, making Shiro throw his head back in laughter, running a hand up Shiro’s arm and smiling at him—

Keith retched again, this time only bringing up a thin string of bile. Fuck, his stomach hurt. He coughed the rest of it up, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand. The more he’d seen Shiro and Lieutenant Asshole flirt with each other, the more quickly he’d downed whatever drink was handed to him. In hindsight, that was probably the worst idea possible—God knows what kind of mix of booze he’d had. But at the time, he wanted to get as drunk as possible so he could forget all about the scene playing out in front of him.

Even though he was definitely running on empty at this point, Keith felt his stomach clench yet again, and he couldn’t help but groan. The alcohol was still swirling in his head, making things foggy and hard to focus on. And even after all that effort, he still couldn’t burn out the way that douchebag’s hand had caressed Shiro’s arm.

A knock on the bathroom door jolted him out of his spiraling thoughts, and he looked over his shoulder in a panic. Oh god, what if it was Lance, or Hunk, or Iverson—

The doorswung open easily—because of course Drunk Keith doesn’t know how to lock a damn door—and who else would it be but Shiro, looking devastatingly handsome even under the ugly fluorescent lights of the bathroom. His hair was slicked back—something Keith has only seen a handful of times—and the cut of his dress uniform highlighted all the best parts of his body. In his metal hand was a glass of water.

“Hey buddy,” Shiro said softly, slowing approaching Keith’s crouched form. “How are you doing?”

Keith blew out a breath, slumping back against the toilet, looking up at Shiro. “M'good. How—how’re you?”

Shiro frowned, kneeling down in front of him, cupping his flesh hand to Keith’s face. Keith’s eyes widened. His hand was so warm. “How much have you had to drink? I haven’t seen you in a while. We were getting worried.”

Keith barked out a harsh laugh. “We?” he repeated, the single word laced with venom. He was imagining Shiro and Lieutenant Douchebag looking for him together, like they were his goddamn parents or something. It was almost enough to make him throw up again.

Shiro, however, just frowned again at his tone. “Yeah. Hunk kept asking me where you were. Pidge noticed you went to the bathroom a while ago, and I had to physically hold Lance back at least three times from barging in here to ‘save you from drowning in your own vomit’”. Shiro shook his head in fond exasperation. “I figured you wouldn’t want them in here if you were….well, you know.”

Oh. The team had been looking for him after all. And even after everything, Shiro kept Keith’s privacy as his main concern. It only added to the weird mix of emotions he’d been feeling all night.

Shiro handed Keith the glass of water. “Drink,” he ordered.

Keith looked at the glass like it was toxic. The last thing he wanted to do was put anything into his protesting stomach, but the look Shiro was giving him was full of tender concern. It might have been easier to say no if Shiro didn’t look so damn good in his dress uniform.

Grimacing, Keith took the glass and knocked it back like it was one of the many shots he had done that night.

Shiro sighed. “Better than nothing, I guess…”

“What’d you want, anyway?” Keith slurred, the glass falling out of his hand. Shiro managed to catch it before it shattered on the floor, placing it near the sink.“You’ve been so busy, haven’t ya? Why’re you here?”

Shiro frowned. “What are you talking about? I came to check up on you.”

Keith scoffed, blinking against the black spots in his vision. “Finally managed to tear yourself away from your new friend, then?”

Shiro blinked in surprise, taken aback. “What? Keith, I—”

“You know what I mean,” Keith snapped, the alcohol in his system removing his filter completely. “I’ve seen you with him all fucking night. Tall, dark and—” The rest of Keith’s sentence was cut off by a guttural retch, so strong it bent him over double. Shiro cursed, scrambling to turn Keith toward the toilet in time for him to vomit up the water.

Rubbing small circles on Keith’s back, Shiro seemed to finally notice the mess in the toilet. “Geez, Keith. How long have you been throwing up for?” He really did sound concerned now. Keith just grumbled in response before he was cut off again by another violent heave. He felt a hand run through his hair, keeping it out of his face while Keith tried to vomit up his stomach lining.

Finally, it stopped, and Keith fell boneless into Shiro’s arms. Shiro wrapped them around him gently, holding him in place.

“You’re ok, I got you,” Shiro murmured soothingly into Keith’s ear.

For a moment, Keith allowed his eyes to close, reveling in the feeling of his back pressed against Shiro’s broad chest. But then his eyes flew open, and he twisted out of Shiro’s grasp, the hurt from earlier making its return.

Shiro sighed again, dropping his arms. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset with me,” he said sadly, looking away.

Guilt twisted in Keith’s stomach, making it even more unsteady. “It's—it’s not you. It’s him. He’s been with you all night, and you haven’t even come by to say hi to me. You’re too busy flirting with him.”

Keith knew how he sounded—like a petulant child—but he didn’t care. Not right now.

It seemed to click in Shiro’s head, and his eyes widened. “What—Curtis? Is that what you meant? He’s just being friendly. He’s part of the Atlas’s bridge crew, he’s just celebrating with us.”

“He’s been touching you all night!” Keith yelled, coughing harshly as it aggravated his raw throat. Shiro reached over to steady him, but Keith knocked his hand away. Tears were building in his eyes, he realized with a wave of humiliation. Hopefully Shiro would blame it on the alcohol. “You’ve been by his side the entire time! What was I supposedto think?!”

“Oh, Keith…” Shiro put both hands on either side of Keith’s face, gently tugging him over so their eyes met. “I’m sorry I didn’t come say anything. But to tell you the truth…I was avoiding you.”

Keith bit his lip, trying to turn away so Shiro wouldn’t see the hurt in his eyes, but Shiro kept him firmly in place. “But not for the reason you think. I swear, Curtis is just a colleague. I barely know him. Besides…” Shiro wrinkled his nose. "Fraternizing with a member of my crew would be incredibly unprofessional.“

“Then why?” Keith asked, voice cracking. He tried to pretend it was from all the vomiting he’d done that night.

This time it was Shiro’s turn to look away. “I…I didn’t want to burden you.”

Keith’seyes went wide. “What?”

“You’ve been so busy with the Blade and Voltron…I didn’t want to add to your responsibilities. I thought if I got too close to you tonight, people would see you as someone responsible for the Atlas too. And you have so much on your shoulders already….I didn’t want to do that to you. I couldn’t.”

Keith put his hands over Shiro’s, where they still cupped Keith’s face. “Shiro,” he said slowly. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Shiro blinked, shocked.

Keith could only chuckle at this expression, despite the fresh wave of nausea rolling through him. “You’re such a dumbass sometimes, you know that?” He chuckled, squeezing Shiro’s hands. “After all this time, you really think anyone can force me to do anything?”

Shiro smiled softly.

“Besides,” Keith continued, voice going quiet, “I don’t mind taking on some work for the Atlas….if it means I can do it with you.”

Shirolooked away, cheeks bright red. “Oh,” he muttered. “Well…..I mean, I guess that…makes sense?”

Keith smiled, the hard knot in his chest finally unraveling. Unfortunately, it also unraveled his stomach. He quickly shook off Shiro’s hands and made a mad dash for the toilet. He didn’t quite make it to the bowl itself, however, and the remnants of the alcohol and water splashed against the side of the toilet.

A metal hand was on his back as he coughed. “Where is it all coming from?” Shiro murmured, worry and amusement mixing in his voice.

He hooked his arms under Keith’s, hauling him up as gently as he could, pulling him away from the mess on the floor. Keith grumbled a weak protest, head lolling back to rest on Shiro’s shoulders. Shiro chuckled softly, his breath warm against Keith’s ear. It felt right.

“Let’s get you to bed, alright?”

“Will you come with me?” Keith blurted out, feeling dizzy and lightheaded.

Suddenly, he was lifted off the ground, and he clutched at Shiro’s fancy jacket as the world spun. A soft kiss was pressed to the top of his head. “Is that what you want?”

Keith nodded, pressing his face into Shiro’s chest. This was where he was meant to be. “Please don’t…leave me again,” Keith hiccuped, fading fast.

The arms around him held tighter.

“Never again,” Shiro promised.

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xxx-cat-xxx · 7 years ago

Text

Saltwater

Anonymous asked:

I love motion sick peter so much! I need more fics of it. Anyway maybe tony rewards all the avengers on a cruise on one of his boats (cause we know he has them) for a much needed break and peter is all excited but he then finds out he gets seasick and he’s all pukey n stuff and everyone is trying their best to help out! Thankss

That was my first prompt - thank you so much, anon! I struggled a little with balancing so many characters in one scene, but I really hope you like the result. Emeto, a drunk Bruce Banner, hopefully something to make you smile. Also, 76 followers and counting!

“You´re telling me that this is a Stark Industries vessel and we can´t get back to the shore?” Bruce asked confusedly.

“Of course we can get back to the shore”, Tony replied, a hint of offendedness in his voice, “we could probably survive a trip through outer space in this baby. But if we go back now, it´s not gonna be a pleasant ride, ´s all I´m saying.”

“And you didn´t think of checking the weather forecast before taking us out into the middle of nowhere?” Clint sounded irritated.

“Thank you for your trust - yes, I did that, but please excuse that I didn´t know that thunderstorms and rough winds would be upgraded to hurricane within a few hours.”

“Then what´s the use of all your robots and AIs if they can´t even predict the weather?”

“Gosh, what´s your problem? Sorry for taking you on a free luxury cruise worth several thousands of dollars!”

“Kids, calm down.” Natasha interfered from where she was seated on the railing, completely undisturbed by the fact that the Atlantic was sloshing around just a few dozen feet below her. “You´re sounding like a bunch of five-year olds.”

“We stay here for the night, away from the disturbances, and get back first thing in the morning. I don´t see how that´s a problem.“ Tony stated.

He turned to Peter, who had been listening to the discussion silently, a bit unsure of whether he should be laughing or feeling intimidated. “Kid, you okay with that?”

There really wasn´t any need for asking. The smallest store room on Tony´s cruise ship was larger than Peter´s and May´s whole apartment, the equipment similar to that of a five-star hotel, plus labs and technical facilities anyone with a remote interest in IT could only dream of. Peter had boarded the ship hours ago and still had explored barely half of it yet.

He mirrored Tony´s expectant smile. “Yes, Mr. Stark, I´d love to stay for the night!”

———-

A few hours later Peter was sure that this was the most stupid thing he had ever said. He was slumped over the toilet, his head nearly hanging into the bowl, retching for the hundredth time this night, while his stomach was trying to reject what had been expelled long ago. He´d always thought that motion sickness was still a better deal than the flu or a stomach bug, but tonight had proved him wrong. He was sure that he´d never felt this downright miserable. He was infinitely tired, yet unable to sleep, his body was shaking uncontrollably, and he just felt sick all over.

Peter managed to hoist himself upright on the sink and swallow a few sips of water, praying that they would stay down this time. He knew that he needed more than that, though, electrolytes preferably. He had skipped lunch at home, anticipating an extravagant meal during the cruise, but at dinner time the constant up and down caused by the faraway storm had already made him queasy enough for his appetite to vanish, and he´d barely finished his plate.

He felt terribly lightheaded when he made for the common kitchen, torn in between wishing someone would be there to take care of him - Tony being the obvious choice in May´s absence - and wanting it to be empty, just to be spared the embarrassment.

His hopes of avoiding publicity vanished into thin air when he entered the kitchen. Not only was it not empty, but literally everyone was there. Despite feeling terrible, he couldn´t help but grin at the scene that unfolded in front of his eyes.

Bruce was leaning against a wall, looking completely drunk, while Clint was framing his outline with dart arrows like a market artist. Natasha was sitting on a table, a row of empty glasses lined up in front of her, but still appearing completely sober and watching the scene with a raised eyebrow. Tony, in the meantime, was clapping at every dart Clint hit into the wall, cheering and apparently having the time of his life.

Peter hated the thought of interrupting, and he was about to turn on his heels and head back to his quarter, but the ship gave a sudden lurch and sent his head spinning, making him dizzy enough to grab the doorway for balance. Tony, who must have caught the movement from his eye, turned around and greeted him jovially.

“Spiderboy, what´s up?”, he shouted a few decibel louder than necessary, “thought you went to sleep early?”

“Uhmmm….” Peter didn´t know what to say, and it didn´t help that he had to use all his concentration for staying on his feet and swallowing back the saliva that was flooding his mouth again and again.

Something must have given him away, because Tony´s attitude turned sober within a second, and he took a few quick steps towards Peter. “What´s going on, kiddo?”

“I´m -” he´d meant to say something, but another wave hit the boat and nausea overwhelmed him, sending his stomach contents up his throat. He pushed past Tony and stumbled to the sink, where the few sips of water came back up together with horribly tasting bile.

“Kid? Are you okay?” Peter could here panic creeping into his mentor´s voice.

”Yeah,” he choked before gagging again. “Just….seasick?”

Vomiting didn´t help. If anything, the nausea increased even further. He was so humiliated and shaky when he was done that he simply put his head down onto the edge of the kitchen counter, trying to block out the people around him. Someone was talking, but he couldn´t really care to listen. All he wanted was his aunt, his bed, and a solid, non-moving ground below his feet.

“Okay, okay.” Someone took him by the shoulders, led him towards the sofa. Peter opened his eyes a bit, recognizing Clint´s leather jacket. The change of position made him gag again, bile running out of the corner of his mouth and dripping onto his t-shirt.

“Alright, Peter. It´s alright.” The archer reassured, producing a tissue and wiping Peter´s face, although he seemed to pale a little bit himself. “How long has this been going on?”

“…a few hours, maybe?“ It wasn´t supposed to be a question, but Peter seemed to have lost track of time, he was honestly feeling like he had spent weeks, not just half a day on open sea.

“Well, that explains why you´re dehydrated. You know there´s medicine to prevent this kind of thing? You could have just said something.” Clint´s brow furrowed.

“I…I´ve never been on a boat, actually. Not on open sea, at least. And never in a storm.”

“No need to get defensive, kid.” Tony´s face appeared from somewhere.

“Doctor, a little help here?” he added, bending over Peter and taking his wrist to feel his pulse.

Bruce made a few steps towards them, swaying on his feet, and took in Peter´s appearance, his face contorting into a drunken grin.

“He´s green!” he laughed. “He´s green all over his face!”

“Yep, thanks for your valuable professional opinion.” Tony snorted.

“Well, that´s kind of your fault.” Natasha remarked. “You´re the one who started playing drinking games.”

“Yeah, go ahead, make everything my fault. Gravity, the earth going around the sun, what else is on me?”

“Shut up, Stark. You know what I mean.” She gave him a look.

“Fine, then make yourself useful and get the doctor to his room to sober up. And take Legolas with you, I don´t need two pukey kids to look after.”

He ignored Clint´s protest and turned back to Peter, who was sitting with his head between his hands, swallowing bitter saliva, trying to minimize his movements as not to go into another round of heaving. “Well. Wow. Guess you don´t like to hear that, but we need to get some fluids into you.”

He disappeared for a moment and returned with a bottle of Gatorade.

“Just a few sips, kid.”

Peter tried his best not to gag when he felt the liquid running down his throat. Everything was spinning around him, and he was glad for Tony´s supporting hand on his arm. He took another sip.

“That´s the spirit, boy.” Tony said, putting the bottle down. “Now, let´s try and get you comfortable.”

He brought a pillow and a blanket, and Peter lay down slowly, trying to ignore the constant up and down of the couch below him. Tony placed an empty trash can next to him on the ground.

“The storm should be over in a few hours, then I’ll drop you landlubber back to the shore.“ he smirked. Peter nodded weakly, not trusting himself to open his mouth without throwing up again.

Tony sat down across from him at the table, pulled out a tablet and started to work on something involving a dizzying amount of equations, but Peter could see his eyes glancing across to him every so often.

He curled into a ball, trying to jostle his stomach as less as possible.Time seemed to pass slowly. He could hear Nat return at some point of time, talking to Tony in a low voice, but Peter was too exhausted to listen. Everything turned into a humming noise in the background of his mind, and he finally drifted off to sleep.

———-

Peter woke up to the smell of slightly burnt toast. He opened his eyes. His head was pounding, and he was feeling slightly woozy, but his stomach had calmed down significantly. The smell of food, enough to make him sick just hours ago, was now reassuringly appealing.

He sat up slowly, taking in the scene around him. Clint was in the kitchen, apparently making breakfast and talking to Bruce, who stood at the counter, cradling a cup of tea and looking decidedly hungover. Nat was balancing on the low bookshelf in the corner of the room, a sly grin playing around her lips. Something made Peter feel like she had been sitting in the same position the whole night, watching them quietly like a cat on a window silk, but maybe this was just the impression she wanted him to have.

Tony was lying half across the table, draped over several tablets of various sizes, facing Peter, fast asleep. His usually elegantly styled hair was a complete mess, and the shadows and wrinkles around his eyes were more visible now that he was sleeping.

Peter tried to get up quietly, but he was still uncoordinated and ended up tripping over the trash can. Tony startled awake, eyes darting quickly across the room. “What….?” he asked, then his look fell on Peter, giving him a once-over, and he smiled a little.

“Ahh, Spider-Man is back from the sick and miserable. Nice to see you up and in a non-barfing state,” he teased, sitting upright and rubbing his eyes. “Friday, ETA?”

“One hour and 17 minutes, Sir.”

“Home, sweet home.” he said, stretching and then massaging his neck with a frown. “And back to work. Although, to be honest, I feel like I´ll need another cruise trip soon to recover from a holiday with the Avengers.”

#peter parker #tony stark #natasha romanov #clint barton #bruce banner #sick peter #sickfic #vomiting #emeto #sea sickness #spiderson #irondad #hurt/comfort #sea sick peter #fanfic #seasickness #avengers on a cruise

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

Text

Enough, For Now

CW: Sickfic, sick whumpee, feverish whumpee, shock collar, brief VERY vague emeto reference, child of whumpee POV, intimate/creepy whumper, noncon touching (nonsexual), noncon kiss (brief)

Jax Gallagher belongs to @comfy-whumpee and is used with their permission.

"Oh, honey."

The little girl watches around the doorframe as her mother lays a soft hand over her father’s forehead. Her mother’s hair is a waterfall of darkness, the air between the trees on a starless night in the woods behind the house. Her father's is more like tree bark in sunlight, when she doesn't need to worry about what might be hiding in the woods, when they are allowed outside and she can run her fingers over the roughened texture and smell the air.

Sometimes, her father’s necklace - the thick black band he wears that her mother uses to hurt him - is changed so they can go into the woods. He carries her little brother, who is still a baby, and she walks alongside him proud to help carry things, and the three of them are alone with the whisper of the woods around them.

She saw a bluebird, once, singing. Her father had smiled, just a little, at the flutter of wings when she got too close and it took flight.

He’s not smiling now.

Her father lays on his side on the bathroom floor, his cheek pressed to the impeccably clean black-and-white tiles. His face is flushed and there’s a thin film of sweat sticking his shirt to the curves of his shoulders and stomach. It makes him shine under the gentle warm light even as he shivers, compulsively. When her mother’s hand touches his head, he tenses, just a little, but he still can’t stop shivering. "Miss S-Savvie-"

“Look at you.” Her mother’s voice is simpering-sweet, syrupy, like the maple syrup that her father pours on pancakes when they are alone in the mornings when her mother is out of the house. “Poor thing. I suppose this is because I took you to that party last week, isn’t it? You must have picked something up while we were there.”

The little girl remembers - a swirl of colorful dresses and jewelry, too many adults in too small a space. Everyone wanted to congratulate her mother on getting out of the house just a few months after Jamie was born. A person with a thin smile, who was impossibly elegant, had said her mother’s dress was lovely in a voice that didn’t seem like they meant it. Then they’d looked down at her, and something in their severity had softened.

They’d asked to take the little girl to play with their own child, who was in her bedroom because grown-up parties are pretty boring.

It had been fun, although she had been nervous to be away from her father so long, leaving him without her in the throngs of people and all the perfumes in the air. He’d been nervous, too, happy to sweep her into his arms at the end of the night and carry her to the car with her head on his shoulder, her mother’s hand at the small of his back.

Like a family.

Now, though, her father is sick, and her mother’s eyes are brilliant and sparkling as she presses two fingers into the space just underneath his ear, just behind his jaw. In a real family, the little girl thinks, maybe the mom doesn’t look happy to see the dad is too sick to move. He makes a sound almost like a whine, barely escaping, and the little girl swallows. Her own heart races to see how hard he works to open his eyes.

“Swollen lymph nodes,” Her mother murmurs. “Jax, did you manage to get the flu from someone? Honestly, sweetie, the first time you’ve gone out with me in two months and you get sick immediately?”

He turns his head to look up at Savvie, and the little girl doesn’t understand it exactly, but she loves the profile of his face because it is her father’s profile, the line of his nose and neck. His hazel eyes are fogged-over and hazy as he moves, and he might nuzzle into her hand, or he might simply hold still and her mother’s hand was already there.

Then he jerks away, just as quickly, and the little girl goes still and her heart stops with fear - he isn’t allowed to pull away, he isn’t allowed to not smile at her touch, he’ll be in so much trouble. Just as her mother’s eyes go wide their sparkle changes to sunlight off the darkest, deepest ice, Jax begins to cough.

The coughs wrack his body, and he barely covers his mouth. By the time it stops, the first hints of anger have fled her mother’s expression and it has softened again. She sighs and rubs at his back, in soothing soft circles. He drops his hands and turns back to her, a slight half-smile playing on his face, gone, back again.

Wavering, like he’s struggling to remember how to make it.

“‘M sorry, Miss… Miss Savvie,” He says, voice rasping and hoarse. “I-I’m not exactly sure… when I started to feel like this, but…”

Two days ago, the little girl knows. For two sleeps straight, her father’s body has been strange - too hot to the touch, and his hugs have been timid, as though he hurt too much inside to hug as fiercely as he usually did.

She knows. And he knows.

They don’t tell her mother.

He’s been on the bathroom floor all night. The little girl had found him there when she woke up - not in the big bathroom, but this smaller one in the hall next to her room - and had run to get her mother in her grand bedroom.

She never ever went in her mother’s room unless she was allowed to or asked, but she’d been so scared when he barely moved at her shaking his shoulder that she had forgotten the rule. He had laid there so pale and listless, collapsed on the cold floor.

For once, Savvie had not been angry. Instead, she had followed the little girl and told her to wait outside. For a few moments, Savvie had held her hand the way her father usually did, and the little girl had felt… like this was her mother.

But then… then she’d seen Jax. As always, in the little girl's life, the second her mother saw her father, the girl herself was forgotten. Her hand was dropped and she was told to stay out. So the little girl is left on the outside looking in, fingers curled around the doorframe, watching them together.

Her mother's pale pink chemise has a white lace trim that lays across her bare thigh, and her rounded nails are a soft deep mauve as she sighs and moves to kneel, touching his face just at his cheekbone, brushing it with the backs of her knuckles. She smiles, sweet and soft and loving. "It's not your fault, Jax. My poor sweet husband."

Jax only looks up at her, his hazel eyes glimmering and barely focused. But he looks only at her.

Even sick, he knows not to look away.

"But... why did you come all the way out here, honey?" Both her hands are on him now, one cupping his face and the other slipping behind his head, to lift it gently off the floor. "Oh, you're so sweaty. Gross.” Savvie's nose wrinkles, a little, and the little girl wonders if her own nose looks like that.

She hopes not.

"Got… Got sick." Her father breathes and it sounds wrong, somehow, too much air or not enough. "Didn't w-want to wake you. You have… an interview today." He coughs again, and Savvie has to let go for him to roll onto his side again and get the awful sounds out.

Savvie's smile widens. Her blue eyes shine so bright. "How thoughtful," She says, and runs her fingers through the damp strands of his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, again and again. It looks like petting an animal, not trying to be kind to a man.

If he likes the touch or not, she can't tell. She thinks sometimes he hates every single one.

“Thought I’d feel b-better afterward,” He says, rough-voiced, eyes closed tightly. “Don’t.”

"Oh, sweetie." Savvie smiles and leans down, presses a kiss to his hair. He holds perfectly still for it. He doesn't even breathe. "I don't deserve you," She whispers, just loud enough for the little girl to hear. "But I'll love you forever anyway. Forever, Jax.”

His eyes open again, turning to look over her face as she pulls away, as though he’s checking for something, searching there. Whatever he finds, he relaxes, just a little. "Love you too, Miss Savvie," He says, and the little girl hears that it is flat, compared to how sometimes he hugs the little girl and says nice things to her. "Need… I just need a minute."

“Of course, darling. We’ll move you downstairs once you think you can walk.” Savvie keeps her fingers moving through his hair, sweaty or not.

His gaze shifts a little, and he sees the little girl for the first time. He tenses, eyes widening only slightly. "Is-..." He clears his throat. Both of them freeze at how close he comes to the nickname neither of them wants her to know. "Isabella? Why are you-"

"She woke me up," Savvie says, and slides to her knees, slipping her arms around him and carefully helping him to sit up. He leans heavily against her, so heavily Savvie nearly loses her balance, but she manages not to land in an undignified heap. “She saw you and came to get me. She knew you needed my help.”

The girl would have gone to anyone else, if there were anyone. But they’re here alone, and she isn’t allowed to touch the medicine.

One day, when she’s big enough, she will get him medicine all by herself and she won’t tell her mom anything at all.

“Thank-... thank you, Isabella,” Her father says, in this new sick-voice he has, and when he looks at her, for just a second some of the haze in his eyes is clear. He’s looking at her. It’s only for a second, before he turns back to her mother, and the little girl stores up the way he looked right at her, to save for later times when she is alone. He turns back to Savvie and says, “And th-thank you for coming, Miss Savvie.”

“Of course, sweetie.” Savvie shifts, and the little girl watches as the two of them very slowly stand, Jax working to get his legs under him, standing finally in a way that seems tentative, ready to tip back over at the slightest nudge. His eyes close and his face greys, and the three of them are briefly silent, waiting it out, until the dizziness passes and his eyes open again. “You’re right, though. I do have that interview, and I can’t just be thinking about you, I need to plan… let’s get you downstairs for today. I’ll bring James down once you’re settled.”

There’s a pause, full of meaning and thought the girl doesn’t know how yet to read. “Can… can H-Hannah come to watch them with m-me, or Isaac’s steward, please?” He rarely speaks so many words all at once, unless they’re alone in the sunshine room, where he tells her all the stories about his own family, far far away across an ocean.

Those are the secret stories, the ones that the little girl knows to never let her mother know she’d heard of.

He’s not supposed to think about his other family anymore. Her mother says that she made that rule so he wouldn’t leave the little girl and her brother. He never wanted you, anyway. If I told him he could, he’d walk right out the door and leave us all heartbroken, Isabella. So we have to make sure he never thinks of them, so he can’t leave us.

The little girl is scared that her father might leave, if he could. That her mother’s words are true. But she loves the way he smiles when he tells his stories much, much more than she is scared - and he has promised her, over and over with his arms around her, that he would never leave her here alone.

Now, though, Savvie just rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Jax. How is my uncle’s household supposed to stay in order if you keep trying to steal away half his staff?”

They’re near the door and the girl backs away quickly to stay out of their way, not quite ignored but not needed, either. She watches them move, her mother’s arm around her father’s waist to help him stay upright, and the way he moves so carefully, so slowly, beside her.

The medicine is in the cabinet in the bathroom, but her mother doesn’t go back for it. Instead, she leads Jax away entirely, towards the grand curving staircase that moves down to the ground floor. The little girl watches, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before she realizes what’s happening.

An interview day.

That means her father will spend the day in the basement where no one can hear him - that must be where her mother is taking him, to be hidden away. The little girl licks nervously at her lips, and then flies back into the bathroom. There isn’t anything she can stand on in here, but when she climbs up on the side of the bathtub, she can grab the sink and hold, arms shaking with effort as she pulls herself up.

The cabinet opens for her easily, as she totters, barely balanced on the rounded, shining edge of the sink. Their voices are fading as they move downstairs, her mother’s voice mostly.

Almost entirely.

The little girl finds what she’s looking for - the last time her father was sick, he was allowed a packet of these little discs that come inside a box. The girl can’t read, but she knows the sun and moon signs on the packages, one for day and one for night. She grabs the whole thing, and then looks down, ready to climb-

Oh.

Oh, it’s farther down than she thought.

Her heart shivers in fear - but sometimes you have to do scary things, her father says it all the time when he tells her he is proud of her after her mother locks her in the dark for time out. This is a scary thing, but-

She jumps.

She crashes hard into the tile floor and lets out a high-pitched cry of pain, rolling along the ground. A bright ache flashes in her knee and arm from how she landed, and she presses her lips together to silence any further sounds. They’re swallowed into whimpers that don’t make it further than the door.

Still, she hears her father call, “Isabella?” He’s worried, he heard her, and the little girl stands back up, clutching the box of medicine with white knuckles on her small hands. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay!” She calls back, voice shaky, but she tries to sound fine. It will be much worse for her if her mother thinks she wants attention she’s not supposed to have.

“See? She’s fine,” Savvie says, and their steps fade again. The little girl moves with a focus rarely seen in small children to her room, where she picks up a soft little-kid backpack that is pink and lacey. Her mother picked it. She hates it. In the backpack she stashes some crackers and juice, and on top she puts her favorite stuffed animal, and some crayons. Finally, she forces in a coloring book. Then she moves out into the hall.

Her brother isn’t awake yet, no sound from his room, so she moves like a ghost down the staircase, following her parents to the closet with the hidden door. The door is already open, the wooden steps leading down and down and down. It’s scary, to take each step with the single light leaving so many shadows around, shadows that could have monsters hiding in them.

But sometimes, you have to do scary things.

She sets her jaw and lets her chin jut out, raised a little, and makes her slow and careful way down into the chilly basement, where the secret house is. The little place that her father has to hide, when people who aren’t ‘the right people’ come over, so that the ‘wrong people’ won’t know he’s here.

Her mother is already laying her father down in the little bedroom at the back of the basement place. It's so dark it feels like nighttime in there. She can hear them speaking, but not their words, and she tries to be very good and sits very quietly on the couch, out in what looks like a tiny little living room with a television in it, to wait.

"Thank you, Miss Savvie," She hears, low and rough. "I l-love you, Miss Savvie."

The little girl winces, gripping the little brightly colored cardboard box with sweaty fingers that start to dampen the ink. Love is a wrong word. It's a word of threats and anger, of making things better by being good.

Her mother's voice is low, and soft, heavy with something the little girl is too young to know. "I love you, too, sweetie. Feel better."

There's silence.

The seconds draw out, and every single one of them is awful.

Then, her mother murmurs, "I suppose we should stop. I'd hate for me to get sick, too. I'll bring James down once he's up and it'll be just you and the kids. That'll be restful."

He hums, and the silence draws out again, and then she sweeps past the little girl and away without even looking at her. Up the steps, up and up, and the little girl knows they are locked up down here, like always.

Once her mother is for real gone, the little girl moves, silent as any ghost, down the hall herself, leaving her backpack on the couch. In the bedroom her father lays on his side, coughing a little, mostly just shakes of his shoulders. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and coughs again. The room is all dark except for the light in the hallway that frames her when he catches the motion of her shadow and looks up.

He manages a slight, faint smile. "Izzy. Did you follow us?”

“Yes.” Izzy’s voice is soft and grave. “I didn’t want her to need to bring me and get mad.”

He closes his eyes, just for a second, and nods. “I get it. What've you got there?"

She moves up to the bed and shoves the box into one of his hands. The sweat from her hands has buckled the thin cardboard but the packages inside are still good. "Medicine for your sick."

He stares down at the box, blinking. "Alka-Seltzer Severe Flu," he reads, and then meets her eyes. Theirs nearly match - hazel brown for both. “Izzy, honey, you’re not allowed-” The next round of coughing hits and Izzy scrambles up onto the bed, pulling herself up and moving around behind him, rubbing at his back with her hand like he does when it’s her that’s sick. Her mother’s hands move in circles, like the snake’s eyes in The Jungle Book movie, but her father is a straight line down, lifts up, starts at her shoulder blades and down again.

Izzy presses her lips together in concentration and comforts him just the same way. She whispers, “It’s okay, Daddy, you can cough down here, it’s okay.”

There are tears running out of his eyes when he is finally able to stop, and he’s closed his hand so tightly on the box he crushed it in the middle. He jerks in a breath, then another, and gradually the tremors through his body fade. She keeps rubbing his back. “The-... sound. Was that… was that you getting the medicine?”

She licks at her lips, and whispers, “I’m sorry. You’re sick. I didn’t know what, um, what to do-”

“It’s okay. Hey, I’m not mad. I’m not. C’mere.” He rolls onto his back and holds one arm out in invitation, and she snuggles up to his side, skin burning hot through his clothes but still her father, through and through. “I’m not mad. You’re…” He coughs but this round is short and doesn’t seem to hurt him so much. “You’re a good kid, Iz. D’you know that? Not just a good kid, you’re a good fu-, uh… A good person, too.”

Izzy, who is told every day by her mother that she is not a good child, holds onto these soft loving words and buries them inside herself, a barrier against her mother’s sweet-voiced violence.

“I’ve got you, Daddy,” She says, an unconscious echo of his reassurances to her. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you, okay? You just lay down and do rest.”

He doesn’t answer. His chest moves, inhaling like he wants to speak, but then he only breathes out again and turns his head to kiss her over her curly brown hair.

In a minute, she’ll get up and get him a water cup, and watch with him as the little discs fizz and turn to nothing and make sure he drinks every single bit to feel better. Her mother will bring James down, and Izzy will be the best big sister and her father’s helper and keep Jamie quiet and happy while Jax sleeps, and feels bad for having to sleep, and then sleeps some more.

But for now, in the silence and chill of the little space in the basement where Savvie hides them when other people come who might take her father away from her, Izzy holds on to his shirt and his arm is tight around her shoulders.

If a tear soaks into her hair where his cheek rests on her scalp, she doesn’t notice.

All she knows is his heartbeat, against her ear, and the steady certainty of his love for her, and her love for him. In a house where they have nothing else, that’s enough.

For her, anyway.

For now.

---

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