#anyway back to the matter at hand. why does every painkiller make me MORE nauseous its not faaaaaair

[eldenphil]

can they invent a painkiller that works

[artificialqueens]

Colors Burst (Adore-Centric) - Candy Cane

A/N: sooooo this is the first fic for this fandom that im posting yay :D no, i am not used to this so i really hope none of my characterizations are awful dfdsfddfs anyways, this is 100% completely just self-indulgent do not mind me. i really hope you enjoy!! <3

It starts as a headache just something sitting in the back of her head, making her have to work a little harder for every word, every thought, every movement. Adore isn’t bothered by it, sometimes it ebbs away enough for her to think it’s gone completely, and sometimes it comes back strong enough to keep her down for an hour or so. Adore just takes a couple painkillers and moves on with her life.

It’s been a week now, though. The headache is persistent, and she hasn’t been getting enough sleep, and sometimes it makes her so dizzy or nauseous she can’t eat. She knows she can’t ignore it much longer, because her friends and her roommates are starting to notice and she really doesn’t think it’s that important.

When Courtney brings home dinner for everyone, and Adore can’t get out out of bed because of this stupid fucking headache, she almost feels broken. A week of sleepless nights and zero productivity fueled by a pain she doesn’t know the cause of and simply can’t control. It’s hell.

Courtney comes looking for her, of course. The bedroom door being opened sends in a wave of light from the hallway that makes Adore groan with another spike of pain. Adore brings the blanket up over her eyes to block the light out, and she tries not to feel bad when she hears Courtney’s little worried gasp.

She listens to Courtney come over to her bedside, then the blonde rubs a comforting hand along Adore’s shoulder, and whispers, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Adore rolls over and opens her eyes in a squint in order to look at her without making the headache worse. Her long-time friends looks as pretty and put together as she always does, and it feels good to know that at least someone’s doing well.

“My head…” Adore groans, and melts into the feeling of Courtney’s long fingers rubbing gently against her scalp.

“Oh dear…” Courtney frowns, “I’ll get you some water and panadol, maybe some food will help too.”

Adore just groans again and pushes her face into her pillow.

“Not hungry,” Adore mutters, but it’s so muffled she knows Courtney probably can’t understand her.

“What was that?” Courtney asks, sweet as ever. Adore hates being right sometimes.

She pulls her head back up and says again, “‘m not hungry!” and then promptly face plants back into her pillow.

Courtney rolls her eyes, “Well you have to eat, and an empty stomach doesn’t usually help a headache. Have you eaten anything today?”

Adore shrugs her shoulders, knowing that Courtney wouldn’t count a questionably old pack of skittles as real food. “Adore,” Courtney admonishes her, sounding almost exactly like someone’s mom.

“Hey, you guys good?” Katya says, and Adore realizes that now the whole fucking house is gonna be aware she’s acting like a baby. Again.

“Yeah, Adore just has a headache,” Courtney replies, and Adore buries her head deeper into her pillow.

“Oh, is that what’s been bugging her lately?”

“What do you mean?” And Coutney sounds concerned enough for Adore to feel a sense of guilt rising up within her.

Adore knows they’re talking about her, but she’s in so much pain she doesn’t even care. She just tunes it out. If they decide to kick her out for being whiney she’ll just go pout to Alaska and hope it garners enough sympathy for her to stay with her until she finds a new place. Maybe she can move into Bianca’s spare bedroom, or she’ll live on the streets singing for coins until she gets spontaneously found by a producer and lives in hotel rooms going on tour for the next three years-

“Adore?” Katya says gently, almost conspiratorially.

The younger turns her face over, and opens her eyes just enough to find herself practically nose to nose with the Russian.

“Uhhh… hi?” Adore whispers, knowing she should be used to this by now, even if she really isn’t.

“Hi,” Katya grins, big and goofy and it makes Adore feel a little better.

They stare at each other for a solid five seconds, Katya grinning and Adore knowing she probably looks like a stunned goldfish, and then Katya breaks out into a wheezing laughter that gets Adore smiling too.

“You’re so crazy,” Adore giggles.

Katya nods along with her, “Yes I am, but that’s not news.” Adore opens her mouth to say something silly, but winces when another shot of pain reverberates through her skull, and instead she whimpers out, “Fuck.”

Katya makes a sympathetic, worried sound that stresses Adore more. She hates worrying people. She hates coming off as a burden, as someone who needs to be constantly taken care of. Adore’s scared that that’s all she does.

“Oh, hon…” Katya grimaces, “Courtney should be back with something here in a second, okay?”

Adore nods, but pulls the blanket back over her face unhappily.  Katya chuckles, and reaches around so she can lightly scratch her long, manicured nails along Adore’s scalp. They sit like that for a couple minutes, and even though it isn’t making Adore want to fall asleep, it’s still really nice. It’s nice to know her friends care so much even though she’s a hyperactive toddler (as Bianca likes to say).

“Okay, I’ve got just the thing,” Courtney says as she walks back in, all brisk steps and unshakable confidence. Adore will never not be amazed by her.

Two painkillers and a cup of warm lemon ginger tea later, Adore’s able to sit up and have a lamp on in her room. Katya and Courtney teased and joked with each other the whole time, and Adore was grateful for it. For everything.

She’s sitting in her bed, listening to those two crazies be absolutely perfect when they all hear a very sarcastic shout from the kitchen of, “I’m home! Thanks for the welcome party!”

…Causing all three of the other girls to break into uproarious laughter. Not a second later, Trixie, very clearly unamused, is leaning against Adore’s door frame, blonde hair tied up in a neat bun, lips pretty and pink, just like always. Consistency, normalcy, feels so good to Adore.

“Hi honey, how was work?” Katya asks with the world’s cheekiest smile, making Trixie roll her eyes.

“Ha ha,” Trixia says blandly.

The woman then straightens up and goes to give each of them a hug. Adore’s last, but she does notice that the one arm embrace lingers. She doesn’t mind.

“Bad day?” Trixie frowns.

“She’s got a headache,” Courtney says, squeezing Adore’s hand.

“Still?”

And oh shit Adore forgot she mentioned it to her earlier this week. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She doesn’t look up from the bottom of her empty tea cup, and wishes not for the first time she was invisible. Why does he have roommates again? She’s a loner, a lone wolf, an outcast, she does better alone. Fucking rent is definitely too high in this town.

“‘Still!?’” Katya and Courtney repeat in perfect fucking unison.

Three pairs of eyes turn to her, and Adore once again wishes she could just disappear.

Adore pouts and rolls the tea spoon between her fingers just so she has something to do with her anxious hands, “It’s two separate headaches. I think, maybe… I dunno!”

“Oh, honey, no…” Trixie sighs.

“Have you been getting enough sleep? Food? Water?” Courtney asks rapidly, her brow creasing in a way that alone serves to make Adore worse.

“Look, I’m fine! I’m not dying,” Adore says, trying and failing to keep the exasperation out of her voice, “Can we please go eat now? I’m starving.”

It must’ve been that last little bit of her usual self that got Courtney her roommates to concede, even if just begrudgingly.

Adore can’t deny how good it feels to sit around the kitchen with her friends, as if nothing was ever wrong, as if she isn’t incredibly pathetic sometimes. She loves watching Katya pretend to throw a noodle across the room at Trixie, she loves listening to Courtney babble on about her day, she loves Trixie’s excited laughter at every joke. It’s so… perfect.

Adore grins and laughs along with them, her headache ebbing away for now. She knows eventually she’ll have to face mother-henning and concern, no matter how awful it makes her feel. So for now Adore holds onto this moment, because it’s a really good fucking moment.

[kookie-for-you]

You Take Care of Him When He’s in Bad Condition

TW: Eating Disorder

Masterlist

Scenario:

You hurry through the BigHit Building, heading for the practice room you know the guys are working in today.  One of your boyfriend’s members texted you, telling you to come quickly.  Apparently your boyfriend was in bad condition and they needed your help in some way or another.  You had dropped what you were doing immediately and raced over in record time.

When you found yourself in front of the practice room door, you paused for a second to take a breath and then rushed inside.

Kim Seokjin/Jin:

Seokjin’s face is the first thing your eyes settle on in the room, and your heart is relieved when you see the big smile he is sending your way.  That relief is short-lived however, when you notice he is laid out on the couch with several staff members crowded around him.

“Ah, Y/N!” he called as you hurried to his side. He held up his hand to take yours as you crouched next to his head, the charming smile still not leaving his face. “They told me they’d called you. I would have said there’s no need, but I selfishly wanted to see your beautiful face anyway.”

“What have you done now, Seokjin?” you demand, looking more to the staff and Bangtan members who are gathered around.

Seokjin waved his free hand around as though to wave away your question.  “It’s nothing, it’s really nothing—”  He cuts himself off with a strained gasp of pain, his face contorting as he holds it in. Your eyes widen and you look from him to the staff, demanding anyone answer you.

“Don’t move around too much, hyung,” Namjoon said, in a tone of voice that suggested he’d said this already.  “You’ll strain your back worse.”

You sigh, looking back to Seokjin.  “Your back again?” you say sadly.  “What did you do?”

Seokjin smiles again, though it’s less overly charming and more wistful.  More genuine. “Just practicing.  I guess I turned too much.  I’m getting old, you know?  I should be more careful.”

“Be quiet, oppa, you’re not that old,” you scold him, running your hand up and down his arm soothingly.  You knew how much his back could hurt him, and to have strained it again he was probably in a great deal of pain.

“The chiropractor has time for him in an hour, and we’ve already given him some painkillers,” one of the staff members said. “He should be in good enough condition to move in just a little while.”

You nodded, your focus mainly on Seokjin.  If this injury put him out of commission this close to a comeback, he would be devastated.  You knew your focus for the foreseeable future would be helping him recover.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Min Yoongi/Suga:

Your first surprise was how dark it was in the practice room.  All the overhead lights were turned out, and it was dead quiet.  The sound of the door closing behind you seemed to loud.  You could only see where the boys were from the row of cell phone glows against the far wall where the sat.  

“Where’s Yoongi?” you asked, and at least three separate voices shushed you.  One of the boys stood up and as he approached you could see it was Seokjin.

“His head is hurting him,” Seokjin whispered. He gestured to the far corner where you could barely make out a lump that you presumed was your boyfriend.  “He refused to see the medical staff and it made him too nauseous to move any further than the sofa.”  

Namjoon joined you now, nodding.  “We forced him to take some pain medicine, but that usually doesn’t do much does it?” he asked.

You sighed and shook your head.  “Not when it’s this bad.  I should have noticed he was starting to get a migraine, but I was in such a rush this morning to get to my errands.  

“The managers suggested we call you, maybe you can get  him to go home, or at least get him to his studio so we can continue to practice,” Seokjin said, though he didn’t look pleased at the thought.  You knew very well that none of the boys liked to practice without all of them well enough to join.

You nodded, then walked over towards the sofa as softly as possible.  Your heart began to break more and more as you got closer and could make out Yoongi’s huddled form.  He was curled in a ball on the couch, eyes tightly shut, both hands clutching his head against what you knew was agonizing pain.

Carefully, you knelt beside the sofa.  “Yoongi,” you said, your voice barely even a whisper. Even still, his eyes twitched as though the sound were painful.  “I’m sorry. I know it hurts.  Do you think you can move?  We don’t have to get all the way home.  Let’s just get you down to your studio and you can rest on the sofa there.”

Almost imperceptibly, the movement was so slight, Yoongi nodded.  You sighed with relief.  “Can you walk, baby?” you asked, running your cold hands along his neck, knowing that could help relieve the pain for a moment.  His eyes relaxed momentarily as you did so.  “I can get Namjoon or Jungkook to carry you?”

“I can walk,” he murmured, the barest of sounds, his voice rough with repressed pain.  “It’s a little better now.”

“Okay,” you said, letting your hand rest on his. “Just take my hand when you’re ready. We’ll go slowly, I promise.”  You waited there until he was ready to take your hand.

Jung Hoseok/J-Hope:

The practice room was full of action by the time you walked in.  You were startled by the amount of staff in the room, even more than normal.  It took you a minute to even locate the guys in the mess.

“Y/N!” you heard Taehyung call to you.  He waved you over to where they were gathered. You rushed over to find that they were gathered around Hobi, who was seated with his right foot elevated onto another chair.  “Here she is, Hobi-hyung.”

You could see that Hobi’s eyes and cheeks were red from shedding tears.  “Jagi,” he said, a bit thickly.  Alarmed, you knelt beside him immediately.  “Ah, jagi, it hurts.”

“What happened?” you asked, looking down to his ankle.  You were shocked to see how swollen it was, even around the ice packs that staff were holding there for him.  “Hobi, what happened?”

“He was showing us the new dance, and he jumped and…and he just didn’t land right,” Namjoon explained, running a hand through his hair.  “We’re not sure if it’s broken or just really badly sprained.”

“Why aren’t you at the hospital yet?” you demanded.

“Hyung wouldn’t go until you were here,” Taehyung explained.  Jimin nodded solemnly next to him—all of the members looked absolutely grave.  An ankle injury for their lead dancer was a serious thing, and to see their best friend in pain was agonizing for them as well.

“Oh, Hobi,” you scolded lightly, running your hand through his hair, pushing his bangs away from his sweaty forehead.  “You need to see a doctor.”

“I wanted to see you first,” he said, sniffling. You knew he was an emotional person, but you still felt he was even holding back considering the pain he probably felt.

“I would have met you there!  It doesn’t matter.  I’m here now, so let’s get him to a doctor,” you said, addressing the room as though you were in charge.  Everyone rushed into action at your words and Jungkook stepped forward to lift Hobi into his arms.  

Hobi let the maknae carry him without any protest. “Don’t leave, jagi,” he begged, and your heart cracked at the fear in his voice.  You knew that he was probably more scared than in pain right now—scared that he would be too injured to dance.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him, keeping up with Jungkook’s long-legged stride as Hobi was carried out of the studio. You were going to be with Hoseok every step of the way, no matter what it took.

Kim Namjoon/RM:

The sound of vomiting was unpleasantly the first thing you heard.  Wincing, you turned towards the noise and found your suspicions to be correct—Kim Namjoon was sitting on the sofa puking into a tiny trash can.

“What—” You couldn’t even finish your question as you rushed to sit by him, placing a hand on his back comfortingly.

He gasped for breath as he finished throwing up, a fine layer of sweat covering his face.  “W-what are you doing here?” he asked.

“We called her Joon,” Seokjin said, standing off to the side with arms folded.  Most of the guys were gathered a distance away—Hobi was nearly all the way across the room with headphones on.  You were honestly surprised he still managed to be in the practice room.  

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

Yoongi snorted.  “Kid, you’re puking your guts out.  You need to go home, and she’s here to take you.”

Namjoon weakly waved that statement away.  “I probably just ate something funny.  I’ll be fine once I’ve got it out of my system.”

“You said that two buckets ago, hyung,” Jungkook reminded him as he came over with a fresh trash can, taking the one in Namjoon’s hands with a wrinkled nose.

“Joonie, were you feeling sick this morning?” you asked him, running your hand across his forehead, wiping the sweat away.  He didn’t feel overly warm, only slightly heated from the effort of vomiting.

“Oppa is fine, babygirl, don’t worry,” Namjoon said in a voice that would have been convincing if he didn’t immediately follow it by gagging into the trash again.

“Please get him out of here,” Seokjin begged you. “Force him to rest.  He can’t have anything left in his stomach at this point so your car should be safe.”

You nodded, and rubbed at Namjoon’s arm.  “Oppa, I think I should take you home, all right? If you can’t even stand long enough without wanting to puke, you’re not going to be useful here.”

Namjoon sighed.  You could tell he was conflicted.  On the one hand, he wanted to be a strong lead and be there for his members.  On the other, he obviously wouldn’t let any of the members practice in this condition, so he should set the example that he wanted them to follow.  Oh, not to mention, he clearly felt like garbage.

“All right,” he said weakly, setting down the trash can with shaking hands.  You stood, helping him up with both hands on one of his arms, and Yoongi on his other side.

“I’ll help you down to your car,” Yoongi offered.

“Thanks hyung,” Namjoon replied, closing his eyes as the movement made his stomach churn again, but he managed to keep himself together. “And thank you Seokjin-hyung. Tell Jungkook thank you as well. And tell everyone I’m sorry.”

“Just get some rest, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin said with a gentle smile, before walking over to the rest of the guys to update them on Namjoon’s condition.

You brushed Namjoon’s hair from his eyes again, giving him an encouraging smile.  “Let’s get you feeling better, oppa,” you said, before starting the shaky journey to the car.

Park Jimin/Jimin:

A staff member brushed by you out the door as you entered, taking your attention for a second, but then you looked back at the room.  The guys were gathered around the sofa in the corner, upon which—you realized with your heart dropping—Jimin was laid out.  Namjoon raised his hand to wave you over.

“Y/N,” Jimin said weakly as you rushed over.  He attempted to sit up, but Hoseok kept an insistent hand on his shoulder to keep him laying down.  “You shouldn’t be here.”

“What happened?” you asked.  Jimin was pale, his face glistening with a layer of sweat. You rested your hand on his forehead and found no fever, but his skin was clammy.

“Nothing, they’re overreacting,” Jimin said, rolling his eyes.

“He collapsed,” Hoseok corrected, looking at you with seriousness in his eyes.  “You tell us if we’re overreacting.”

“Jiminie!” you exclaimed, standing up in shock.  He followed you up, brushing past Hoseok’s hand to sit up abruptly.

“Y/N, I…” he trailed off as he started to sway, the sudden movement doing bad things for his currently delicate equilibrium. Six sets of hands reached out to steady him and help him lean back to recline again.

You buried your face in your hands, fighting back tears at seeing Jimin look so weak.  “Jiminie, you said you had this diet under control,” you murmured.

“He is dieting again,” Jungkook exclaimed, standing up from where he’d been crouched at Jimin’s feet.  “I knew it.”

“How can you let him diet without keeping a closer eye on him?” Taehyung demanded.  You looked up at him, surprised to see his angry expression directed at you.  “You know how he can get.  We’ve trusted you with him since he moved in with you.”

“I—”  You didn’t know how to respond.

“Don’t you yell at her, Kim Taehyung,” Jimin said with surprising force.  “It’s not her fault.  And for the record, I am being healthy.”

“That’s hard to defend when you just passed out in dance rehearsal,” Seokjin said sternly, folding his arms over his chest.  “Don’t try and convince us it’s a coincidence.”

Jimin shut his eyes for a moment.  “Maybe I skipped a couple of meals the last few days. But it was only a few.”

You shook your head, fighting back tears.  “Jimin, we’ll talk about it later.  For now, we’re going home.”  You looked back to Taehyung.  “Will you let me take him home, or am I not trustworthy enough?”

Taehyung looked chided, and seemed to be feeling some remorse for his outburst at you.  “Take him home,” Namjoon answered for him.  “We know you can take care of him.  And we’ll all be over after practice for a group talk, got it?”  That last part he directed to Jimin, who nodded meekly.

You knelt beside Jimin again.  “Can you walk yet, do you think?” you asked.  Jimin nodded again, sitting up slowly, resting his head in his hands and accepting a drink of water from the bottle that Yoongi held to his lips.  He stood up slowly, wobbling a bit before finding his footing.  You took his arm to help steady him.

“I’m sorry, jagi,” he whispered to you, and his eyes meeting yours were truly so apologetic you thought you might cry again from the sight.

“You’ll be all right, Jiminie,” you told him.  “We’ll be okay.”

Kim Taehyung/V:

The room was quiet when you came in.  You could see the guys gathered around, some of them sitting against the mirror.  Tae was at the center of them, his knees drawn to his chest and arms holding them there, Jimin with his arm wrapped around him.

“Tae?” you called as you walked over.  He looked up at you and you felt your eyes widen to see his face.  His cheeks were tear-stained and his eyes were red.  “What’s going on?” you asked, stopping outside the circle of BTS members.

“Jagi,” he said, voice rough.  “My mom called.  My dad…he’s sick.  Mom said he had a heart attack.  They’re at the hospital now.”

Your heart dropped.  This was probably the worst thing that could happen to Tae.  His family was the most important thing in the world to him.  “Tae, I’m so…”  You couldn’t even finish that thought.  You couldn’t say you were sorry, because it wasn’t enough.  Not for this.  “What do you want to do?”

“Manager-nim already said he can go and have as much time off as he needs,” Namjoon said, looking back at you from his spot on the floor. “We’re between comebacks and have no urgent schedules for a week.”

You nodded.  “Let’s go then,” you said to Tae, knowing what he needed to do right now. You reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet.  He immediately wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly.  “It’s okay,” you whispered to him, hugging him back.  “Let’s go, we’ll get packed, we’ll get Tannie, and we’ll start driving.  We can be there in a few hours.”  You felt Tae nod against your head, and pulled away.  

“Thank you for calling me,” you said to the guys. They all made soft sounds of confirmation, some waving and gesturing.  “I’ll keep you guys updated, all right?”  You knew that they wanted nothing more than to be with Tae through this, but it wouldn’t be right for all seven members of BTS to crowd into Tae’s father’s hospital room.

Once out of the practice room, you’d made it halfway to the elevator before Tae suddenly stopped you.  “Jagi, I…”  He cut himself off, shaking his head and bending over, placing his hands on his knees. “Jagi, I can hardly breathe right now. What do I do?  What will I do if…if my dad…?”

You leaned down, placing your hands on Tae’s cheeks, tilting his face back to look at you.  “Tae, sweetie, just breathe.  All you can do right now is breathe, and go be with your family.  You’re so lucky that you’re getting to do that. Let’s go get our things and your dog and get out there.  Your dad will be okay.”  You felt a little nervous adding that last part, because you couldn’t promise that.  But it was what Tae needed to hear to keep moving.

Tae took in a deep breath, nodding and standing up straight.  “I don’t know how I could do this without you, yeobo,” he said, hugging you again. “I can barely think.  Thank you for being here for me.”

“Always, Tae,” you murmured into his chest.  “Always.”

Jeon Jungkook/Jungkook:

There was yelling happening in the dance studio. “Jeon Jungkook, sit down right now or so help me—”  That was Seokjin, and if you were Jeon Jungkook you’d have been following the words coming out of his mouth because he sounded angry.

However, the actual Jeon Jungkook was much more stubborn than you.  “Hyung, I’m fine!  Leave me be!” Your eyes fell on Jungkook as he flipped his bangs from his forehead, and you could see the deep flush across his face.  His eyes met yours and filled with confusion, then annoyance.

“Hyungs!” he whined, leaning back to stare at the ceiling.  “You called my girlfriend on me?  I’m not even sick!”  However, contrary to that statement, a coughing fit overtook him, practically rocketing his body backward as he very nearly overbalanced.

His six hyungs were in various places around the room, all apparently in some state of anger, annoyance, or worry.  “Y/N it’s good you’re here,” Namjoon said, shaking his head as he came to greet you.  He folded his arms and gestured to the maknae, who still stood defiantly in the center of the room, arms now folded across his chest as his coughing abated.  “He’s stubborn and you know that.”

“I do,” you agree.  “What’s wrong?”  You asked this as you strode forward, towards the mentioned stubborn maknae, hand already reaching out with the intention of landing on his forehead.

Jungkook expertly dodged your hand, waving it away. “Y/N, I’m fine,” he said.  “They shouldn’t have called you here.  They’re just delaying when we could be practicing.”

Jimin threw his hands in the air and walked away, clearly not wanting to lose his temper.  “Jungkook-ah, you’re sick,” Taehyung called out, walking backwards and turning his attention to calm Jimin down.

“It’s a cough, hyung,” Jungkook whined.  “I already said I won’t sing, just let’s have dance rehearsal!”

“You’re running a fever, Jungkookie, I could feel the heat coming off you just by sitting beside you,” Seokjin stated.  The eldest and the youngest faced off, staring daggers at each other.  You took that moment of distraction to place your hand on Jungkook’s face, gasping when you felt the heat yourself.

“Jungkook, you’re burning up!” you exclaimed, even as he pulled your hand off of him.  “How are you still standing?”

“I said I’m okay, Y/N-noona, really,” he insisted, but you could see something in his eyes had slipped.  His lashes fluttered and for a second his knees seemed to give.

All of the boys shouted, each running forward to assist you as Jungkook’s weight fell on you.  Jungkook seemed to catch himself before he fully collapsed, but grabbed your shoulder with his hand to steady himself as the hyungs made to support him.

“Jungkookie, you are not fine,” you say firmly. “I’m taking you home and putting you to bed before you pass out and make yourself even sicker.  Understood?”

Jimin and Taehyung exchanged a look.  “I’d listen to her, Jungkookie,” Jimin commented. “She’s scary.”

“Noona,” Jungkook murmured, his voice weak suddenly, as though all the fighting had finally taken the last bit of energy out of him. He sighed and nodded.  “Please take me home.”

You rubbed your eyes, frustrated yet relieved by the turn of events.  Jungkook was so stubborn that he would keep his position until he was literally forced not to—for him to give in meant he was feeling really awful at this point.  “Yes, Jungkookie,” you said, as Seokjin wrapped his own jacket around Jungkook’s shoulders and Hoseok brought over the maknae’s backpack.  “Noona is taking you home.”

Masterlist

[captainillogical]

Devil’s Ballroom Ch.5

A year after the events from the earth’s final attack, Little Homeworld is finally complete, and there’s a new jazz bar where gems and humans mingle and drink. - As you’re typing back a reply, someone pulls the stool out next to you and takes a seat. You see a sliver of pink out of the corner of your eye as you try not to actually Look. Oh god. It’s her. God can’t help us now.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants

    Within minutes, the two of you arrive at your house. It’s along a narrow street with a couple of other residences, in a pretty well-lit area. You walk up to the door, grabbing the keys out of your bag while you almost trip on the literal only step in front of the entrance. Smooth. You drunkenly fumble your keys attempting to unlock it. Spinel is next to you idly looking around, mildly interested in her surroundings. Once you unlock the door, both of you step in, and you close it behind you. 

“Home sweet home,” You say to her while toeing off your flats, and setting your bag down on the entrance table. “Make yourself comfy. And please take off your shoes.” 

“Nice place.” She says as she’s currently eyeing your photos with your dad on the entry wall. You watch her bend down to untie her shoes and you almost want to help her, because she’s clearly struggling. Inebriation and basic motor function don’t go hand in hand.

“Thanks. It’s not much but with dad here, it’s home.” You reply with. You point at one of the more embarrassing photos, the one from the fair when you were young and crying, ice cream on the ground, and your dad laughing his ass off. “This is my dad. As you can see, he’s a huge dillhole.” You say while smiling, despite yourself. She looks at it more carefully once her shoes are off, getting a little closer to it and squinting.

“You look a lot younger.” She says, finally.

“Humans grow, remember? This was over 10 years ago, anyway. I was still a kid.”

“Did your dad grow too?” She wonders out loud.

“He’s an adult, so he stays the same, but aged some. He’s got a huge beard now. And since I’m an adult now too, I shouldn’t really be growing anymore.” She honestly just kind of gives you a look like that’s fuckin weird, but whatever. “Give me just a second, I’ll be right back.” You say to her, and leave her by the entry staring at your family photos as you make your way to the kitchen and grab two glasses out of the cupboard, filling them with water. You also grab a bottle of aspirin, and head back over to Spinel. You hold out a glass and the pills for her to take, and she does. "They’re just basic painkillers, you’ll thank me for it later. Don’t wanna be hungover in the morning and all.” You take yours, and down them with almost all of the water. She eyes hers, shrugs, and does the same.

“Wanna sit on the couch for a little while and watch tv? I kind of want to wait a little bit before sleeping, if I go to bed this drunk, I’ll wake up nauseous.” You say to her while grabbing the glass from her hand, and put them back into the kitchen.

“Sure, it’ll give me some time to sober up as well.” She follows you to the living room you share with your dad, and sits next to you, one leg tucked under the other. She puts her arm over the back of the couch, between you two. She sighs and her face relaxes, and sinks a bit into the couch.

“Comfy?” “Very. This is comfier than the bed Lapis gave me. I don’t need to sleep really, but I kind of like the break it gives my mind.” She says, and you chuckle. “Some human things aren’t so bad, yeah?” You grab the remote, and turn on the tv to the science station. Fuck yeah, ‘How It’s Made’ is on. Nothing else that’s on matters anymore. 

“I mean I kind of have to adjust to human things while living on earth. Don’t want to be a complete outsider, I guess,” She smiles, looking over to you. “I like ice cream, and booze, and finding new weird human music. You guys are good for that.”

“You don’t sound like you’ve tried enough human things, and you’ve been here how long?” You say, already thinking of a few things you’d like Spinel to experience. The show a murmur in the background while you two chat, narrator describing the process of putting peanut butter into jars. You’ve seen this episode countless times by now, but you still catch yourself watching it every couple of seconds.

“Actually living here? Give or take.. 4 months. I was going back and forth between the diamonds, before I figured out that living with them wasn’t the best for me.” She’s watching the show, vaguely following along. She moves her arms to take the ponytail out of her hair, and lets it fall all along her shoulders and the back of the couch, running her fingers through it to smooth it out. You can’t really help but stare, because she looks different with her hair down, like way more casual, and soft, and for a very brief moment you can imagine what a domestic life would look like with her. You shake your head to clear your rampant thoughts. 

“4 months, and just that? I’d figure you’d have a few more things under your belt by now.” You say to her, watching her put both her arms over the sofa back, completely relaxed. She’s staring directly at the screen now, almost pointedly.

“I don’t.. really know how to exist normally, yet.” Her tone is a little quieter. You’re still staring.

“What does that mean?” You ask, slightly concerned. 

“Remember earlier I told you someone important abandoned me?” You nod. “Her name was Pink Diamond. I don’t know if you know, but gems are created for a purpose, and they know exactly what they’ll be once they come into consciousness. I existed to be her companion, and best friend. Things were wonderful for a while.. but. I guess she grew out of me, because the next thing I knew was that she said she’d be back, and then I basically stood in total isolation on a floating garden, waiting for her to come back, like she said. For six thousand years.” What the fuck, you think to yourself.

“You talked to no one?” You ask.

“Nope.” 

“You didn’t leave? You.. waited?” You ask, not caring that you’re not even pretending to watch the show. “Did she ever come back? What happened?”

“She never came back. She doesn’t exactly exist anymore.” Her tone of voice hasn’t really changed, but you can kind of tell she’s masking a lot of emotions.

“Disappeared? But.. how did you know? Did someone come and find you?” You feel like you’re prying, but she hasn’t given you any indication that she doesn’t want to talk about this. 

“About a year ago, I saw a broadcast of Steven.” The gears in your sloshed brain slowly start to turn. “Peace and Prosperity, and that also, Pink Diamond I had been waiting for? Steven’s her son, and she basically gave up her form so he could be born. So.. she’s gone, now.” She lets out a long breath, and pauses for a moment. “I’ve never felt worse in my life than in that moment. And, well, you know the rest since it was your planet that I almost destroyed.” She chuckles, albeit slightly off. 

Oh.

    Oh, it all makes sense now. You know the rest. It’s only been a year!? And she went right back to the diamonds.. no wonder she came to earth instead after a little while.. Oh.. and her only friends are a few other gems, who went through different problems than her, so she hasn’t had anyone to relate to, or really share her grief, anger, or feelings of worthlessness you know she’s going through.. and she’s been on this planet for what maybe feels like a minute compared to how long she was isolated. Like, at least you still had your father with you when your mother left, and you gained really good friends. You’re completely lost in your thoughts about how horrible what she went through was, that you don’t realize that she’s watching you now, with an unreadable expression.

“Are.. you okay?” She asks you. You look up.

“What a fucking massive bitch.” You say to her. She stares, sits up and turns to you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the light mood. I-" 

"No. Don’t apologize. I’m just mad that she had the gall to be your so-called best friend, and pull a total shit move like that. You didn’t deserve any of that. You deserve so much better.” You say. “Both her and my mom can burn in hell.” You’re fuming a bit at this point.

    She looks vulnerable and you want to hug her. Fuck it, your drunk brain foregoes any rational thought and you surge forward, wrap your arms around her middle, and hug her. She makes a startled noise and freezes. “And I know that you’ve probably struggled with abandonment, and worthlessness, and she never had any right to make you feel that way.” You feel her arms relax and wrap around your torso. The feeling of her gem pressing against your chest. It’s hard, of course, and not at all cold like you had thought. It’s quiet for a moment, and you hope you hadn’t upset her in any way. You’re starting to fret to yourself, before she speaks up.

“Does this make us friends now?” She asks. You laugh loudly, and snort a little, much to your horror. You can feel her body shake, and for a moment you think she’s crying, but you can also hear her laughing a little.

“We were basically friends after 10 minutes of knowing each other, why are you even asking.” You reply. You can feel her smile against your bare shoulder, and you feel your heart jump. She’s so close, and warm, and you like the way it feels to hug her. Your heart feels like it’s beating itself out of your chest, and you’re worried she can feel it. Before you can even think about pulling away, something jumps up on the couch suddenly and startles the two of you apart, both of you screaming. It’s Jellybean. 

“Fucking cat,” You say, hand over your heart, breathing heavily. “You little asshole, you’re going to send me to an early grave". Jellybean chirps and headbutts your hand, smearing half her face on you in loving affection. 

“Oh, she looks so soft, I love her already.” Spinel says, and tentatively reaches out to let the cat sniff her hand. You watch Jellybean sniff a little, and then headbutt her hand as well. Spinel melts immediately as your cat crawls onto her lap, purring. 

“What a little attention whore.” You say, chastising your cat. She ignores you for pets. You look to the tv and see the episode wrapping up, and yawn. You guys should probably sleep. “Listen. I’m exhausted. My whole ass body hurts from work today. I’m gonna go sleep. Would you like to borrow some spare sleepwear?” You ask her, looking at her pants like they don’t seem that comfortable to sleep in. She shrugs.

“Yeah, it’d probably be a lot more comfortable if I did.” She replies while petting your cat. You stand up, a bit reluctantly. 

“Gimme a sec, I’ll be right back.” You say, and head upstairs to your bedroom. You go over to your dresser and grab a spare clean oversized shirt, and some shorts that you hope will fit her. You also grab a spare set of blankets, and a pillow. You head back downstairs with the items in your hands, trying not to trip back down the stairs. “Hope these are okay.” You say as you hand the clothes over to her.

“They should be fine.” She says, still petting Jellybean. You suspect your cat loves Spinel more than you now. “And hey,” She looks at you. “Thanks. For everything.” She’s smiling softly and sleepily, and you fight down a blush. She’s really pretty, and you’re trying really hard to not think about it.

“Don’t mention it.” You say, and turn around to go to bed before you do anything weird. Or stupid.

     Before you know it, you’ve stripped down to your pajamas, you’ve taken your makeup off, and you’re flopping into bed. You fall asleep pretty quickly, and for once, and no dreams.

    By the time you’re awake, it’s near noon, and Spinel has already gone. She left the clothes she borrowed on the couch folded in a neat pile, and looks like she accidentally left her hair tie on the couch. You check your phone. Spinel left a text.

Spinel: Thanks again for letting me crash for the night. You’re a doll.

You smile and go on about your day as usual running errands, with thoughts of Spinel occasionally on your mind. You decide to send her a text in the evening. 

Y/N: Hey, do you wanna hang out in a few days? You can pick what we do since I’ve done basically everything around here.

She replies back within seconds of you sending the message.

Spinel: Yesssssssss.

It’s definitely just hanging out, and not a date, you attempt to convince yourself. You wonder what she’ll pick.

[ec-sanderssides]

Over-Heating

So this was inspired by my many, many, many collapses from dehydration. And the fact that I’ve been suffering from severe dehydration on and off for the last two weeks. And the fact that I did finally get pushed into heat exhaustion two days ago. So I decided to torture Prince, because if I have to suffer so do my favorite characters. Don’t make my life choices. Drink water, dehydration is awful.

It really wasn’t his fault.

Roman had gone on another one of his quests. It had been quite fun, and he had been, of course, successful. The problem arose after he had finished his quest. While still an image of royal beauty, he had not walked away from the affair wholly unaffected. Hours of running through forests and up mountains did take their toll after all.

He had intended to stop by his room, freshen up, and perhaps take a nap. But sadly, just as he had arrived back in his room, without time to even change his clothes, he could feel the summons from Thomas. He could have ignored it. But he wasn’t that badly off, and it wouldn’t do to disappoint the viewers.

So Roman had allowed himself to be summoned, sure that the video would be over soon enough, and that he could go and rest afterwards. It wasn’t as though he had been injured after all, so there couldn’t be any harm in waiting. Or so he’d thought.

Now struggling to keep himself from swaying as his head pounded and his vision blurred, Roman had to concede that he might have miscalculated a little.

Why, he thought despairingly, is it so warm in this room? I swear it isn’t usually this hot.

He resisted the urge to tug at his collar. His royal outfit, which normally made him feel confident and kingly, now felt as though it was suffocating him. He could feel it sticking to his back where sweat had dripped down.

He shifted back on his feet, tilting his head a little, trying to get more air. He could swear his jacket had never felt this tight before. Was he getting enough air? He forced himself to keep breathing long and slow through his nose, but the urge to pant and gasp for air was getting overwhelming.

Roman could hear the others talking, but it was a struggle to pay attention. He really hoped the video would end soon. Despite his difficulty, he forced himself to focus back conversation in front of him.

“And that’s why I think we should get a dog,” Morality was saying cheerfully.

“I quite agree,” Roman broke in, smiling hard, hoping it was enough to cover the tremors going through his body. “A dog is a splendid idea!”

There, he thought, as Logic began an exasperated rant on why they wouldn’t be able to get a dog, hopefully that contribution will be enough for them to overlook me until we’re done here.

But as the video dragged on, that hope seemed less and less likely. Roman let his eyes fall shut, as a wave of nausea went through him, twisting his stomach into knots. He was so dizzy.

Eventually, despite his stubbornness and pride, he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go on. He just-

Roman dropped to his knees.

He managed to bring one knee up to meet his forehead, allowing him to rest his head on it as he gasped for air, now sure that somehow all the oxygen had left the room. Everything was spinning, and god, his head. His head hurt. It pounded like a drum, every beat of his heart bringing a new pulse of pain.

Then the others were beside him. Hands were tipping him back from his hunched position to lean him back against a chest. He blinked up dazedly. Morality.

Meanwhile, another hand had gone to his forehead, then to his neck pressed against his pulse.

“He’s clammy,” a voice said, “And his heart’s racing.” It was Logic.

“Fucking hell, Princey, what’d you’d yourself?”

Normally Roman would have shot back a witty reply, but right now he was much more focused on his gasping lungs and his pounding head than he was on Anxiety. So instead, he tried to focus on his breathing, trying to slow it down. It wasn’t working.

When his eyes opened again, (and when had he shut them?) he was in his bedroom, being placed down on his bed, his jacket and sash having been removed. The silken covers felt cool against his skin, and he gratefully sank agains the pillows.

Then a water bottle came into his line of vision. Imbued with new strength at the thought of sweet, precious water, he lunged for the open bottle, his hand coming up to grasp it, as he tried to gulp down as much as possible.

Then it was yanked away. He glared up at the culprit, Anxiety, still breathing too hard to speak.

Anxiety rolled his eyes. “Easy, Royal Pain,” he drawled, “Drink that fast and you’re just going to be sick. Take it slow, dumbass."

He then raised the bottle up to Roman’s lips again. Grudgingly, Roman followed his advice, taking smaller, slower sips, relishing in the sensation of water running down his parched throat. When he had drained the entire bottle, he let himself fall back against the cushions.

He felt better, no longer quite so dizzy or nauseous, but he still felt exhausted, and his headache hadn’t seemed to have faded at all.

“So,” Anxiety said, watching him carefully, as he put the empty bottle by Roman’s bedside. “What happened? Logic said you looked you were suffering from heat exhaustion.”

Roman grimaced. “Just a long day of questing,” he replied wearily, “With no chance of rest before the video.” Eager to change the subject, he asked, "Where is Logic anyway?”

“With Thomas,” Anxiety said, “Making sure he doesn’t freak out. Morality’s getting some cool cloths to put on your head. And more water for you to drink”

That sounded amazing actually. But painkillers would be even better. Roman didn’t feel up to standing, but perhaps he could ask…

“Do you think he could bring some painkillers as well” Roman said, hoping desperately that the answer was yes. He just wanted to sleep, but there was no chance of that while his head felt like a herd of elephants was stampeding through it.

Anxiety raised an eyebrow. “Headache?” he asked, sounding sympathetic for once, rather than mocking.

Roman only groaned in response.

“I’ll grab some for you,” Anxiety told him, “I’ve got some extra strong Advil in my room.”

Before Roman could ask why he had that, Anxiety hurried out of the room. With nothing to distract him now, he let his mind drift, thoughts swirling incoherently.

After only a few moments, Morality entered, smiling at him sympathetically. “How’re you feeling, kiddo?” he asked.

“Awful,” Roman stated, “I feel weak and hot, and my head won’t stop hurting.”

Morality grimaced, coming forward with the cool cloths Anxiety had promised. “Yeah, that does sound bad,” he said. "You really need to take better care of yourself."

“It’s not like I intended for this to happen,” Roman grumbled, but he let Morality set one of the clothes on the back of his neck, and the other on his forehead, as he gratefully sipped the water he had brought.

This time it was ice water, and it felt impossibly good.

Before he had drained half of it, Anxiety reappeared, carrying two small pills in his hand.

“Here,” he said, thrusting them forward. “Take these.”

Roman downed them eagerly, more than ready for the pain to ease. Soon after he finished the rest of the water, and setting the cup aside, he settled down to a more horizontal position.

“Going to sleep, kiddo” Morality said, peering down at him.

Roman hummed in response, not wanting to take the energy to reply properly.

But Morality didn’t seem put off by the lackluster response. “Alright,” he said, “We’ll leave you to it. Feel better, okay?”

Roman hoped he would. He hated the way he felt right now, the way his body had betrayed him, all the strength draining out of him until he was left weak and gasping, fighting for air as the heat threatened to suffocate him.

Anxiety lingered a bit, giving him one last glance. “Take a shower when you wake up,” he finally said. “It’ll help get rid of the last of the effects.”

With that he disappeared out the door. Sleepily, Roman wondered how he knew that. Then again, Anxiety did dress exclusively in black, so it was quite possible he’d over-heated before as well. It didn’t really matter though.

Roman turned on his side, so his cheek was pressed against the cool pillow. He was so tired.

Next time I’ll bring water with me, he thought as he drifted off. I never want to go through this again.